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diff --git a/old/41222-0.txt b/old/41222-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2c43173..0000000 --- a/old/41222-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7070 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Captain Paul - -Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -Release Date: October 29, 2012 [EBook #41222] -Last Updated: November 21, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -CAPTAIN PAUL - -By Alexandre Dumas, Pere - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - -The admirers of “The Pilot,” one of the most magnificent of Cooper’s -novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves -have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether -lose sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such -intense interest, through the narrows of the Devil’s Grip, and the -Cloisters of St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and -in the actions of this person, introduced in the first place by the name -of John, and afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a -grief so bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every -reader desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so -brave and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have -more than once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of -it, it might have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for -information regarding the early career and closing years of this -adventurous seaman--information which we have vainly searched for in his -narrative. I thought that such a request would be readily forgiven by -him to whom it was addressed, for it would have been accompanied by the -expression of the most sincere and ardent admiration of his work; but I -was restrained by the reflection that the author himself, perhaps, knew -no more of that career, of which, he had given us but an episode, than -that portion of it which had been illuminated by the sun of American -Independence: for, in fact, this brilliant meteor had passed from the -clouds which environed his birth to the obscurity of his death in such -a manner, that it was quite possible the “poet historian,” being far -distant from the place where his hero was born, and from the country in -which he died, knew no more of him than what he has transmitted to us. -The very mystery which surrounded him, may have been the cause of -his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals. Urged by these -considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own research, those -details which I had so often desired to receive from others. I searched -through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was a copy of the -letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined the annals of -the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at the time of -his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that he was -buried in the cemetery of Père la Chaise. This was all the information I -could gather from my first attempts. - -I then consulted our living library--Nodier, the learned--Nodier, the -philosopher--Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few moments, he -mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself, containing memoirs -of his life, bearing this motto, “Munera sunt Laudi.” I started off -to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched through -libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls--all that I could find was an -infamous libel, entitled, “_Paul Jones, ou Prophétie sur l’Amérique, -l’Angleterre, la France, l’Espagne et la Hollande_” which I threw from -me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page, marvelling -that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved, whilst -we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food--I therefore -renounced all hope in this quarter. - -Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having -started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l’Orient. Upon -my arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography -of Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that -port. This circumstance had struck me--I had noted down the dates, and -had only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval -archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which -the two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of -thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming -there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept -the register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office -without further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk -who was sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in -the country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me -that in 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office -at Havre, had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore -in the fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this -officer, and his extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression -upon him, that upon his, the clerk’s, return to Brittany, he spoke of -him to his father, who then had charge of the Chateau d’Auray. Upon -hearing the name of Paul Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to -him to be silent--the young man obeyed, though not without astonishment. -He frequently afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he -always refused to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death -of the Marchioness d’Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and -the dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt -himself permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious -history, in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly -blended. Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father -had related that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression -upon him that he repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for -word. - -I have treasured up this history in the recesses of my memory for nearly -seven years: and it would have still remained buried there, with a mass -of other recollections, destined never to see the light, had I not about -six months ago read “The Pilot” for the second time, and even with much -greater interest than before; for, thanks to the researches I had made, -the hero was no longer to me an unknown being, appearing only for an -instant, his face but partially visible, and with merely the portion -of a name; he had now become a friend, almost a brother, to me--for -new sympathies had been awakened in my heart besides those which had -formerly been inspired by the recital of the expedition to Whitehaven. -These led me to reflect that whatever of interest and disappointment -I had experienced on reading’ Cooper’s novel, they must have been -entertained alike by others, and that the anxious desire I had felt -to know more of the former lover of Alice Dunscombe was not a feeling -peculiar to myself, but would be participated by all those, and their -number must be great, who have followed this skilful seaman from the -moment of his first meeting Lieutenant Barnstaple on the English cliffs, -until that in which he quitted the Alert to land on the shores of -Holland. - -I have, therefore, gathered up my recollections, and have written this -history. - - - - -CAPTAIN PAUL. - - - -CHAPTER I--A STRANGE SAIL - - Hoarse o’er her side the rustling cable rings- - The sails are furled--and anchoring, round she swings; - And gathering loiterers on the land discern - Her boat descending from the latticed stern. - ‘Tis mann’d--the oars keep concert to the strand, - Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.--Byron. - - -Toward the close of a fine evening in the month of October, 1779, the -most inquisitive among the inhabitants of the small town of Fort Louis, -had assembled on the point of land immediately opposite to that on which -stands the city of Lorient. The object which attracted their attention, -and which was the subject of their inquiries, was a noble beautiful -frigate, carrying 32 guns, which had been anchored for about a week, not -in the port, but in a small cove in the roadstead, and which had been -perceived for the first time early one morning, like an ocean flower -which had suddenly blossomed during the night. From the elegant and -coquettish appearance of this frigate, it was imagined that this was -the first time of her putting to sea; she bore the French flag, for the -three golden _fleur-de-lis_ were seen glittering in the last rays of the -setting sun. - -That which, above all, appeared to excite the curiosity of the -admirers of this spectacle, so frequent, and notwithstanding, always so -interesting in a seaport, was the uncertainty as to the country in which -this vessel had been built; for, having all her sails clewed up and -snugly stowed around her yards, showed in the setting sun the graceful -outline of her hull, and a minute elegance as to her running rigging. -Some thought they could discern in her the bold and taunt masts used -by the Americans, but the perfection exemplified in the finish which -distinguished the rest of her construction, was in perfect contrast with -the barbarous rudeness of those rebellious children of England. Others, -deceived by the flag she had hoisted, were endeavouring to divine in -what port of France she had been launched, but their national pride soon -gave way to the conviction that she was not built in France, for they -sought in vain for those heavy galleries, ornamented with sculpture, -which is the compulsory decoration of the stern of every daughter of -the ocean, or of the Mediterranean, born on the stocks of Brest or of -Toulon; others, again, knowing that the flags were frequently used as a -mask to hide the real face, maintained that the lion and the towers of -Spain would have more properly been placed upon the ensign waving from -her peak, than the three _fleur-de-lis_ of France: but the latter were -asked whether the straight and elegant sides and quarters of the frigate -all resembled the bulging build of Spanish galleons. In short, there -were some among them who would have sworn that this beautiful fairy of -the waters had been brought to life among the frogs of Holland, had not -the dangerous boldness of her masts and rigging fully contradicted -the suggestion that she could have been built by those old but prudent -sweepers of the seas. But, as we have said, for eight whole days, and -ever since the first appearance of this splendid vision upon the -coast of Brittany, she had been the constant theme of wonder and -of conversation, for nothing had happened to give them any positive -information, as not an individual from the crew had landed from the -ship, under any pretext whatever. They might, indeed, have doubted -whether she had a crew or not, had not they now and then seen the -head of a sentinel, or of the officer of the watch, peering above the -bulwarks. It appeared, however, that this vessel, although she had not -communicated with the shore, could not have any hostile intention; -her arrival had not seemed to give the least uneasiness to the public -authorities of Lorient, for she had run under the guns of a small fort, -which the recent declaration of war between England and France had -caused to be put in order, and which displayed a battery of long guns of -heavy calibre. - -Among this crowd of idlers, however, there was a young man, who was -remarked for the anxious eagerness of his inquiries:--without any one -being able to devise the cause, it was easily perceived that he felt -some direct interest in this mysterious vessel. His brilliant uniform -was that of the _mousquetaires_, and as these royal guards rarely -left the capital, he had, at first, directed a portion of the public -curiosity to himself, but it was soon discovered that this person, whom -they thought a stranger, was the young Count d’Auray, the last scion of -one of the most ancient families of Brittany. The castle inhabited by -his family rose above the shores of the Golf of Morbihan, at six or -seven leagues, distance from Fort Louis. The family consisted of the -Marquis d’Auray, a poor insane old man, who for twenty years had never -been seen beyond the boundaries of his estates; of the Marchioness -d’Auray, whose rigid morality, and whose ancient nobility, could alone -excuse her haughty and aristocratic bearing; of the young Marquerite, a -sweet girl of seventeen or eighteen years of age, delicate and pale -as the flower whose name she bore; and of Count Emanuel, whom we have -mentioned above, and around whom the crowd had gathered, carried away, -as it always is, by a sounding title, a brilliant uniform, and noble and -lordly manners. - -However eager might have been the desire of those he addressed to -satisfy his curiosity, they could only answer his questions in a -vague and undecided manner; all they knew of the frigate being mere -conjecture. The count was about retiring from the jetty, when he -perceived a six-oared boat approaching it. At a moment when curiosity -had been so much excited, this incident could not fail to attract all -eyes. In the stern of the boat sat a young man, who appeared to be from -twenty to twenty-two years of age, and who was dressed in the uniform of -a lieutenant of the royal navy--he was sitting, or rather lying, upon a -bearskin, one hand reclining carelessly on the tiller of the small -boat, while the coxswain, who, thanks to the caprice of his officer, -had nothing to do, was sitting in the bow. From the moment that it -first made its appearance, every eye was directed towards it, as if it -contained the means of solving the mystery which had so much puzzled -them. The boat, urged on by the last efforts of its oarsmen, took the -ground at eight or ten feet distance from the beach, there being too -little water in that place to allow it to come nearer. Two of the -sailors jumped into the sea up to their knees. The young lieutenant then -rose up in a careless way, walked to the bow of the boat, and allowed -the two sailors to carry him in their arms to the beach, so that not a -drop of salt water should soil his elegant uniform. He then ordered his -men to double the point of land which advanced about three hundred feet -into the sea, and to go and wait for him on the opposite side of the -battery. As for himself, he stopped a moment on the beach to arrange his -dress, which had been a little disordered by the rough mode of transport -he had been compelled to adopt, and then he advanced, humming a French -air, towards the gate of a small fort, which he passed, after having -slightly returned the military salute of the sentinel on duty. - -Although nothing could, in a seaport, be more natural than that a naval -officer should cross the roads and walk into a fort, the minds of the -lookers-on had been so much occupied with the foreign vessel, that there -was hardly one among the crowd who did not imagine that this visit to -the commandant of the fort had some relation to her, so that when the -young officer issued from it, he found himself surrounded so closely by -the crowd, that for a moment he appeared half inclined to use the rattan -which he carried in his hand, to make way through it. However after -having flourished it with impertinent affectation above the heads of -those who were nearest him, he appeared all at once to change his -mind, and perceiving Count Emanuel, whose distinguished appearance, -and elegant uniform, contrasted strikingly with the vulgar air and -habiliments of the persons who surrounded him, he made a few steps -towards him at the same moment that the count had advanced to meet him. -The two officers merely exchanged a rapid glance, but that look at -once assured both that they were persons of rank and station. They -immediately saluted each other with that easy grace and affable -politeness which characterized the young nobility of that period. - -“By Heaven!” exclaimed the young midshipman; “my dear countryman, for I -suppose that like myself you are a Frenchman, although I meet you in -a seemingly hyperborean land, and in regions which, if not absolutely -savage, appear sufficiently barbarous--will you have the goodness to -tell me what there is so extraordinary about me, that I seem to cause -quite a revolution in the country? Or is the appearance of an officer of -the navy an event so rare and so extraordinary at Lorient, that his mere -presence excites, in so singular a degree, the curiosity of the natives -of Lower Brittany? By solving this mystery, you will render me a service -which I shall be happy to reciprocate, should any opportunity present -itself in which I can be useful to you.” - -“This will be so much the more easy,” replied Count Emanuel, “as -this curiosity is not founded in any feeling which you would consider -offensive to your uniform or hostile to your person--and the proof of -this is, my dear comrade--for I see by your epaulettes that we are of -equal rank in the service of his majesty--that I participate with these -honest Britons in the curiosity which they evince, although, perhaps, -my motives are more weighty than theirs, in endeavouring to obtain a -solution of the problem which has occupied us.” - -“If I can be of any assistance to you, in the inquiries which you have -undertaken, I place all the algebra I possess at your disposal. Only the -position we are in is not a comfortable one to carry out mathematical -demonstrations. Will it please you to remove to a small distance from -these honest people, whose presence would only tend to confuse our -calculations.” - -“Certainly,” replied the mousquetaire, “and the more readily, as, if I -do not deceive myself, by walking this way I shall lead you nearer -to your boat and your sailors.” - -“Oh! that is not of the slightest consequence; should this path not be -convenient to you we can take another. I have plenty of time; and my men -are less eager to, return on board than I am. Therefore, we will about -ship, if such is your good pleasure.” - -“Not at all; on the contrary, let us go on, the nearer we are to -the beach the better we can discuss the matter in question. Let us, -therefore, walk upon this strip of land as far as we can.” - -The young seamen, without replying a word, conti-nued to walk on, like a -man to whom the direction he was to take was perfectly indifferent, and -these two young men, who had thus met for the first time, walked arm in -arm, as though they had been friends from infancy, towards the end of -the promontory. When they had reached the extreme point, Count Emanuel -paused, and pointed towards the frigate, saying, “Do you know what ship -that is?” - -The young seaman threw a rapid and scrutinizing glance upon the -mousquetaire, and then looked towards the ship: “Yes,” replied he, -negligently, “it is a pretty frigate carrying two and thirty guns, with -her sails bent and her starboard anchor atrip, ready to sail at the -first signal given.” - -“Excuse me,” replied Emanuel, smiling; “that is not what I ask of you. It -signifies little to me how many guns she carries, or by what anchor she -is holding--is not that your technical mode of speaking?” - -The lieutenant smiled: in turn. “But,” continued Emanuel, “what I wish -to know is, to what nation she actually belongs, the port, that she is -bound to, and the name of her captain.” - -“As to the nation she belongs to,” replied the lieutenant, - -“She has taken care to give us that information herself, or she is, an -outrageous liar; Do you not see her flag flying from her peak? It is the -flag without a stain, rather worn out from being too much used that’s -all. As to the place she is bound to, it is as the commandant of the -fort told you, when, you asked him,--Mexico.” Emanuel looked with -astonishment at the young lieutenant. “And finally, as to her captain, -that is a much more difficult matter.. There are some people who would -swear he is a young man about my own age or yours, for; I, believe we -left the cradle pretty closely the one after, the other, although the -professions we follow may place a long interval between our graves. -There are others who pretend he is of the same age with my uncle the -Count d’Estaing, who as you doubtless know, has just been made an -admiral, and who is at: this moment affording every assistance to the -rebels of America, as some people, even in France, still call them. -But, in short, as to his name, that is quite another thing; it is said -he does not know it himself; and until some fortunate occurrence shall -apprise him of it, he calls himself Paul.” - -“Paul?” - -“Yes, Captain Paul.” - -“Paul, what?” - -“Paul, of the _Providence_, of the _Banger_, of the _Alliance_, -according to the name of the ship he commands. Are there not also in -France some of our young nobles, who, finding their family name too -short, lengthen it out by the name of an estate, and surmount the whole -with a knight’s casque, or a baron’s coronet: so that their seals or -their carriages bear the evidence of belonging to some ancient family, -quite delightful to reflect upon? Well! so it is with him. At this -moment he calls himself, I believe, Paul, of the _Indienne_, and he is -proud of the appellation; if I may judge front my naval sympathies, I -do not think he would exchange his frigate for the finest estate to be -found between the Port of Brest and the mouth of the Rhone.” - -“But, tell me,” rejoined Emanuel, after reflecting for a moment on the -singular mixture of simplicity and sarcasm which pervaded the answers of -his companion; “what is the character of this man?” - -“His character--but, my dear baron--count--marquis”-- - -“Count,” replied Emanuel, bowing. - -“Well, my dear count, then, I was about to say that you pursued me from -one abstraction to another, and that when I placed at you disposal all -my knowledge in algebra, I did not intend that we should enter into a -research of the unknown. His character! good heaven, my dear count, who -can speak knowingly of the character of a man, unless it be himself--and -even then--but hold--I, myself, as you now see me, have ploughed for -twenty years, at one time with the keel of a brig, at another with that -of a frigate, this vast expanse, which now extends itself before us. -My eyes, for so I may express myself, discerned the ocean almost at the -same moment that they saw the sky above it; since my tongue was able to -join two words together, or my comprehension could combine two ideas, -I have interrogated and studied the caprices of the ocean, and yet I -do not, even to this time, know its character--and there are only four -principal winds and thirty-two breezes which agitate it--that’s all. -How, then, can you expect that I should judge of man, torn as he is by -his thousand passions.” - -“Nor did I ask you, my dear--duke--marquis--count?”-- - -“Lieutenant,” replied the young sailor, bowing, as Emanuel had done -before. - -“I was about to say, then, my dear lieutenant, I do not ask a -physiological lecture on the passions of Captain Paul. I only wish to -inform myself upon two points. Firstly, whether you consider him a man -of honor?” - -“We must first of all understand each other as to the meaning of words, -my dear count--what is your precise definition of the word honor?” - -“Permit me to remark, my dear lieutenant, that this question is a most -singular one. Honor! Why, honor--is--honor.” - -“That’s it precisely--a word without a definition, like the word God! -God--is God! and every one creates a God after his own fashion. The -Egyptians adored him under the form of a scorpion--the Israelites, -under that of a golden calf. So it is with honor. There is the honor -of Camillus, and that of Coriolanus--that of the Cid, and that of Count -Julian. Define your question better if you wish me to reply to it.” - -“I ask, then, whether his word may be relied upon?” - -“I do not believe he ever failed in that regard. His enemies--and no one -can arrive to his station without having them--even his enemies, I say, -have never doubted that he would keep, even unto death, an oath which he -had sworn to. This point is, therefore, believe me, fully settled. In -this respect, he is a man of _honor_. Let us pass, therefore, to your -second question, for if I do not deceive myself, you wish to know -something farther.” - -“Yes, I wish to know whether he would faithfully obey an order given by -his Majesty?” - -“What Majesty?” - -“Really, my dear lieutenant, you affect a difficulty of comprehension -which would better suit the gown of a sophist, than a naval uniform.” - -“Why so? You accuse me of cavilling, because, before replying, I wish -to know precisely what I have to answer. We have, at this? present time, -eight or ten majesties, seated securely or otherwise, upon the different -thrones of Europe. We have his Catholic Majesty--a feeble majesty, who -allows the inheritance, left him by Charles, the Fifth, to be torn -from him piece by piece;--we have his Britannic Majesty--a headstrong -majesty, who clings to his America, as Cyingetus to the Persian ship, -and whose hands we shall cut off, if he does not loose his hold;--we -have his Christian Majesty, whom I venerate and honor”-- - -“Well--it is of him I wish to speak,” said Emanuel, - -“Do you believe that Captain Paul would feel disposed to obey an order -which I should deliver from him?” - -“Captain Paul,” replied the lieutenant, “would, as every captain ought -to do, obey every order emanating from a power which has the right of -commanding him--unless indeed he be an accursed pirate, or some damned -privateersman, some buccaneer, who owes no allegiance, and which I -should doubt from the appearance of the frigate he commands, and from -the way she is fitted. He must have then in some drawer of his cabin, a -commission signed by some power or other. Well! should this commission -bear the name of Louis, and be sealed with the fleur-de-lis of France, -there can be no doubt that he would obey any order sealed, and signed by -the same name.” - -“This is all then that I wish to be informed of,” replied the young -mousquetaire, who began to grow impatient at the strange and evasive -answers given by his companion. “I will only ask you one more question.” - “I am ready to obey your wishes in that, as I have in the rest, count,” - returned the lieutenant. - -“Do you know any way of getting on board of that ship?” - -“There is one,” replied the lieutenant, pointing towards his own boat, -which lay rocked, by the waves, in a small creek close to them. - -“That boat! why, is it yours?” - -“Well! I will take you on board.” - -“You know this Captain Paul, then?” - -“I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally -acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the -hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides -which, we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic -language, by which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of -the ocean we may meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the -same frankness in which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at -your disposal.” - -“Do me this service, then,” said Emanuel, “and”-- - -“You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations, -will you not?” said the lieutenant. “You cannot be surprised at it,” - continued he smiling, “my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman’s life -has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During -a calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and -during the night we address ourselves to God.” - -Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with -that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread -over his features every time he had become the object of investigation, -to the mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of -contempt for human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of -God. But finding that this singular man was disposed to render him, -although in a strange manner, the service he had asked of him, he -accepted his proffered assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two -young men were advancing towards the unknown vessel with as much -rapidity as the vigor of six stout rowers could give to the light bark -in which they were seated. Their oars rose and fell with so regular a -movement, that it appeared rather impelled by some powerful machine, -than by the combination of human strength. - - - - -CHAPTER II.--THE FRIGATE. - - And oh! the little warlike world within! - The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy; - The hoarse command, the busy humming din- - When, at a word, the tops are mann’d on high, - Hark to the boatswain’s call, the cheering cry; - While through the seaman’s hands the tackle glides: - Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by, - Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides, - And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.--Byron. - - -As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more -clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him -to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck -by the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of -her masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood -out against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be -composed of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. -There was not, however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, -which seemed, either from inattention or contempt, to care but little -for the visit she was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, -however, at one moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping -out of one of the port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was -pointed towards the boat; but the ship being gently moved round by -the quiet heaving of the waves, presented her prow toward them, his -attention was attracted by the figure-head which generally bears -some allusion to the name of the vessel that it decorates: it was -a representation of one of the daughters of America, discovered by -Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a head-dress of many colored -feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with a coral necklace. As to -the remainder of the figure, it was a curious combination, half syren, -half serpent, attached to the fore part of the ship in a graceful though -fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached the ship, the more did -the attention of the count appear attracted by this figure. It was, in -fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but very remarkable -from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to perceive, that -it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by a superior -artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a seaman, the -increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the soldier; -and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the -figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that -the latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did -not give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its -beauties, he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question -his young companion. - -“Well, count,” said he, concealing the interest which he took in -his reply under an apparent gaiety, “what do you think of this -master-piece?” - -“I think,” replied Emanuel, “that comparing it with works of the same -description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have -given it.” - -“Yes,” said the lieutenant, carelessly, “it is the last work of William -Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of -his pupils, named Duprè, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is -obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of -ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See,” said -he, giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, -“it is a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls -that are hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond -worth a hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, -besides the honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to -offer to his bride.” - -“What an odd caprice,” exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the -singularity of the object he was gazing at, “to ornament a ship in the -same way that one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable -sums to the chances of a battle, or the dangers of a storm.” - -“Why should this astonish you?” said the lieutenant with an accent -of indescribable melancholy; “we seamen have no other family than our -sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the -tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to -something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, -who are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an -imaginary love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady -island, and every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the -ocean like a flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a -bird, when returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star -from out the firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the -Atlantic, every time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it -approaches nearer to him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There -are others, and they are the greater number, who attach themselves to -their frigate as to a well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the -tempest tears away any part of her, at every wound given by the shot -that strikes her, and when she is at length sunk by the tempest or -the combat, prefer to perish with her, rather than to save themselves -without her, giving to landsmen a holy example of fidelity. Captain Paul -is one of the latter class, that’s all, and he has given to his frigate -the wedding present which he had intended for his bride. Ah? I see they -are waking up.” - -“Boat ahoy?” cried some one from on board the frigate, “what boat’s -that?” - -“We want to come on board,” replied Emanuel; “throw us a rope that we -may catch hold of.” - -“Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder.” - -The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were -going up the ship’s side. The officer of the watch came forward with an -eagerness which appeared in Emanuel’s mind to promise well. - -“Sir,” said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same -uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, “this is my -friend, the Count ---- By the by, I forgot to ask your name?” - -“Count Emanuel d’Auray.” - -“I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d’Auray, -who anxiously desires to speak to Captain Paul. Is he on board?” - -“He has just this moment arrived,” replied the officer. - -“In that case I will go below and prepare him to receive you, my dear -count. In the meantime, this is Mr. Walter, who will have the pleasure -of showing you through the ship. It is an interesting sight for a land -officer, and the more so, as I doubt whether you would find many ships -kept in such order as this is. The people are at supper just now, I -believe?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“In that case it will be the more curious sight.” - -“But,” observed the officer, hesitating a little, “it is my watch on -deck.” - -“Bah! you can easily find one of your brother officers who will relieve -you for a short time. I will endeavour to manage so that the captain -shall not make you kick your heels too long in the ante-room. Adieu, -till I meet you again, count: I shall recommend you in such a way as will -insure a good reception for you.” With these words, the young lieutenant -disappeared down the companion ladder, while the one who remained with -Emanuel to show him over the ship, took him into the ‘tween decks. - -As the lieutenant had presumed, the crew of the frigate were at their -supper. It was the first time that the young count had been present at -such a repast; and however much he desired to speak immediately to -the captain, he felt so curious to observe what was going on, that he -examined everything with eager attention. - -Between every two guns, a table and benches were prepared, not standing -on their feet, but slung by ropes from above. Four men were seated -upon each of the benches, taking their portion of pieces of beef, which -seemed to resist the action of their knives, but which had to do with -hearty fellows who did not appear at all disposed to be daunted by its -toughness. At every table there were two cans of wine, that is to say, -about a pint for each man. As to the bread, it did not appear to be -distributed by rations, but they could take as much as they wanted. The -most profound silence reigned throughout the crew, which, was composed -of of more than from one hundred and eighty to two hundred men. - -Although none of those seated at the table, opened their mouths for any -other purpose than to eat, Emanuel perceived, with some surprise, -that they were composed of many different nations, which was easily -discernible from the contour of their countenances. His _cicerone_ -remarked his astonishment, and replying to his thought before he had -given utterance to it, said, with an American accent, which Emanuel had -already observed, and which proved that he who spoke to him was born on -the other side of the Atlantic: “Yes, yes, we have a tolerably pretty -sample of every nation in the world, and if all at once a good deluge -should carry off the children of Noah, as it formerly did those of Adam, -our ark could furnish people who speak every language. Do you observe -those three fellows who are exchanging a piece of roast beef for a -clove of garlick, they are lads from Galicia, whom we picked up at Cape -Ortegal, and who would not go into action without having said a prayer -to St Jago, of Corapostello, but who, when once their prayer is over, -would rather allow themselves to be cut in pieces, like martyrs, than -retreat a single step. Those two who are polishing their table at -the expense of their jacket-sleeves, are honest Dutchmen, who still -complain: of the injury done to their commerce by the discovery of the -Cape of Good Hope. You see them--at first sight they look like very -beer-pots. Well, those brave fellows, the moment they hear the drum beat -to quarters, become as active as monkeys; Go near them, and they will -talk to you about their ancestors; they will tell you they descend from -those famous sweepers of the sea, who when going into action, hoisted a -broom instead of a flag; but they will take good care not to inform you -that one fine morning the English took their broom, and made rods of it -to whip them with. That whole table, where they are chattering together -at such a rate, but in an under tone, is occupied by Frenchmen, who -would talk louder if they dared. The seat of honor is occupied by a -chief, elected by themselves; he is a Parisian by birth, a cosmopolite -from taste, a great master at the small sword, singlestick, and a -dancing-master to boot. Always gay and contented, he sings when he is -on duty, sings when he is fighting, and will die singing, unless a hemp -cravat should stop his voice, which may very likely happen to him should -he have the misfortune to fall into the hands of John Bull. Turn your -eyes to the other side now, and observe that row of square and idle -heads. These are strange faces to you, are they not? but which every -American born between Hudson’s Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, would -recognize at once for bears born on: the borders of Lake Erie, or -seals from Nova Scotia.. There are three, or four of them who are one -eyed--this arises from, their peculiar mode of fighting; they twist -their fingers in the hair of their antagonist, and gouge out his eye -with their thumbs. There are some of them who are very expert at this -exercise, and who never miss their mark. So that when they are boarding -a ship, they almost invariable throw away their boarding, pikes, or -their cutlass, and seizing the first Englishman they can catch hold -of, they uneye him with a dexterity and quickness quite delightful to -behold. You will now comprehend that I did not deceive you in what I -said, and that our collection is complete.” - -“But,” asked Emanuel, who had listened to this long enumeration with -a certain degree of interest, “how does your captain manage to make -himself understood by men brought together from such distant nations?” - -“First of all our captain understands all languages--and although in -battle and during stormy weather he speaks his mother tongue, he; gives -such an accent to it that every one understands him and obeys: him. But -see, the larboard cabin door is opening, and I doubt not he is ready -to-receive you.” - -And instantly a boy dressed in a midshipman’s uniform came up to the -two officers, and asked Emanuel if he did not call himself the Count -d’Auray; and on his receiving an affirmative reply, he requested him -to follow him; and the officer who had so conscientiously sustained the -part of a cicerone, immediately went on deck to resume his duties there. -As to Emanuel, he advanced towards the cabin with a mixed feeling -of anxiety and curiosity, He was at last about to be ushered in the -presence of Captain Paul. - -He was a man who appeared to be between fifty and fifty-five years of -age, and to whom the habit of walking between decks had given him -a stoop rather than age. He wore the uniform of the French navy, -accord-ing to its strictest regulations. It was a blue coat with -scarlet facings, a red waistcoat, and breeches of the same color, grey -stockings, with frilled shirt and’ ruffles. His hair, rolled up in large -curls, and powdered quite white, was tied into a queue by a ribbon, the -ends of which floated upon his shoulders. His cocked hat and his sword -were lying upon a table beside him. At the moment Emanuel entered the -door, he was sitting upon the carriage of a gun, but when he perceived -him, he rose up to receive him. - -The young count felt intimidated by the aspect of this man: there was -in his eye a searching look which appeared to peer into the very soul -of the person whom he gazed upon. Perhaps, also, this impression was the -more powerful, that he presented himself before him with a conscience -that reproached him with the act he was endeavouring to accomplish, and -of which he was about to render the captain, if not an accomplice, at -all events the executioner. These two men, as though they felt a -secret repulsion, the one towards the other, saluted each other with -politeness, but with cold reserve. - -“It is the Count d’Auray that I have the honor of addressing,” said the -old officer. - -“And I Captain Paul, I believe,” replied the young mousquetaire; they -both bowed a second time. - -“May I know to what fortunate chance I owe the honor,” rejoined the -captain, “of the visit which is now paid to me by the heir of one of the -oldest and greatest families in Brittany?” - -Emanuel bowed again by way of thanks for this compliment, and then, -after hesitating for a moment as if he found it difficult to open the -conversation, he observed: “I am told, Captain Paul, that you are bound -to the Gulf of Mexico?” - -“And you have not been deceived, sir; I purpose sailing for New Orleans, -calling on my way at Cayenne, and at the Havannah.” - -“This falls out very fortunately, captain, and you will not have to -alter your course, in case you should be willing to undertake the -execution of the order of which I am the bearer.” - -“You have an order to communicate to me, sir, and from whom?” - -“From the Minister of Marine.” - -“An order addressed to me personally?” reiterated the captain, -doubtingly. - -“Not personally to you, sir; but to any captain of the royal navy, who -may be about to sail for South America.” - -“Of what nature is it, count?” - -“A state prisoner to be transported to Cayenne.” - -“And you have the order with you?” - -“Here it is,” replied Emanuel, taking it from his pocket, and presenting -it to the captain. - -He took the paper, and going near the cabin window, that he might avail -himself of the last gleam of daylight, he read aloud: - -“The Ministers of Marine and of the Colonies, orders any captain or -lieutenant, commanding a government vessel, who may be about to sail for -South America, or for the Gulf of Mexico, to take on board his ship -and to land at Cayenne, the person named Lusignan, condemned to -transportation for life. During the passage the convict shall take -his meals in his own cabin, and shall not be allowed to have any -communication with the ship’s company.” - -“Is the order in due form?” asked Emanuel. - -“Perfectly, sir,” replied the captain. “And are you disposed to execute -it?” - -“Am I not under the orders of the Minister of Marine?” - -“The prisoner may then be sent to you?” - -“Whenever you will; but it had better be this evening, or as soon as -possible, as I do not expect to be long in these roads.” - -“I will take care that due diligence shall be used.” - -“Is this all that you have to say to me?” - -“Nothing further, excepting to add my thanks.” - -“Do not add anything, sir. The minister orders, and I obey, that’s all. -It is a duty which I fulfil, and not a service that I am rendering.” - -Upon these words, the captain and the count bowed to each other and -separated, more coldly even than they had met. - -When he reached the deck, Emanuel asked the officer of the watch for his -friend who had accompanied him on board, but was informed he had been -detained by Captain Paul to sup with him, and that being anxious to -oblige the count, he had placed his boat as his disposal. - -She was waiting alongside the ship, and the sailors were in readiness -to accompany him. Emanuel had scarcely got into her when they rowed him -away with a rapidity equal to that with which they had conducted him on -board. But this time she proceeded in sorrowful silence, for the young -lieutenant was no longer there to animate the count with his practical -philosophy. - -That same night the prisoner was conducted on board the _Indienne_, and -the next morning at day-break the inquisitive inhabitants of the -coast no longer discerned the frigate which had given rise to so many -conjectures, and whose unexpected arrival, her remaining there without -any apparent object, and her spontaneous departure, remained an -inexplicable mystery to the inhabitants of Fort Louis. - - - -CHAPTER III.--THE SEA FIGHT. - - The gallant vessels side by side did lie, - Yard-arm and yard-arm, and the murd’rous guns - Belch’d forth their flame and shot, ‘till the white decks - Ran like a sea with blood. Uncertain still - The victory stood, ‘till Perry, waving - His bright sword o’er his head, cried, “Follow me!” - A hundred shouts responded to this call, - Then with one spring he bounded on the deck - Of his determined foe.--Oxd Play. - - -As the motives which had induced Captain Paul to visit the coast of -Brittany had no relation with our history, excepting as far as regards -the events which we have related, we shall leave our readers in the same -state of uncertainty as were the inhabitants of Fort Louis; and although -our’ vocation and our sympathies naturally incline us to terra-firma, -we must follow our hero for a few days in his adventurous course upon -the ocean. The weather was as beautiful as it generally is on the -western coast of France, at the commencement of autumn. The _Indienne_ -sailed gaily on with as fair a wind as could blow for her. The ship’s -crew, excepting those actually employed in manoeuvring the vessel, -were availing themselves of the fine weather and occupied in their own -matters, as caprice directed them, or were idly lounging about the ship, -when all at once a voice which appeared to descend from the sky, called -out, “Below, there!” - -“Hullo, there!” replied the quarter-master, who was standing near the -helm. - -“Sail, ho!” cried the seaman who was on the lookout, at the head-mast. - -“Sail, ho!” repeated the quarter-master. “Officer of the deck, be so -good as to inform the captain there is a sail in sight.” - -“A sail! a sail!” re-echoed the crew from different parts of the deck; -for at that moment a wave, having raised the vessel which appeared upon -the horizon, had for an instant rendered her visible to the eyes of the -ship’s company. - -“A sail!” exclaimed a young man of five-and-twenty, springing upon the -quarter deck from the cabin stairs; “ask Mr Arthur what he thinks of -her.” - -“Mast head, there!” cried the lieutenant, using his speaking trumpet; -“the captain wants to know, Mr. Arthur, what you make of the strange -sail.” - -Arthur, the young midshipman, had gone aloft immediately upon hearing -a sail announced. He replied, “She looks like a large square-rigged -vessel, close hauled, and steering for us.” - -“Yes, yes,” said the young man, to whom Walter had given the title of -captain, “she has as good eyes as we have, and she has seen us.” - -“Very well, if she wishes for a little chat, she will find us ready to talk -to her. Besides, our guns must be almost choked from having their mouths -stopped so long.” - -After some little time, the midshipman again hailed the officer on deck, -and told him that the strange ship had just set her mainsail, and had -altered her course a little, so as to cross their bow. - -“Sir,” said the captain, addressing the lieutenant, “get ready to -beat to quarters, we must prepare for this fellow; he looks rather -suspicious.” And then calling out to the midshipman, “How does the ship -seem to sail, Mr. Arthur? what do you think of her?” - -“She seems to be a fast sailer, and is a man-of-war, I should think, by -the squareness of her yards; and although I cannot see her flag, I would -wager that she bears King George’s commission.” - -“I should not wonder,” observed the captain to the first lieutenant, -“and that she has orders to give chase to a certain frigate called the -Indienne, and that her commander is promised good promotion should he -succeed in capturing her. Ha! ha! now she is loosing her top gallant -sails. The blood hound has scented us, and is decidedly about to give us -chase. Set our top gallant sails, too, Mr. Walter, and let us keep our -course without varying a point. We shall see whether they will dare to -come athwart our hawse.” - -The captain’s orders were instantly repeated by the lieutenant, and in -a few minutes the ship which had been running under her top sails, -felt the influence of her top gallant sails, heeled over under this new -pressure and bounded along as if animated by the sight of an enemy, and -dashing away the spray from either bow with eager impetuosity. - -For some time there was hardly a word uttered on board. Every one -appeared to wait anxiously the termination of this state of suspense, -and we shall profit by this momentary quiet, to call the attention of -our readers to the person of the officer to whom the lieutenant had -given the title of captain. - -It was no longer either the young and sceptical lieutenant whom we -have seen accompanying the Count d’Auray on board the ship, nor the old -sea-wolf with his stooping gait, and harsh and snappish answers, who had -received him in the cabin. He was a handsome young man, from twenty to -twenty-five years of age, as we have said before, who, having thrown off -all disguise, appeared at length in his own person, and dressed in the -fanciful uniform which he always wore when upon the wide ocean. It was -a sort of great coat of black velvet, with gold shoulder knots and -fastened with hooks and eyes of the same metal. Round his waist he wore -a Turkish belt, in which was placed a pair of elegant duelling pistols, -richly inlaid and ornamented, apparently more for show than defence. His -pantaloons were of white kerseymere, with boots which reached nearly -to his knees. Round his neck, a cravat of transparent India muslin, -embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, was loosely tied; his -hair, no longer disfigured by powder, and black as ebony, flowed about -his cheeks, which were tanned by exposure to the sun; his eyes beamed -with hope and animation. Near him, upon a gun, was placed a steel helmet -which fastened by a curb chain under the chin. This was his battle -dress, and the only defensive armour which he wore. Some deep -indentations in his helmet proved that it had more than once-saved the -head which it protected from those severe wounds inflicted by those -terrible cutlasses used by seamen when boarding. As to the ship’s -company, they wore the elegant though plain uniform of the French navy. - -During this time, the vessel which had been described by the man at -the mast head, and which had then appeared like a white speck upon the -horizon, had become, little by little, a pyramid of sails and rigging. -All eyes were fixed upon her, and although no order had been actually -given, every one of the crew had taken the position which individually -belonged to him, as though it had been determined that a combat should -take place. There reigned then on board the Indienne that solemn and -profound silence, which in a ship of war always precedes the decisive -orders of the captain. Finally, the hull of the strange sail appeared -rising out of the water, as her sails had successively done before. -It was then clearly discernible that she was a larger ship than the -Indienne, and that she carried thirty-six guns. She, however, showed no -colors, and as her crew were carefully and completely concealed behind -her bulwarks, it was impossible to ascertain, unless by some particular -indications, to what nation she belonged. These two observations were -made almost at the same moment by Captain Paul; the last, however, -seemed to strike him the most forcibly. - -“It appears,” said he, addressing his lieutenant, “that we are going to -have a scene of a masked ball. Order Arthur to bring us a few flags, and -let us prove to this unknown, that the Indienne has several disguises -at her disposal. And then, Mr. Walter, give orders that cutlasses and -boarding pikes be distributed, for we can hardly expect, in these seas, -to meet with any but enemy’s ships.” - -The two orders were executed; as soon as given. In an instant the young -midshipman had brought on deck a dozen flags of different nations, and -Lieutenant Walter, having had the arm chest opened, had boarding pikes -piled in different positions throughout the ship, and had distributed -cutlasses and axes to the ship’s company, he then returned to his place -by the Captain’s side. Every man again resumed his post by instinct -rather than by order, for they had not yet beat to quarters; so that the -apparent confusion which had existed for a moment ceased at once, and -the frigate became once more, as it were, silent and attentive. - -However, the two ships following their converging directions, continued -to approach each other. When they were about the distance of three gun -shots, “Mr. Walter,” said the Captain, “I think it is time we should -begin to mistify our good friend here. Let us show him the old Scotch -flag.” - -The lieutenant gave a sign to the quartermaster, and the red Lion -of Scotland, on a blue field, rose like a flame to the peak of the -_Indienne_; but nothing on board the enemy’s ship gave evidence of their -paying the slightest attention to this manouvre. - -“Yes, yes,” murmured the captain, “the three leopards of England have so -well filed the teeth and pared the claws of the Scottish lion, that -they pay no attention to him, believing that he is tamed because he is -defenceless. Show him some other color, Mr. Walter, and perhaps we shall -succeed in loosening his tongue.” - -“What flag shall I hoist, captain?” - -“Take the first one that comes; chance may perhaps favor us.” - -This order was scarcely given, when the Scotch flag was hauled down, and -that of Sardinia took its place. The ship still remained mute. - -“Well, well,” said the captain, jestingly, “it appears that His Majesty, -King George, is on good terms with his brother of Cyprus and Jerusalem. -Do not let us bring them to loggerheads by carrying our joke farther, -Mr. Walter, let us show the American flag, and prove that it is really -the right one, by firing an unshotted gun.” - -The same manouvre was repeated. The Sardinian flag was hauled down, and -the stars of the United States rose slowly towards the sky, and were -certified by firing a gun. - -What the captain had foreseen then happened immediately on the display -of this symbol of rebellion rising insolently in the air. The unknown -ship immediately betrayed its incognita by hoisting the British flag. At -the same moment a cloud of smoke was seen issuing from the side of the -royalist ship, and before the report was heard, a cannon ball was seen -tipping from wave to wave, and fell about a hundred yards short of the -Indienne. - -“Beat to quarters, Mr. Walter, for you see we have guessed rightly. -Come, my boys,” cried he, to the crew, “hurrah for America! and death to -England!” - -This was answered by a general shout, and had not ceased, when they -heard them beating to quarters on board the _Drake_, for that was the -name of the English ship. The drums of the Indienne immediately replied, -and every man ran to his post:--the gunners to their guns, the officers -to their stations, and the sailors to their running rigging. As to the -captain, he jumped upon the top of the companion, his speaking trumpet -in his hand--the supreme symbol, the sceptre of nautical royalty, which -the commander always wields in the hour of combat or during the raging -of the tempest. - -They now seem to have made an exchange of parts, for the English -appeared impatient, and the Americans affected calmness. The ships were -hardly within gun shot, when a long line of smoke was seen issuing from -the side of the English vessel, and a report similar to loud thunder -was heard, and the iron messengers sent to deal death among the rebels, -having in their impetuosity, miscalculated the distance, fell harmless -before reaching the sides of the frigate. The latter, however, as if -refusing to reply to so premature an attack, continued to haul to the -wind, as if to spare the enemy too long a course. - -At this moment the captain turned, as if to give a last look round his -ship, and his astonished gaze was attracted by the appearance of a new -personage on the deck, who had selected this dangerous and exciting -moment to make his entrance upon the scene. - -It was a young man, somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three years of -age. His face was pale and mild; he was plainly, but elegantly dressed, -and whom the captain had not before seen on board. He was leaning -against the mizen-mast, his arms folded over his chest, and looking with -melancholy indifference at the English vessel which was approaching them -under a heavy press of canvas. The calmness at such a moment, and in -a man who appeared a stranger to nautical combats, forcibly struck the -captain. He then remembered the prisoner, whom the Count d’Auray had -announced to him, and who had been brought on board during the last -night he had passed at the anchorage of Port Louis. - -“Who allowed you to come on deck, sir?” said he, softening as much as -possible, the tone of his enquiry, so that it would have been difficult -to ascertain whether this was addressed as a mere question, or as a -reproach. - -“No one, sir,” replied the prisoner, in a soft and sorrowful voice; -“but I had hoped that under the present circumstances, you would less -severely observe the orders by which I became your prisoner.” - -“Have you forgotten that you were forbidden to hold any communication -with the ship’s company.” - -“I did not come here for the purpose of holding communication with the -ship’s company, sir; I came to see whether some friendly cannon ball -would do me a good’ turn.” - -“You may, but too soon, have your desire accomplished, if you remain -where you are now standing; therefore, believe me, you had better remain -below.” - -“Is this your advice; or an order, captain?” - -“You have full liberty to construe it as you please.” - -“In that case,” replied the young man, “I thank you--I will remain -here.” - -At this instant, another loud report was heard; but the two ships had by -this time neared each other so much, that they were within gun-shot, and -the whole tempest of shot passed through the sails of the Indienne. Two -splinters fell from the masts; and the groans and stifled cries of some -of the ship’s company were heard. The captain, at that moment, had his -eyes fixed upon the prisoner, above whose head, a cannon ball had passed -within two feet, grazing the mizen mast, against which he was leaning; -but notwithstanding this death warning, he remained calm and unmoved, -in the same attitude as if he had not felt the wing of the exterminating -angel waft above his head. The captain knew how to appreciate -courage--this incident was sufficient to assure him of the undaunted -bravery of the man who stood before him. - -“Tis well, sir,” said he to him; “remain where you are, and when we come -to boarding, if you should be tired of remaining with your arms crossed, -take up a cutlass, or an axe, and give us a helping hand. You will -excuse me not payings you more attention at this moment, for I have -other things to do.” - -“Fire!” cried he, in a voice of thunder, through his speaking trumpet, -“now, give it her: fire!” - -“Fire!” repeated the officers like an echo, at their different stations. - -At the instant, the Indienne trembled from her keel, to her royal mast -head, as she poured her broadside into the enemy--a cloud of smoke -spread itself like a veil, along the starboard-side, which was -soon carried to leeward. The captain, standing upon the companion, -impatiently awaited its clearing off, that he might ascertain the effect -which the broadside had produced upon the enemy’s vessel. When his gaze -could penetrate through the smoke, he perceived that the enemy’s main -top mast had fallen, and had, with its sails, encumbered the after-part -of the Drake’s deck, and that her other sails were cut to ribbons. Then -putting his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he cried-- - -“Well done! my lads. Now watch her closely. They will be too busy in -clearing away the wreck of their mast, to think of raking us--fire--as -you can--and this time shave close!” - -The crew hastened to obey this order--the frigate veered round, and as -the guns were brought to bear upon the enemy, they were discharged with -terrible effect; and, as the captain had imagined, without any hindrance -from the Drake. The Indienne once more trembled like a volcano, and, as -a volcano, vomited forth her flame and smoke. - -This time the gunners had followed the orders of their captain to the -letter, (and the broadside had been fired point blank) striking the hull -and the lower masts. Both her masts were still standing; but on all -sides the sails were hanging in tatters. It appeared that some more -considerable damage had been done, which it was impossible to ascertain -at that distance; for some time, the broadside was not returned; at -length it was, and instead of raking the _Indienne_, it struck her in a -diagonal direction. It was not the less terrible, for it swept off many -a brave fellow from the deck; but by a chance which appeared positively -magical, touched neither of the masts. Some of the running rigging -was cut, but nothing that prevented her manoeuvring as before. At one -glance, Paul ascertained that he had only lost some men. His heart -bounded with joy. He once more placed the speaking-trumpet to his mouth. - -“Larboard the helm,” cried he, “and board her on the larboard side! -Boarders, to your stations--be ready! Give her one more broadside.” - -At the first movement of the _Indienne_, the enemy at once perceived the -intention, and endeavoured to neutralize it by it similar movement, but -at the instant of attempting to execute it, a dreadful crash was heard -on board her, and the mainmast, which had been nearly cut through by the -last discharge from the _Indienne_, trembled, for a few seconds like an -uprooted tree, and fell forward, covering the deck with the mainsail -and the rigging. Captain Paul at once comprehended what had delayed the -return of the broadside. - -“Now, she is ours, my lads!” cried he; “we have only to take her. One -last broadside within pistol shot, and then we’ll board her!” - -The _Indienne_ obeyed her helm, as does a well trained horse the -bridle, and unopposed, advanced towards her enemy, for the latter had no -steerage-way upon her, and her guns were consequently useless. The -Drake was therefore at the mercy of her adversary, who by remaining at a -distance and playing at long bowls, might have riddled her and sunk -her, but disdaining this too easy victory, sent in a last broadside; and -then, before seeing the effect it had produced, the frigate ran in upon -her larboard quarter, and threw her grappling-irons on board. On -the instant, the tops and forecastle of the Indienne blazed as with -fireworks on a holiday, and flaming grenades were showered upon the deck -of the Drake with the rapidity of hailstones. - -“Courage, my lads, courage, lash the bowsprit to her quarter rails. Well -done! now, to your two forecastle carronades--fire!” - -All these orders were executed with magical celerity: the two ships were -as securely lashed together as if by iron chains--the two carronades -which had not been fired during the combat, thundered in there turn, and -swept the enemy’s deck with a cloud of grape shot, and then another cry -was heard, uttered by the same stentorian voice-- - -“Now, board her!!!” - -And, adding example to precept, the captain of the _Indienne_ threw -aside his speaking trumpet, now of no longer use, placed his helmet on -his head, fastening the clasp beneath his chin; placed the sabre which -he usually wore in his belt between his teeth, and rushed upon the -bowsprit to jump thence upon the deck of the enemy. - -Although this movement followed the order he had given with as great -rapidity as the thunder succeeds the lightning, he was only the second -upon the English deck: he was preceded by the young prisoner with whom -he had conversed, who had thrown aside his coat, and armed only with a -hatchet, was the first to encounter death or victory. - -“You are not conversant with the discipline of my ship,” said Paul, -laughing; “it is my place to be the first to board a ship I am -attacking. I forgive you this time, but take care it does not again -happen.” - -At the same instant, the seamen of the _Indienne_ rushed from their own -ship to the enemy’s, taking advantage of every point of contact, some -from the bowsprit, others from the end of the yards, and nettings, and -fell upon the deck like ripe fruit falling from a tree when shaken -by the wind. Then the English, who had retreated to their forecastle, -unmasked a carronade which they had had time to turn upon their enemy. A -volley of fire and iron was vomited forth on the assailants. One fourth -of the crew of the _Indienne_ fell killed or mutilated on the enemy’s -deck, in the midst of cries and maledictions. But above the cries and -blasphemous oaths, a voice resounded, crying: - -“Forward--all of you!” - -Then ensued a scene of appalling confusion--a combat hand to hand--a -general duel. To the roar of cannon, to the report of musketry, to the -explosion of hand grenades, had succeeded the struggle with cold steel, -less noisy but more sure, above all with seamen, who have retained for -their sole use this inheritance from the giants, proscribed for more -than two centuries on the field of battle. It was with hatchets that -they cleaved each other’s sculls; it was with cutlasses they wounded -each other’s breasts; it was with boarding-pikes that they nailed each -other to the deck and masts. From time to time, in the midst of this -mute carnage, a stray pistol shot was heard, but isolated, and as if -ashamed of taking part in such a butchery. It lasted nearly a quarter of -an hour, and amidst a confusion it would be impossible to describe. -And then the British flag was lowered, and the crew of the Drake being -driven below, there remained on deck only the conquerors, the wounded -and the dead; in the midst of whom was the captain of the _Indienne_, -surrounded by his crew, with his foot upon the breast of the captain of -the enemy’s ship, having on his right his first lieutenant, Walter, and -on his left his young prisoner, whose shirt, steeped in blood, witnessed -the share he had in the victory. - -“Now, all is over,” said Paul, stretching out his hand; “and he who -strikes another blow will have to deal with me.” - -Then holding out his hand to his young prisoner, “Sir,” said he, “you -will relate to me, to-night, how it was that you were made my prisoner, -will you not! For there must be some cowardly machination in this -affair. The infamous only are transported to Cayenne, and you are too -brave to be infamous.” - - - -CHAPTER IV.--THE MARCHIONESS. - - She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth, - And of most royal presence--but sad thoughts - Seemed to possess her wholly--her children, even, - Seldom approached her, and when they did, - No soft affection, motherly caress, - Was e’er accorded to them--stern and cold, - She looked a moving statue.--Old Play. - - -About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just -related, and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise, -whose wheels and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified -that it had performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along, -although two powerful horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between -Vanness and Auray. The traveller it contained, and who was roughly -jolted in traversing the cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count -Emanuel, whom we saw open the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was -coming from Paris with all haste, and proceeding to his ancient family -mansion, with regard to which it is now necessary to give some more -precise and circumstantial details. - -Count Emanuel d’Auray was descended from one of the oldest families -in Brittany--one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy -Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor, -had been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in -its victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d’Auray, Chevalier -of the order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and -Grand Cross of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of -Louis XV., in which he filled the post of high steward, that high -distinction to which his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit, -truly entitled him. His influence there had been increased by his -marriage with Mademoiselle de Sable, who was his equal in every thing -that regarded family or credit at court: so that a brilliant future was -opened to the ambition of the young people, when, after being married -five years, a report was suddenly spread about the court, that the -Marquis d’Auray had become insane during a journey he had made to his -estates. This report was for a long time disbelieved. At length -the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his wife made their -appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him another -year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason, refused to -appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and even the -marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In France -people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which -even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of -indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old -chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting -or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of -a son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d’Aurays, -therefore, continued to figure among the names of the French nobility; -but not having mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in -court intrigues or in political affairs, not having sided either with -a Pampadour or a Du Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the -victories of the Maréchal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count -Clermont--in short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been -completely forgotten. - -However, the ancient name of the lords of d’Auray had been twice -pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first -time on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel’s being admitted in -1769, as one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after -having served his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires -of the young King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted -with the Baron de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who -was favorably disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable -degree of influence with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to -his old courtier, who having been informed that the Count d’Auray had -a sister, one day let fall a few words upon the possibility of an union -between the two families. Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied -with struggling beneath the veil which had obscured his family name, saw -in this marriage a means of regaining the position which his father had -occupied at court under the late king, and had eagerly caught at the -first overtures for this alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under -the pretext of uniting himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood, -to his young friend, had urged his suit with an eagerness which was so -much the more flattering to Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand -of his sister had never seen her. The Marchioness d’Auray had listened -the more readily to this proposal, as it opened to her son the road to -royal favor, and the marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two -young people, at all events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded -M. de Lectoure three or four days only, had hastened into the country -to inform his mother that everything had been arranged according to her -desire. As to Marguerite, the intended wife, they contented themselves -with informing her of the resolution they had taken without thinking -it necessary to ask her consent to it, in about the same way that a -criminal is informed of the sentence which condemns him to the scaffold. - -It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of -future exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated -projects of ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy -castle of his family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards, -overgrown with grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden -hopes that agitated him. The castle was a league and a half distant from -any other dwelling. The principal facade overlooked that part of the -ocean, which being so constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name -of “the Wild Sea.” The other looked toward an immense park, which, -being for twenty years abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete -forest. As to the apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with -the exception of those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had -been renewed during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of -a numerous household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which -the more modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more -elegant, was less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops -of Boule, the appointed upholsterer of the court. - -It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney -pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was -ushered on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to -communicate to his mother the happy news of which he was the bearer, -that without taking the time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his -gloves, and travelling pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant -to inform the marchioness of his arrival, and to ask her permission to -present himself, saying that he would await it in that room; for such in -this old family was the respect paid to parents, that the son, after an -absence of five months, did not dare to present himself to his mother, -without in the first place consulting her desires upon the subject. As -to the Marquis d’Auray, his children could not remember having seen -him more than two or three times, and then it was by stealth: for his -insanity was of a nature, it was said, that certain objects irritated, -and they had been always kept from him with the greatest precaution. The -marchioness alone, a model of conjugal virtue, remained always with him, -fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not only the duties of a wife, -but also those of a servant. Consequently, her name was revered in the -surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose devotedness on earth has -gained a place in heaven. - -In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the -marchioness d’Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that -the count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost -immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel’s -mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age, -tall and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy -features had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command. -She was in costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time -that her husband had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her -mourning garments. Her long black gown gave to her movements, cold and -slow as those of a shadow, a solemn appearance, which shed around this -extraordinary woman a feeling of awe, which even filial affection had -never been able to surmount. Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started -as at the sight of an unexpected apparition, and instantly rising, he -advanced three steps toward her, respectfully went down upon one knee, -and kissed the hand she presented to him. - -“Rise, sir,” said the marchioness. “I am happy to see you again.” And -she pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who -had been absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel -obeyed, conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated -herself, and he remained standing before her. - -“I received your letter, count,” she said, “and I congratulate you on -your skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than -for military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain -an embassy for you, rather than a regiment.” - -“Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what -is more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power -with M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister.” - -“In love with a woman he has never seen?” - -“Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of -Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our -fortune, has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your -son and to call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that -all the preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You -have obtained the publication of the bans, madam?” - -“Yes.” - -“The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed.” - -“With the help of God, all will be ready.” - -“Thanks, madam.” - -“But tell me,” continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her -chair, and bending toward Emanuel, “has he not questioned you regarding -that young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of -deportation?” - -“By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without -entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit -confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world, -that they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered.” - -“Then he knows nothing?” - -“No--but did he know all----” - -“Well?” - -“Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the -discovery would not in any way influence his determination.” - -“I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift,” replied the -marchioness, with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if -speaking to herself. - -“But supposing it should be so,” said Emanuel anxiously, “your -resolution would be still unchanged, I hope.” - -“Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our -former influence?” - -“Then, there is only my sister----” - -“Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?” - -“Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?” - -“For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my -presence.” - -“Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our -family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not -conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having -been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king -at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your -virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him, -even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason; -your virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses, -but of which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in -this old forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission, -which you call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they -forget you (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count -six hundred years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at -court, our name, the name of the family d’Auray, was hardly known to -their majesties, but as an historical recollection.” - -“Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories,” murmured -the marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such -a blasphemy, she rejoined, “I hope that the blessing of God may always -attend their majesties and France.” - -“And what can in any way affect their happiness?” replied Emanuel, -with that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the -distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility. -“Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both -of them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them, -Heaven be praised, beyond the reach of every evil.” - -“No one, my son,” replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head, -“believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty. -No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master -it, firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head, -were it even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The -people, you say, are brave and loyal.” The marchioness arose and slowly -advanced to the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean. -“Observe that sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this -night, in an hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the -cries of distress of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I -am separated from the world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears, -borne as it were by invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not -exist a sect of philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the -errors which it propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which -is detaching itself from the mother country, whose children refuse to -acknowledge their father? Is there not a people who style themselves a -nation? Have I not heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the -ocean, to offer to rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but -at the call of their legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told, -moreover, or is it but the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI. -and the Queen, Marie Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are -a family of brothers, have authorised these armed emigrations, and have -given letters of marque to I know not what foreign pirate?” - -“All this is true,” said Emanuel, much astonished. - -“May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of -France!” rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room, -leaving Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw -her withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain -her. - -Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant -character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change -his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window -which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence -he could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between -d’Auray and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he -perceived two persons on horseback, following the same road he had just -travelled over, and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they -drew nearer he could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his -servant. The first, dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of -that day, that is to say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs, -stocking-knit breeches, and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad -brim, and his hair tied with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on -an English horse of rare beauty and great value, which he managed with a -grace that proved he had made equestrian exercises a profound study. He -was followed at a short distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery -was in perfect harmony with the lordly air of the person whom he served. -Emanuel imagined for a moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards -the castle, that it was the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his -departure from Paris, intended to surprise him; but he soon found that -he was mistaken; and although it appeared to him that it was not the -first time he had seen the horseman, he could not recollect where or -under what circumstances he had met him. While he was racking his memory -to discover the event in his life with which this vague remembrance was -connected, the strangers had disappeared behind an angle of the castle -wall. Five minutes afterwards Emanuel heard the sound of their horses’ -feet in the court yard, and, almost immediately the door was opened; a -servant announced, “_Mr. Paul!_” - - - - -CHAPTER V.--DEVOTED LOVE. - - Woman’s love - Once given, may break the heart that holds--but never - Melts into air save with her latest sigh. - - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain, - - -The name, as well as the appearance of the person thus announced, -awakened in their turn in the mind of Emanuel a confused recollection of -which he could not affix either date or event. The person, preceded by -the servant, entered the room by a door opposite the one through which -the marchioness had retired. Although the moment was ill-timed for a -visit, and though the young count, pre-occupied by his projects for the -future, would have preferred meditating upon and ripening them, he was -compelled, by the rules of etiquette, so severe in those days between -well-bred people, to receive the visitor with courtesy and politeness. -The deportment of the latter bespoke the man of distinction. After the -usual salutations, Emanuel, by a gesture, invited the stranger to be -seated, who bowed and took a chair, and then the conversation commenced -with some common-place polite observation. - -“I am delighted to meet you, count,” said the stranger. - -“Chance has favored me, sir,” replied Emanuel; “an hour sooner you would -not have found me here: I have just arrived from Paris.” - -“I am aware of that, count, for we have been travelling the same road. -I set out an hour after you, and all along the road I heard of you, by -means of the postillions who had the honor of driving you.” - -“May I be bold enough to ask,” said Emanuel, in a tone which began to -evince a certain degree of dissatisfaction, “to what circumstance I owe -the interest you appear to evince concerning me.” - -“This interest is perfectly natural between old acquaintance, and -perhaps. I might have reason to complain that it does not appear to be -reciprocal.” - -“In fact, sir, it does appear to me,” replied Emanuel, “that I have met -you somewhere; but my recollection serves me but confusedly; will you be -kind enough to assist it?” - -“If what you say be the case, count, your memory must indeed be rather -fugitive, for within the last six months, on three separate occasions, I -have the honor of exchanging compliments with you.” - -“Even should I expose myself to further reproach, I am compelled to say -that I still remain in the same state of uncertainty with regard to your -person. Pray, therefore, have the goodness to fix my memory, by aid -of more precise dates, on some event, and remind me under what -circumstances I had the honor of meeting you for the first time.” - -“The first time, count? it was on the jetty of Port Louis. You desired -to obtain some information with regard to a certain frigate, which I -was so fortunate as to be able to furnish you. I believe, even, that -I accompanied you on board. Upon that occasion I wore the uniform of a -lieutenant in the royal navy, and you that of a mousquetaire.” - -“I now well recollect it, sir, and I was obliged to leave the vessel -without offering the thanks I owed you.” - -“You are mistaken, count; I received those thanks during our second -interview.” - -“And where did that take place?” - -“On board the very vessel to which I had conducted you--in the cabin. I -then wore the uniform of the captain of the ship: blue coat, red -waistcoat and breeches, with grey stockings, a three-cornered hat, and -curled hair. Only the captain appeared to you some thirty years older -than the lieutenant, and it was not without motive that I had made -myself appear so much older, for you would perhaps, not have chosen to -confide to a young man a secret of such importance as you then -communicated to me.” - -“What you now say is incredible, sir; and yet something tells me that it -was really so. Yes, yes; I now remember that in the shade in which you -remained half concealed, I saw eyes sparkling similar to yours. I have -not forgotten them; but this was only the time before the last, you say, -that I had the honor of seeing you. Continue, sir, I beg, to assist my -memory, for I cannot recollect our third interview.” - -“The last, count, was only a week since, at Paris--at a fencing match, -at Saint-George’s, in the rue Chanterecin. You remember, do you not, an -English gentleman, with his hair so red that his powder could scarcely -conceal its brilliant color--a scarlet coat, and tightly fitting -pantaloons. I even had the honor of trying a bout with you, and I was -fortunate enough to hit you three times, while, on the contrary, you -were not lucky enough to touch me once. On that occasion I called myself -Jones.” - -“It is most singular--it was certainly the same look, but it could not -be the same man.” - -“The will of God has directed that the look should be the only thing -which cannot be disguised, and this is why he has thrown into the look -a spark of his own light. Well, then, the lieutenant, the captain, the -Englishman, were one and the same person.” - -“At the present moment, sir, what are you if you please? For, with a man -who can so perfectly disguise himself, that question you must admit, is -not altogether unnecessary.” - -“At the present moment, count, as you see, I have no motive for -concealment, and, therefore, I have come to you in the simple costume of -the young nobility, when they visit each other as neighbors in the -country. I am whatever you may please to consider me; French, English, -Spanish, or even an American. In which of these languages would you wish -our conversation to be continued?” - -“Although some of these languages may be as familiar to me as they are -to you, sir, I prefer the French language; it is that of a plain and -concise explanations.” - -“Be it so,” replied Paul, with an expression of profound melancholy; -“the French is also the language I prefer; I first saw the day upon -French ground, for the sun of France was that which gladdened my eyes; -and although I have often seen more fertile climes, and a more brilliant -sun, there has never been for me but one country and one sun, the sun -and the country of Franco!” - -“Your national enthusiasm,” said Emanuel, interrupting him ironically, -“causes you to forget the motive to which I am indebted for the honor of -this visit.” - -“You are right, sir, and I will return to it. It was, then, about six -months ago, while walking on the jetty of Port Louis, you saw in the -outer roads a fine sharp frigate, with tall masts and square yards, and -you said to yourself: ‘the captain of that ship must have some motive -known only to himself, for carrying so much canvas, on masts so -slight,’--and from that sprung to your mind that he must be some -buccaneer, a pirate, a corsair”---- - -“And was I mistaken?” - -“I thought I had already expressed to you, count,” replied Paul, with a -slight tone of irony, “my admiration of the perspicacity with which, at -the first glance, you sound the depths of men and circumstances”---- - -“A truce to compliments, if you please, sir, and let us to facts.” - -“It was under this persuasion that you caused yourself to be conducted -on board the frigate, by a certain lieutenant, and that you found a -certain captain in the cabin. You were the bearer of a letter from the -Minister of Marine, ordering any officer, upon your requisition, and -whose ship was under the French flag and bound for the Gulf of Mexico, -to conduct to Cayenne a person named Lusignan, guilty of a crime against -the state.” - -“That is true.” - -“I obeyed that order, for I was then ignorant that this great culprit, -thus transported, had committed no other crime than that of being the -lover of your sister.” - -“Sir,” cried Emanuel, starting up. - -“These are very fine pistols, count,” carelessly continued Paul, playing -with the weapons which the Count d’Auray had placed upon the table, on -alighting from his carriage. - -“And they are ready loaded,” said Emanuel, in a tone which was not to be -mistaken. - -“Are they so?” returned Paul, with affected indifference. - -“That is a matter of which you can assure yourself, if you will take a -turn in the park with me.” - -“There is no necessity for going out to do that,” replied Paul, without -pretending to understand Emanuel’s proposal in the sense which he meant -to give to it; “here is a mark which is well placed, and at a proper -distance.” - -Saying these words, the captain cocked the pistol, and pointed it -through the open window towards the top of a small tree. A goldfinch -was rocking himself on the highest branch, singing forth his shrill and -joyful notes. Paul fired, and the poor bird, cut in two, fell at the -foot of the tree. Paul coolly replaced the pistol on the table. - -“You were perfectly right, count,” said he, “they are excellent weapons, -and I advise you not to part with them.” - -“You have just given me an extraordinary proof of it,” replied Emanuel; -“and I feel bound to acknowledge that you have a steady hand.” - -“There is nothing extraordinary in that,” rejoined Paul, in that -melancholy tone which was peculiar to him. “During those long days, -when not a breath passes over that mirror of the Supreme Being, which -is called the ocean, we seamen are compelled to seek for amusements to -which you landsmen are daily accustomed. Then we try our skill upon -the sea-gulls, which hover over the crest of a wave; or the fish-hawks, -which dart down upon the imprudent tenant of the deep that rise to -its surface; or, again, upon the swallows which, fatigued with a long -flight, alight upon the royal mast-head or on the yards or rigging. It -is thus, count, that we acquire some dexterity in exercises which may -appear so incompatible with our profession.” - -“Go on, sir; and if it be possible, let us return to the subject of our -conversation.” - -“He was a handsome, brave young man, this Lusignan; he related his -whole history to me. That being the son of an old friend of your -father’s, who had died poor, he had been adopted by him some two years -before the unknown accident occurred which deprived him of his -reason. That having been brought up with you, he had inspired you with -hatred--your sister with affection. He told me that, during the long -years they passed together in the same solitude, they never perceived -the isolation from the world in which they lived, excepting when they -were absent from each other. He recounted to me all the details of their -youthful love, and how Marguerite had one day said to him, in the words -of the tender maiden of Verona-- - - “‘I will be thine, or else I’ll be the tomb’s.’” - -“She has but too truly kept her word.” - -“Yes--has she not? And you virtuous people call that shame and -dishonour, when a poor child, lost through her own innocence, is carried -away by love. Your mother, whose duties estranged her from her daughter, -and perpetually confined her to your father’s room--(for I know the -virtues of your mother, sir, as well as I know your sister’s weakness: -she is an austere woman, more severe than one of God’s creatures ought -to be, whose only advantage over others is, that of never having -fallen)--your mother, I say, one night heard some stifled cries; she -entered your sister’s chamber, walked pale and silently up to her bed, -and coldly snatched from her arms a child which had just been born, and -left the room without addressing even a reproach to her daughter, but -only paler and more silent than when she entered it. As to poor -Marguerite, she did not utter even a cry--she made no complaint. She had -fainted away immediately on perceiving her mother. Was it so, sir? Have -I been rightly informed, and is the whole of this dreadful story true?” - -“You seem to be acquainted with every detail of it!” exclaimed Emanuel, -with amazement. - -“It is because the whole of these details are given in these letters -signed by your sister,” replied Paul, opening a pocket-book, “and -which Lusignan, at the time he was about to be thrown amid robbers and -assassins, through your instrumentality, confided to me, that I might -restore them to her who had written them.” - -“Give them to me, then,” said Emanuel, stretching forth his hand towards -the pocket-book, “and they shall be faithfully delivered to her who has -had the imprudence”-- - -“To complain to the only person who loved her in this world--is it not -so?” said Paul, withdrawing the letters and the pocket-book. “Imprudent -daughter, whose own mother snatched the child from her heart, and who -poured her bitter tears into the bosom of the father of her child! -Imprudent sister, who, not finding any protection from this tyranny in -her brother, has compromised his noble name by signing with the name he -bears, letters, which, in the stupid and prejudiced eye of the world, -may--how is it you term this in your noble class--dishonour her family, -is it not?” - -“Then,” cried Emanuel, reddening with impatience, “since you are aware -of the terrible tendency of these papers, fulfil the mission which you -have been charged, by delivering them either to me, to my mother, or my -sister.” - -“This was my intention when I landed at Lorient; but about ten or twelve -days ago, on entering a church--” - -“A church!” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“And for what purpose?” - -“To pray there.” - -“Ah! Captain Paul believes in God, then!” - -“Did I not believe in him, whom should I invoke during the raging of the -tempest?” - -“And in this church, then?” - -“In that church, sir, I heard a priest announce the approaching marriage -of the noble Marguerite d’Auray with the very high and very potent Baron -de Lectoure. I immediately inquired for you, and was informed you were -at Paris, where I was myself compelled to go, to give an account of my -mission to the king.” - -“To the king!” - -“Yes, sir, to the king--Louis XVI.; to his majesty, in person. I -immediately set out, intending to return here as soon as you did. I -met you in Saint George’s rooms, and was informed of your approaching -departure. I arranged mine in consequence, in order that we might arrive -here at about the same time, and here I am, sir, with a very different -resolution to that I had formed before landing in Brittany.” - -“And what is this new determination? Let me hear it, for we must come to -some conclusion.” - -“Well, then, I think that as all the world, and even his mother, seem -to have forgotten the poor orphan, it is highly necessary that I should -remember it. In the position in which you are placed, sir, and with the -disposition you have evinced of becoming allied to the Baron de Lectoure -(who in your view, is the only person who can assist the realization -of your ambitious projects), these letters are well worth a hundred -thousand francs, are they not? and will make but a very trifling breach -in the income of two hundred thousand francs which your estates afford -you.” - -“But who will prove to me that this hundred thousand francs--” - -“You are right, sir, and therefore it will be in exchange for a contract -for an annuity upon the young Hector de Lusignan, that I will deliver up -these letters.” - -“Is that all, sir?” - -“I will also ask, that the child be confided to me, and I will have him -brought up, thanks to his little fortune, far from the mother who has -forgotten him, and far from his father whom you caused to be banished.” - -“‘Tis well, sir; had I known that it was for so small a sum, and so -trifling an interest that you had come, I should not have experienced so -much anxiety. You will, however, permit me to speak to my mother on the -subject.” - -“Monsieur le Comte,” said a servant, opening the door. - -“I am not at home to any one. Leave the room.” replied Emanuel, -impatiently. - -“It is your sister, sir, who wishes to see you.” - -“Tell her to come by and by.” - -“She desires to speak to you this instant.” - -“Do not put yourself out of the way on my account,” said Paul. - -“But my sister must not see you, sir,--you comprehend it is important -that she should not see you.” - -“As you please; but as it is important, also, that I should not leave -the castle before concluding the affair which brought me here, permit me -to go into this side room.” - -“That will do,” said Emanuel, himself opening the door; “but be quick, -I beg of you.” - -Paul went into the small room, and Emanuel hastily closed the door upon -him, which was hardly done when Marguerite appeared. - - - -CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. - - Look kindly on them; I cannot bear - Severity; - My heart’s so tender, should you charge me rough, - I should but weep and answer you with sobbing; - But use me gently, like a loving brother, - And search through all the secrets of my soul.--Otway. - - -Marguerite d’Auray, whose history the reader has become aquainted with, -from the conversation between Captain Paul and Emanuel, was one of those -delicate, pale beauties, who bear impressed upon their features the -characteristic stamp of high birth. At the first glance, from the soft -flexibility of her form, the whiteness of her skin, the shape of her -hands and tapering fingers, with their thin, rosy and transparent nails, -could be discerned that she was descended from an ancient race. It was -evident that her feet, so small that both of them could have been placed -in the foot-mark of most women, had never walked excepting on carpeted -saloons or on the flowery turf of a park. There was in her movements, -graceful as they were, a certain degree of haughtiness and pride, the -attribute of all her family; in fine, she conveyed the impression that -her soul, capable of making any sacrifice she had resolved upon, -was very likely to rebel against tyranny; that devotedness was an -instinctive virtue of her heart, while obedience, in her view, was only -an educational duty, so that the tempest wind which blew upon her, might -make her bend down before it as a lily, but not as a reed. - -And yet, when she appeared at the door, her features depicted such -complete discouragement, her eyes had retained the traces of such -burning tears, her whole frame seemed weighed down by such an -overwhelming despair, that Emanuel saw at once, that she must have -summoned all her strength to assume an appearance of calmness. On seeing -him, she made a violent effort, and it was with a certain degree of -nervous firmness that she approached the arm chair on which he was -sitting. And then, seeing that the features of her brother retained the -expression of impatience, which they had assumed on being interrupted, -she paused, and these two children of the same mother, looked at each -other as strangers, the one with the eyes of ambition, the other with -those of fear. By degrees, Marguerite resumed her courage. - -“You have come at last, Emanuel! I was awaiting your return as the blind -await the light, and yet from the manner in which you look upon your -sister, it is easy to perceive that she was wrong in placing her hopes -in you.” - -“If my sifter has become, as she always ought to have been,” replied -Emanuel, “that is to say, a submissive and respectful daughter, she will -have understood what her rank and her position demand of her; she will -have forgotten past events as things which never should have happened, -and which consequently she ought not to remember, and she will have -prepared herself for the new destiny which awaits her. If it is in this -disposition that she now comes before me, my arms are open to receive -her, and my sister is still my sister.” - -“Listen attentively to what I am about to say,” said Marguerite, “and -above all, consider it as a justification of myself, and not intended as -a reproach to others. If my mother--and God forbid that I should accuse -her, for a holy duty keeps her apart from us--if my mother had been, -I was about to say, toward me as other mothers are towards their -daughters, I should constantly have opened my heart to her as a book; -at the first word traced upon it by any stranger hand, she would have -warned me of my danger and I should have avoided it. Had I been educated -in the world instead of being brought up like a poor wild flower beneath -the shade of this old castle, I should have learned from infancy the -value of the rank and position which you speak of to-day, and I should, -perhaps, not have infringed the decorum they prescribe, or the duties -they impose. In short, had I been tutored amidst women of the world, -with their sparkling wit and frivolous hearts, whom I have so often -heard you praise, but whom I never knew, had I been guilty of some -faults from levity, which love has caused me to commit--yes, I can well -understand, I might then have forgotten the past, have sown upon the -surface new recollections as flowers are planted upon tombs; and then, -forgetting the place where they had grown, have formed of them a bouquet -for a ball, or a bridal wreath. But unfortunately it is not so, Emanuel. -I was told to beware, when it was too late to avoid the danger. They -spoke to me of my rank and position in society, when I had already -forfeited them, and I am now called upon to look forward to joy in the -future, when my heart is drowned in the tears and misery of the past.” - -“And the conclusion of all this,” bitterly rejoined Emanuel. - -“The conclusion depends on you alone, Emanuel; it is in your power to -render it, if not happy, at all events becoming. I cannot have recourse -to my father. Alas! I know not even if he could recognise his daughter. -I have no hope in my mother; her glance freezes me, her words are -death to me. You alone, Emanuel, were left to me, to whom I could say, -brother: you are now the head of the family; it is to you alone that we -are answerable for our honor. I have fallen from ignorance, and I have -been punished for my fault as if it had been a wilful crime.” - -“Well! well!”, murmured Emanuel impatiently, “what is it that you ask?” - -“Brother, I demand, since a union with the only being I could have -loved, is said to be impossible, I demand that my punishment be -regulated according to my strength to bear it. My mother--may heaven -pardon her!--tore my child from me as if she had never herself been a -mother, and my child will be brought up far from me, neglected, and in -obscurity. You, Emanuel, removed the father, as my mother did the child, -and you were more cruel to him than the case required; I will not say as -man to man, but even as a judge towards a guilty person. As to myself, -you have both united to impose upon me a martyrdom more painful still. -Well, then, Emanuel, I demand in the name of our childhood spent in the -same cradle, of our youth passed under the same roof, in the name of the -tender appellations of brother and sister, which nature bestowed upon -us--I demand that a convent be opened to me, and that its gates should -close upon me for ever. And in that convent, I swear to you, Emanuel, -that every day upon my knees, before God, my forehead bent down to the -stone-pavement, weighed down by my fault, I will entreat the Lord as -a recompense for all my sufferings, to restore my father to reason, my -mother to happiness, and to pour on you, Emanuel, honor, and glory and -fortune. I swear to you, I will do this.” - -“Yes; and the world will say that I had a sister whom I sacrificed to my -fortune, whose property I inherited while she still lived! Why this is -sheer madness!” - -“Listen to me, Emanuel,” rejoined Marguerite, supporting herself on the -back of a chair, near which she was standing. - -“Well?” replied Emanuel. - -“When you have pledged your word, you keep it, do you not?” - -“I am a gentleman.” - -“Well, then! look at this bracelet.” - -“I see it--perfectly--what then?” - -“It is fastened by a key--the key which opens it is attached to a ring, -and with that ring, I pledged my word that I would not be released from -a promise I had made, until the ring should be brought back and returned -to me.” - -“And he who has the key of it?” - -“Thanks to you, and to my mother, Emanuel, he is too far from us to -ask it of him. He is at Cayenne.” - -“Before you are married two months,” replied Emanuel, with an ironical -smile, “that bracelet will be so irksome to you, that you will be the -first to get rid of it.” - -“I thought that I had told you it is locked upon my arm.” - -“You know what people do when they have lost the key and cannot get into -their house--they send for a locksmith.” - -“Well! in my case, Emanuel,” replied Marguerite, rasing her voice, -and extending her arm with a solemn gesture, “they must send for the -executioner then, for this hand shall be cut off before I give it to -another.” - -“Silence! silence!” cried Emanuel, rising hastily, and looking anxiously -towards the door of the inner room. - -“And now I have said all I had to say,” rejoined Marguerite: “my -only hope was in you, Emanuel; for although you cannot comprehend any -deep-seated feeling, you are not cruel. I came to you in tears, look -at me and you will see that it is true--I came to you to say, ‘Brother, -this marriage is the misfortune, is the misery of my life--I would -prefer a convent--I would prefer death to it--and you have not listened -to me, or if you have listened, you have not understood me. Well, then, -I will address myself to this man--I will appeal to his honor, to his -delicacy; if that should not be sufficient, I will tell him all; my love -for another, my weakness, my fault, my crime! I will tell him that I -have a child; that although he was torn from me, although I have never -since seen him, although I am ignorant of his abode, still my child -exists. A child cannot die, without his death striking some chord within -its mother’s heart. In short I will tell him, should it be necessary, -that I still love another, that I cannot love him, and that I never -will.” - -“Well! tell him all this,” cried Emanuel, irritated by her persistence, -“and that evening we will sign the contract, and the next day you will -be Baroness de Lectoure.” - -“And then,” replied Marguerite, “then, I shall be truly the most -miserable woman in existence, for I should then have a brother whom I -should no longer love, and a husband for whom I should have no esteem. -Farewell, Emanuel; believe me this contract is not yet signed.” - -And after saying these words, Marguerite withdrew with that deep and -settled despair upon her features, which could not for a moment be -mistaken. And Emanuel, convinced that he had not, as he had anticipated, -obtained a victory, but that the struggle was still to be continued, -gazed after her with an anxiety which was not devoid of tenderness. - -After a few moments of silence, in which he sat pensive and motionless, -he turned round and saw Captain Paul, whom he had completely forgotten, -standing at the door of the study, and then considering the vital -importance it was to him to get possession of the papers, which the -captain had offered him, he hurriedly sat down at the table, took a pen -and paper, and turning towards him, said-- - -“And now, sir, we are again alone, and there is nothing to prevent our -at once concluding this affair. In what terms do you wish the promise -to be drawn up? Dictate them, I am ready to write them down.” - -“It is now useless,” coldly replied the captain. - -“And why so?” - -“I have changed my mind.” - -“How is that?” said Emanuel, rising, alarmed at the consequences which -he perceived might arise from words which he was far from expecting. - -“I will give,” replied Paul, with the calmness of a fixed determination, -“the hundred thousand livres to the child, and I will find a husband -for your sister.” - -“Who are you, then,” said Emanuel, advancing a step towards him, “who -are you, sir, who thus disposes of a young girl who is my sister, who -has never seen you, and who does not even know that you exist?” - -“Who am I!” replied Paul, smiling; “upon my honor, I know no more upon -that subject than you do, for my birth is a secret which is only to be -revealed to me when I have attained my twenty-fifth year.” - -“And you will attain that age?”---- - -“This evening, sir. I place myself at your disposal from to-morrow -morning, to give you all the information you may require of me,” and -saying these words, Paul bowed. - -“I allow you to depart, sir, but you will understand it is upon the -condition that we meet again.” - -“I was about to propose that condition, count, and I thank you for -having anticipated me.” - -He then bowed to Emanuel a second time, and left the room. At the castle -gate, Paul found his horse and servant, and resumed the route to Port -Louis. When he had got out of sight of the castle, he alighted from his -horse, and directed his steps towards a fisherman’s hut, built upon -the beach. At the door of this house, seated upon a bench, and in a -sailor’s’ dress, was a young man so deeply absorbed in thought, that he -did not observe Paul’s approach. The captain placed his hand upon the -young man’s shoulder, the other started, looked at him, and became -frightfully pale, although the open and joyful countenance of Paul, -indicated that he was far from being the bearer of bad news. - -“Well!” said Paul to him, “I have seen her.” - -“Who?” demanded the young man. - -“Marguerite, by heaven!” - -“And----” - -“She is charming.” - -“I did not ask you that.” - -“She loves you still.” - -“Gracious heaven!” exclaimed the young man, throwing himself into Paul’s -arms, and bursting into tears. - - - -CHAPTER VII.--THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. - - O good old man; how well in thee appears - The constant service of the antique world - When service sweat for duty, not for need! - - Thou art not for the fashion of these times - Where none will sweat but for promotion; - And having that, do choice their service up - Even with the having: it is not so with thee. - - Shakespeare. - - -Although our readers must readily comprehend, after that which we have -just related to them, all that had passed in the six months during which -we had lost sight of our heroes, some details are, however, necessary, -in order that they should fully understand the new events about to be -accomplished. - -On the evening after the combat between the _Indienne_ and the Drake, -and which, notwithstanding our ignorance in naval matters, we have -attempted to describe to our readers, Lusignan had related to Paul the -history of his whole life. It was a very simple one, and contained but -few incidents. Love had formed the principal event in it, and after -having been its only joy, it had become its greatest grief. The -adventurous and independent life of Paul, his station, which had placed -him beyond the trammels of society, his caprice which was superior -to all laws, his habit of supreme command on board his own ship, had -inspired him with too just a sense of natural rights to obey the order -he had received with regard to Lusignan. Moreover, although he had -anchored under the French flag, Paul, as we have seen, belonged to -the navy of America, whose cause he had enthusiastically espoused. -He continued, therefore, his cruise along the shores of England; but -finding there was nothing to be done on the sea he landed at Whitehaven, -a small port in Cumberland, at the head of twenty men, among whom was -Lusignan, took the fort, spiked the guns, and put to sea again, after -having burnt the merchant vessels in the roads. Thence he sailed for -the coast of Scotland, with the intention of carrying off the Earl -of Selkirk and taking him as a hostage to the United States; but this -project had miscarried from an unforeseen circumstance, that nobleman -having unexpectedly gone to London. In this enterprise, as in the other, -Lusignan had seconded him with the courage we have seen him exhibit -in the battle between the _Indienne_ and the Drake; so that Paul -congratulated himself more than ever upon the chance which had enabled -him to oppose an injustice. But it was not enough that he had saved -Lusignan from transportation, it was necessary to restore his honor, -and to our young adventurer, in whom our readers will doubtless have -recognised the celebrated privateersman, Paul Jones, it was a more easy -matter than to any other person; for having letters of marque from Louis -XVI., against the English, he had to repair to Versailles to give an -account of his cruize. - -Paul determined upon running into Lorient, and for the second time cast -anchor there, that he might be within a short distance of the Chateau -d’Auray. The first answer which the young men received to their -enquiries regarding that family, was that Marguerite d’Auray was about -to be married to M. do Lectoure. Lusignan thought himself’ forgotten, -and in the first paroxysm of his despair, insisted, even at the risk of -falling into the hands of his former persecutors, on once more seeing -Marguerite, if it were only to reproach her for infidelity; but Paul, -more calm and less credulous, made him pledge his word that he would not -land until he had heard from him; then, being assured that the marriage -would not take place in less than fifteen days, he set out for Paris, -and was received by the king, who presented him with a sword, the hilt -of which was of gold, and decorated him with the order of military -merit. Paul had availed himself of the kindness of the king towards him -to relate to him Lusignan’s adventures, and had obtained not only his -pardon, but also as a reward for his late services, the appointment -of Governor of Guadaloupe. All these cares had not prevented him -from keeping sight of Emanuel. Being informed of the count’s intended -departure, he left Paris, and having written to Lusignan, appointing a -place of meeting, he arrived at Auray an hour after the young count. - -After their joyful meeting, Paul and Lusignan remained together until -nearly twilight. Then Paul, who, as he had told Emanuel, had a personal -revelation to receive, left his friend and again took the road to Auray. -But this time he was on foot, and did not enter the castle, but going -along the park wall, he directed his steps toward an iron gate which -opened into a wood belonging to the domains of Auray. - -About an hour before Paul left the fisherman’s hut, where he had found -Lusignan, a person had preceded him on the road toward the cottage at -which he was to ask the revelation of the secret of his birth; that -person was the Marchioness d’Auray, the haughty heiress of the name of -Sable. She was attired in her usual mourning garments with the addition -of a long black veil, which enveloped her from head to foot. Moreover, -the habitation which our young adventurer, with the hesitation of -ignorance, was seeking for, was to her familiar. It was a sort of -keeper’s house, situated at a few paces from the entrance to the park, -and inhabited by an old man, in whose behalf the Marchioness d’Auray -had for twenty years fulfilled one of those acts of sedulous benevolence -which had gained for her in that part of Lower Brittany, the reputation -of rigid holiness which she enjoyed. These attentions to age were given, -it is true, with the same gloomy and solemn face which we have observed -in her, and which the tender emotions of pity never softened; but they -were nevertheless afforded, and all knew it, with careful punctuality. - -The face of the Marchioness d’Auray was even more grave than it was wont -to be, while she crossed the park to repair to the dwelling of a man who -was said to be an old servant of the family. The door was standing open -as if to allow the last rays of the setting sun to penetrate into the -house, so sweet and balmy to old people in the month of May. The house -was however empty. The Marchioness d’Auray entered it, looked around -her, and then as if certain that the person she was in search of would -not be long absent, she resolved to await his return. She sat down. She -had remained there about half an hour, motionless and absorbed in her -reflections, when she saw, between her and the declining daylight, a -shadow cast before the door. She slowly raised her eyes and recognised -the person she had been expecting. They both started as though they had -met by chance, and were not in the habit of seeing each other every day. - -“It is you, Achard,” said the marchioness, who was the first to speak. “I -have been waiting for you half an hour. Where can you have been?” - -“Had your ladyship walked fifty paces farther, you would have found me -under the large oak, on the edge of the forest.” - -“You know I never walk that way,” said the marchioness, with a visible -shudder. - -“And you are wrong, madam; there is one in heaven who has a right to our -joint prayers, and who, perhaps, is astonished to hear only those of old -Achard.” - -“And how know you that I do not also pray?” said the marchioness, with -a certain degree of feverish agitation. “Do you believe that the dead -require we should be constantly kneeling on their tombs?” - -“No,” replied the old man, with a feeling of profound sorrow; “no, I do -not believe that the dead are so exacting, madam; but I believe if any -part of us lives under ground, it would thrill at the noise caused by -the steps of those whom we have loved during our life.” - -“But,” said the marchioness, in a low and hollow tone, “if that love -were a guilty passion?” - -“However guilty it may have been, madam,” replied the old man, also -lowering his voice, “do you not believe that blood and tears have -expatiated it? God was then, believe me, too severe a judge, not to have -now become an indulgent father.” - -“Yes, God has perhaps pardoned it,” murmured the marchioness, “but did the -world know that which God knows, would it pardon as God has done?” - -“The world!” exclaimed the old man; “the world! Yes, there is the great -word which has again escaped your lips! The world! It is to it, to that -phantom you have sacrificed everything, madam; your feelings as a lover, -your feelings as a wife, your feelings as a mother! your own happiness, -the happiness of others! The world! It is the fear of the world which -has clothed you in perpetual mourning, beneath which you hope to conceal -remorse! And in that you are right, for you have succeeded in deceiving -it, for it has taken your remorse for virtue!” - -The marchioness raised her head with some degree of agitation, and -putting aside her veil that she might look upon the person who addressed -her in such extraordinary language; then, after a momentary silence, not -being able to discover any sinister expression in the calm features of -the old man. - -“You speak to me,” she said to him, “with a bitterness which would lead -me to believe you have some personal reason for reproaching me. Have I -failed in any promise I have made? The persons who attend on you by my -orders, are they wanting in that respect which I have desired them to -observe? You know, if this should be the case, you have only to say a -word.” - -“Forgive me, madam, it is in sorrow that I speak, not bitterness; it is -the effect of solitude and of age. You must well know what it is to -have sorrows that you cannot speak of--tears which we dare not shed, -and which fall back, drop by drop, upon the heart! No, I have not to -complain of any one, madam, since first, from a feeling for which I am -truly grateful, without seeking to know whence it emanated, you have -been pleased to see personally that my wants were all supplied, and -you have not for a single day forgotten your promise, but like the old -prophet, I have sometimes seen an angel come as your messenger.” - -“Yes,” replied the marchioness, “I know that Marguerite often -accompanies the servant who is charged to wait upon you; and I have seen -with pleasure the attentions she has paid you, and the friendship she -feels for you.” - -“But in my turn, I have not failed either, I trust, in the promises I -made. For twenty years I have lived far from the habitations of men, I -have kept away every living being from this dwelling; so much did I fear -on your account, the delirium of my waking hours, or the indiscretion of -my dreams.” - -“Undoubtedly! undoubtedly! and happily the secret has been well -preserved,” said the marchioness, placing her hand upon Achard’s arm; -“but this is a stronger incentive in my mind not to lose in a single -day the fruit of twenty years, all more gloomy, more isolated, and more -terrible than yours have been.” - -“Yes, I understand you perfectly; and you have shuddered more than once -upon suddenly remembering that there is roaming about the world, a man -who may one day call upon me to reveal that secret, and that I have not -the right to conceal it from that man. Ah! you tremble at the bare idea, -do you not? But, tranquilise yourself; that man, when but a boy, fled -from the school at which we had placed him in Scotland, and for -ten years past nothing has been heard of him. In short, destined to -obscurity, he himself rushed forward to meet his fate. He is now lost -amid the millions that crowd this populous world, and not a soul knows -where to find him; this poor unit, without a name, is lost for ever. He -must have lost his father’s letter, have mislaid the token by which I -was to recognise him; or, better still, perhaps he exists no longer.” - -“It is cruel of you, Achard,” replied the marchioness, “to utter such -words to a mother. You cannot appreciate the strange feelings and -singular contradictions contained in the heart of woman. For, in fine, -can I not be tranquil unless my child be dead! Consider, my old friend; -this secret, of which he has been ignorant five and twenty years, has it -become at the age of twenty-five, so necessary to his existence that -he cannot live, unless it be revealed to him? Believe me, Achard, for -himself even it would be better he should still remain ignorant of it, -as he has been to this day. I feel assured that to this day he has been -happy--old man, do not mar this happiness--do not inspire his mind with -thoughts which may induce him to commit an evil action. No--tell him, -in lieu of the dreadful tale you were desired to communicate, that his -mother has gone to rejoin his father in heaven; and, would to God that -it were so! but that when dying (for I must see him whatever you may say -to the contrary, I will even if it be but once, press him to my heart), -when dying, as I said, his mother had bequeathed him to her friend the -Marchioness d’Auray, in whom he will find a second mother.” - -“I understand you, madam,” said Achard, smiling. “It is not the first -time you have pointed out this path, in which you wish to lead me -astray. Only to-day, you speak more openly, and if you dared to do so, -or if you knew me less, you would offer me some reward to induce me to -disobey the last injunctions of him who sleeps by us.” - -The marchioness made a gesture as if about to interrupt him. - -“Listen to me, madam,” hastily said the old man, stretching forth his -hand, “and let my words be considered by you as holy and irrevocable. As -faithful as I have been to the promise which I made to the Marchioness -d’Auray, so faithful will I be to that I made to the Count de Morlaix, -on the day when his son, or your son, shall present himself before me -with the token of recognition, and shall demand to know the secret. I -shall reveal it to him, madam. As to the papers which attest it, you are -aware that they are to be delivered to him only after the death of the -Marquis d’Auray. The secret is here,” said the old man, placing his hand -upon his heart; “no human power could have extracted it before the time; -no human power, that time having arrived, can prevent me from revealing -it. The papers are there in that closet, the key of which I always have -about me, and it is only by robbery or by assassination that I can be -deprived of them.” - -“But,” said the marchioness, half rising and supporting herself on -the arm of her chair, “you might die before my husband, old man; for -although he is more dangerously ill than you are, you are older than he -is, and then what would become of those papers?” - -“The priest who shall attend my last moments will receive them under the -seal of confession.” - -“Ah! it is that!” cried the marchioness, rising, “and thus this chain of -fears will be prolonged until my death! and the last link of it will be -to all eternity rivetted to my tomb. There is in this world a man, the -only one perhaps, who is as immoveable as a rock; and God has placed him -in my path, not only as a remorse,’ but as a vengeance also. My secret -is in your hands, old man,--tis well!--do with it as you will!--you are -the master, and I am your slave--farewell!” - -So saying, the marchioness left the cottage, and returned towards the -chateau. - - - -CHAPTER VIII.--THE SECRET. - - More than ten years have passed since I beheld him, - The noble boy; now time annuls my oath - And cancels all his wrongs. - I took a solemn oath to veil the secret, - Conceal thy rights, while lived her lord, - And thus allow’d thy youth to quit my roof. - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain. - - -“Yes,” said the old man, gazing after the marchioness as she withdrew, -“yes, I know you have a heart of adamant, madam, insensible to every -sort of fear, with the exception of that which God has placed within -your breast to supply the place of remorse. But that suffices; and it is -dearly buying that reputation you have obtained for virtue, to pay -the price of such eternal terrors. It is true that the virtue of the -Marchioness d’Auray is so firmly established, that if truth herself were -to rise from the earth or to descend from heaven to arraign her, she -would be treated as a calumniator. But God orders all things according -to His will, and what He does ordain, His wisdom has long before -matured.” - -“Rightly reasoned,” cried a youthful and sonorous voice, replying to -the religious axiom which the resignation of the old man had led him to -utter. “Upon my word, good father, you speak like Ecclesiastes.” Achard -turned round and perceived Paul, who had arrived just as the marchioness -left him, but who was so absorbed by the scene we have just described, -that she had not observed the young captain. The latter, seeing the -old man alone, approached him, and not hearing the last words he had -uttered, had spoken with his usual good humor. Achard, who was surprised -by his unexpected appearance, looked at him as if he wished him to -repeat that which he had said. - -“I say,” resumed Paul, “that there is more grandeur in resignation that -humbly bows itself, than in philosophy that doubts. That is a maxim of -our quakers, which, for my eternal welfare, I wish I had less often on -my tongue, and more frequently in my heart.” - -“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the old man on seeing our adventurer, who -was fixedly gazing at him, while standing with one foot on the threshold -of his door. “May I know who you are?” - -“For the moment,” replied Paul, giving, as usual, free course to his -poetical and heedless gaiety, “I am a child of the republic of Plato, -having all human kind for brothers, the world for a country, and -possessing upon this earth only the station I have worked out for -myself.” - -“And what are you in search of?” continued the old man, smiling in spite -of himself at the air of jovial good-nature which was spread over the -features of the young man. - -“I am seeking,” replied Paul, “at three leagues distance from Lorient, -at five hundred paces from resembles this one, and in which I am to find -an old man, whom it is very likely is yourself.” - -“And what is the name of this old man?” - -“Louis Achard.” - -“That is my name.” - -“Then may the blessing of heaven descend on your white hairs,” said -Paul, in a voice which at once changing its tone, assumed that of deep -feeling and respect; “for here is a letter which I believe was written -by my father, in which he says that you are an honest man.” - -“Does not that letter enclose something?” cried d’Auray, and advancing a -step nearer to the young captain. - -“It does,” replied the latter, opening the letter and taking out of it -one half of a Venetian sequin, which had been broken in two; “it seems -to be part of a gold coin, of which I have one half, and you ought to be -in possession of the other.” - -Achard mechanically held out his hand, while gazing with intense -interest at the young man. - -“Yes, yes,” said the old man, and eyes gradually became more and more -suffused with tears: “yes, this is the true token, and more than -that, the extraordinary resemblance,” and opening his arms, he cried, -“child!--oh! my God! my God!” - -“What is it?” cried Paul, extending his arms to support the old man, who -was quite overcome by his emotions. - -“Oh! can you not comprehend?” replied the latter, “can you not -comprehend that you are the living portrait of your father, and that I -loved your father--loved him so much that I would have shed my blood, -have given my life to serve him, as I would now for you, young man, were -you to demand it.” - -“Embrace me, then, my old friend,” said Paul, throwing his arms around -the old man, “for the chain of feeling, believe me, is not broken, which -extended from the tomb of the father to the cradle of the son. Whatever -my father may have been, if in order to resemble him it be only -necessary to have a conscience without reproach, undaunted courage, -and a memory which never forgets a benefit conferred, although it may -sometimes forget an injury; if this be so, then am I, as you have said, -my father’s living portrait, and more so in soul than in form.” - -“Yes, he possessed all these,” replied the old man, with solemnity, and -clasping Paul to his breast, looking at him with affectionate though -tearful tenderness--“Yes, he had the same commanding voice, the same -flashing eyes, the same nobleness of heart. But why was it that I have -not seen you sooner, young man? I have, during my life, passed many -gloomy hours, which your presence would have brightened.” - -“Why--because this letter told me to seek you out only when I should -have attained the age of twenty-five, and because it is not long since I -attained that age, not more than an hour ago.” - -The old man bowed down his head with a pensive air, and remained silent -for some time, seemingly absorbed by recollections of the past. - -“Can it be so?” at length ne said, raising his head, “can it be -twenty-five years ago. Good heaven! it appears to me only yesterday that -you were born in this house, that you first saw the light in that very -room:” and the old man raised his head, and pointed to a door which led -into another room. - -Paul, in his turn, appeared to reflect, and then, looking around him, to -strengthen by the aid of objects which presented themselves to his view, -the recollections which crowded on his memory. - -“In this cottage, in that room,” he repeated, “and I lived here till -I was five years old, did I not?” - -“Yes,” murmured the old man, as if fearful to disturb the feelings which -were taking possession of the young man’s mind. - -“Well,” continued Paul, leaning his head on both his hands, as if to -concentrate his thoughts, “allow me for one moment to look back, in my -turn, to the past, for I am recollecting a room which I had thought I -had seen in a dream--it may be that one. Listen to me! Oh! how strange -it is--remembrances now rush upon me.” - -“Speak, my child, speak!” said the old man. - -“It it be that room, there ought to be on the right, as you go in, at -the end of the room, a bed with green hangings.” - -“Yes.” - -“A crucifix at the head of the bed.” - -“Yes.” - -“A closet opposite, in which were books, among the rest a large Bible, -with numerous engravings.” - -“There it is,” said the old man, pointing to the sacred book which was -lying open on a desk for prayer. - -“Oh! it is that--it is that,” cried Paul, pressing his lips against the -leaves. - -“Oh! good and pious heart,” cried the old man, “I thank thee, oh! my -God--I thank thee.” - -“Then,” said Paul, rising, “in that room there is a window, from which -you can discern the sea, and on the sea, three islands?” - -“Yes, Houat, Hoedic, and Belle-Ileen-mer. - -“Then, it is really so,” said Paul, rushing towards the room, and then -perceiving that the old man was about to follow him, he said: “No, no! I -must be alone--let me enter it alone--I feel that I must be alone,” and he -went into the room, closing the door after him. - -He then paused a moment, impressed with that holy respect which -accompanies the remembrance of our infancy. The room was as he had -described it, for the religious devotedness of the old servant had -preserved it from any change. Paul, feeling doubtless that the eye of -a stranger would have interrupted the expression of the feelings he -experienced, and now certain of being alone, abandoned himself to them -He slowly advanced, and with clasped hands, towards the ivory crucifix; -and falling on his knees, which formerly he had the habit of doing, -morning and evening, he endeavoured to remember one of those simple -prayers, in which a child, still on the threshold of this life, prays -to God for those who have opened its gates to him. “What events had -succeeded each other in the lapse of time which had passed between these -genuflexions! Paul remained for a considerable time absorbed in thought, -and then slowly arose, and went to the window. The night was beautiful -and calm, the moon was shining in the heavens, and tipped the ocean -waves with silver. The three islands appeared on the horizon, like blue -vapor floating on the ocean. He remembered how often in his infancy he -had leaned against that window, gazing upon that same scene, following -with his eyes some bark, with its snowy sails, which glided silently -over the sea, like the wing of a night bird. Then his heart swelled with -sweet and tender recollection; his head fell upon his chest, and silent -tears ran down his cheeks. At that moment he felt that some one pressed -his hands--it was the old man--he wished to conceal his emotions; but -instantly repenting this vain feeling, he turned toward Achard, and -frankly let him see his face, down which the tears were streaming. - -“You weep, my child,” said the old man. - -“Yes, I weep,” replied Paul; “and why should I conceal it? Yea, look at -me. And yet I have, during my life, witnessed dreadful scenes. I have -seen the tempest bear my vessel to the summit of a mountain wave, and -then sink her into an abyss, from which I thought she would never rise -again; and I felt that she weighed no more upon the wings of the storm -than does a dried leaf on the evening breeze. I have seen men fall -around me like the ripe ears of corn before the sickle of the reaper. -I have heard the cries of distress, and the dying groans of those whose -meal I had shared but the day before. In order to receive their last -sigh, I have walked amid a shower of bullets, and grape-shot, upon a -plank slippery with blood. And yet, amid all this, my soul was calm--my -eyes remained unmoistened. But this room, see you; this room, of which -I had retained so holy a remembrance; this room, in which I had received -the first caresses of a father whom I shall never see again, and the -last kisses of a mother who perhaps desires no more to see me; this room -is sacred as a cradle and as a tomb. I cannot thus revisit it without -giving vent to my emotions; I must weep, or I shall suffocate.” The old -man clasped him in his arms. Paul leaned his head upon his shoulder, -and during some time nothing was heard but his sobs. At length the old -servant rejoined: - -“Yes, you are right; this room is at once a cradle and a tomb; it was -there that you were born;” he pointed to one corner with his hand; -“and it was there that you received the last blessing of your father,” - continued he, pointing to the opposite side of the room. - -“He is then dead?” said Paul. - -“He is dead.” - -“You must tell me how he died.” - -“I will tell you all.” - -“Defer it for a moment,” added Paul, as he reached a chair and seated -himself, “for I am now too weak to listen to you. Let me recover -myself.” He placed his elbow on the window-sill, leaned his head upon -his hand, and once more cast his eyes upon the sea. - -“What a magnificent spectacle is the ocean when the moon shines upon -it as brightly as it does now,” continued he, with that accent of soft -melancholy which was habitual to him. “It is as calm as God himself, and -vast as eternity. I do not believe that a man accustomed to study such a -scene can be afraid of death. My father met death bravely, did he not?” - -“Assuredly!” proudly replied Achard. - -“It could not be otherwise,” continued Paul, “for I remember my father, -although I was only four years old when I last saw him.” - -“He was a handsome young man, as you yourself are,” said Achard, looking -sorrowfully at Paul, “and just as old as you are.” - -“What was his name?” - -“The Count de Moraix.” - -“Then I also am of an old and noble family. I also have arms and an -escutcheon as well as those young and insolent nobles who ask me for my -parchments when I show them my wounds?” - -“Wait, young man, wait; do not allow pride to carry you thus away, for -I have not yet told you the name of her who gave you being, and you are -still ignorant of the dreadful secret of your birth.” - -“Well: be it so. I shall not with the less respect and veneration hear -the name of my mother. What was my mother’s name?” - -“The Marchioness d’Auray,” slowly replied the old man, as if regretting -that he was compelled to mention her name. - -“What is it that you tell me!” cried Paul, starting from his chair, and -seizing the hands of the old man. - -“The truth!” replied Achard, sorrowfully. - -“Then Emanuel is my brother--Marguerite is my sister.” - -“Do you then already know them?” exclaimed the old servant, much -astounded. - -“Oh! you were right, old man,” said Paul, throwing himself into his -chair. “God orders all things according to His will, and what He does -ordain, His wisdom has long before matured.” - -They both remained silent for a time, when at length Paul raised his -head, and resolutely fixing his eyes on the old man’s face, said: - -“Now, I am ready to hear all you have to communicate--you may go on.” - - - -CHAPTER IX.--FATAL LOVE. - - I shall a tale unfold - Will harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; - Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres; - Thy knotted and combined locks to part. - And each particular hair to stand on end, - Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. - - Shakespeare. - - -The old man seemed to be summoning up his recollections for a time, and -then began: - -“They were affianced to each other. I know not what mortal hatred it -was that arose between the families and separated them. The Count de -Morlaix, broken hearted, could not remain in France. He sailed for Saint -Domingo, where his father possessed a large estate; I accompanied him, -for the Count de Morlaix reposed much confidence in me. I was the son of -her who had nursed him; I had received the same education as himself; he -used to call me his brother, and I alone remembered the distance which -nature had placed between us. The Marquis de Morlaix confided to me the -charge of watching over his son, for I loved him with all the love of -a father. We remained two years under a tropical sun; during that two -years, your father, lost amid the solitude of that magnificent island, -a traveller without an object and without an aim, an ardent and -indefatigable sportsman, endeavouring to cure the griefs of the mind, -by the fatigues of the body; but so far from succeeding, one would have -thought that his heart became still more inflamed under that ardent sun. -At length, after two years of trial and incessant struggles, his love -conquered. He must either see her again or die. I yielded and we set -sail for France. Never was a voyage more beautiful, or more prosperous. -The sea and sky seemed to smile upon us; so favourable were they that -it would have induced one to believe in lucky omens. Six weeks after our -departure from Port au Prince, we landed at Havre. Mademoiselle de Sablé -was married. The Marquis d’Auray was at Versailles, fulfilling at the -court of Louis XV. the duties of his charge, and his wife, who was -too much indisposed to follow him, was at the old chateau d’Auray, the -turrets of which you see from this place.” - -“Yes, yes,” said Paul, “I know it; pray go on.” - -“As to myself,” rejoined the old map, “during our voyage, one of my -uncles, an old servant of the house of Auray, had died, and left me -this small house, with a small quantity of land surrounding it. I took -possession of it. Your father had left me at Vannes, telling me he was -going to Paris, and for the whole of the first year that I inherited -this house I did not see him.” - -“One night,--it is exactly twenty-five years ago,--some one knocked at -my door; I went to open it and found your father there, carrying in his -arms a woman whose face was veiled. He brought her into this room, and -laid her on that bed. And then returning to me in the adjoining room, -where I was waiting mute and motionless with astonishment, he placed -his hand upon my shoulder, and looking at me in a supplicating manner, -although he had the right to command me, said, ‘Louis, you can do more -than save my life and honor--you can save the life and honor of her I -love--get on horseback, gallop to the next town, and return here in an -hour with a doctor.’ He spoke to me in that short and hasty tone, which -indicated that there was not a moment to be lost. I immediately -obeyed. The day was beginning to break when we returned. The doctor was -introduced by the Count de Morlaix into this room, the door of which was -immediately closed: he remained there during the whole day; towards -five in the afternoon, the doctor left the house, and at nightfall your -father also left the house carrying in his arms the mysterious veiled -lady whom he had brought the previous night. When they had gone, I came -into this room and found you here--you had just been born.” - -“And how did you learn that this woman was the Marchioness d’Auray?” - -“Oh!” exclaimed the old man, in a way which was as terrible as it was -unexpected; “I had offered the Count de Morlaix to keep you here, and he -accepted my proposal: from time to time he would come to spend an hour -with you.” - -“Alone?” demanded Paul, with much anxiety. - -“Yes, always; but as he had given me permission to walk with you in the -park, it would sometimes happen that at the corner of one of the avenues -I would meet the marchioness, whom chance appeared to have conducted in -that direction. She would make you a sign to come to her, and she would -kiss you as people kiss a strange child, because he is handsome. Four -years passed on in this way, and then one night some one again knocked -at this door, and it was again your father. He was more calm, but had, -perhaps, a more gloomy look than on the first occasion. ‘Louis,’ said -he, ‘to-morrow, at the break of day, I have to meet the Marquis d’Auray. -It is a duel in which one of us must fall, and you are to be the only -witness of it. The terms are agreed upon. You must, therefore, give me -shelter for this night, and let me have materials for writing.’ He sat -down at this table, on the very chair you are now seated.” - -Paul sprang up, but supported himself on the back of the chair, without -again sitting down upon it. “He sat up all night. At day-break he came -into my room and found me up--I had not gone to bed. As to you poor -child, unconscious of the passions and miseries of this life, you were -quietly sleeping.” - -“And then,--pray go on.” - -“Your father bent slowly over you, supporting himself by the wall, and -looking sorrowfully upon you: ‘Louis,’ said he to me, in a hollow voice, -‘should I be killed, and which may happen, wo to this child! You will -deliver him with this letter to Field, my valet de chambre, whom I have -charged to conduct him to Selkirk, in Scotland, there to leave him in -sure hands. When he is twenty-five years old, he will bring you the -other half of this gold coin, and will ask you to reveal to him the -secret of his birth. You will communicate it; for then, perhaps, his -mother will be alone and isolated. As to these papers which prove his -birth, you will not deliver them to him, until after the death of the -Marquis d’Auray. Now I have said all that is necessary, let us go, for -it is the appointed hour. He then leaned over your bed, bent down toward -you, and although he was a man of fortitude, as I have told you, I saw a -tear fall upon your cheek.” - -“Proceed,” said Paul, in a voice choked by emotion. - -“The rendezvous was in one of the avenues of the park, about a hundred -paces from this house. When we reached the place, we found the marquis -there, he had been waiting for us some minutes. Near him upon a bank -were pistols ready loaded. The adversaries bowed to each other without -exchanging a word. The marquis pointed to the weapons--they each took -one, and then, according to the terms which had been agreed upon, as -your father had told me, they placed themselves, mute and gloomily, at -the distance of thirty paces, and then began to walk towards each other. -Oh! it was a moment ef agony for me, I can assure you,” rejoined the -old man, almost as much moved as if the scene were then actually passing -before him, “when I saw the distance gradually diminishing between these -two men. When they were only about ten paces, the marquis stopped and -fired. I looked at your father; not a muscle of his face was moved, so -that I thought him safe and unhurt. He continued to walk on till he came -close to the marquis, and then placing the muzzle of the pistol to his -heart--” - -“He did not kill him, I trust,” cried Paul seizing the old man’s arm. - -“He said to him, Your life is in my hands, sir, and I might take it, but -I wish you to live, that you may pardon me, as I do you. And uttering -these words, he fell dead at the feet of the marquis, whose ball had -passed through his chest.” - -“Oh! my father! my father!” cried Paul, wringing his hands. “And the man -who killed my father--he still lives, does he not? He is still young, -and has strength enough to wield a sword or raise a pistol? We will go -to him--to-day--instantly! You will tell him, that it is his son! -that he must fight with him.” - -“God has avenged your father,” replied Achard--“that man is mad.” - -“That is true--I had forgotten that,” murmured Paul. - -“And in his madness that bloody scene is ever before his eyes, and he -repeats ten times a day the dying words your father addressed to him.” - -“And that must be the reason why the marchioness will not leave him for -a single moment.” - -“And that is also the reason, under the pretext that he will not see his -children, that she keeps Emanuel and Marguerite from him.” - -“My poor sister,” said Paul, with an accent of undefinable tenderness; -“and now she wishes to sacrifice her by forcing her to marry that wretch -Lectoure.” - -“Yes, but that wretch Lectoure will take Marguerite with him to Paris, -and give a regiment of dragoons to her brother, so that the marchioness -will no longer have cause to dread the presence of her children. Her -secret, therefore, remains henceforward in the breasts of two old men, -who to-morrow, this night even, may die. The grave is silent.” - -“But, I--I!”---- - -“You! Does she know that you still exist! Has anything been heard of you -since you escaped from Selkirk? Could not some accident have prevented -you from coming to the appointment, which fortunately you have done -safely? It is certain that she has not forgotten you, but she hopes”---- - -“Oh! can you believe that my mother”---- - -“I beg your pardon, that is true. I do not believe it!” cried Achard, “I -was wrong; forget what I have said.” - -“Yes, yes, let us speak of you, my friend; let us speak of my father.” - -“Is it necessary that I should tell you that his last wishes were -fulfilled. Field came to fetch you during the day, and took you away -with him. Twenty-one years have passed since then, and since then not -a single day has passed without my putting up a prayer that I might see -you at the appointed time. My prayers have been granted,” continued the -old man; “and thanks be to God, you are here. Your father lives again in -you--I once more see him--I am speaking to him. I weep no longer, I am -now consoled.” - -“And he died thus, instantly, without a struggle, without a sigh?” - -“Yes--I brought him here. I placed him on the bed in which you were -born--I closed the door that no one might enter the house, and I went -alone and dug his grave. I passed the whole day in this painful duty; -for, according to the request of your father, to no one was to be -confided this dreadful secret. In the evening I returned for the body. -The heart of man is singularly constituted, and hope which God has -planted in it can with difficulty be eradicated. I had seen him fall--I -had felt his hands grow cold--I had kissed his ice-like face--I had -left him, to hollow out his grave, and that grave being made, that duty -being accomplished, I returned with a beating heart, for it appeared to -me, although a miracle would be required for such a change, that during -my absence life had returned to him, and that he would rise from his bed -and speak to me. I entered the house--alas! alas! the days of miracles -had passed away. Lazarus remained lying on his couch--dead! dead! dead!” - and the old man remained for some time overwhelmed with grief, silent -and voiceless, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks. - -“Yes, yes,” cried Paul, also bursting into tears; “yes, and you then -fulfilled your holy mission. Good old man, let me kiss those hands which -deposited my father in his last home. And you have remained faithful -to his tomb as you had been to him during life. Poor guardian of the -sepulchre; you have remained near him that your tears might water the -grass which grew about the unknown grave. Oh! how little are those who -think themselves great because their name resounds amid the tempest, -and the cry of war, louder than the storm or the din of battle, in -comparison with you, old man, whose devotedness has been mute and -noiseless. Oh! give me your blessings lay those hallowed hands upon my -head, since my father is not here to bless me,” continued Paul, throwing -himself on his knees before him. - -“Rise to my arms--let me clasp you to my heart, my child, for you -exaggerate these actions, in themselves so simple and so natural. And -then, believe me, that which you term my piety has not been a useless -lesson to me. I have seen how little space a man occupies beneath the -ground, and how soon he is lost amid the world, should God turn his -face from him. Your father was young, full of courage, with a brilliant -career opening before him. Your father was the last descendant of an -ancient line; he bore a noble name. His path seemed marked with honors -and distinction; he had a family and powerful friends. Well, he suddenly -disappeared, as if the earth had opened beneath his feet. I know not if -some tearful eyes sought for him till they lost all trace of him; but -this I know, that for one-and-twenty years no one has sought out his -tomb--no one knows that he lies beneath that spot, where the grass -is greener and grows more luxuriantly than elsewhere--and yet, vain, -glorious, and miserable as he is, man considers himself of some value.” - -“Oh! and my mother, has she not visited his grave?” - -The old man did not answer. - -“Well, then! there will be two of us who henceforward will know the -spot, where he reposes. Come, and show it to me; for I will return -to it, I promise solemnly, every time my ship returns to the coast of -France.” - -Saying this, he drew Achard into the outer room, but as they opened the -door they heard a slight noise in the park. It was a servant from the -castle, who had accompanied Marguerite. Paul hurriedly returned into the -bedroom. - -“It is my sister,” said he to Achard; “leave me alone with her a -moment. It is necessary that I should speak to her. I have something -to communicate which will make her pass a happy night. We must have -compassion for those who watch and weep.” - -“Reflect,” said Achard, “that the secret I have revealed to you is your -mother’s.” - -“Fear not--I will speak to her but of that which concerns herself.” - -At that moment Marguerite entered the room. - - - -CHAPTER X.--CONFIDENCE. - - This ring I gave him when he parted from me - To bind him to remember my good will; - The more shame for him that he sends it to me. - - Shakespeare. - - -Marguerite had come, as she frequently did, to bring some provisions for -the old man, and it was not without astonishment that she perceived in -the outer room, where she usually found Achard, a young and handsome -man, who looked at her with gladdened eyes, and with a kindly smile. -She made a sign to the servant to put down the basket in a corner of the -room; he obeyed, and then went out to wait for his mistress in the park. -When he had withdrawn, she advanced towards Paul, saying,-- - -“I beg your pardon, sir, but I expected to find my old friend, Achard, -here, and I came, to bring him something from my mother”-- - -Paul pointed to the inner room, to let her know that the person she was -seeking was within, for he could not reply to her; he felt that the tone -of his voice would betray the emotions he experienced. The young girl -thanked him, with a bow, and went into the room to find Achard. - -Paul followed her with his eyes--his hand pressed upon his heart. That -virgin soul into which love had never penetrated, now expanded with -fraternal tenderness. Isolated as he had always been, having no friends -but the rude children of the ocean, all that was soft or tender in his -heart, he had turned towards God, and although in the eyes of rigid -Christians, his religion might not have appeared as strictly orthodox, -it is no less true, that the poetry which overflowed in every word he -uttered was nothing more than one vast and eternal prayer. It was not, -therefore, astonishing, that this first feeling which penetrated his -heart, although purely fraternal, was as extravagant and transporting as -the emotions of love. - -“Oh!” murmured he, “poor isolated being that I am! How shall I be -able to restrain my feelings when she returns, and prevent myself from -clasping her to my heart and saying to her: Marguerite! my sister, no -woman has yet felt love for me; love me then with sisterly affection. -Oh! mother! mother! by depriving me of your caresses, you have also -deprived me of those of this dear angel. May God restore to you in -eternity that happiness which you have driven from yourself and others.” - -“Farewell!” said Marguerite to the old man, opening the door, “farewell! -I wished this evening to come myself, for I know not when I may see you -again.” - -And she went toward the outer door, pensive, and with her eyes cast -down, without seeing Paul, without remembering that a stranger was in -that room. Paul remained gazing at her with outstretched arms as if -to prevent her leaving the house, with palpitating heart and moistened -eyes. At length, when he saw her placing her hand upon the door-latch, -he cried aloud-- - -“Marguerite!” - -She turned round amazed, but not being able to comprehend this strange -familiarity, in one who was totally unknown to her, she half-opened the -door. - -“Marguerite!” reiterated Paul, advancing a step towards his sister, -“Marguerite, do you not hear me call you?” - -“It is true that my name is Marguerite, sir,” she replied, with dignity; -“but I could not imagine that word was addressed to me by a person whom -I have the honor of knowing.” - -“But I know you!” exclaimed Paul, going nearer to her, and then closing -the door he brought her back into the room. “I know that you are -unhappy, that you have not one friendly heart into which you can pour -your sorrows, not one arm from which you can ask support.” - -“You forget the one which is on high,” replied Marguerite, raising her -eyes and hand toward heaven. - -“No, no, Marguerite, I do not forget, for it is He who sends me to offer -you that which you most need; to tell you when all lips and all hearts -are closed toward you, ‘I am your friend, devotedly, eternally.’” - -“Oh! sir!” replied Marguerite, “these are sacred and solemn words which -you have uttered; words, unfortunately, to which it would be difficult -for me to give credence without proofs.” - -“And should I give you one?” said Paul. - -“Impossible!” murmured Marguerite. - -“Irrefragable!” continued Paul. - -“Oh! then!” exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which -doubt began to give place to hope-- - -“Well! and then”-- - -“Oh! then--but no, no!” - -“Do you know this ring?” said Paul, showing her the one with the key -that opened the bracelet. - -“Gracious heaven!” exclaimed Marguerite, “have mercy upon me! he is -dead!” - -“He lives.” - -“Then he no longer loves me.” - -“He loves you!” - -“If he be living--if he still love me--oh! I shall go mad--what was it I -was saying? If he be living--if he still love me, how comes it that this -ring is in your possession?” - -“He confided it to me as a token of recognition.” - -“And have I confided this bracelet to any one?” cried Marguerite, -pushing back the sleeve of her gown--“Look!” - -“Yes, but you, Marguerite, you are not proscribed--dishonored, in the -eyes of the whole world--thrown amongst a condemned race!” - -“Of what importance is that. Is he not innocent?” - -“And then, he thought,” continued Paul, wishing to discover the extent -of the devotedness and love of his sister, “he thought that delicacy -required, banished as he is for ever from society, that he should offer -you, if not restore to you, the liberty of disposing of your hand.” - -“When a woman has done for a man that which I have done for him,” - replied Marguerite, “her only excuse is to love him eternally, and it is -that I mean to do.” - -“Oh! you are an angel!” exclaimed Paul. - -“Tell me!” rejoined Marguerite, seizing the young man’s hands, and -looking at him with a supplicating air-- - -“What?” - -“Have you seen him, then?” - -“I am his friend, his brother.” - -“Speak to me of him, then?” she exclaimed, giving herself up entirely to -the recollection of her lover, and forgetting that it was the first -time she had seen the person to whom she was addressing questions of so -delicate a nature. “What is he doing? what hope has he? Poor, unhappy -man!” - -“He loves you--and he hopes again to see you.” - -“Then, then,” stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,--“he -has told you----?” - -“All!” - -“Oh!” she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a -sudden tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual -paleness. - -Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming-- - -“You are a miracle of devotedness!” - -“You do not then despise me, sir?” said Marguerite, Venturing to raise -her eyes. - -“Marguerite!” cried Paul, “had I a sister I would pray to heaven that -she might resemble you.” - -“Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister,” she replied, -leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears. - -“Perhaps,” said Paul, smiling. - -“You know not, then----?” - -“Proceed.” - -“That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning.” - -“I have been informed of that.” - -“And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed.” - -“I know that, too.” - -“Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can -I apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? -My brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my -feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman -whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will -inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe -that others can forget it, and when she has once said, ‘It is my will,’ -all that remains to do is to bow down one’s head, to weep, and to obey. -My father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from -which he has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My -father! for any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove -a resource: but you know not that he is insane--that he has lost his -reason, and with it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, -it is ten years since I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not -pressed his trembling hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows -not that he has still a daughter! he knows not even whether he has a -heart, and will not be able even to recognize me. And were he but to -know me, and took compassion on me, my mother would place a pen in -his hand and would say, ‘Sign that, it is my will!’ and he would sign -it--the poor feeble old man! and his daughter would be condemned.” - -“Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be -pacified, that contract never will be signed.” - -“And who can prevent it?” - -“I will!” - -“You?” - -“Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council.” - -“Who will present you there?” - -“I have the means.” - -“My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while -striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?” - -“Your brother’s person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite. -Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me.” - -“Oh! I believe you, sir, and I implicitly confide in you,” said -Marguerite, as if overwhelmed by the contending feelings of confidence -and mistrust which she had till then labored under. “For what advantage -could you derive from endeavoring to deceive me? What interest could you -have to betray me?” - -“None, undoubtedly; but let us talk of other matters. What line of -conduct do you intend to pursue with regard to the Baron de Lectoure?” - -“I will tell him all!” - -“Oh!” cried Paul, bowing profoundly, “allow me to adore you.” - -“Sir!” murmured Marguerite, “sir!” - -“As a sister! as a sister!” - -“Yes, you are indeed kind and good,” cried Marguerite, “and I believe it -is God who sent you to my aid.” - -“Believe it,” replied Paul. “Then--to-morrow evening.” - -“Do not be astonished, nor alarmed at anything that may occur, only -contrive to let me know by letter, by a word, a sign, the result of your -interview with Lectoure!” - -“I will endeavor to do so.” - -“It is now late, and your servant may be surprised at the length of this -interview. Return to the castle, and say not a word of me to any one. -Farewell!” - -“Farewell,” reiterated Marguerite; “you to whom I know not what name to -give.” - -“Call me your brother.” - -“Farewell, then, brother.” - -“Oh, my sister! my sister!” cried Paul, clasping her convulsively in his -arms, “your lips are the first from which I have heard so sweet a word. -God will reward you for it.” - -The young girl drew back amazed; and then returning to Paul, she held -out her hand to him. Paul again pressed it, and Marguerite left the -cottage. - -The young man then went to the door of the inner room, and opened it. - -“And now, good old man,” said he, “conduct me to my father’s grave.” - - - -CHAPTER XI.--THE COURTIER. - - Hamlet.--Dost thou know this water-fly? - Horatio.--No, my good lord. - Hamlet.--Thy state is the more gracious; for ‘tis a vice to know him. - SHAKESPEARE. - - Here on my knees by heaven’s blest nower I swear, - If you persist, I ne’er henceforth will see you; - But rather wander through the world a beggar, - And live on sordid scraps at poor men’s doors. - For, though to fortune lost, I’ll still inherit - My mother’s virtues and my father’s honor.--Otway. - - -The day following that on which Paul had been made acquainted with the -secret of his birth, the inhabitants of the castle of Auray awoke more -than ever absorbed in the fears and hopes which their several interests -had created, for that day must necessarily prove a decisive one to -the whole of them. The marchioness, whom our readers have ere this -discovered, was neither perverse or wicked, but a haughty and inflexible -woman, saw in it the termination of those heart-rending apprehensions, -which for so many years, had been her daily companions; for it was -above all, in the eyes of her children, that she wished to preserve that -unsullied reputation, the usurpation of which had been purchased at -such cost. To her, Lectoure was not only a fitting son-in-law, being -the bearer of a name as noble as her own, but more than this, a man, or -rather a good genius, who at the same moment would bear away not only -her daughter, whom he would take with him as his wife, but her son also, -to whom the minister, thanks to this alliance, had promised to give a -regiment. Both her children gone, her first-born might come, and the -secret revealed to him, would find no echo. Moreover, there were -a thousand methods by which to close his lips. The fortune of the -marchioness was immense, and gold was one of those resources, which, -in such a case, she deemed infallible. The more terrible her fears, the -more ardently did she desire this union; so that she not only encouraged -the anxiety of Lectoure, but she also excited that of Emanuel. As to the -latter, tired of living unknown at Paris, or immured in Brittany, lost -in the crowd of brilliant young men who formed the household of the -King, or shut up in the antique castle of his ancestors, having their -portraits as his sole companions, he knocked with impatient eagerness at -the golden door which his intended brother-in-law was to open for him, -at Versailles. The grief and tears of his sister had, certainly, for -a time afflicted him; for he was ambitious, more from a dread of the -_ennui_, which would consume him if compelled to live on his estate, and -from the desire of parading at the head of his regiment, captivating the -hearts of all the ladies by the richness and good taste of his uniform, -than from either pride or hardness of heart. Being himself incapable of -forming any serious attachment, and despite the fatal consequences of -his sister’s love, he considered that love, merely as a childish fancy, -which the tumult and pleasure of the world would soon efface from her -memory, and he really believed that before a year had elapsed, she would -be the first to thank him for having thus done violence to her feelings. - -As to Marguerite, poor victim, so irrevocably condemned to be immolated -to the fear of the one, and to the ambition of the other, the scene of -the preceding day had made a profound impression on her mind. She could -not at all account to herself for the extraordinary feelings which the -young man who had transmitted to her the words of Lusignan, had awakened -in her heart; who had tranquillized her as to the fate of the unhappy -exile, and had concluded by pressing her to his heart, and calling her -his sister. A vague and instinctive hope whispered to her heart, that -this man, as he had told her, had received from heaven the mission to -protect her. But as she was ignorant of the tie which bound him to -her, of the secret which made him master of his mother’s will, of the -influence he might exercise over her future life, she did not dare -allow herself to dream of happiness, habituated as she had been for six -months, to consider death as the only term to her misfortunes. - -The marquis, alone, amid the various emotions which agitated all around -him, had remained coldly and impassibly indifferent; for to him the -world had ceased to move since the dreadful day on which reason had -abandoned him; continually absorbed by one fixed idea, that of his -mortal combat, without seconds. The only words he ever uttered, were -those pronounced by the Count de Morlaix, when he forgave him his death. -He was an old man, weak as an infant, and whom his wife could overawe -by a gesture, and who received from her cold and continuous will, -every impulsion, which, for twenty years, the vegetating instinct had -received, and which, on him, had usurped the place of reason and free -will. On this day, however, a great change had taken place in his -monotonous mode of life. A valet de chambre had entered his apartment, -and had succeeded to the marchioness in the cares of his toilette; -he had dressed him in his uniform of steward of the household, had -decorated his breast with the several orders that had been conferred -upon him; and then the marchioness, placing a pen in his hand, had -ordered him to try to sign his name, and he had obeyed, passively and -negligently, without imagining that he was studying the part of an -executioner. - -About three in the afternoon, a postchaise, the sound of whose wheels -had very differently impressed the hearts of the three persons who were -expecting it, entered the court-yard of the castle. Emanuel had eagerly -run down to the vestibule to receive his future brother-in-law, for it -was he who had arrived. Lectoure sprang lightly from his carriage. He -had halted for some time at the last post-house, to attire himself in a -presentable costume, so that he arrived in an elegant court dress of the -latest fashion. Emanuel smiled at this evidence of his anxiety, for it -was clearly to be perceived, that Lectoure was determined not to lose -the advantage of a first favorable impression, by presenting himself in -a dusty travelling dress. His intercourse with the fair sex had taught -him, that they almost invariably judge from the first glance, and the -effect which it produces upon their minds or hearts, let it be favorable -or unfavorable, is with difficulty removed. Moreover, it is but -rendering justice to the baron to acknowledge that his person was -graceful and elegant, and might have been dangerous to any woman whose -heart was not already occupied by another. - -“Permit me, my dear baron,” said Emanuel, advancing toward him, “in the -momentary absence of the ladies, to do the honors of the mansion of -my ancestors. See,” continued he, when they had reached the top of the -stone steps leading into the hall, and pointing to the turrets and -the bastions, “these date from the time of Philip Augustus, as to -architecture, and from Henry IV., in point of ornament.” - -“Upon my honor,” replied the baron, in the affected tone which the young -men of that day had adopted, “it is a most charming fortress, and throws -around it, to a distance of at least three leagues, a baronial odour, -which would perfume even an army contractor. If ever,” continued he, as -they passed through the hall and entered a gallery ornamented on each -side with long lines of family portraits, “I should take a fancy to -enter into a rebellion against his most Christian Majesty, I shall -entreat you to lend me this jewel of a place; and,” added he, casting -his eyes on the long rows of ancestors which offered themselves to his -view, “the garrison with it.” - -“Thirty-three quarters--I will not say in flesh and blood,” replied -Emanuel, “for they are long since turned to dust--but in painting, -as you see. They begin with a certain Chevalier Hugues d’Auray, who -accompanied King Louis VII. to the crusades; that one, it is pretended, -is my aunt Deborah, whom you see decked out as Judith; and all this -eventually ends in the male line, in the last member of this illustrious -family, your very humble and very obedient servant, Emanuel d’Auray.” - -“It is perfectly respectable, and nothing can be more authentic.” - -“Yes; but as I do not feel that I have, as yet, become sufficiently a -patriarch,” rejoined Emanuel, passing before the baron to show him the -way to the apartment which had been prepared for him, “to spend my days -in such formidable society, I hope, baron, that you have thought of the -means by which I can withdraw from it?” - -“Undoubtedly, my dear count,” said Lectoure, following him. “I wished -even to have been myself the bearer of your commission, as my wedding -gift to you. I knew of a vacancy in the queen’s dragoon’s, and called -yesterday on M. de Maurepas to solicit it for you, when I heard that it -had been granted, at the request of I know not what mysterious admiral, -a sort of corsair, pirate, or fantastic being, whom the queen has made -the fashion by giving him her hand to kiss, and whom the king has taken -a great affection to because he beat the English, I know not where--so -that his majesty has conferred upon him the order of military merit, and -presented him a sword with a gold hilt, just as he would have done to -one of the nobility. In short, the game is lost on that side, but do not -be alarmed, we will turn round to another.” - -“Very well,” replied Emanuel, “I care not what regiment it may be in; -what I desire is, that it should be a rank suitable to my name, and a -position which would be becoming to our wealth.” - -“Precisely--you shall have them.” - -“But how,” said Emanuel, wishing to change the subject of conversation, -“how did you manage to get rid of the thousand engagements you must have -had on your hands.” - -“Why,” said the baron, with that perfectly free and easy air, which -belonged only to that distinguished class, and stretching himself upon -a couch, for they had at length reached the apartment destined for him, -“why, by frankly stating the fact to them. I announced at the queen’s -card table, I was going to be married.” - -“Oh! good heaven! Why, this was perfect heroism! Above all, if you -acknowledged you were about to seek a wife in the depths of Lower -Brittany.” - -“I did acknowledge it.” - -“And then,” said Emanuel, smiling, “compassion stifled every angry -feeling.” - -“Gad! you will readily comprehend, my dear count,” said Lectoure, -putting one knee over the other and, balancing his leg with a motion as -regular as that of a pendulum, “our women of the court believe that the -sun rises at Paris, and sets at Versailles--all the rest of France, is, -in their idea, a Lapland, Greenland, Nova Zembla! So that they expect, -as you have hinted, my dear count, to see me bring back with me from my -voyage to the pole some large hands, and formidable feet! Fortunately, -they are mistaken,” he added, with an accent half timorous, half -interrogatory; “is it not so, Emanuel? for you told me that your -sister”---- - -“You will see her,” replied Emanuel. - -“It will be a dreadful disappointment to that poor Madame de Chaulne--it -cannot be helped--and she must console herself. What is it?” - -This question was induced by the entrance of Emanuel’s valet-de-chambre; -who had half opened the door, and remained upon the threshold, waiting, -as was then the custom of all servants in great houses, till his master -should address him. - -“What is it? repeated Emanuel. - -“Mademoiselle Marguerite d’ Auray requests that Monsieur, the Baron de -Lectoure, will honor her with a private interview.” - -“Me!” said Lectoure, rising from the sofa, “certainly, with the greatest -pleasure.” - -“But no! it is a mistake!” exclaimed Emanuel; “you must be mistaken, -Celestin.” - -“I have the honor to assure your lordship,” replied the valet de -chambre, “that I have correctly and faithfully executed the order which -was given to me.” - -“Impossible!” said Emanuel, uneasy to the highest degree, at the step -his sister had ventured to take: “Baron, if you will be advised by me, -you will send the little simpleton about her business.” - -“By no means! by no means,” replied Lectoure. “What does this bluebeard -of a brother mean? Celestin! Did you not call this lad, Celestin?” - -Emanuel impatiently bowed his head in the affirmative. “Well then, -Celestin, tell my lovely betrothed that I throw myself at her knees, at -her feet, and that I await her orders either to go to her or to receive -her here;--and there, take this for the charges of your embassy.” - -He threw him his purse. - -“And you, count,” rejoined Lectoure, “I trust that you have confidence -enough in me, to permit this _ tête-à-tête?_” - -“But it is so perfectly absurd!” - -“Not at all,” replied Lectoure; “on the contrary, it is perfectly -befitting. I am not a crowned head, that I should marry a woman upon her -portrait, and by proxy. I wish to see her in person. Come, Emanuel,” he -continued, pushing his friend toward a side door, that he might not -meet his sister--“Come, now, tell me frankly--in confidence, between -ourselves--is there any--deformity?” - -“Why, no, by heaven!” replied the young count, “no--on the contrary, she -is as lovely as an angel.” - -“Well, then!” said the baron, “what does all this opposition mean? Come, -now, begone, or must I call my guards?” - -“No; but on my word, I am afraid that this little simpleton, who has -not the slightest notion of the world, is coming to destroy all that has -been arranged between us.” - -“Oh! if that is all you fear,” replied Lectoure, opening the door, “you -may be perfectly at ease. I like the brother too well not to look over -some caprice--some extraordinary fantasies in the sister--and I pledge -you my word as a gentleman, unless the devil should play us some strange -trick, (whom, I trust, is at this moment fully occupied in some other -corner of the world!) that Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, shall be -Madame the Baroness de Lectoure, and that in a month you shall have your -regiment.” - -This promise appeared in some degree to pacify Emanuel, who allowed -himself to be pushed out of the door without making further difficulty. -Lectoure immediately ran to a looking-glass to repair the slight -traces of disorder, which the jolting over the three last leagues had -occasioned in his dress. He had scarcely given to his, hair and garments -the most becoming turn and folds, when the door again opened, and -Celestin announced-- - -“Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray.” - -The baron turned round, and perceived his betrothed standing pale and -trembling on the threshold of the door. Although the promises of Emanuel -had inspired him with some degree of hope, a certain residue of doubt -had still remained on his mind, if not as to the beauty, at all events, -with regard to the deportment of the lady who was about to become his -wife. His surprise was therefore unbounded, when he saw that delicate -and graceful creature standing before him, and whom the most fastidious -critic of female elegance could only have reproached with being in -a slight degree too pallid. Marriages, such as the one about to be -contracted by Lectoure, were by no means rare in an age in which -questions as to rank and suitableness of fortune in general, decided -alliances between noble houses; but that which was scarcely found once -in a thousand times, was, that a man in the baron’s position should -meet, immured in a distant province, a lady possessed of an immense -fortune, and whom, at the first glance, he could discern, was worthy, -by her demeanor, her elegance, and her beauty, to shine in the most -brilliant circles of the court. He, therefore, advanced toward her, -no longer with the feeling of superiority as a courtier, addressing a -country girl, but with all the respectful ease which distinguished good -society at that time. - -“Pardon me, mademoiselle,” said he, offering her his hand to conduct her -to an arm chair, but which she did not accept; “it was to me to -solicit the favor you have bestowed upon me; and believe me, it was the -apprehension of being considered indiscreet, which alone has occasioned -the apparent neglect of allowing myself to be forestalled.” - -“I truly appreciate this delicacy, sir,” replied Marguerite, in a -trembling voice, and retreating one step, she remained standing. “It -strengthens me still more in the confidence which, without having seen -you, without knowing you, I had placed in your honor and good faith.” - -“Whatever aim this confidence may have had, I am honored by it, -mademoiselle, and I will endeavor to render myself worthy of it. But, -good heaven, what can so affect you?” - -“Nothing, sir, nothing,” replied Marguerite, endeavoring to overcome her -emotion; “but it is--it is--that I have to tell you that--but--really--I -am not sufficiently mistress of myself to--” - -She staggered, and appeared as if about to fall; the baron sprang toward -her to offer his support, but he had scarcely touched her when a flush -of crimson suffused the cheeks of the young girl, and with a feeling, -which might be attributed as well to modesty as to repugnance, she -disengaged herself from his arms. Lectoure had taken her hand, and -conducted her to a chair, against which she leaned, but would not seat -herself in it. - -“Good God!” exclaimed the baron, still retaining her hand, “it must then -be something very difficult to utter, that has brought you hither! Or, -without my at all suspecting it, has my being affianced to you already -conferred upon me the imposing air of a husband?” Marguerite made -another effort to withdraw her hand from the baron, and which induced -the latter to observe it. - -“How!” said he, “not satisfied with having the most adorable of -faces, the elegant figure of a fairy, but you must have such lovely -hands!--hands perfectly royal in their shape--why, ‘tis enough to make -me expire at once.” - -“I trust M. le Baron,” rejoined Marguerite, and making a last effort, -she withdrew her hand from his grasp, “that the words with which you are -now addressing me, are merely words of gallantry.” - -“No, by my soul! they are the sincere truth.” - -“Well then, I hope, should it be, which I much doubt, that you really -think that which you have been pleased to say--I trust, I say, that such -motives will not lead you to attach a higher value to the union which -has been projected?” - -“They will, indeed, and that I swear to you.” - -“And yet,” continued Marguerite, gasping for breath, so much was her -heart oppressed, “and yet, sir, you consider marriage as a solemn -matter?” - -“That is as it may happen,” smilingly replied Lectoure; “for example, if -I were about to marry an old dowager.” - -“In short,” rejoined Marguerite, in a more determined tone, “I beg your -pardon, sir, if I have been mistaken; I thought, perhaps, that with -regard to the alliance proposed between us, you had formed some idea of -reciprocity of feeling.” - -“Never!” cried Lectoure, interrupting her, for he appeared as eager to -avoid the frank explanation, which Marguerite desired, as she seemed to -provoke it. “Never! and above all, since I have seen you, I could not -hope to be worthy of your love. And yet my name, my position in society, -notwithstanding I should fail to influence your heart, may yet give me a -title to your hand.” - -“But how, sir,” said Marguerite, timidly, “how can you separate the one -from the other?” - -“As do three-fourths of the people who get married, mademoiselle,” - replied Lectoure, with a carelessness which would have at once deterred -the confidence of a woman less candid than Marguerite. “A man marries -in order to have a wife, the wife to have a husband; it is a social -compact, an arrangement of convenience. What can love have to do in a -matter of this nature?” - -“Your pardon, sir; perhaps I have not clearly expressed my meaning,” - continued Marguerite, making an effort to control her feelings, and to -conceal from the man upon whom her future fate depended, the impression -his words had produced upon her mind. “But you must attribute my -hesitation, sir, to the timidity of a young girl, compelled by imperious -circumstances to speak on such a subject.” - -“Not at all, mademoiselle,” replied Lectoure, bowing and giving to his -voice a tone which nearly approached raillery; “on the contrary, you -speak like _Clarissa Harlowe_, and all you say is as clear as daylight. -God has endowed me with a mind sufficiently quick-sighted perfectly -to comprehend things which are but hinted at.” - -“How, sir!” cried Marguerite, “you comprehend what I had the intention -of saying, and you allow me to continue? How would it be if on looking -deeply into my heart and interrogating all its feelings, I found it -impossible to love--to love the person who had been presented to me as -my future husband?” - -“Why,” replied Lectoure, in the same sarcastic tone in which he had -before spoken, “in my opinion the best course to pursue would be not to -tell him of it.” - -“And why not, sir?” - -“Because--but--but--because it would really be too simple.” - -“And if that avowal were made, not from simplicity but from delicacy? -If I added, and may the shame of such an avowal fall back on those who -compel me to make it--if I added sir, that I have loved, that I -still love?” - -“Oh! some little romance, is it not so?” said Lectoure, carelessly, -crossing his leg and playing with the frill of his shirt; “upon my -honor, the race of little cousins is an accursed race. But fortunately -we know what these ephemeral attachments are; and there is not a -school-girl, who, after the holidays, does not return to her convent but -with a passion in her little heart.” - -“Unfortunately for me,” replied Marguerite, with, a voice as sorrowful -and grave as that of the baron was sarcastic and light, “unfortunately, -I am no longer a school-girl, sir; and although still young, I have long -ago passed the age of childish games and infantine attachments. When I -speak to the man who does me the honor to solicit my hand and to offer -me his name, of my love for another, he ought to understand that I -am speaking of a serious, profound, and eternal love; of one of those -passions, in fine, which leave their traces in the heart, and imprint -them there for ever.” - -“The devil!” exclaimed Lectoure, as if beginning to attach some -importance to Marguerite’s confession; “why, this is perfectly pastoral. -But let us see! is it a young man whom one can receive at one’s house?” - -“Oh! sir,” cried Marguerite, catching at the hope which these words -seemed to inspire: “oh! believe me, he is the most estimable being, the -most devoted soul----” - -“Why, I am not asking you to tell me this--I was not speaking of the -qualities of his heart--he has all these, of course, that’s perfectly -understood. I ask you whether he is noble? if he is of good race? -in short, whether a woman of quality could acknowledge him, and that -without degrading her husband?” - -“His father, whom he lost when very young, and who was my father’s -friend from infancy, was a counsellor at the Court of Rennes.” - -“Nobility of the bar!” exclaimed Lectoure, dropping his nether lip with -a contemptuous shrug; “I would rather it were otherwise--is he a knight -of Malta, at least?” - -“He was educated for a military life.” - -“Oh! then, we must get a regiment for him, to give him rank and standing -in society. Well, that’s all arranged, and it is well. Now, listen to -me: he will absent himself for six months, merely for decency’s sake, -will obtain leave of absence, no difficult matter now, as we are not -at war--he will get himself presented to you for form’s sake, by some -mutual friend, and then all will go on rightly.” - -“I do not understand you, sir,” replied Marguerite, looking at the baron -with an expression of profound astonishment. - -“What I have said to you is, notwithstanding, perfectly pellucid,” - rejoined the latter, with some show of impatience; “you have engagements -on your side--I have on mine--but that is no reason for preventing -an union which is perfectly suitable in every respect; and once -accomplished, why, I think, we are bound to render it as bearable as we -can. Do you comprehend me now?” - -“Oh! pardon me, sir, pardon me,” cried Marguerite, starting back, as -though these words had outraged her; “I have been very imprudent, very -culpable perhaps; but whatever I may have been, I did not dream I could -have merited so gross an insult. Oh! sir, the blush of shame is now -scorching my cheek, but more for you than for myself. Yes, I understand -you--an apparent love and a concealed one; the face of vice and the mask -of virtue; and it is to me--to me, the daughter of the Marquis d’Auray, -that so shameful, so humiliating, so infamous a bargain is proposed. -Oh!” continued she, falling into an arm-chair, and hiding her face with -both her hands, “I must then be a most unfortunate, most contemptible -lost creature! Oh! my God! my God!” - -“Emanuel! Emanuel!” cried the baron, opening the door, at which he -rightly suspected Marguerite’s brother had remained; “come in, my dear -friend; your sister is attacked with spasms; these things ought to be -attended to, or they may become chronic; Madame do Moulan died of them. -Here, take my scent bottle, and let her smell at it. As to myself, I am -going down into the park. If you have nothing else to do, you can rejoin -me there, and bring me, if you please, news of your sister.” - -Saying these words, the Baron de Lectoure left the room with miraculous -calmness, leaving Marguerite and Emanuel together. - - - -CHAPTER XII.--THE CHALLENGE. - - Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me, - It shall not anger me--I tell thee Claudius, - Thou art enshrined in a holy circle - My foot can never pass--nor taunt, nor insult - Can e’er induce this hand to rise against thee. - Therefore be satisfied-- - Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee. - --Old Play. - - -On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron -de Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so -diametrically opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl, -on that day at four o’clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the -castle. Emanuel did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could -not leave her husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to -come down stairs. The other guests were the notary, the relations of the -family, and the witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding -the imperturbable gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his -joyous humor, so stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun -his own feelings. From time to time, indeed, his boisterous -liveliness failed all at once, like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly -extinguished, and then it suddenly burst forth again, as doth the flame -when it devours its last aliment. At seven o’clock they rose from table, -and went into the drawing-room. It would be difficult to form an idea -of the strange aspect which the old castle then presented; the vast -apartments of which were hung with damask draperies, with gothic -designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times of Louis XIII. and -Louis XIV. - -They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the -presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance -of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the -feeble and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to -illuminate the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the -arches of a cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to -be joined during the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the -neighbourhood, increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the -emblazoned columns of the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons, -the same one in which Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from -Paris, had received Captain Paul, was placed a table prepared with much -solemnity, on which was laid a closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a -stranger ignorant of all that was preparing, might as well have enclosed -a death warrant as a marriage contract. In the midst of these grave -aspects and gloomy impressions, from time to time a shrill mocking laugh -would reach the ears of a group of persons whispering to each other. It -proceeded from Lectoure, who was amusing himself at the expense of some -good country gentlemen, without any respect for the feelings of Emanuel, -upon whom a portion of his raillery necessarily recoiled. He would, -however, every now and then cast an anxious glance around the room, and -then a gloomy cloud would pervade his features, for he saw not either -his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or Marguerite enter the room. -As we have already stated, that neither of them had been present at -the dinner table, and his interview with the latter had not, however -careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some uneasiness with -regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take place during -the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and he had -just determined to go up to his sister’s apartment, when in passing -through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw -near. - -“By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count,” said he -to him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country -gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of -perfect intimacy; “here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very -curious things, upon my word! But do you know,” continued he, turning -to the narrator, “this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also -have marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to -Paris, to tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild -ducks in this way.” - -“An immense quantity,” replied the gentleman, and with the accent of -perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of -detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same -tone. - -“What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?” inquired Emanuel. - -“Only imagine, my dear friend,” replied Lectoure, with the most complete -sang froid, “that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,--At -what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?” - -“In the month of December and January.” - -“It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying, -then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool -over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so -completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and -allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?” - -“As near as I am to you.” - -“Bah! really?” exclaimed Emanuel. - -“And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases.” - -“I kill them by dozens,” said he, proudly, being enchanted by the -attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his -exploits. - -“It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of -ducks,” said Emanuel. - -“She adores them,” said M. de Nozay. - -“I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a -person,” said Lectoure, bowing. - -“Undoubtedly baron.” - -“I swear to you,” said Lectoure, “that instantly on my return to -Paris, I will speak of this sport in the king’s dressing-room, and I am -persuaded that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his -large ponds of Versailles.” - -“I beg your pardon, dear marquis,” said Emanuel, taking Lectoure’s arm, -and whispering in his ear, “this is one of our country neighbors, whom -we could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion.” - -“It requires no apology, my dear friend,” said Lectoure, using the same -precaution not to be heard by the party in question: “you would have -been decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He -is an appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been -greatly chagrined not to have made his acquaintance.” - -“Monsieur de la Jarry,” said a servant, opening the door. - -“A sporting companion?” said Lectoure. - -“No,” replied M. de Nozay; “he is a traveller.” - -“Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the -newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had -hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room, -muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur. - -“Ah! my dear La Jarry,” cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and -holding out his hand to him, “but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, -you look like the Czar Peter.” - -“It is,” replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no -means cold, “because, when one arrives from Naples--perrrrrou!” - -“Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples,” said Lectoure, joining in -the conversation. - -“Direct, sir.” - -“Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?” - -“No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then,” - continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to -the volcano, “Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen -at Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when -the wind is in the wrong quarter,--and besides Madame La Jarry was -dreadfully alarmed at the idea of an eruption.” - -“But of course you visited the _Grotto del Cane?_” continued Lectoure. - -“To what purpose?” rejoined La Jarry; “to see an animal that has -vapors--give a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as -much. And then, Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it -would have given her pain to witness so cruel an exhibition.” - -“I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself,” said Emanuel, -bowing, “did not neglect the Solfatara.” - -“Who, I--I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine what -three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which is -a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the -odour of sulphur.” - -“What do you think of our new friend?” said Emanuel, leading Lectoure -into the room in which the contract was to be signed. - -“I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly -prefer Nozay.” - -The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, “Monsieur -Paul.” - -“Eh!” exclaimed Emanuel, turning round. - -“Who is this?” inquired Lectoure, listlessly, “another country -neighbour?” - -“No; this is quite another sort of person,” replied Emanuel, with -agitation. “How does this man dare to present himself here?” - -“Ah! ah! a plebeian--eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I -suppose. No--a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you, Emanuel, -that they are beginning to receive this sort of people--that accursed -philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my dear -fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it--we have come to -that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches the -corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises--they -converse together on court matters--they jest, they joke, they squabble, -it is _bon ton_ though decidedly bad taste.” - -“You are mistaken, Lectoure,” replied Emanuel; “he is neither poet, -painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead -off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry.” - -Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours -by the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting -and travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely -closed upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into -the room he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door--the one -led to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up -on his first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between -Marguerite and Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained -there for a moment, looking attentively at the two doors, as though he -had expected to see one of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In -a few moments, that of the library was opened, and he perceived a white -form standing within it; he rushed towards it. - -“Is it you, Marguerite?” said he. - -“Yes,” replied a trembling voice. - -“Well?” - -“I told him all?” - -“And--” - -“And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed.” - -“I suspected as much--he is a miserable wretch.” - -“What’s to be done?” cried the young girl. - -“Take courage, Marguerite.” - -“Courage--oh! it now fails me entirely.” - -“There is that which will restore it,” said Paul, handing her a letter. - -“What does this letter contain?” - -“The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name -of the woman in whose house he has been concealed.” - -“My son! oh! you are my guardian angel,” cried Marguerite, endeavoring -to kiss the hand which held the paper to her. - -“Silence! someone is coming--whatever may happen, you will find one at -Achards.” - -Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had -heard: the sound of her brother’s footsteps. Paul turned round, and went -to meet him, which he did, near the table. - -“I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company,” - said Emanuel, who was the first to speak. - -“It appears to me that we are alone at this moment,” said Paul, glancing -around the room. - -“Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an -instant this room will be full.” - -“But many things may be said in an instant, count.” - -“You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more -than an instant to comprehend them.” - -“I am listening,” said Paul. - -“You spoke to me of letters,” rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him, -and lowering his voice. - -“It is true,” said Paul, with the same calmness. - -“You fixed a price upon those letters?” - -“That is also true.” - -“Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum -enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them -up.” - -“Yes, sir, yes,” replied Paul, “the case stood thus, as long as I -believed your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault -she had committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was -seconding your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a -sufficiently bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without -a name and without a family, not to allow him to enter it without -a fortune also, and I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in -exchange for the letters in my possession. But now the state of things -is altered, sir. I saw your sister throw herself upon her knees before -you, I heard her entreat you not to force her into this infamous -marriage, and neither prayers, nor tears, nor supplications could make -any impression on your heart. It is now for me, for me who hold your -honor, and the honor of your family within my hands, it is for me to -save the mother from despair, as I would have saved the child from -penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be delivered to you, when -you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the marriage contract -of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of Mademoiselle -Marguerite d’Auray with Anatole de Lusignan.” - -“Never, sir, never!” - -“You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count.” - -“Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them.” - -“I know not any,” coldly replied Paul. - -“Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!” - -“Count,” replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under -the circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, “count, listen -to me?” - -“Will you return me those letters, sir?” - -“Count--” - -“Yes, or no!” - -“No!” said Paul, calmly. - -“Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or -rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together, -and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful -from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases.” - -“I regret I cannot accept the offer, count.” - -“How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side -that sword, and you refuse a duel.” - -“Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against -you, count--believe me, I entreat you.” - -“You cannot fight with me!” - -“I cannot, upon my honor.” - -“You cannot fight with me, you say?” - -“At this moment a person who had entered the room without being -perceived, burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul -and Emanuel turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them. - -“But,” said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, “I can fight with him, for he is -a miserable and infamous wretch.” - -A burning blush passed over Lectoure’s features, like the reflection of -a flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped. - -“It is well, sir,” said he; “send your second to Emanuel and they can -arrange this matter.” - -“You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred,” - said Emanuel, to Paul. - -“Silence!” replied Paul, “they are announcing your mother.” - -“Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure,” added Emanuel, -“let us go to receive my mother.” - -Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he -entered the small room in which he had before been concealed. - - - -CHAPTER XIII.--THE CONTRACT. - - Listen to me and heed me! - If this contract - Thou holdst me to, abide thou the result! - Answer to heaven for what I suffer! act! - Prepare thyself for such calamity - To fall on me, and those whose evil - Have linked them with me, as no past mishap, - However rare and marvellously Sad, - Can parallel. - - Knowles--The Hunchback. - - -At the moment that Paul went into the study, the marchioness appeared -at the door of the drawing-room, followed by the notary, and the -several persons who had been invited to be present at the signing of the -contract. Notwithstanding the nature of the meeting, the marchioness -had not considered it proper to lay aside, even for one evening, her -mourning garments, and dressed in complete black, as she had been always -during twenty years, she came into the room a few moments before the -marquis. None of the persons present, not even his son, had seen the -marquis for many years. Such attention was in those days paid to ancient -forms, that the marchioness would not allow the marriage contract of her -daughter to be signed, without the head of the family, although deprived -of reason, being present; at the ceremony. However little accustomed -Lectoure was to feel intimidated, the marchioness produced upon him the -effect which she did on every one that approached her, and on seeing her -enter the room with so grave and dignified an aspect, he bowed to her -with a feeling of profound respect. - -“I am grateful to you, gentlemen,” said the marchioness, bowing to the -persons who accompanied her, “for the honor you have been pleased -to confer upon me, by being present at the betrothal of Mademoiselle -Marguerite d’Auray, with the Baron de Lectoure. I, in consequence, was -desirous that the marquis, although suffering from illness, should also -be present at this meeting, to thank you at least by his presence, if he -cannot do so verbally. You are all aware of his unfortunate malady, and -you will, therefore, not be astonished, should some disjointed words--” - -“Yes, madam,” said Lectoure, interrupting her, “we know the misfortune -which has befallen him, and we admire the devoted wife, who for twenty -years has borne half the weight of this sad visitation.” - -“You see, madam,” said Emanuel, addressing in his turn, and kissing -the hand of his mother, “all the world bows down in admiration of your -conjugal piety.” - -“Where is Marguerite?” murmured the marchioness, in a hair whisper. - -“She was here not a moment ago,” said Emanuel. “Let her know that we are -all assembled,” rejoined the marchioness, in the same tone. - -A servant then announced “the Marquis d’Auray.” All present drew to -one side, so as to leave free passage from the door, and all eyes were -directed to the spot at which this new personage was to appear. It -was not long before their curiosity was satisfied; the marquis came in -almost immediately, supported by two servants. - -He was an old man, whose countenance, notwithstanding that the traces -of suffering had deeply furrowed it, still retained that noble -and dignified appearance which had rendered him one of the most -distinguished men of the court of Louis XV. His large, hollow, and -feverish eyes, glanced around the assembly with a strange expression of -astonishment. He was dressed in his costume of Steward of the Household, -wore the order of the Holy Ghost suspended from his neck, and that of -St. Louis, at his button hole. He advanced slowly, and without uttering -a word. The two servants led him forward amid the most profound silence, -to an arm-chair, in which he seated himself, and the servants left the -room. The marchioness then placed herself at his right hand. The notary -opened the portfolio, drew from it the marriage contract and read it -aloud. The marquis and the marchioness made over the sum of five hundred -thousand francs to Lectoure, and gave a like sum to Marguerite, as her -dowry. - -During the whole of the time occupied by the reading of the contract, -the marchioness, notwithstanding her great self command, had betrayed -some symptoms of uneasiness. But just at the moment when the notary had -placed the contract open on the table, Emanuel returned and approached -his mother. - -“And Marguerite?” said the marchioness. - -“She will be here instantly.” - -“Madam,” murmured Marguerite, half opening the door, and clasping her -hands. - -The marchioness pretended not to hear her, and pointed with her finger -at the pen. - -“Baron, it is you who are first to sign.” - -Lectoure immediately approached the table and signed the contract. - -“Madam!” cried Marguerite, in a tone of supplication, and advancing one -step toward her mother. - -“Pass the pen to your betrothed, Baron,” said the marchioness. - -The Baron walked round the table, and drew near to Marguerite. - -“Madam!” again cried the latter, with an accent so melancholy, that -it struck to the heart of every person present, and even the marquis -himself raised his head. - -“Sign!” said the marchioness, pointing to the marriage contract. - -“Oh! my father! my father!” exclaimed Marguerite throwing herself at the -feet of the marquis. - -“What does this mean?” said the marchioness, leaning upon the arm of the -marquis’ chair, and bending over him, “are you mad, mademoiselle?” - -“My father! oh! my father!” again cried Marguerite, throwing her arms -around him, “my father, have pity, save your daughter!” - -“Marguerite!” murmured the marchioness, in a threatening accent. - -“Madam!” replied Marguerite, “I cannot address myself to you--permit me, -then, to implore my father’s pity; unless,” she added, pointing to the -notary with a firm and determined gesture, “you would prefer my invoking -the protection of the law.” - -“Come, come,” said the marchioness, rising, and in a tone of bitter -irony, “this is a family scene, and which, although highly interesting -to near relations, must be sufficiently tedious to strangers. Gentlemen, -you will find refreshments in the adjoining rooms. My son, conduct these -gentlemen, and do the honors. Baron, I must beg your pardon for a short -time.” Emanuel and Lectoure bowed in silence and withdrew, followed by -all the company. The marchioness remained motionless until the last of -them had withdrawn, and then she closed all the doors leading into the -room, when, returning to the marquis, whom Marguerite still held clasped -in her arms. - -“And now,” said she, “that there is no one present excepting those -who have the right to lay their commands upon you, sign that paper, -mademoiselle, or leave the room.” - -“For pity’s sake, madam, for pity’s sake, do not compel me to commit so -infamous an act!” - -“Have you not heard me?” said the marchioness, giving to her voice an -imperative tone, which she thought impossible to be resisted, “or must I -repeat my words? ‘Sign, or leave the room.’” - -“Oh! my father!” cried Marguerite, “mercy! mercy! No, it shall not be -said, that after having been banished from my father’s presence for ten -years, I was torn from his arms the first time I again beheld him--and -that, before he had recognized me, before he has embraced me. Oh! -father! father!--it is I, it is your daughter!” - -“What is that voice that is imploring me?” murmured the marquis. “Who -is this child who calls me father?” - -“That voice,” said the marchioness, seizing the arm of her daughter, -“is a voice that is raised against the rights of nature. That child is a -rebellious daughter.” - -“My father!” cried Marguerite imploringly, “look at me. Oh! my father, -save me I defend me! I am Marguerite.” - -“Marguerite? Marguerite?” stammered the marquis, “I had formerly a child -of that name.” - -“It is I! it is I!” rejoined Marguerite: “I am your child--I am your -daughter.” - -“There are no children but those who obey. Obey! and you will then have -the right to call yourself our daughter,” rejoined the marchioness. - -“To you, my father, yes,--to you I am ready to obey. But you do -not command this sacrifice! you do not wish that I should be -unhappy--unhappy even to despair--unhappy even to death.” - -“Come! come!” said the marquis holding her in his turn, and pressing her -to his heart. “Oh! this is a delicious and unknown feeling to me. And -now--wait! wait!” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “It seems to me -that I recollect.” - -“Sir!” cried the marchioness, “tell her that she ought to obey; that -the malediction of God awaits rebellious children. Tell her that, rather -than to encourage her in her impiety!” - -The marquis slowly raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his -wife, and then slowly pronounced the following words: “Take care! madam, -take care. Have I not told you that I begin to remember!” and then again -bending down his head to that of Marguerite, so that his grey hairs -mingled with the dark tresses, of his daughter--“Speak--speak!” said he, -“what is it that disturbs you, my child--tell me all.” - -“Oh! I am most unhappy!” - -“Everybody, then, is unhappy here,” exclaimed the marquis, “whether -their hair be grey or black--an old man or a child.. Oh! and I also--I -am unhappy--be assured. - -“Sir, go up stairs into your room again: you must,” said the -marchioness. - -“Yes, that I may again be face to face with you; shut up like a -prisoner! That may be very well, when I am mad.” - -“Yes, yes, my father, you are right. My mother has devoted herself to -you long enough; it is now time that your daughter should perform that -duty. Take me with you, father. I will not leave you day or night. You -will only have to make a sign, to utter a word, and I will serve you on -my knees.” - -“Oh! you would not have the strength to do it.” - -“Yes, yes, my father, I will--as truly as I am your daughter.” - -The marchioness wrung her hands with impatience. - -“If you are my daughter, how is it that I have not seen you for ten -years?” - -“Because I was told that you would not see me, my father; because they -told me that you did not love me.” - -“You were told that I would not see you--not see that angel face!” said -he, taking her head between his hands, and looking at her with intense -auction; “they told you that--they told you that a poor condemned soul -did not wish for heaven! Who was it, then, that told you a father would -not see his child? Who has dared to say, child, your father loves you -not?” - -“I!----” said the marchioness, again endeavoring to take Marguerite from -her father’s arms. - -“You!” exclaimed the marquis, interrupting her: “it was you? To you -then, has been confided the fatal mission of deceiving me in all my -affections. All my griefs, then, must find their source in you? You -wish, then, now to break the father’s heart, as twenty years ago, you -did that of the husband.” - -“You are delirious, sir,” said the marchioness, loosing the arm of her -daughter; and going to the right of the marquis, she whispered--“be -silent!” - -“No, madam, no, I am not now delirious,” replied the marquis, “No! no! -Say rather, say that,--and it will be the truth,--say that I am now -between an angel who would recall me to reason, and a demon who wishes -me again to become insane. No! No! I am not mad. Do you wish that I -should prove it to you?” He rose, supporting himself on the arms of his -chair. “Must I speak to you of letters, of adultery, of a duel?” - -“I say,” said the marchioness, grasping his arm, “I tell you that you -are more forsaken by heaven than ever, when you utter such things, -without reflecting as to whose ears are listening. Cast down your eyes, -sir--look who is standing yonder, and then dare assert that you are not -mad!” - -“You are right;” said the marquis, falling back in his chair. “Your -mother is right,” continued he, addressing Marguerite--“I am mad, and -you must not believe what I say, but what she says. Your mother is -devotedness, virtue itself, and therefore, she has not sleepless nights, -nor remorse, nor madness. What does your mother wish?” - -“My misery, father; my everlasting misery.” - -“And how can I prevent this misery?” said the unhappy old man, with a -most heart-rending anguish; “how can I, a poor, insane old man, prevent -it? who thinks he always sees the blood issuing from a wound--who thinks -he constantly hears a voice proceeding from a tomb!” - -“Oh you can do all; say but one word and I am saved! They wish me to -marry--” - -The marquis listlessly reclined his head on the back of his chair. - -“Listen to me! they wish to marry me to a man whom I do not love--do you -understand me?--to a wretch!--and you have been brought here--placed -in that arm-chair, before the table--you, you my father! to sign this -infamous contract--this contract which I now hand to you.” - -“Without consulting me,” said the marquis, taking the contract; “without -asking me whether I will, or I will not! Do they believe me dead? And if -they think me dead, do they fear me less than they would a spectre? This -marriage would cause your misery, you say?” - -“My eternal misery!” exclaimed Marguerite. “The marriage, then, shall -not take place.” - -“I have pledged your word and mine,” said the marchioness, and with -the more energy, that she felt her influence over her husband about to -escape her. - -“This marriage, I tell you, shall not take place!” replied the marquis, -in a tone louder than that of his wife. “It is too dreadful a thing,” - continued he, in a gloomy sepulchral tone, “to be permitted. A marriage -in which a wife loves not her husband--why, it causes madness! As -to myself, the marchioness has always loved me, and loved me -faithfully--that which drove me mad--oh! that was a different matter.” - -A flash of diabolical joy shot from the eyes of the marchioness, for she -at once saw from the violence of the expressions used by her husband, -and the terror depicted on his features, that his insanity was about to -return. - -“This contract,” said the marquis, and he raised it in his hands as if -about to tear it. - -The marchioness eagerly caught his hand. Marguerite appeared to be -hanging by a thread between heaven and hell. - -“That which drives me mad!” reiterated the marquis, “is a tomb which -widely opens, a spectre that issues from the earth, it is a phantom that -speaks to me, and says--” - -“Your life is in my hands!” murmured the marchioness in his ear, -repeating the last words of the dying Morlaix: “I could take it.” - -“Do you hear that?” cried the marquis, rising, and as if about to rush -from the room. - -“My father! oh! my father! recall your senses; there is no tomb, there -is no spectre, there is no phantom; those words were uttered by the -marchioness.” - -“But I wish you to live,” continued the latter, concluding the sentence -she had begun, “to forgive me as I forgive you.” - -“Pardon, Morlaix, pardon!” cried the marquis, falling back in his -arm-chair, his hair standing on end with terror, and the perspiration -streaming from his forehead. - -“Oh! father! father!” - -“You see that your father is altogether deranged,” said the -marchioness, triumphantly; “say no more to him.” - -“Oh!” cried Marguerite, “God will, I trust perform a miracle! My love, -my caresses, my tears, will restore him to reason.” - -“Make the attempt,” replied the marchioness, coldly, abandoning to her -care the marquis, who was powerless, speechless, and almost without -consciousness. - -“Oh! my poor father!” exclaimed Marguerite, in a tone of agony. - -The marquis remained perfectly impassible. - -“Sir!” said the marchioness, in an imperative manner. - -“Eh! eh!” cried the marquis, shuddering. - -“Save me! oh! save me, father!” cried Marguerite, wringing her hands, -and throwing herself back in despair. - -“Take this pen and sign,” said the marchioness, “you must--it is my -will.” - -“Now, I am lost indeed!” cried Marguerite, overwhelmed with terror, and -feeling that she had no longer strength to continue the struggle. - -But at the moment that the marquis, overpowered, had written the first -letters of his name; when the marchioness was congratulating herself on -the victory she had obtained, and Marguerite was about to leave the room -in despair, an unexpected incident suddenly changed the scene. The door -of the study opened, and Paul, who had been anxiously watching, though -invisibly, the whole of this terrible conflict, issued from it. - -“Madam,” said he, “one word before this contract is signed!” - -“Who is it calls me!” said the marchioness, endeavoring to distinguish -in the distance that separated them, the person who had thus spoken, and -who stood in a dark corner of the room. - -“I know that voice!” exclaimed the marquis, shuddering, as if seared by -a red-hot iron. - -Paul advanced three paces, and the light from the lustre hanging in the -centre of the room fell full upon him. - -“Is it a spectre?” cried the marchioness, in her turn, struck with the -resemblance of the youth who stood before her to her former lover. - -“I know that face!” cried the marquis, believing that he saw the man -whom he had killed. - -“My God! my God! protect me,” stammered Marguerite, raising her eyes and -hands to heaven. - -“Morlaix! Morlaix!” said the marquis, rising and advancing toward Paul, -“Morlaix!--pardon! mercy!” and he fell at full length upon the floor. - -“My father!” cried Marguerite, rushing to his assistance. - -At that moment a servant entered the room, with terror in his looks, and -addressing the marchioness said-- - -“Madam, Achard has sent to request that the priest and the doctor of the -castle, may instantly be ordered to attend him--he is dying.” - -“Tell him,” replied the marchioness, pointing to her husband, whom -Marguerite was vainly endeavoring to restore to consciousness, “that -they are both obliged to remain here to attend upon the marquis.” - - - -CHAPTER XIV.--RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. - - And this our life, exempt from public haunt, - Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, - Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. - - Shakespeare. - - -As has been seen by the end of the preceding chapter, God, by one of -those extraordinary combinations, which short-sighted man almost always -attributes to chance, had summoned to his presence, and almost at -the same moment, the souls of the noble Marquis d’Auray, and the poor -low-born Achard. We have seen that the former, struck by the sight of -Paul, the living portrait of his father, as if by a thunderbolt, fell at -the feet of the young man, who was himself terrified at the effect his -appearance had produced. - -As to Achard, the circumstances which had hastened his death, although -differing in their nature, and from very opposite feelings, had arisen -from the same fatal causes, and had been brought about by the same -individual. The sight of Paul had created direful emotions in the -breasts both of the marquis and Achard. On the former from excess of -terror, on the latter from excess of joy. - -During the day which had preceded the intended signing of the contract, -Achard had felt himself more feeble than usual. Notwithstanding this, he -had not neglected in the evening to crawl to his master’s grave, there -to put up his accustomed prayer. Thence he had observed with a devotion -more profound than ever, that ever new and splendid spectacle, the sun -sinking into the ocean. He had followed the decline of its enpurpled -light, and as though the vast torch of the world had drawn his soul -toward it, he had felt his strength extinguished with its last rays; -so that when the servant from the castle came in the evening at the -accustomed hour to receive his orders, not finding him in his house, -had sought for him without the park, and as it was well known that he -generally walked in that direction, found him lying extended at the foot -of the great oak tree, upon the grave of his master, and deprived of -consciousness. Thus did he remain constant to the last in that religious -devotedness he had vowed to his master’s tomb, and which had been the -exclusive feeling of the last years of his life. - -The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; -and then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the -marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a -physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the -servant then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, -under the pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as -the old servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at -the point of death, gave her husband the right of first employing. - -But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the -moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and -varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we -have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul. -Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible -from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to -whisper to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would -find him at Achard’s cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and -winding his way amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill -of a sear man, who reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon -reached the house, entered it panting from his rapid course, and found -Achard just as he was recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him -in his arms. The delight of again seeing him renewed the strength of -the old man, who now felt certain of having a friendly hand to close his -eyes. - -“Oh! it is you--it is you!” exclaimed the old man. - -“I did not hope to see you again.” - -“And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of -the state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your -assistance?” - -“But I knew not where to find you--where I could send to tell you that -I wished once more to see you before I died.” - -“I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously -ill, and I hastened hither.” - -“And how was it that you were at the castle?” said the old man, with -amazement. - -Paul related to him all that had occurred. - -“Eternal Providence!” cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his -recital, “how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after -twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, -and hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the -son!” - -“Yes, yes, thus it happens,” replied Paul, “and it is Providence, also, -who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse -to send you the physician and the priest.” - -“According to common justice,” rejoined Achard, “they might have made -a fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the -physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the -priest.” - -“I can go on horseback,” said Paul, “and in less than an hour--” - -“In an hour it would be too late,” said the dying man, in an enfeebled -voice, “a priest! a priest only--I ask but for a priest.” - -“Father,” replied Paul, “in his sacred functions, I know I cannot supply -his place; but we can speak of God, of his greatness and his goodness.” - -“Yes, but let us first finish with the things of this earth, that we -may then be able to turn our thoughts wholly to those of heaven. You say -that, like myself, the marquis is dying.” - -“I left him at the last agony.” - -“You know, that immediately after his death, the papers which are -deposited in that closet, and which prove your birth, are yours by -right.” - -“I know it.” - -“If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?” The old man -sat up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. “You will -take that key, you will open the closet--in it you will find a casket. -You are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket -until the marquis shall be dead.” - -“I swear it,” said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the -crucifix hanging at the head of the bed. - -“‘Tis well,” replied Achard; “now I shall die in peace.” - -“You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the -father stretches out his towards you from heaven!” - -“Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?” - -“No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since -his death.” - -“Yes,” murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, “I was but too exact -in following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have -taken place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, -Paul; it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is -the only thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been -moments of doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as -an assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only -been a witness, but an accomplice!” - -“Oh! my second father,” replied Paul, “I know not whether the laws of -earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether -honor as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the -Lord; I know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits -that the injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs -inflicted upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the -judgment of heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword’s point. These -are questions not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, -then, my conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have -done precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it -also misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right -than a priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, -I pardon you.” - -“Thanks! thanks!” cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; -“thanks, for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying -man. Remorse is a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that -there exists no God. For without a judge there can be no judgment.” - -“Listen to me,” said Paul, in that poetic and solemn accent, which was -peculiar to him: “I also have often doubted in the existence of a God: -isolated and lost in the wide world, without family, and without a -single friend, I sought for support in the Lord, and I asked of every -thing that encircled me, some proof of his existence. Often have I -arrested my steps at the foot of one of these crosses, erected by the -road side, and with my eyes fixed upon the Saviour, I demanded, and with -tears, to be assured of his existence, and divine mission; I prayed that -his eyes would deign to look upon me: that one drop of blood might fall -from his wound, or that a sigh might issue from his lips. The crucifix -remained motionless, and I arose, my heart being overcome with despair, -saying--‘did I but know where I could find my father’s tomb, I would -question him as Hamlet did the ghost, and he would perhaps answer me!’” - -“Poor child!” - -“Then would I enter a church,” continued Paul, “one of those churches of -the north, gloomy, religious, Christian! And I would feel myself borne -down with sorrow; but sorrow is not faith! I approached the altar; -I threw myself upon my knees before the tabernacle, in which God dwells; -I bowed my head till it touched the marble of the steps; and when I had -thus remained prostrated for hours and lost in doubt, I raised my head, -hoping that the God I was seeking would at length manifest his presence -to me by a ray of his glory, or by some dazzling proof of his power. But -the church remained gloomy, as the cross had remained motionless. And -I would then rush from its porches with insensate haste, crying, ‘Lord! -Lord! didst thou exist, thou would reveal thyself to man. It is thy -will, then, that men should doubt, since thou canst reveal thyself to -them, but dost not.’” - -“Beware of what you are saying, Paul,” cried the old man: “beware that -the doubt thy heart contains do not attaint mine! Thou hast time left to -thee to believe, whereas, I--I am about to die.” - -“Wait, father, wait!” continued Paul, with softened voice, and placid -features. “I have not told you all. It was then, that I said to myself, -‘the crucifix by the road side, the churches of the cities are but the -work of man. Let us seek God, in God’s own works.’ From that moment, my -father, began that wandering life, which will remain an eternal mystery, -known only to the heavens, the ocean, and myself--it led me into the -solitary wilds of America, for I thought the newer a world was, the more -freshly would it retain the impress of God’s hand. I did not deceive -myself. There, often in those virgin forests, into which I was perhaps -the first who had ever penetrated; with no shelter, but the heavens, no -couch, but the earth, absorbed by one sole thought, I have listened -to the thousand noises of a world about to sleep, and nature when -awakening. For a long time, did I still remain without comprehending -that unknown tongue, formed by the mingling of the murmur of rivers, -the vapor of the lakes, the rustling of the forest, and the perfume of -flowers. Finally, the veil which had obscured my eyes, and the weight -which had oppressed my heart, was little by little removed; and from -that time, I began to believe that these noises of evening, and of -approaching day, were but one universal hymn, by which created things -expressed their gratitude to the Creator.” - -“Almighty God!” cried the dying man, clasping his hands, and raising his -eyes to heaven, with an expression of holy faith, “I cried to you from -the bottomless pit, and you heard me in my distress; oh! my God I I -thank thee.” - -“Then,” continued Paul, with still increasing enthusiasm, “then, I -sought upon the ocean, that full conviction which earth had refused to -me. The earth is but a span--the ocean is immensity! The ocean is, after -God himself, the grandest, the most powerful object in the universe. I -have heard the ocean roar like a chafed lion, and then at the voice of -its master, become tranquil as a submissive dog; I have seen it rise -like a Titan, to scale the heavens; and then beneath the whip of the -tempest, moan like a weeping infant. I have seen it dashing its waves to -meet the lightning, and endeavoring to quench the thunder with its foam; -and then become smooth as a mirror, and reflect even the smallest -star in the heavens. Upon the land, I had become convinced of God’s -existence, upon the ocean, I recognised his power. In the solitary -wilds, as Moses, I had heard the voice of the Lord, but during the -tempest, I saw him, as did Ezekiel, riding upon the wings of the storm. -Thenceforward, my father, thenceforward, all doubt was driven from my -mind, and from the evening on which I witnessed the first hurricane, I -believed, and prayed.” - -“I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth,” said -the dying man, with ardent faith; and he continued thus the symbol of -the apostles to the last word. - -Paul listened to him in silence, with his eyes raised to heaven, and -when he had concluded, said-- - -“It is not thus, that a priest would have spoken to you, my father, for -I have spoken to you as a seaman, and with a voice more accustomed to -pronounce words of death than consolation. Forgive me, father, forgive -me for it.” - -“You have made me pray, and believe as you do,” said the old man; “tell -me, then, what more could a priest have done? What you have said is -plain and grand--let me reflect on what you have said.” - -“Listen!” said Paul, shuddering, “What is it?” - -“Did you not hear?” - -“No.” - -“I thought that a voice of some one in distress called to me--there -again--do you not hear it?--now, again!--It is the voice of Marguerite.” - -“Go to her instantly,” replied the old man; “I need to be alone.” - -Paul rushed into the adjoining room, and as he entered it he heard his -name again repeated, and close to the door of the cottage. Then, running -to the door he anxiously opened it, and found Marguerite upon the -threshold, her strength having failed her, and she had fallen upon her -knees. - -“Save me! save me!” she cried, with an expression of profound terror, on -perceiving Paul, and clasped his knees. - - - -CHAPTER XV.--THE PAPERS. - - Mercy from him! - And how can I expect it? - By what right - Can I demand he should withhold his claim, - The proofs once in his power?--Anonymous. - - -Paul ran to Marguerite, and caught her in his arms; she was pale and icy -cold. He carried her into the first room, placed her in an arm chair, -returned to the door which had remained open, and closed it, and then -hastened back. - -“What is it that so terrifies you? who is pursuing you? and how does it -happen that you come here at this unusual hour?” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Marguerite, “at any hour, whether by day or night, I -should have flown as long as the earth would have borne me! I should -have flown till I had found some heart in which I could have poured -forth my sorrows, an arm capable of defending me. Paul! Paul! my father -is dead?” - -“Poor child!” said Paul, pressing Marguerite to his heart, “who flies -from one house of death to fall into another; who leaves death in the -castle, to find it in the cottage.” - -“Yes, yes!” cried Marguerite rising, still trembling with terror, and -convulsively pressing Paul’s arm. “Death is yonder, and I find death -here! but yonder it is attended with despair and fear, while here it is -met with tranquillity and hope. Oh! Paul! Paul! had you but seen that -which I have seen!” - -“Tell me all that happened.” - -“You saw the terrible effect produced by your appearance, and the mere -sound of your voice?” - -“Yes, I saw that.” - -“They carried him still fainting and speechless into his own room.” - -“It was to your mother that I spoke,” said Paul, “and he heard me; I -could not foresee it would so much have terrified him.” - -“You full well know all that had passed, for you must have heard from -the room in which you were concealed, every word we uttered. My father, -my poor father, had recognized me, and I, seeing him thus, could, not -repress my uneasiness: notwithstanding the risk I ran of irritating my -mother, I went up to his room--the door was locked; I knocked softly at -it. He had recovered his senses, for I heard a faint voice asking ‘who -was there?’” - -“And your mother?” said Paul eagerly. - -“My mother,” replied Marguerite, “was no longer there, and she had -locked him in as she would have done to a child; but when he had -recognized my voice, when I had told him that it was his daughter -Marguerite who wished to see him, he told me that I could get into the -room by going down stairs again, and that in the study I should find a -private staircase which led to it. A minute afterwards, I was kneeling -by his bedside, and he gave me his blessing. Yes, Paul, I received his -blessing before he died, his paternal benediction, which I trust will -bring down the blessing of God upon my head.” - -“Yes,” said Paul, “God will pardon you; you may now feel tranquil. Weep -for your father, Marguerite, but weep no longer for yourself, for you -are saved.” - -“You have heard nothing yet, Paul!” exclaimed Marguerite. “Hear me -still.” - -“Proceed!” - -“At the very moment when I was kneeling, kissing the hand of my father, -and thanking him for the relief he had afforded my afflicted mind, I -heard my mothers footstep on the staircase. I recognized her voice, and -my father also recognized it, for he again embraced me, and made a sign -to me to leave him. I obeyed him, but such was my terror and confusion, -that I mistook the door, and instead of the staircase by which I had -ascended, I found myself in a small cabinet which had no issue. I felt -all around its walls, but could find no door. I was compelled to remain -there. I then heard my mother, accompanied by the priest, entering my -father’s room--I restrained my breathing, fearing that she should hear -me. I saw then through the glass window of the door, and I assure you, -Paul, that she was paler than my father who was about to die.” - -“Gracious heaven!” murmured Paul. - -“The priest seated himself by the bed-side,” continued Marguerite, -so terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; “my mother -remained standing at the foot of the bed--I was there, just opposite to -them, compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without -the means of retreat!--a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession -of her father!--was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my -eyes that I might not see--praying that I might not hear--and yet in -spite of myself--and this I swear to you, Paul--I saw and I heard--Oh! -what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my memory--I saw -my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him with a feverish -strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death imprinted on -his face. I heard him--I heard him pronounce the words, a -duel--adultery--assassination!--and at each word he uttered, I saw my -mother turn pale--and paler even than before--and I heard her raise her -voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying man, saying to the -priest: ‘believe him not--believe him not, reverend father; what he says -is false--or rather, he is mad, he knows not what he says--believe him -not!’ Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a -cold perspiration stood upon my forehead, and I fainted.” - -“Justice of Heaven!” cried Paul. “I know not how long I remained without -consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the -tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were -burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my -eyes on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the -sheet which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I -divined that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between -the funereal awe which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of -raising the covering to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in -his coffin, the venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, -overcame every other feeling--an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror -drove me from the room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but -I believe without touching a single step,--I fled across the rooms and -through the corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I -had left the castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps -were leading me, until I remembered you had told me I should find -you here. A secret instinct--tell me what it was--for I cannot myself -comprehend it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I -was pursued by shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the -avenues I thought--(had I then lost my senses?)--I thought I saw my -mother, dressed all in black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. -Oh! then, then! terror lent me wings--I at first fled without knowing -whither; after this my strength failed me, and it was then you heard my -cries. I dragged myself along a few more paces, and fell motionless at -this door; had you not opened it, I should have expired upon the spot, -for I was so much terrified, that it appeared to me,”--then suddenly -pausing, Marguerite trembled, and whispered to Paul, “Silence! do you -not hear?” - -“Yes,” replied Paul, instantly extinguishing the lamp, “yes, -yes--footsteps--I hear them also.” - -“Look! look!” cried Marguerite, concealing herself behind the curtain of -the window, and throwing them around Paul at the same moment--“look! I -was not mistaken--it was my mother.” - -The door had been opened, and the marchioness, pale as a spectre, -entered the room slowly, closed the door after her, and locked it, and -then without observing Paul and Marguerite, went into the second room -where Achard was lying. She then walked up to his bed, as she had only -a short time before to that of the marquis, only that she was not now -accompanied by a priest. - -“Who is there?” said Achard, drawing back one of the curtains of his -bed. - -“It is I,” replied the marchioness, drawing back the other curtain. - -“You, madam,” cried the old man with terror; “for what purpose have you -come to the bedside of a dying man?” - -“I have come to make a proposal to him.” - -“One that will lose his soul! is it not?” - -“To save it, on the contrary. There is only one thing in this world, -Achard, of which you stand in need,” rejoined the marchioness, bending -down over the bed of the dying man, “and that is a priest.” - -“You refused to allow the one who is attached to the castle to attend -me.” - -“In five minutes, if you wish it, he shall be here.” - -“Let him be sent then,” said the old man, “and believe me there is not a -moment to be lost. He must come quickly.” - -“But if I give you the peace of heaven, you will give me in exchange -peace on earth.” - -“What can I do for you?” murmured the dying man, closing his eyes, that -he might not see a woman whose looks chilled him. - -“You stand in need of a priest, that you may die in peace,” said -the marchioness, “you know the gift I require, in order to exist in -tranquillity.” - -“You would close heaven to me by a perjury.” - -“I would open it to you by a pardon.” - -“That pardon I have already received.” - -“And from whom?--” - -“From him who, perhaps, had alone the right to grant it to me.” - -“Has Morlaix then descended from heaven?” asked the marchioness, in a -tone in which there was almost as much terror as irony. - -“No, madam,” replied he, “but have you forgotten that he left a son upon -this earth?” - -“Then you have also seen him,” exclaimed the marchioness. - -“Yes,” replied Achard. - -“And you have told him all----” - -“All!” - -“And the papers which prove his birth?” asked the marchioness, with -trembling anxiety. - -“The marquis was not dead--the papers are still there.” - -“Achard!” cried the marchioness, falling upon her knees, by the bedside. -“Achard! you will take pity on me?” - -“You, on your knees, before me, madam?” - -“Yes, old man,” replied the marchioness, in a supplicating tone, “yes, -I am on my knees before you--and I beg, I implore you, for you hold in -your hands the honor of one of the most ancient families in France--my -past, my future life! Those papers are my heart, my soul--they are -more than this--they are my name--the name of my forefathers--of my -children--and you well know all that I have suffered to preserve that -name unsullied. Do you believe that I had not a heart as other women -have? the feelings of a lover, of a wife, and of a mother? Well! I have -overcome them all, one by one, and the struggle has been long. I am -twenty years younger than you are, old man, I am still in the prime -of life, and you are on the verge of the grave. Look, then, upon these -hairs; they are even whiter than your own.” - -“What says she?” whispered Marguerite, who had softly crept to the door, -and could see all that was passing in the inner room. “Gracious heaven!” - -“Listen, listen, dear child,” said Paul, “it is the Lord who permits -that all shall be thus revealed.” - -“Yes, yes,” murmured Achard, who was becoming weaker every moment. “Yes, -you doubted the goodness of the Lord, you had forgotten that he had -forgiven the adulterous woman--” - -“Yes, but when she met with Christ, men were about to cast stones at -her--men, who for twenty generations have been accustomed to revere our -name, to honor our family--did they but learn, that which, thank heaven! -has heretofore been hidden from them--would hear it uttered with shame -and with contempt. I have so much suffered, that God will pardon me--but -man! men are so implacable, that they will not pardon--moreover, am I -alone exposed to their insults--on either side, the cross I bear, have I -not a child?--and is not the other that we speak of, the first-born? In -the eyes of the law, is he not the son of the Marquis d’Auray? do you -forget that he is the first-born, the head of the family? Do you not -know, that in order to possess himself of the title, the estates, the -fortune of the family of Auray, he has only to invoke the law? and then -what would remain to Emanuel? The cross of the order of Malta--and to -Marguerite?--a convent.” - -“Oh! yes, yes,” whispered Marguerite, and stretching out her arms, -toward the marchioness, “yes, a convent, in which I would pray for you, -my mother.” - -“Silence! silence!” whispered Paul. - -“Oh! you know him not,” said Achard, whose voice was scarcely audible. - -“No! but I know human nature,” replied the marchioness, “he may recover -a name, he! who has no name--a fortune, he! who has no fortune. And do -you believe he would renounce that fortune and that name.” - -“Should you ask it of him, he would.” - -“And by what right could I demand it?” said the marchioness; “by -what right could I ask him to spare me, to spare Emanuel, to spare -Marguerite? He would say, ‘I do not know you, madam--I have never seen -you--you are my mother, and that is all I know.’” - -“In his name,” stammered Achard, whose tongue death was beginning to -benumb, “in his name, madam, I engage, I swear--oh! my God! my God!” - -The marchioness arose, observing attentively by the old man’s features, -the approach of death. - -“You engage, you swear!” she said, “is he here to ratify this -engagement--you engage! you swear! and on your word, you would, that I -should stake the years I have yet to live, against the moments which -yet remain between you and death! I have entreated, I have implored, and -again, I entreat and implore you to give up those papers to me.” - -“Those papers now are his.” - -“I must have them! I repeat, I must have them,” continued the -marchioness, gaining strength, as the dying man became more feeble. - -“My God! my God! have mercy upon me!” murmured Achard. - -“No one can now come,” rejoined the marchioness “you told me that you -wore the key of that closet always about you----” - -“Would you wrest it from the hands of a dying man?” - -“No,” replied the marchioness, “I will wait.” - -“Let me die in peace,” exclaimed Achard tearing the crucifix from the -head of his bed, and raising it between, himself and the marchioness, he -cried: “leave me! leave me; in the name of Jesus Christ!” - -The marchioness fell upon her knees, bowing her head to the ground. The -old man, for a moment, remained in the same awful attitude; then, by -degrees, his strength forsook him, and he fell back on his bed, crossed -his arms, and pressed the image of the Saviour to his breast. - -The marchioness seized the lower part of the two curtains, and without -raising her head, she crossed them in such a manner as to conceal the -last struggles of the dying man. - -“Horror! horror!” murmured Marguerite. - -“Let us kneel, and pray,” said Paul. - -A moment of solemn and dreadful silence then ensued, which was only -interrupted by the last gasps of the dying man; these gasps became -fainter by degrees, and then ceased altogether. All was over; the old -man was dead. - -The marchioness slowly raised her head, listened with intense anxiety -for some minutes, and then, without opening the curtains, passed her -hand between them, and after some effort, withdrew her hand again--she -had obtained the key. She then silently arose, and with her face still -turned toward the bed, walked to the closet. But at the moment she was -about to unlock it, Paul, who was observing all her movements, rushed -into the room, and seizing her by the arm, said--? - -“Give me that key, my mother! for the marquis is dead, and those papers -now belong to me.” - -“Justice of heaven!” exclaimed the marchioness, starting back with -terror, and falling into a chair, “justice of heaven! it is my son!” - -“Merciful heaven!” murmured Marguerite, throwing herself upon her knees -in the outer room: “merciful heaven! he is my brother!” - -Paul opened the closet, and took the casket which contained the papers. - - - -CHAPTER XVI.--RECRIMINATION. - - Thou canst save me, - Thou ought’st! thou must! - I tell thee at his feet - I’ll fall a corse, ere mount his bridal bed! - Go choose betwixt my rescue and my grave. - - Knowles.--The hunchbach - - -Notwithstanding the dreadful nature of the events which had occurred -during that fatal night, Paul had not forgotten the mortal defiance -which had been exchanged between himself and Lectoure. As that young -gentleman would probably not know where to find him, he thought it only -decorous to save Lectoure the trouble of seeking for him, and about -seven in the morning, Lieutenant Walter presented himself at the castle, -being charged on behalf of Paul to arrange the terms of the combat. He -found Emanuel in Lectoure’s apartment. The latter, on perceiving the -officer, withdrew, and went down into the park, that the two young -men might more freely discuss the matter. Walter had received from his -commander directions to accede to every thing that might be proposed. -The preliminary terms were, therefore, very speedily arranged; and -it was agreed between them, that the meeting should take place in the -afternoon, at four o’clock. The place of rendezvous the sea-side, near -the fisherman’s hut, which was about half-way between Port Louis and -Auray castle. As to the weapons, they were to bring their pistols and -their swords; it would be decided on the spot which they were to use, it -being clearly understood that Lectoure, having been the party insulted, -should have the right to make his choice. - -As to the marchioness, although in the first instance petrified by -the unexpected appearance of Paul, she soon recovered all her natural -firmness, and drawing her veil over her face, she withdrew from -the chamber, and walked across the outer room which had remained in -darkness. She did not, therefore, perceive Marguerite, who was kneeling -in one corner of it, mute from astonishment and terror. She after that -crossed the park, entered the castle, and repaired to the room in which -the scene of the contract had taken place. There, by the dying light -of the wax tapers, with both her elbows resting on the table, her head -supported on her hands, her eyes riveted to the paper to which Lectoure -had already affixed his name, and the marquis had signed the half -of his, she passed the remainder of the night reflecting upon a new -determination. Thus she awaited the coming day without even thinking of -taking the least repose, so powerfully did her soul of adamant support -the body in which it was enclosed. This resolution was to get Emanuel and -Marguerite away from the castle as speedily as possible, for it was from -her children, most especially, that she desired to conceal that which -was about to take place between Paul and herself. - -Marguerite, who had been thus most unexpectedly present at the death-bed -of the marquis and of Achard, through which she had so providentially -discovered her mother’s secret, rushed into Paul’s arms immediately -after her mother’s departure from the cottage, exclaiming: - -“Oh! now you are really my brother.” - -Her tears choked further utterance, and it was some minutes before -Paul could tranquillize her agitated spirit, torn by so many and such -conflicting emotions. Paul then fearing that the marchioness might -enquire for her daughter, on her arrival at the castle, urged -Marguerite to hasten thither; and seeing she was still trembling at the -recollection of the many horrors she had witnessed, led her out of the -cottage, of which he locked the door, and accompanied her to within a -few paces of the castle. During this walk, Marguerite had in a certain -degree, recovered her composure. Paul stood gazing at her till he saw -that she had safely entered the court yard, and then returned to watch -and pray beside the body of his father’s faithful servant. - -At seven o’clock, the marchioness hearing the noise occasioned by -Lieutenant Walter’s arrival at the castle, reached a bell which was -standing on the table and rang it. A servant presented himself at the -door in the grand livery he had worn the previous evening--it was easy -to perceive that he also had not been in bed. - -“Inform Mademoiselle d’Auray, that her mother is waiting for her in the -drawing room,” said the marchioness. - -The servant obeyed, and the marchioness resumed, gloomy and motionless, -her previous attitude. In a few minutes afterward, she heard a slight -noise behind her, and turned round. It was Marguerite. The young girl, -with more respect, perhaps, than she had ever before evinced, held out -her hand toward her mother, that she might give her her hand to kiss. -But the marchioness remained motionless, as if she had not understood -the intention of her daughter. Marguerite let fall her hand, and -silently awaited her mother’s pleasure. She also wore the same dress -as the night before. Sleep had hovered over the whole world, but had -forgotten the inhabitants of Auray castle. - -“Come nearer,” said the marchioness. - -Marguerite advanced one step. - -“Why is it that you are thus pale and trembling,” continued the -marchioness. - -“Madam,” murmured Marguerite. - -“Speak,” said the marchioness. - -“The death of my father--so sudden--so unexpected,” stammered -Marguerite; “indeed I have suffered so much this night.” - -“Yes, yes,” rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on -her daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: “yes, -the young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves. -The old oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, -Marguerite, and suffered much. I have passed a dreadful night, and yet -you see me calm and firm.” - -“God has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you -should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others. -You would destroy them.” - -“And therefore is it,” replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall -upon the table, “that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is -dead, Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must -immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel.” - -“I!” exclaimed Marguerite, “I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?” - -“Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same -moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession -of the father.” - -“My mother!” replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish, -“it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between -two ceremonies of so opposite a nature.” - -“True piety,” rejoined the marchioness, “should lead us to fulfil the -last wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the -first letters of your father’s name.” - -“Oh! madam!” cried Marguerite, “allow me to ask you whether my father, -when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing, -was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own -free will?” - -“Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle,” replied the marchioness, with -that imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all -that approached her. - -“I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made -him thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as -long as they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the -authority of God. Now, God has ordained me to effect things terrible in -themselves, and I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!” - -“Madam,” said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed -motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother -was so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; “madam! it is -only three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the -feet of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to -receive as my husband, and then at my father’s. Neither of them would or -could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened -their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, -my mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are -best capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I -am about to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, -I would make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I -must also sacrifice my son.--You are a mother, and I also, madam.” - -“A mother!--a mother!” cried the marchioness. - -“Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault----” - -“Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a -mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam, -tell me--for you should better comprehend these things than I--tell -me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice -which speaks to our hearts--have not those to whom we have given birth a -voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each other, -to which ought we to obey?” - -“You will never hear the voice of your child.” said the marchioness; -“for you will never again see him.” - -“I shall never again see my son!” exclaimed Marguerite, “and who, madam, -can assert that positively?” - -“He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is.” - -“And should he some day discover it?” replied Marguerite; whose respect -as a daughter was giving way before her mother’s harshness; “if he -should then come to me and demand an account of his birth--and this may -happen, madam,”--she took up the pen--“and, with such an alternative -awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?” - -“Sign it,” said the marchioness. - -“But,” observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers -upon the contract, “should my husband some day discover the existence of -this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong -committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and -without seconds--a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he -should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued -by a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of -reason--” - -“Be silent!” cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror, -but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery -which dictated the words her daughter had employed: “be silent!” - -“You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, who had now said too -much to pause, “you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, -and that of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure -myself with a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my -sight, and from his, every living being, and that I should render my -heart iron, that I may no longer feel--that my eyes should never shed -a tear! You would have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, -before my husband’s death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty -years before the accustomed time?” - -“Be silent! say not another word!” cried the marchioness, in a tone -which proved that menaces were giving way to fear: “be silent!” - -“You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, carried away by the -bitterness of her grief; “you would have me, then, in order that the -dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that -I should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician--you -would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that -I might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying.” - -“Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!” again cried the -marchioness, wringing her hands. - -“Well, then,” continued Marguerite, “tell me again, my mother, to sign -this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord -will be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited -upon the children, even to the third and fourth generations.” - -“Ah! my God! my God!” exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, -“am I not sufficiently humbled--am I not sufficiently punished?” - -“Pardon! pardon! madam,” cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling -by the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; “I implore you to -forgive me.” - -“Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter,” said the -marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, “you who have wrenched the -scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied -the lash even on your mother’s forehead.” - -“Mercy! mercy!” reiterated Marguerite; “pardon me, my mother. I knew not -what I said. You had deprived me of reason---I was mad!” - -“Oh! my God! my God,” said the marchioness, raising both her hands above -her daughter’s head, “Thou hast heard the words which have issued from -my daughter’s lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will -forget them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I -have not cursed her!” - -She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, -but the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance -so fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite -dropped the skirt of her mother’s dress, and remained with arms -outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness -had disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon -the ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed -that the heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken. - - - -CHAPTER XVII.--THE BROTHERS - - Be angry as - You will, it shall have scope; - Ah, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb - That carries anger, as the flint bears fire-- - Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, - And straight is cold again. - And from henceforth - When you are over earnest with your brother, - He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so. - --Shakespeare - - -Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent -manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had -not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who -had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together -with Count d’Auray, had received from his commander directions to make -every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not -meet Lectoure until the afternoon. - -The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the -time arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, -having in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last -found himself in the position of the head of the family, his life -belonged not to himself, and that he had not the right to risk it. -Moreover, as we have seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; -and Lectoure, who was ignorant of the reason which could have induced -his adversary to require it, had acceded to it without much difficulty. - -Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as -soon as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present -himself to the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle. - -The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned -so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without -meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the -apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on -going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the -floor. - -On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of -consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must -have taken place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to -Marguerite, raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to -give her air. The state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more -from a complete prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; -and therefore, as soon as she felt that assistance was being rendered -her, and with a kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the -person who had thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and -recognized her brother, that living Providence, whom God had sent to -sustain her every time she felt she was about to succumb. - -Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her -to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her -brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away -by the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her -mother to perceive that she knew all. - -Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart -of the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and -anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had -been brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to -one of the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. -Therefore, compassionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to -terminate them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview -he had come to seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to -the intentions of that son, whose existence she was so unwilling to -acknowledge, Marguerite, on her side, wished to obtain her mother’s -forgiveness; she, therefore, undertook to inform the marchioness that -the young captain waited her orders. - -Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece, -above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose -himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of -the last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the -sovereign arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly -opened, and Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On -hearing the door open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately -perceiving the young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal -expression, which reflected in his features the serenity of his soul. - -Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as -politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence -of the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had -awakened to flush his features, and they instantly assumed a look of -fierce defiance. - -“I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir,” said Emanuel, -placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from -Paul; “and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you; -for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have -the gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me -that he had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved -me the trouble I was about to take, in thus anticipating my desire.” - -“I am happy,” replied Paul, “that my desire in this instance, although -probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously -chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here--what do you ask of me?” - -“Cannot you divine even that, sir?” replied Emanuel, with increasing -agitation. “In that case--and you will allow me to express my -astonishment that it should be so--you are but ill-informed as to the -duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that -you put upon me.” - -“Believe me, Emanuel,” rejoined Paul, in a calm tone-- - -“I yesterday called myself the count; to-day I call myself the Marquis -d’Auray,” said Emanuel, interrupting him with a gesture of haughtiness -and contempt; “and I beg, sir, that you will not forget it.” - -An almost imperceptible smile passed over the lips of Paul. - -“I was saying, then,” continued Emanuel, “that you but imperfectly -comprehend the feelings of a gentleman, if you believed that I would -permit another to take up, on my behalf, a quarrel which you came here -to seek. Yes, sir, for it is you who have thrown yourself across -my path, and not I who have sought you.” - -“His lordship, the Marquis d’Auray,” said Paul, smiling, “forgets his -visit on board the _Indienne_.” - -“A truce to your cavils, sir, and let us at once proceed to facts. -Yesterday, I know not from what strange and inexplicable feeling, when -I proposed to you that, which I will not say every gentleman, every -officer, but simply, any man of courage would instantly, and without -hesitation, have acceded to, you refused, sir, and evading my -provocation, you went, as it were, behind my back to seek an adversary, -who, although not precisely a stranger to the quarrel, yet good taste -should have dictated that he ought not to have been drawn into it.” - -“Believe me, that in this, sir,” replied Paul, with the calmness and the -same candor of manner which had accompanied all he said; I was compelled -to yield to the exigency of the case, which did not leave me the choice -of an adversary. You had proposed a duel, which I could not accept, you -being my adversary, but which was perfectly indifferent to me with -any other person. I am too much habituated to encounters of this -description, and to encounters of a far more murderous and mortal -nature, to consider an event of this kind, but as one of the usual -accidents of my adventurous life. You will, however, please to remember -that it was not I who sought this duel; you, yesterday, proposed it to -me; but, as I could not, I again repeat it, appear as your antagonist, -I selected M. de Lectoure, as I would have done M. de Nozay or M. la -Jarry, because he happened to be there, within my reach--and because, -if it were absolutely necessary that I should kill some one, I preferred -killing an useless and insolent fop, rather than a good and honest -country gentleman, who would consider himself dishonored, did he but -dream that he had entered into a bargain of so vile and despicable a -nature as that which the Baron de Lectoure has, in reality, proposed to -you.” - -“‘Tis well, sir,” said Emanuel, jeeringly; “continue to constitute -yourself as the redresser of wrongs, to dub yourself the knight-errant -of oppressed princesses, and to shield yourself under the buckler of -your mysterious replies! As long as this antiquated quixotism does not -come in collision with my views, my interests, and my engagements, I -will fully permit it to wander over the whole earth, and ocean also, -even from pole to pole, and I shall merely smile at it as it passes by -me; but whenever this madness breaks out against me, as yours has done, -sir; whenever, in the intimate concerns of a family of which I am the -head, I meet a stranger, who orders as a master where I alone have the -right to raise my voice, I shall present myself before him, as I now do -before you, should I have the happiness to meet him alone as I do you, -and then feeling assured, that no one will come to interrupt us before -I had obtained the necessary explanation, I would say to him: ‘You have, -if not insulted me, at all events wounded my feelings, sir, by coming to -my house, and injuring me in my in-terests, and my family affections. It -is then with me, and not with another, that you ought to fight, and you -shall fight with me.’” - -“You are mistaken, Emanuel,” replied Paul; “I will not fight, at all -events, with you; the thing is impossible.” - -“Oh! sir, the time of enigmas is gone by,” cried Emanuel, impatiently; -“we live in the midst of a world, in which at every moment we elbow a -reality. Let us, therefore, leave the poetical and the mysterious, to -the authors of romances and tragedies. Your presence in this castle has -been marked by circumstances too fatal to render it necessary to add -that which is not, to that which is. Lusignan returned, notwithstanding -the order which condemned him to transportation; my sister, who, for -the first time, has shown herself rebellious against the orders of her -mother; my father, killed by your mere presence: these are the disasters -by which you have been accompanied, which have heralded you from another -hemisphere, and have formed your funereal escort: for all this, you have -to account to me; therefore, speak, sir; speak as a man should to a man, -in the broad daylight, face to face, and not as a phantom gliding in the -darkness, which escapes under the cloud of night, letting fall some few -solemn and prophetic words, as if from the other world. Such things are -well calculated to terrify nurses and children! Speak, sir, speak! Look -at me, you will see that I am calm. If you have anything to reveal to me -I will listen to you.” - -“The secret which you ask of me is not my own,” replied Paul, whose -perfect calmness strongly contrasted with the feverish excitement -of Emanuel; “believe what I have said, and do not insist farther. -Farewell!” - -After pronouncing these words, Paul moved toward the door. - -“Oh!” cried Emanuel, rushing between him and the door, to prevent his -passage; “you shall not leave me thus, sir! I have you now, we are alone -in this room, without fear of any interruption, into which, it was not -I that enticed you, but you have come here of your own free will. -Therefore, hearken to that which I am about to say. The person you have -insulted is myself! the person to whom you owe satisfaction is myself! - -“The person with whom you have to fight is----” - -“You are mad, sir,” tranquilly replied Paul; “I have already told you it -is impossible. Therefore, allow me to withdraw.” - -“Take care, sir,” cried Emanuel, stretching out his hand to the box, and -taking out the pistols; “take care, sir. After having done every thing -in my power to compel you to act as a gentleman, I may treat you as a -brigand.--You are here in a house, in which you are a total stranger; -you have entered it, I know not how, nor for what purpose; if you have -not come into it to despoil us of our gold and jewels, you have entered -it to steal the obedience of a daughter to her mother, and to cancel the -sacred promise given by a friend to a friend. In one case or the other, -you are a violator, whom I have met at the moment that his hands were -about to seize a treasure; that treasure, is honor, the most precious -of all riches! Come, sir, believe me, you will do better to accept this -weapon”--Emanuel endeavored to thrust one of the pistols into Paul’s -hand--“and defend yourself.” - -“You may kill me, sir,” replied Paul, again placing his elbow on the -chimney-piece, as if he were continuing an ordinary conversation; -“although I do not believe that God would permit so great a crime: but -you shall not force me to fight with you. I have before told you so, and -I repeat it.” - -“Take the pistol, sir!” cried Emanuel, “take it, sir, I tell you! you -believe that the threat I am making is but a vain menace; undeceive -yourself! for three days have you fatigued my patience! for three days -have you filled my soul with gall and hatred! for three days have I -familiarised my mind with the idea of ridding myself of you; whether it -be by a duel or by murder! Do not imagine, that the dread of punishment -withholds my hand; this castle is isolated, mute, and deaf. The sea is -there; and before you could be even laid in the tomb, I should be in -England. Therefore, sir, for the last time, I say to you, take this -pistol and defend yourself.” Paul, without uttering a word, gently put -the pistol aside. - -“Well then!” cried Emanuel, exasperated to the highest degree, by the -sangfroid of his adversary; “as you will not defend yourself like a man, -die like a dog!” And so saying, he raised the muzzle of the pistol to -the level of the captain’s breast. - -At that moment a dreadful shriek was heard; it was Marguerite, who had -returned from her mother, and who had, at a glance, comprehended all -that had happened. She rushed upon Emanuel, and at that instant he fired -the pistol, but the direction of the ball having been changed by the -young girl’s striking up his arm, it passed two or three inches above -Paul’s head, and shattered the glass above the chimney-piece. - -“My brother!” cried Marguerite, with one bound, springing to were -Paul stood, and throwing her arms around him: “my brother, are you not -wounded?” - -“Your brother!” exclaimed Emanuel, letting fall the pistol which was -still smoking; “your brother!” - -“Well, Emanuel!” said Paul, with the same calmness which he had evinced -during the whole of this painful scene; “do you now comprehend why it -was I could not fight with you?” - -At that moment, the marchioness appeared at the door, pale as a spectre, -for she had heard the report of the pistol; then looking around her with -an expression of infinite terror, and seeing that no one was wounded, -she silently raised her eyes to heaven, as if to ask if its anger was -at length appeased. She remained thus for some time in an attitude of -mental thanksgiving. When she again cast down her eyes, Emanuel and -Marguerite were on their knees before her, each holding one of her -hands, and covering it with tears and kisses. - -“I thank you, my children,” said the marchioness, after a short silence; -“and now leave me with this young man.” - -Marguerite and Emanuel bowed with an expression of the most profound -respect, and obeyed the command of their mother. - - - -CHAPTER XVIII--RECOGNITION. - - Oh! my mother! - You do not know the heart that you have pierced! - I--I--thy son--thine Arthur--I avenge? - Never on thee. - - Live happy--love my brother-- - Forget that I was born. - Here, here--these proofs-- - These--these! - - Oh! see you where the words are blistered - With my hot tears? - I wept--it was for joy-- - I did not think of lands, of name, of birthright-- - I did but think these arms should clasp a’ mother. - - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain. - - -The marchioness closed the door as soon as they had withdrawn, advanced -into the middle of the room, and went without looking at Paul, and -leaning upon the arm-chair in which the marquis had the night before -been seated to sign the contract. There she remained standing, with her -eyes cast upon the ground. Paul for a moment experienced the desire to -throw himself upon his knees before her, but there was upon the features -of the marchioness such an expression of severity, that he repressed -the yearnings of his heart, and stood motionless awaiting her commands. -After a few moments of ice-like silence, the marchioness addressed him. -“You desired to see me, sir, and I have come to know your will--you -wished to speak to me--I am listening.” - -These words were uttered without the marchioness making the least -movement--her lips trembled, rather than opened--it seemed a marble -statue that was speaking. - -“Yes, madam,” replied Paul, in a tone of intense feeling, “yes, yes, -I desired to speak with you; it is long since first this desire was -cherished in my heart, and it has never left me. Recollections of -infancy preyed upon the mind of the grown man. I remembered a woman who -would formerly glide to my cradle, and in my youthful dreams, I thought -her the guardian angel of my infancy. Since that time, still so fresh -in my memory, although so distant, more than once, believe me, I have -awakened with a start, imagining that I had felt upon my forehead the -impression of a maternal kiss: and then seeing that there was no one -near me, I would call that person, hoping she would, perhaps, return. It -is now twenty years since first I thus had called, and this is the first -time she has replied to me. Can it have been as I have often fearfully -imagined, that you would have trembled at again beholding me? Can it be -true, as I at this moment fear, that you have naught to say to me?” - -“And had I feared your return,” said the marchioness, in a hollow tone, -“should I have been to blame? You appeared before me only yesterday, -sir, and now the mystery which ought to have been concealed to all but -God and myself, is known to both my children.” - -“Is it my fault that God has been pleased to reveal the secret to them? -Was it I that conducted Marguerite, despairing and in tears, to the -bedside of her dying father, whose protection she had gone to ask, and -whose confession she was compelled to hear? Was it I that led her to -Achard, and was it not you, madam, that followed her thither? As to -Emanuel, the report you heard, and that shattered glass, attest, that -I would have preferred death rather than to have saved my life at the -expense of your secret. No, no, believe me, madam, I am the instrument, -and not the hand; the effect, and not the cause. No, madam, it is God -who has brought about all this, that you might see at your feet, as you -have just now seen them, your two children whom you have so long banished -from your arms!” - -“But there is a third,” said the marchioness, in a voice in which -emotion began to evince itself, “and I know not what I have to expect -from him.” - -“Let me accomplish a last duty, madam, and that once fulfilled, he will -on his knees await your orders.” - -“And of what nature is this duty?” - -“It is to restore his brother to the rank to which he is entitled, -his sister to that happiness which she has lost--to his mother that -tranquillity of mind, which she has so long sought in vain.” - -“And yet, thanks to you,” replied the marchioness, “M. de Maurepas -refused to M. de Lectoure the regiment he had solicited for my son.” - -“Because,” replied Paul, taking the commission from his pocket and -laying it on the table, “because the king had already granted it to me, -for the brother of Marguerite.” - -The marchioness cast her eyes upon the commission, and saw that it was -made out in the name of Emanuel d’Auray. - -“And yet you would give the hand of Marguerite to a man without name, -without fortune--and what is more, to a man who is banished.” - -“You are mistaken, madam; I would give Marguerite to the man she loves. -I would give Marguerite not to the banished Lusignan, but to the -Baron Anatole de Lusignan, his majesty’s governor of the Island of -Gaudaloupe--there is his commission also.” The marchioness looked at the -parchment, and saw that in this instance, as in the former one, Paul had -uttered but the truth. - -“Yes, I acknowledge it,” she replied, “these will satisfy the ambition -of Emanuel, and confer happiness on Marguerite.” - -“And at the same time, secures your tranquillity madam; for Emanuel will -join his regiment, and Marguerite will follow her husband. You will then -remain here alone, as you have, alas! so frequently desired.” - -The marchioness sighed. - -“Is not this all you desire, or have I deceived myself,” continued Paul. - -“But,” said the marchioness, “how can I recall the promise given to the -Baron de Lectoure?” - -“The marquis is dead, madam,” replied Paul; “is not the death of -a husband and a father a sufficient cause for the adjournment of a -marriage?” - -The marchioness, without replying, seated herself in the arm-chair, took -a pen and paper, wrote a few lines, folded the letter, and putting on -the address the name of the Baron de Lectoure, she rang the bell for the -servant. After waiting a few moments, during which time, both Paul and -herself remained silent, a servant came into the room. - -“In two hours from this time, you will deliver this to the Baron -de Lectoure,” said the Marchioness. The servant took the letter and -withdrew. - -“And now,” continued the marchioness, looking at Paul, “now sir, that -you have done justice to the innocent, it remains to you to pardon the -guilty. You have papers which prove your birth, you are the elder--at -all events, in the eyes of the law. The fortunes of Emanuel and -Marguerite are yours by right. What do you require in exchange for these -papers?” - -Paul took them from his pocket, and showing them to the marchioness, -said, “Here are the documents, look at them--they are the letters you -wrote to my poor father--look here, they are moistened by my tears, -for I read them last night, while watching by Achard’s corpse.” Then -approaching the fire-place, he held them over the flaming wood, saying, -“permit me even but once to call you mother! call me but once your son, -and----” - -“Can it be possible!” exclaimed the marchioness, rising. - -“You speak of name, of fortune,” continued Paul, with an expression of -profound melancholy; “what need have I of them. I have by my own -sword gained a rank which few men of my age have ever attained--I have -acquired a name which is pronounced with blessings by one nation, andi -with terror by another. I could, did it so please me, amass a fortune, -worthy of being bequeathed to a king. What, then, are your name your -fortune, and your rank, to me, if you have nothing else to offer me--if -you do not give me that which I have incessantly, and in every position -of my life most yearned for--that which I have not the power to -create--which God had granted to me, but which misfortune wrested from -me--that which you alone can restore to me--a mother!” - -“My son!” exclaimed the marchioness, overcome at length, by his tears, -and supplicating accent, “my son! my son! my son!” - -“Ah!” exclaimed Paul, letting the papers fall into the flames, which -speedily consumed them, “ah! that missed appellation has at length -escaped your lips--that tender name so long desired, and which I have -so unceasingly prayed to hear addressed to me. Merciful heaven! I thank -thee.” - -The marchioness had fallen back into her chair, and Paul had thrown -himself upon his knees, his head leaning upon her bosom. At length the -marchioness gently raised him. - -“Look at me!” she said; “for twenty years, this is the first tear that -has ever escaped my eyelids, give me your hand!”--she placed it upon -her heart--“for twenty years this is the first feeling of happiness with -which my heart has palpitated. Come to my arms! For twenty years this -is the first caress I have either given or received. These twenty years -have doubtless been my expiation, since God now pardons me, for he has -restored to me the power of weeping, of feeling joy, and has permitted -me to embrace my son. Thanks to G-od! and thanks to thee, my son!” - -“My mother!” cried Paul, “my beloved mother!” - -“And I trembled at the thoughts of seeing you again--I trembled when I -did see you--I knew not--I could not have imagined that such feelings -still existed in my heart. Oh! I bless thee! I bless thee!” - -At that moment, the tolling of the chapel bell was heard: the -marchioness shuddered. The funeral hour had arrived. The bodies of the -noble Marquis d’Auray and that of the poor man Achard, were about to be -returned to earth at the same moment. - -“This hour must be consecrated to prayer,” said the marchioness: “I must -now leave you.” - -“I must sail to-morrow, my mother,” said Paul; “shall I not once more -see you?” - -“Oh! yes, yes,” replied the marchioness, “we must meet again.” - -“Well, then, my mother, this evening I shall be at the park gate. There -is a spot which is sacred to me, and to which I must pay a last visit. -I shall expect to meet you there. It is on that spot, my mother, that we -should say farewell.” - -“I will be there,” said the marchioness. - -“Here, my mother, here,” said Paul, “take these commissions: the one for -Emanuel, and the other for the husband of Marguerite. Let the happiness -of your children be conferred by yourself. Believe me, mother, you have -bestowed more on me than I on them.” - -The marchioness retired to shut herself up in her oratory. Paul left the -castle, and proceeded toward the hut of the fisherman. - - - -CHAPTER XIX.--THE FAREWELL. - - Hark! she has bless’d her son--I bid ye witness, - Ye listening heavens--thou circumambient air; - The ocean sighs it back--and with the murmur - Bustle the happy leaves. - - All nature breathes - Aloud---aloft--to the Great Parent’s ear, - The blessing of the mother on her child. - - -ON approaching the fisherman’s hut, the place appointed with Lectoure, -Paul perceived Lusignan and Walter, who were waiting for him. - -Precisely at the hour agreed, Lectoure appeared on horseback; he had -been obliged to find his way as he best could, for he had no guide, and -his own servant was as much a stranger as himself in that part of the -country. On seeing him at a distance the young men came out of the hut. -The baron instantly put his horse into a gallop, to hasten to them. When -within a few paces of them he alighted from his horse, and threw the -rein to his servant. - -“I trust you will pardon me, gentlemen,” said he, “that I should have -approached you thus alone, like a forsaken orphan; but the hour selected -by that gentleman,” he added, raising his hat to Paul, who returned the -salutation, “was precisely that fixed upon for the funeral obsequies -of the marquis; I have therefore left Emanuel to fulfil the duties of -a son, and have come here without a second, trusting that I had to deal -with an adversary generous enough to procure some friend of his own to -aid me in this dilemma.” - -“We are entirely at your service, baron,” replied Paul; “here are two -friends of mine. Select which you please, and he who shall be honored by -your choice, will instantly become yours.” - -“I have no preference, I swear to you,” said Lectoure; “please to -designate which of these two gentlemen you may desire should reader me -this service.” - -“Walter,” said Paul, “be so good as to officiate as second to the -baron.” - -The lieutenant assented; the two adversaries again bowed to each other. - -“And now, sir,” continued Paul, “permit me, before our respective -seconds, to address a few words to you, not of apology, but -explanation.” - -“At your own pleasure, sir, replied Lectoure. - -“When I uttered the words which have been the cause of your coming -hither, the events which have since occurred at the castle were hidden -in the womb of time, and these events might have entailed the misery of -a whole family. You, sir, had on your side Madame d’Auray, Emanuel, and -the Marquis--Marguerite had but me alone. Every chance was, therefore, -in your favor. It was for this reason that I addressed myself directly -to you, for had I fallen by your hand from circumstances which must for -ever remain hidden to you, Marguerite could not have married you. If -I had killed you, the case would have been still more simplified, and -requires no commentary. - -“This exordium is really most logical, sir,” replied the baron, smiling, -and tapping his boots with his riding-whip; “let us proceed, if you -please, to the main body of the discourse.” | - -“Now,” continued Paul, bowing in sign of acquiescence, “every -circumstance has changed; the marquis is dead, Emanuel has received his -commission, the marchioness renounces your alliance, honorable as it may -be, and Marguerite marries the Baron Anatole de Lusignan, who, for that -reason, I did not name your second.” - -“Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, “then that is the true meaning of the note -which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave -the castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an -adjournment. It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. ‘Tis well, -sir, and now to the peroration.” - -“It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know -you--I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each -other, and with opposing interests--hence our collision. Then, as I have -before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make sure -of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my death -or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed to -the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank it -would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?” - -“I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed -so long a journey,” replied Lectoure: “Not having the honor to espouse -Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, I should desire, at least, to have -the honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have -travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at -your orders, sir,” continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it -saluting his adversary. - -“At your good pleasure, sir,” replied Paul, and replying to the -salutation in the same manner. - -The two young men then advanced towards each other--their swords -crossed--at the third parry Lectoure’s sword was twisted from his hand, -and flew to a distance of twenty yards. - -“Before taking sword in hand,” said Paul, “I had offered an explanation, -and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology.” - -“And this time I will accept it, sir,” said Lectoure, in the same -careless and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. “Pick -up my sword, Dick.” - -His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very -tranquilly put it into the scabbard. - -“Now,” continued he, “if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for -Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot.” - -“Tell the king, sir,” replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing -his sword, “that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed -against the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my -own countrymen.” - -And then the two young men again bowed to each other. Lectoure remounted -his horse, and at about a hundred paces from the sea shore, got into the -high road leading to Vannes, and galloped off; while his servant went -to the castle to get his travelling carriage, with which Lectoure had -ordered him to rejoin him speedily. - -“And now, Mr. Walter,” said Paul, “you must send the long-boat to the -nearest creek to Auray castle, and have every thing in readiness to set -sail tonight.” - -The lieutenant immediately set out for Port Louis, and Paul and Lusignan -returned into the fisherman’s hut. - -During this time Emanuel and Marguerite had fulfilled the mournful duty -to which they had been summoned by the chapel bell. The body of the -marquis had been deposited in the emblazoned tomb of his ancestors, and -Achard’s in the humble cemetery outside the chapel, and then the -brother and sister repaired to their mother’s apartment. The marchioness -delivered to Emanuel the commission which he so anxiously coveted, and -gave to Marguerite her unexpected consent to her marriage with Lusignan. -She then handed to Marguerite the king’s sign manual appointing Lusignan -governor of Guadaloupe. And then, in order that the emotions which they -experienced should not be renewed, and which were the more poignant, -because they were concealed within their own breasts, for neither of -them made any allusion to past events, the mother and the children -embraced each other for the last time, each feeling the innate -conviction that they should never meet again. - -The remainder of the day was occupied in the necessary preparations for -departure. Toward the evening the marchioness left the castle, to meet -Paul at the place which he had appointed. When passing through the -court-yard she perceived a carriage, with horses already attached to it, -standing on one side of it, and the young midshipman, Arthur, with four -sailors, on the other. Her heart was oppressed by the sight of this -two-fold preparation. She, however, passed on, and went into the park, -without giving way to her emotions, so much had her long-continued -restraint upon natural feelings given her the power of self-command. - -However, when she had reached a small clearing, from which she could -see Achard’s house, she paused, for her knees trembled beneath her, and -she was obliged to lean for support against a tree, while she pressed -her hand to her breast to restrain the violent beatings of her heart. -For there are souls which present danger, however imminent, cannot cause -to quail, but which tremble at the remembrance of perils past; and the -marchioness recalled to mind the agonizing fears and emotions to which -she had been for twenty years a prey, and during which time she had -daily visited that house, now closed never again to be opened. She, -however, soon overcame this weakness, and reached the park gate. - -There she again paused. Above all the trees rose the summit of a -gigantic oak, whose wide spreading branches could be discerned from -many places in the park. Often had the eyes of the marchioness remained -riveted for hours upon its verdant dome: but never had she dared to seek -repose beneath its shade. It was there, however, that she had promised -to meet Paul, and there Paul was awaiting her. At length she made a last -effort, and entered the forest. - -From a distance she perceived a man kneeling upon the ground in the -attitude of prayer. She slowly approached him, and kneeling down by his -side, prayed also. When the prayer was concluded, they both rose, and -without uttering a word, the marchioness placed her arm around Paul’s -neck, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. After some moments’ -silence, they heard the noise of the wheels of a carriage at a distance. -The marchioness shuddered, and made a sign to Paul to listen; it was -Emanuel setting out to join his regiment. Shortly afterwards Paul -pointed in a direction opposite to that in which they had heard the -noise, and showed the marchioness a boat gliding rapidly and silently -upon the surface of the ocean; it was Marguerite going on board the -frigate. - -The marchioness listened to the noise of the receding wheels as long as -she could hear it, and followed with anxious eyes the movements of the -boat, as long as she could distinguish it; then she turned toward -Paul, and raising her eyes to heaven, for she felt that the moment was -approaching, when he, whom she was leaning upon, would, in his turn, -leave her, she exclaimed-- - -“May God bless, as I now bless, the duteous son, who was the last to -leave his mother.” - -Saying these words, she threw her arms around his neck, pressed him -convulsively to her heart, and kissed him; then gazing at him intently, -she seemed to be scanning every outline of his face, and then, again, -rapturously embraced him. - -“Yes,” she cried, “in every feature he is the living resemblance of my -poor lost Morlaix,” then for some moments she seemed to be absorbed in -thought; at last after a seemingly violent struggle, she continued, -“Paul, you have refused to accept any portion of that fortune to which -you are legally entitled, although you know the wealth of the Auray -family is unbounded--and that the fortune which I inherit in my own -right, from the family of Sablé, is very large.” Paul shook his head. -“Well, then, there is one thing that you must receive from your mother, -as her parting gift. It is twenty years since I have dared to look -upon it, and yet I have clung to its possession--it is your father’s -portrait, presented to me when I was authorized to receive it--when, by -the assent of both our families, he was to have become my husband--take -it, my dear son, for although it tears my heart to part with it, yet I -feel that I shall be more tranquil when it is in your possession--to no -one but yourself would I have given it. You will sometimes look upon it, -and you will think of your mother, who must now remain for ever isolated -from the world. But it is better that it should be so--henceforward all -my moments shall be spent in making my peace with Heaven.” - -While saying these words, she had drawn from her pocket a case, which -she put into Paul’s hands, and which he had eagerly opened, and gazed -with intense interest at the features of his father. The miniature was -richly set in diamonds of great value. - -Then summoning all her fortitude, the marchioness for the last time -kissed her son, who was kneeling before her, and tearing herself from -his arms, she returned alone to the castle. - -The next morning the inhabitants of Port Louis vainly sought the frigate -they had seen only the evening before, and which for fifteen days had -remained at anchor in the outer roads of Lorient. As on the former -occasion, she had disappeared without their being able to comprehend the -cause of her arrival, or the motive of her so sudden departure. - - - -EPILOGUE. - - Last scene of all - That ends this strange, eventful history. - - -Five years had elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have -related. The independence of the United States had been recognized; New -York, the last strong-hold of the English, had been evacuated. The roar -of cannon,-which had resounded in the Indian seas, as well as in the -Gulf of Mexico, had ceased to thunder. Washington, in the solemn meeting -of Congress of the 28th December, 1783, had resigned his commission as -general-in-chief, and had retired to Mount Vernon, his parental estate, -without any other recompence than that of being allowed to receive and -send letters free of charge; and the tranquillity which America had -begun to enjoy, had extended to the French colonies in the West Indies; -for the mother country having espoused the American cause, they had been -several times exposed to the hostile attempts of Great Britain. Among -these islands, Guadaloupe had been more particularly threatened, in -consequence of its military and commercial importance; but, thanks to -the vigilance of its new governor, the attempts of the enemy to land -there had always failed, and France had not to mourn over any serious -discomfiture in this important position, so that at the commencement of -the year 1784, the island, without being altogether denuded of warlike -appearance, which was maintained in it more from custom than from -necessity, the inhabitants generally had applied themselves anew to the -cultivation of the numerous products which form its riches. - -If our readers will be pleased by a last effort of their complaisance, -to accompany us to the other side of the Atlantic, and land with us at -the port of Basseterre, we will conduct them amidst fountains which jet -on every side, through the street which leads to the promenade, called -Champ d’Arbaud; then, after having availed ourselves of the cool -shade of the tamarind trees, planted on each side of it, till we have -proceeded about two-thirds of its length, we will turn upon the left up -a small beaten road, which conducts to the gate of a garden, the upper -part of which commands a view of the whole town. - -When we have arrived there, we will allow them for a few moments to -inhale the evening breeze, so refreshingly sweet after the mid-day -heat of the month of May, and they can cast a glance with us over the -luxuriant vegetation of the tropics. - -With our backs turned to the woody and volcanic mountains, which divide -the western part of the island, and amid which arise, crowned with their -plumes of smoke and sparks, the two calcined pinnacles of the sulphur -mountain, we have at our feet, sheltered by the hills, which have been -named Bellevue, Mont-Désir, Beau Soliel, Espérance and Saint Charles, -the city gracefully descending towards the sea, the waves of which -sparkling with the last rays of the setting sun, laves its white walls. -The horizon, formed by the ocean, lying like a vast and limpid mirror, -and to the right and left, the most beautiful and richest plantation of -the island; large square fields of coffee trees, transplanted originally -from Arabia, with their knotty and flexible branches, covered with dark -green glossy leaves, of an oblong and pointed form, and bearing clusters -of flowers as white as snow; long rows of cotton plants, covering with -a rich carpet of verdure, the dry and stony soil, on which they thrive -best, and among which we see, like so many colossal ants, negroes -occupied in reducing to two or three, the thousand shoots which -sprout out from each stalk. And then again, but in more level and well -sheltered spots, in which the soil is richer and more argillaceous, we -see plantations of cocoa trees, first introduced into the West Indies by -the Jew, Benjamin Dacosta, with their lofty trunks and porous branches, -covered with fawn colored bark, from which large oblong leaves are -pending, among which we see fresh shoots of a soft rose color, which -contrast strongly with the long, curved and yellow fruit, which bends -the branches with its weight. And further off, whole fields of the -plant, discovered at Tabaco, first brought to France by the Ambassador -of Francis II., who presented it to Catherine de Medicis, from which -circumstance it derived its name of _Herbe-a-là-reine_.* This did not, -however, prevent it from being, like every popular thing, in the first -instance, excommunicated and proscribed, in Europe and Asia, by the -two powers who then divided the world, proscribed by the Grand Duke of -Muscovy, Michael Fedorowich, by the Turkish Sultan Amurath IV., by -the Emperor of Persia, and excommunicated by Pope Urban VIII. Here and -there, we see springing up to a height of forty or fifty feet above all -the shrubs and plants, by which it is surrounded, the banana tree of -Paradise, of which, according to tradition, the oval leaves, seven or -eight feet in length, served to form the first garment of the first -created woman. And finally, elevated above all the rest, and standing -forth pre-eminent, whether hacked by the azure of the Heavens, or by the -dark green tea, the cocoa-nut and the palm-tree, those two giants of -the Western Archipelago graceful and prodigal, as is everything that is -powerful. Figure to yourselves, then these beautiful hills, intersected -by seventy rivers, eased in beds, ninety feet in depth; these mountains -illuminated during the day by a tropical sun, at night, by the volcano -of the sulphur mountain; that vegetation, which never is arrested, -the new leaves of which succeed the leaves which fall; this soil -so salubrious, and air so pure, that notwithstanding the insensate -experiments that man, the real enemy of himself, has made by -transporting serpents from Martinique, and Saint Lucie, it was found -that they could neither live nor reproduce there, and then judge after -the sufferings they had endured in Europe, of the happiness which Antole -de Lusignan and Marguerite d’Auray must have enjoyed there. - - * Queen’s Grass. - -To a life agitated by the passions, to that struggle of natural rights -against legal power, to that succession of scenes in which all earthly -pains, from childbirth even to death, had played their part, had -succeeded a life of pure delights, each day of which had passed on -calmly and tranquilly; the only clouds that darkened it, arose from that -vague uneasiness for distant friends, which as if borne upon the air, -and which contracts the heart like a painful presentiment. However, -from time to time, whether by newspapers, or by vessels, touching at -the island, Anatole and Marguerite had obtained some intelligence of the -generous being who had so powerfully served them as a protector; they -had heard of his victories; that after he had left them, he had been -appointed to the command of a small squadron, and had destroyed the -English establishments on the coast of Acadia, which had gained for him -the title of commodore; that, in an engagement with the _Serapis_ and -the _Countess of Scarborough_, after a combat yard-arm to yard-arm, -which lasted four hours, he had obliged the two frigates to strike to -him, and that finally, as a reward for the services he had rendered to -the cause of American Independence, he had received the public thanks -of Congress, who had voted him a gold medal, and had selected him to -command the frigate _America_, to which that name had been given as -being the finest in the service, and the command of which had been -conferred on him as the bravest of its officers; but this splendid ship -had been presented by Congress to the King of France, to replace -the _Magnifique_, which had been lost at Boston. Paul Jones, after -conducting this frigate to Havre, had joined the fleet of the Count -de Vaudreuil, who had projected an attack upon Jamaica. This last -intelligence had overjoyed the hearts of Lusignan and Marguerite, for -this enterprize would bring Paul into their latitude, and they hoped at -last they should soon see their brother and their friend; but peace, as -we have before said, had intervened, and from that time, they had heard -no more of the adventurous seaman. - -In the evening of the day on which we have transported our readers from -the wild shores of Brittany to the fertile coast of Guadaloupe, the -young family were assembled in the very garden which we have entered, -and which commands a view of the immense panorama we have described; -the foreground of which is formed by the city, at its feet the ocean, -studded with islands in the distance. - -Marguerite had promptly habituated herself to the soft listlessness of -Creole life; and her mind now tranquil and full of happiness, she -gave herself up to the _dolce far niente_, which renders the sensual -existence of the colonies a half sleep, the incidents of which appear as -dreams. - -She was lying with her daughter in a Peruvian hammock, netted with -the silken fibres of the aloe, and ornamented with the most brilliant -colored plumes of the rarest tropical birds; her son was swinging her -with a soft and regular motion, and Lusignan was holding one of her -hands between both his. She was still pale, but delicate and graceful as -a wild lily. Her looks were vacantly wandering over the immense extent -of ocean lying before her, and she felt her soul and senses enraptured -by all the bliss which heaven can promise, and all the enjoyments which -this earth can offer. At that moment, and as if everything concurred -to complete the magic spectacle which every evening she came there to -contemplate, and which every succeeding evening she found still more -marvellously beautiful, there suddenly appeared, doubling the cape -_Trois Pointes_, and looking like an ocean king, a large vessel, gliding -along the surface of the sea without more apparent effort than a swan -playing upon the tranquil bosom of a lake. Marguerite was the first to -perceive it, and without speaking, for every action is a fatigue under -that burning clime, she made a sign with her head to Lusignan, who -directed his looks to the spot she had indicated, and then, like her, -silently followed with his eyes the rapid and graceful movements of the -vessel. By degrees as she approached, and as the elegant and delicate -proportions of her masts amidst the mass of sails which they sustained, -could be discerned, which, in the first instance, had seemed a cloud -floating upon the horizon--they began to discover in one corner of her -flag the stars of America, equal in number to the States they represent. -One same idea shot instantly through their minds, and they exchanged a -glance, radiant with hope that they were, perhaps, about to receive some -news of Paul. Lusignan immediately ordered a negro to bring a telescope: -but before he had returned, a hope still more delightful pervaded -both their hearts. It appeared to Lusignan and Marguerite that they -recognized an old friend in the frigate that was approaching. To -persons, however, unaccustomed, it is so difficult to distinguish, at a -great distance, signs which speak at once to the eye of an experienced -seaman, that they did not yet dare to have faith in this hope, and -which, indeed, was more an instinctive presentiment than positive -reality. At last the negro brought the so much longed for telescope. -Lusignan uttered a cry of joy, and then handed it to Marguerite: he -had recognized the sculpture of Guillaume Costou, upon the prow of the -vessel, and it was really the _Indienne_ which was advancing towards -Basseterre. - -Lusignan raised Marguerite from the hammock and placed her on her feet, -for their first impulse was to hasten to the harbour; but then they -reflected that Paul had left the _Indienne_ nearly five years, at the -time that his promotion entitled him to the command of a larger vessel, -and that she might now be under the orders of another captain, and they -paused with palpitating hearts and trembling limbs. During this time, -their son Hector had taken up the telescope, and placing it to his eye, -looked through it, and soon after exclaimed,--“Father, see there,--upon -the deck stands an officer, dressed in a black coat, embroidered -with gold, just like the one in the picture of my dear friend, Paul!” - Lusignan hastily snatched the glass from his son’s hands, looked through -it for a few moments, then again passed it to Marguerite, who, after -directing it toward the vessel, let it fall, and then they threw -themselves into each other’s arms; they had recognized their friend, -who, as he was about to visit them, had put on the dress which we have -before said he had generally worn. At this instant the frigate passed -the fort, which it saluted with three guns, and the fort returned the -salute with an equal number. - -From the moment that Lusignan and Marguerite had acquired the certitude -that their friend and brother was actually on board the _Indienne_, they -had hastened down the mountain, followed by young Hector, towards the -port, leaving their little Blanche in the hammock. The captain had -also recognized them, so that at the moment they left the garden he had -ordered a boat to be lowered, and, thanks to the united strength of ten -vigorous oarsmen, he had rapidly glided over the distance between the -anchorage ground and the port, and had sprung upon the jetty at the -instant that his friends arrived there. Such sensations as then filled -their breasts cannot be expressed in words; tears are their only -interpreter. And thus their joy more closely resembled grief, for they -all wept, even to the child, who wept because he saw them weep. - -After giving some orders relating to the vessel, the young commodore, -with his delighted friends, slowly ascended the hill down which they -had rushed so rapidly to meet him. Paul told them that the expedition -of Admiral Vaudreuil having failed, he had returned to Philadelphia, and -peace having been signed, as we have before mentioned, with England, the -Congress, as a token of gratitude, had presented him with the first ship -he had commanded as captain. - -Upon hearing this, Lusignan and Marguerite experienced the most lively -joy, for they hoped that their brother had come with the intention of -taking up his abode with them; but the character of the young seaman -was too adventurous, and stood too much in need of excitement, to sink -quietly down into the monotonous and unvaried dulness of a life on -shore. He informed his friends that he had but eight days to remain with -them, after which he should seek in another quarter of the globe, to -follow the profession he had adopted. - -These eight days passed by as rapidly as a dream, and notwithstanding -the reiterated entreaties of both Lusignan and Marguerite, Paul would -not consent to delay his departure even for twenty-four hours. He was -still the same ardent determined being, considering the execution of a -resolution he had once formed as a positive duty, and more austere with -regard to himself than toward others. - -The hour of separation had arrived. Marguerite and Lusignan wished to -accompany the young commodore on board his ship; but Paul wished not to -prolong the grief of this leave-taking. When they reached the jetty he -embraced them for the last time, then jumped into his boat, which was -rowed away as swiftly as an arrow. Marguerite and Lusignan followed him -with their eyes until his boat had disappeared on the leeward side -of the frigate, and they sorrowfully reascended the hill to watch the -ship’s departure, from the same terrace from which they had before -discerned its arrival. - -At the moment they reached it, they observed that activity and bustle -on board the frigate which always precede the departure of a vessel. The -sailors had surrounded the capstan, and were employed in getting up the -anchor, and thanks to the pureness of the atmosphere, the sonorous and -lively cries of the seamen reached the ears of Lusignan and Marguerite; -the anchor was soon apeak, and they saw it rising slowly under the -ship’s bows; then the sails dropped successively from the yards, from -the royals to the courses, and the ship, seemingly endowed with an -instinctive and animated feeling, gracefully turned her prow toward the -harbour’s mouth, and beginning to move, cut through the waves with an -easy motion, as if merely gliding upon their surface. Then, as if the -frigate might be abandoned to her own will, they saw the young commodore -spring upon the stern rails, and devote all his attention to the land he -was thus leaving. Lusignan took out his handkerchief and made a signal, -to which Paul replied. And then, when they could no longer perceive each -other with the naked eye, they had recourse to their telescopes, and, -thanks to this ingenious invention, they retarded the separation for -another hour. They all felt a presentiment that this separation would be -eternal. - -The vessel gradually diminished upon the horizon, and darkness was about -to cover the heavens, when Lusignan ordered a quantity of wood to be -brought upon the terrace, to form a beacon fire, which was instantly -ignited, in order that Paul, whose vessel was nearly enshrouded in the -darkness, might continue to fix his eyes upon that spot until he had -doubled Cape Trois Pointes. Lusignan and Marguerite had for an hour lost -sight of the ship, while Paul, thanks to their large brilliant fire, -might still perceive them, when a bright flame, like to a flash of -lightning, appeared on the horizon, and in a few seconds the report of -a gun, similar to the prolonged sound of distant thunder, reached their -ears, and all again was silent. Lusignan and Marguerite had received -Paul’s last farewell. - -And now, although the domestic drama which we had undertook to relate, -has, in fact, terminated here, some of our readers may, perhaps, have -felt sufficient interest in the young adventurer, of whom we have made -the hero of this story, to follow him in the second part of his career; -to these then, after thanking them for the kind attention they have been -pleased to grant to us, we are about to recount truly and plainly, facts -which a most minute research have enabled us to lay before them. - -At the period we have reached, that is to say, in the month of May, -1784, the whole of Europe had fallen into that state of torpor, which -unthinking men imagined to be tranquillity, but which minds more -profound, regarded as the dull and momentary calm that precedes the -tempest. America, by obtaining her independence, had prepared France for -her revolution. Kings and people, mistrustful of each other, were upon -their guard. Peter III., who had become odious to the Russians, in -consequence of his ignoble character, the narrowness of his political -views, and above all, for his excessive leaning to Prussian manners, and -Prussian discipline, had been deposed without opposition, and strangled -without a struggle. Catherine had thus found herself, at the age of -thirty-two, mistress of an empire which extended over one-seventh part -of the globe; her first care was to compel the neighbouring powers to -accept her as a mediatrix in their quarrel, and thus become do-pendent -upon her. Thus, had she obliged the people of Courland to drive from -them their new Duke, Charles of Saxony, and to recall Biren; she had -sent her ambassadors and her armies to Warsaw, there to have crowned by -the name of Stanislaus Augustus, her former lover, Poniatowski; she had -formed an alliance with England; she had associated to her policy -the Courts of Vienna and Berlin; and notwithstanding all these -great projects of foreign policy, she had not neglected the internal -government of her own country, and in the interval of her amours, so -fickle and so various, she still found time to reward industry, to -encourage agriculture, to reform the laws, to raise a navy, to -send Pallas into provinces the productions of which were till then -unknown--Blumager into the northern Archipelago, and Bel-lings into -the Indian ocean; in fine, jealous of the literary reputation of her -brother, the King of Prussia, she wrote with the same hand that had -ordered the erection of a new city, signed the order for the execution -of young Ivan, and the dismemberment of Poland, _The Refutation of the -Journey into Siberia_, by the Abbé Chappe, a romance of the Czarowich -Chlose, several plays, among which was a translation into French of -Oleg, a drama, written by the Russian poet, Dersehawin, so that Voltaire -proclaimed her the Semiraris of the North, and the King of Prussia, in -his letters, classed her between Solon and Lycurgus. - -The effect produced amid this voluptuous and chivalric court by the -arrival of such a man, as our adventurous seaman, can readily be -imagined. The reputation for courage, which had rendered him the terror -of the enemies of France and America, had preceded him to the court -of Russia, and in exchange for his frigate, which he presented to -Catherine, he received the rank of Rear-Admiral. Then the flag of -Russia, after having navigated round one-half the old world, appeared in -the Grecian seas, and beneath the ruins of Lacedemon and the Parthenon, -he, who had assisted in establishing the independence of America, dreamt -of the re-establishment of the Republics of Sparta and of Athens. The -old Ottoman empire was shaken to its foundations, the defeated Turks -signed a treaty of peace at Kainardji. Catherine retained Azof, -Taganrog, and Kenburr, and Kenburn, compelled the Turks to grant to -her the free navigation of the Black Sea, and the independence of the -Crimea; she then desired to visit her new possessions. Paul, recalled to -St. Petersburgh, accompanied her on this journey, the route of which had -been drawn up by Potemkin. During the whole of it, all the attributes of -triumph were offered to the conquering Empress and her suite; bonfires -were lighted all along the road, cities were illuminated with the most -fairy-like brilliancy, magnificent palaces erected, as if by magic, for -one day, amid desert countries, and which the next morning disappeared; -villages, rising as if beneath the wand of an enchanter, in solitudes, -in which eight days before the Tartars fed their flocks; towns appearing -on the horizon of which there existed but the exterior walls; in every -direction, homage, and songs of welcome, and dances of the people: -during the day, a numerous population crowded the road, and at night, -while the Empress was sleeping, they would run to station themselves in -the way she was to proceed on waking the following morning: a king and -emperor rode by her side, calling themselves not her brothers, not her -equals, but her courtiers; finally, a triumphal arch was erected at -the last halt she was to make on her journey southward, bearing the -inscription--“_This is the road to Byzantium,_” which if it did not -reveal the ambition of Catherine, demonstrated at least, the policy of -Potemkin. Then Russia became strengthened in her tyranny, as America had -in her independence. Catherine offered to her Admiral places which would -have more than satisfied the rapacity of a courtier, honors which would -have overwhelmed the ambitious, estates which would have consoled a -deposed king for the loss of his dominions; but it was the deck of -his ship, it was the sea with its combats and its tempests, it was -the boundless immensity of ocean for which yearned the heart of our -adventurous and poetic seaman. He, therefore, left the brilliant court -of Catherine, as he had left the austere Congress of America, and -returned to France to seek that, which he could not find elsewhere, that -is to say, a life of excitement, enemies to combat, a people to defend. -Paul arrived in Paris in the midst of our European wars and civil -struggles; while, with one hand, we were seizing a foreign enemy by the -throat, with the other, we were tearing our own entrails. That king, -whom he had seen ten years before, beloved, honored, powerful, was then -a captive, despised and strengthless. All that had been exalted was -abased, and great names fell as did high-born heads.--It was the reign -of equality, and the guillotine was the levelling instrument. Paul -inquired after Emanuel, and was told that he was proscribed. He asked -what had become of his mother, and was informed that she was dead. Then -he felt an irresistible longing to revisit once again, before he himself -might die, the spot on which, twelve years before, he had experienced -emotions at once so sweet and terrible. He set out for Brittany, left -his carriage at Vannes, and mounted on horseback, as he had done on the -first day he had seen Marguerite; but he was no longer the young and -enthusiastic seaman, whose desires and hopes had no horizon; he was a -man bereft of all those, brilliant illusions, for he had tasted of all, -whether weet or bitter, had learnt to appreciate all, both men and -things; had known all, glory and oblivion. Therefore, did he not come to -search a family, but to visit tombs. - -When he came within sight of the castle, he turned his eyes toward -Achard’s house, and not being able to discover it, he thought he -would go into the forest, but the forest seemed to have vanished as by -enchantment. It had been sold as national property to twenty-five or -thirty farmers of the neighbourhood, who had cleared off the timber, and -transformed it into a large plain. The gigantic oak had disappeared, and -the plough had passed over the unknown grave of the Count de Morlaix, -and the eyes of his son even, could no longer recognize the spot. - -Then he returned through the park toward the castle, now become even -more gloomy and desolate than when he had last seen it. In it he found -only an old man, a living ruin amidst these ruins of the past; it was at -first intended to have pulled down the mansion, but the reputation for -holiness which the marchioness had left behind her, was regarded with -such religious veneration throughout the country, that the old walls, -which for four centuries had been the abode of her ancestors, remained -undesecrated. Paul went through the apartments, which for three years -had remained closed, and which were now open for him. He walked through -the portrait gallery; it was in the same state as he had formerly seen -it; no pious hand had added to the portrait either of the marquis or -the marchioness. He went into the study in which he had been -concealed--found a book lying in it which he had opened and placed upon -the very spot on which he found it, and read the same passages which -he had read so many years before. He then pushed open the door which -communicated with the contract chamber, where had passed the chief -scenes of that drama in which he was the principal actor. The table -was still in the same place and the Venetian looking-glass over the -chimney-piece was there, shattered as it had been by the ball of -Emanuels pistol. - -Paul advanced to the fire-place, and placing his elbow on the marble -mantle-piece, questioned the servant as to the last years of the -Marchioness. - -The account he received shewed that she had remained austere and -melancholy, as was her wont. Remaining secluded and alone at the castle, -her hours were uniformly spent in three different places: her oratory, -the vault in which the body of her husband had been buried, and the -spot sheltered by the oak tree, at the foot of which her lover had been -interred. For eight years after the evening on which Paul had taken -leave of her, she had been seen to wander amid the old corridors of -the castle, and in the gloomy avenues of the Park, slow and pale as a -spectre; then a disease of the heart, engendered by the agonies she had -suffered, declared itself, and she daily became weaker. At length, one -evening, when her failing strength no longer permitted her to walk, she -had ordered the servants to carry her to the foot of the oak tree, her -favorite walk, that she might once more see, she said, the sun setting -in the ocean. When they had reached the spot, she desired the servants -to withdraw, and to come back to her in half an hour. On their return -they found her lying fainting on the ground. They immediately bore her -to the castle, but having recovered her senses on the way, she ordered -them, instead of conducting her to her own room, which they usually did, -to take her down into the family vault. There she had still strength -enough to kneel upon the tomb of her husband, and made a sign that she -desired to be left alone. However imprudent their doing so might be, the -servants elbow on the marble withdrew, for she had accustomed them -to obey her in every thing at the first intimation of her will. They, -however, remained at a short distance, concealed behind the corner of a -tomb, that they might be ready to render her assistance, should it be -necessary. In a few minutes they saw her fall down upon the stone on -which she had been praying; they rushed forward, imagining that she had -again fainted. She was dead. - -Paul requested the old servant to conduct him into the vault, and slowly -entered it with uncovered head; and when he had reached the stone -which covered the grave of his mother, he knelt down and prayed. On the -monumental stone were inscribed the following words, and which may still -be seen in one of the chapels of the church of the small town of Auray, -to which it has since been removed. The inscription had been written by -the marchioness herself, and she had desired that it should be placed -upon her tomb. - -“Here lies the very noble and very puissant lady Marguerite Blanche de -Sablé, Marchioness of Auray; born the 2nd of August 1729--died the 3rd -September, 1788. - -“Pray for her and for her children.” - -Paul raised his eyes to heaven, with an expression of infinite -gratitude, His mother, who during her life, had for so long a time -forgotten him, had remembered him in her funeral inscription. - -Six months after this visit, the National Convention decreed, in solemn -sitting, that they would attend in a body the funeral procession of Paul -Jones, formerly a commodore in the American navy, and whose burial was -to take place in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise. - -They had come to this decision, said the decree, in order to consecrate -the establishment of _religious freedom throughout France_. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL *** - -***** This file should be named 41222-0.txt or 41222-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/2/2/41222/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Captain Paul - -Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -Release Date: October 29, 2012 [EBook #41222] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -CAPTAIN PAUL - -By Alexandre Dumas, Pere - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - -The admirers of "The Pilot," one of the most magnificent of Cooper's -novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves -have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether -lose sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such -intense interest, through the narrows of the Devil's Grip, and the -Cloisters of St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and -in the actions of this person, introduced in the first place by the name -of John, and afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a -grief so bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every -reader desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so -brave and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have -more than once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of -it, it might have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for -information regarding the early career and closing years of this -adventurous seaman--information which we have vainly searched for in his -narrative. I thought that such a request would be readily forgiven by -him to whom it was addressed, for it would have been accompanied by the -expression of the most sincere and ardent admiration of his work; but I -was restrained by the reflection that the author himself, perhaps, knew -no more of that career, of which, he had given us but an episode, than -that portion of it which had been illuminated by the sun of American -Independence: for, in fact, this brilliant meteor had passed from the -clouds which environed his birth to the obscurity of his death in such -a manner, that it was quite possible the "poet historian," being far -distant from the place where his hero was born, and from the country in -which he died, knew no more of him than what he has transmitted to us. -The very mystery which surrounded him, may have been the cause of -his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals. Urged by these -considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own research, those -details which I had so often desired to receive from others. I searched -through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was a copy of the -letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined the annals of -the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at the time of -his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that he was -buried in the cemetery of Pre la Chaise. This was all the information I -could gather from my first attempts. - -I then consulted our living library--Nodier, the learned--Nodier, the -philosopher--Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few moments, he -mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself, containing memoirs -of his life, bearing this motto, "Munera sunt Laudi." I started off -to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched through -libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls--all that I could find was an -infamous libel, entitled, "_Paul Jones, ou Prophtie sur l'Amrique, -l'Angleterre, la France, l'Espagne et la Hollande_" which I threw from -me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page, marvelling -that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved, whilst -we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food--I therefore -renounced all hope in this quarter. - -Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having -started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l'Orient. Upon -my arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography -of Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that -port. This circumstance had struck me--I had noted down the dates, and -had only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval -archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which -the two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of -thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming -there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept -the register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office -without further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk -who was sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in -the country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me -that in 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office -at Havre, had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore -in the fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this -officer, and his extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression -upon him, that upon his, the clerk's, return to Brittany, he spoke of -him to his father, who then had charge of the Chateau d'Auray. Upon -hearing the name of Paul Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to -him to be silent--the young man obeyed, though not without astonishment. -He frequently afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he -always refused to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death -of the Marchioness d'Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and -the dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt -himself permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious -history, in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly -blended. Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father -had related that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression -upon him that he repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for -word. - -I have treasured up this history in the recesses of my memory for nearly -seven years: and it would have still remained buried there, with a mass -of other recollections, destined never to see the light, had I not about -six months ago read "The Pilot" for the second time, and even with much -greater interest than before; for, thanks to the researches I had made, -the hero was no longer to me an unknown being, appearing only for an -instant, his face but partially visible, and with merely the portion -of a name; he had now become a friend, almost a brother, to me--for -new sympathies had been awakened in my heart besides those which had -formerly been inspired by the recital of the expedition to Whitehaven. -These led me to reflect that whatever of interest and disappointment -I had experienced on reading' Cooper's novel, they must have been -entertained alike by others, and that the anxious desire I had felt -to know more of the former lover of Alice Dunscombe was not a feeling -peculiar to myself, but would be participated by all those, and their -number must be great, who have followed this skilful seaman from the -moment of his first meeting Lieutenant Barnstaple on the English cliffs, -until that in which he quitted the Alert to land on the shores of -Holland. - -I have, therefore, gathered up my recollections, and have written this -history. - - - - -CAPTAIN PAUL. - - - -CHAPTER I--A STRANGE SAIL - - Hoarse o'er her side the rustling cable rings- - The sails are furled--and anchoring, round she swings; - And gathering loiterers on the land discern - Her boat descending from the latticed stern. - 'Tis mann'd--the oars keep concert to the strand, - Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.--Byron. - - -Toward the close of a fine evening in the month of October, 1779, the -most inquisitive among the inhabitants of the small town of Fort Louis, -had assembled on the point of land immediately opposite to that on which -stands the city of Lorient. The object which attracted their attention, -and which was the subject of their inquiries, was a noble beautiful -frigate, carrying 32 guns, which had been anchored for about a week, not -in the port, but in a small cove in the roadstead, and which had been -perceived for the first time early one morning, like an ocean flower -which had suddenly blossomed during the night. From the elegant and -coquettish appearance of this frigate, it was imagined that this was -the first time of her putting to sea; she bore the French flag, for the -three golden _fleur-de-lis_ were seen glittering in the last rays of the -setting sun. - -That which, above all, appeared to excite the curiosity of the -admirers of this spectacle, so frequent, and notwithstanding, always so -interesting in a seaport, was the uncertainty as to the country in which -this vessel had been built; for, having all her sails clewed up and -snugly stowed around her yards, showed in the setting sun the graceful -outline of her hull, and a minute elegance as to her running rigging. -Some thought they could discern in her the bold and taunt masts used -by the Americans, but the perfection exemplified in the finish which -distinguished the rest of her construction, was in perfect contrast with -the barbarous rudeness of those rebellious children of England. Others, -deceived by the flag she had hoisted, were endeavouring to divine in -what port of France she had been launched, but their national pride soon -gave way to the conviction that she was not built in France, for they -sought in vain for those heavy galleries, ornamented with sculpture, -which is the compulsory decoration of the stern of every daughter of -the ocean, or of the Mediterranean, born on the stocks of Brest or of -Toulon; others, again, knowing that the flags were frequently used as a -mask to hide the real face, maintained that the lion and the towers of -Spain would have more properly been placed upon the ensign waving from -her peak, than the three _fleur-de-lis_ of France: but the latter were -asked whether the straight and elegant sides and quarters of the frigate -all resembled the bulging build of Spanish galleons. In short, there -were some among them who would have sworn that this beautiful fairy of -the waters had been brought to life among the frogs of Holland, had not -the dangerous boldness of her masts and rigging fully contradicted -the suggestion that she could have been built by those old but prudent -sweepers of the seas. But, as we have said, for eight whole days, and -ever since the first appearance of this splendid vision upon the -coast of Brittany, she had been the constant theme of wonder and -of conversation, for nothing had happened to give them any positive -information, as not an individual from the crew had landed from the -ship, under any pretext whatever. They might, indeed, have doubted -whether she had a crew or not, had not they now and then seen the -head of a sentinel, or of the officer of the watch, peering above the -bulwarks. It appeared, however, that this vessel, although she had not -communicated with the shore, could not have any hostile intention; -her arrival had not seemed to give the least uneasiness to the public -authorities of Lorient, for she had run under the guns of a small fort, -which the recent declaration of war between England and France had -caused to be put in order, and which displayed a battery of long guns of -heavy calibre. - -Among this crowd of idlers, however, there was a young man, who was -remarked for the anxious eagerness of his inquiries:--without any one -being able to devise the cause, it was easily perceived that he felt -some direct interest in this mysterious vessel. His brilliant uniform -was that of the _mousquetaires_, and as these royal guards rarely -left the capital, he had, at first, directed a portion of the public -curiosity to himself, but it was soon discovered that this person, whom -they thought a stranger, was the young Count d'Auray, the last scion of -one of the most ancient families of Brittany. The castle inhabited by -his family rose above the shores of the Golf of Morbihan, at six or -seven leagues, distance from Fort Louis. The family consisted of the -Marquis d'Auray, a poor insane old man, who for twenty years had never -been seen beyond the boundaries of his estates; of the Marchioness -d'Auray, whose rigid morality, and whose ancient nobility, could alone -excuse her haughty and aristocratic bearing; of the young Marquerite, a -sweet girl of seventeen or eighteen years of age, delicate and pale -as the flower whose name she bore; and of Count Emanuel, whom we have -mentioned above, and around whom the crowd had gathered, carried away, -as it always is, by a sounding title, a brilliant uniform, and noble and -lordly manners. - -However eager might have been the desire of those he addressed to -satisfy his curiosity, they could only answer his questions in a -vague and undecided manner; all they knew of the frigate being mere -conjecture. The count was about retiring from the jetty, when he -perceived a six-oared boat approaching it. At a moment when curiosity -had been so much excited, this incident could not fail to attract all -eyes. In the stern of the boat sat a young man, who appeared to be from -twenty to twenty-two years of age, and who was dressed in the uniform of -a lieutenant of the royal navy--he was sitting, or rather lying, upon a -bearskin, one hand reclining carelessly on the tiller of the small -boat, while the coxswain, who, thanks to the caprice of his officer, -had nothing to do, was sitting in the bow. From the moment that it -first made its appearance, every eye was directed towards it, as if it -contained the means of solving the mystery which had so much puzzled -them. The boat, urged on by the last efforts of its oarsmen, took the -ground at eight or ten feet distance from the beach, there being too -little water in that place to allow it to come nearer. Two of the -sailors jumped into the sea up to their knees. The young lieutenant then -rose up in a careless way, walked to the bow of the boat, and allowed -the two sailors to carry him in their arms to the beach, so that not a -drop of salt water should soil his elegant uniform. He then ordered his -men to double the point of land which advanced about three hundred feet -into the sea, and to go and wait for him on the opposite side of the -battery. As for himself, he stopped a moment on the beach to arrange his -dress, which had been a little disordered by the rough mode of transport -he had been compelled to adopt, and then he advanced, humming a French -air, towards the gate of a small fort, which he passed, after having -slightly returned the military salute of the sentinel on duty. - -Although nothing could, in a seaport, be more natural than that a naval -officer should cross the roads and walk into a fort, the minds of the -lookers-on had been so much occupied with the foreign vessel, that there -was hardly one among the crowd who did not imagine that this visit to -the commandant of the fort had some relation to her, so that when the -young officer issued from it, he found himself surrounded so closely by -the crowd, that for a moment he appeared half inclined to use the rattan -which he carried in his hand, to make way through it. However after -having flourished it with impertinent affectation above the heads of -those who were nearest him, he appeared all at once to change his -mind, and perceiving Count Emanuel, whose distinguished appearance, -and elegant uniform, contrasted strikingly with the vulgar air and -habiliments of the persons who surrounded him, he made a few steps -towards him at the same moment that the count had advanced to meet him. -The two officers merely exchanged a rapid glance, but that look at -once assured both that they were persons of rank and station. They -immediately saluted each other with that easy grace and affable -politeness which characterized the young nobility of that period. - -"By Heaven!" exclaimed the young midshipman; "my dear countryman, for I -suppose that like myself you are a Frenchman, although I meet you in -a seemingly hyperborean land, and in regions which, if not absolutely -savage, appear sufficiently barbarous--will you have the goodness to -tell me what there is so extraordinary about me, that I seem to cause -quite a revolution in the country? Or is the appearance of an officer of -the navy an event so rare and so extraordinary at Lorient, that his mere -presence excites, in so singular a degree, the curiosity of the natives -of Lower Brittany? By solving this mystery, you will render me a service -which I shall be happy to reciprocate, should any opportunity present -itself in which I can be useful to you." - -"This will be so much the more easy," replied Count Emanuel, "as -this curiosity is not founded in any feeling which you would consider -offensive to your uniform or hostile to your person--and the proof of -this is, my dear comrade--for I see by your epaulettes that we are of -equal rank in the service of his majesty--that I participate with these -honest Britons in the curiosity which they evince, although, perhaps, -my motives are more weighty than theirs, in endeavouring to obtain a -solution of the problem which has occupied us." - -"If I can be of any assistance to you, in the inquiries which you have -undertaken, I place all the algebra I possess at your disposal. Only the -position we are in is not a comfortable one to carry out mathematical -demonstrations. Will it please you to remove to a small distance from -these honest people, whose presence would only tend to confuse our -calculations." - -"Certainly," replied the mousquetaire, "and the more readily, as, if I -do not deceive myself, by walking this way I shall lead you nearer -to your boat and your sailors." - -"Oh! that is not of the slightest consequence; should this path not be -convenient to you we can take another. I have plenty of time; and my men -are less eager to, return on board than I am. Therefore, we will about -ship, if such is your good pleasure." - -"Not at all; on the contrary, let us go on, the nearer we are to -the beach the better we can discuss the matter in question. Let us, -therefore, walk upon this strip of land as far as we can." - -The young seamen, without replying a word, conti-nued to walk on, like a -man to whom the direction he was to take was perfectly indifferent, and -these two young men, who had thus met for the first time, walked arm in -arm, as though they had been friends from infancy, towards the end of -the promontory. When they had reached the extreme point, Count Emanuel -paused, and pointed towards the frigate, saying, "Do you know what ship -that is?" - -The young seaman threw a rapid and scrutinizing glance upon the -mousquetaire, and then looked towards the ship: "Yes," replied he, -negligently, "it is a pretty frigate carrying two and thirty guns, with -her sails bent and her starboard anchor atrip, ready to sail at the -first signal given." - -"Excuse me," replied Emanuel, smiling; "that is not what I ask of you. It -signifies little to me how many guns she carries, or by what anchor she -is holding--is not that your technical mode of speaking?" - -The lieutenant smiled: in turn. "But," continued Emanuel, "what I wish -to know is, to what nation she actually belongs, the port, that she is -bound to, and the name of her captain." - -"As to the nation she belongs to," replied the lieutenant, - -"She has taken care to give us that information herself, or she is, an -outrageous liar; Do you not see her flag flying from her peak? It is the -flag without a stain, rather worn out from being too much used that's -all. As to the place she is bound to, it is as the commandant of the -fort told you, when, you asked him,--Mexico." Emanuel looked with -astonishment at the young lieutenant. "And finally, as to her captain, -that is a much more difficult matter.. There are some people who would -swear he is a young man about my own age or yours, for; I, believe we -left the cradle pretty closely the one after, the other, although the -professions we follow may place a long interval between our graves. -There are others who pretend he is of the same age with my uncle the -Count d'Estaing, who as you doubtless know, has just been made an -admiral, and who is at: this moment affording every assistance to the -rebels of America, as some people, even in France, still call them. -But, in short, as to his name, that is quite another thing; it is said -he does not know it himself; and until some fortunate occurrence shall -apprise him of it, he calls himself Paul." - -"Paul?" - -"Yes, Captain Paul." - -"Paul, what?" - -"Paul, of the _Providence_, of the _Banger_, of the _Alliance_, -according to the name of the ship he commands. Are there not also in -France some of our young nobles, who, finding their family name too -short, lengthen it out by the name of an estate, and surmount the whole -with a knight's casque, or a baron's coronet: so that their seals or -their carriages bear the evidence of belonging to some ancient family, -quite delightful to reflect upon? Well! so it is with him. At this -moment he calls himself, I believe, Paul, of the _Indienne_, and he is -proud of the appellation; if I may judge front my naval sympathies, I -do not think he would exchange his frigate for the finest estate to be -found between the Port of Brest and the mouth of the Rhone." - -"But, tell me," rejoined Emanuel, after reflecting for a moment on the -singular mixture of simplicity and sarcasm which pervaded the answers of -his companion; "what is the character of this man?" - -"His character--but, my dear baron--count--marquis"-- - -"Count," replied Emanuel, bowing. - -"Well, my dear count, then, I was about to say that you pursued me from -one abstraction to another, and that when I placed at you disposal all -my knowledge in algebra, I did not intend that we should enter into a -research of the unknown. His character! good heaven, my dear count, who -can speak knowingly of the character of a man, unless it be himself--and -even then--but hold--I, myself, as you now see me, have ploughed for -twenty years, at one time with the keel of a brig, at another with that -of a frigate, this vast expanse, which now extends itself before us. -My eyes, for so I may express myself, discerned the ocean almost at the -same moment that they saw the sky above it; since my tongue was able to -join two words together, or my comprehension could combine two ideas, -I have interrogated and studied the caprices of the ocean, and yet I -do not, even to this time, know its character--and there are only four -principal winds and thirty-two breezes which agitate it--that's all. -How, then, can you expect that I should judge of man, torn as he is by -his thousand passions." - -"Nor did I ask you, my dear--duke--marquis--count?"-- - -"Lieutenant," replied the young sailor, bowing, as Emanuel had done -before. - -"I was about to say, then, my dear lieutenant, I do not ask a -physiological lecture on the passions of Captain Paul. I only wish to -inform myself upon two points. Firstly, whether you consider him a man -of honor?" - -"We must first of all understand each other as to the meaning of words, -my dear count--what is your precise definition of the word honor?" - -"Permit me to remark, my dear lieutenant, that this question is a most -singular one. Honor! Why, honor--is--honor." - -"That's it precisely--a word without a definition, like the word God! -God--is God! and every one creates a God after his own fashion. The -Egyptians adored him under the form of a scorpion--the Israelites, -under that of a golden calf. So it is with honor. There is the honor -of Camillus, and that of Coriolanus--that of the Cid, and that of Count -Julian. Define your question better if you wish me to reply to it." - -"I ask, then, whether his word may be relied upon?" - -"I do not believe he ever failed in that regard. His enemies--and no one -can arrive to his station without having them--even his enemies, I say, -have never doubted that he would keep, even unto death, an oath which he -had sworn to. This point is, therefore, believe me, fully settled. In -this respect, he is a man of _honor_. Let us pass, therefore, to your -second question, for if I do not deceive myself, you wish to know -something farther." - -"Yes, I wish to know whether he would faithfully obey an order given by -his Majesty?" - -"What Majesty?" - -"Really, my dear lieutenant, you affect a difficulty of comprehension -which would better suit the gown of a sophist, than a naval uniform." - -"Why so? You accuse me of cavilling, because, before replying, I wish -to know precisely what I have to answer. We have, at this? present time, -eight or ten majesties, seated securely or otherwise, upon the different -thrones of Europe. We have his Catholic Majesty--a feeble majesty, who -allows the inheritance, left him by Charles, the Fifth, to be torn -from him piece by piece;--we have his Britannic Majesty--a headstrong -majesty, who clings to his America, as Cyingetus to the Persian ship, -and whose hands we shall cut off, if he does not loose his hold;--we -have his Christian Majesty, whom I venerate and honor"-- - -"Well--it is of him I wish to speak," said Emanuel, - -"Do you believe that Captain Paul would feel disposed to obey an order -which I should deliver from him?" - -"Captain Paul," replied the lieutenant, "would, as every captain ought -to do, obey every order emanating from a power which has the right of -commanding him--unless indeed he be an accursed pirate, or some damned -privateersman, some buccaneer, who owes no allegiance, and which I -should doubt from the appearance of the frigate he commands, and from -the way she is fitted. He must have then in some drawer of his cabin, a -commission signed by some power or other. Well! should this commission -bear the name of Louis, and be sealed with the fleur-de-lis of France, -there can be no doubt that he would obey any order sealed, and signed by -the same name." - -"This is all then that I wish to be informed of," replied the young -mousquetaire, who began to grow impatient at the strange and evasive -answers given by his companion. "I will only ask you one more question." -"I am ready to obey your wishes in that, as I have in the rest, count," -returned the lieutenant. - -"Do you know any way of getting on board of that ship?" - -"There is one," replied the lieutenant, pointing towards his own boat, -which lay rocked, by the waves, in a small creek close to them. - -"That boat! why, is it yours?" - -"Well! I will take you on board." - -"You know this Captain Paul, then?" - -"I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally -acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the -hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides -which, we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic -language, by which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of -the ocean we may meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the -same frankness in which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at -your disposal." - -"Do me this service, then," said Emanuel, "and"-- - -"You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations, -will you not?" said the lieutenant. "You cannot be surprised at it," -continued he smiling, "my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman's life -has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During -a calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and -during the night we address ourselves to God." - -Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with -that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread -over his features every time he had become the object of investigation, -to the mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of -contempt for human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of -God. But finding that this singular man was disposed to render him, -although in a strange manner, the service he had asked of him, he -accepted his proffered assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two -young men were advancing towards the unknown vessel with as much -rapidity as the vigor of six stout rowers could give to the light bark -in which they were seated. Their oars rose and fell with so regular a -movement, that it appeared rather impelled by some powerful machine, -than by the combination of human strength. - - - - -CHAPTER II.--THE FRIGATE. - - And oh! the little warlike world within! - The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy; - The hoarse command, the busy humming din- - When, at a word, the tops are mann'd on high, - Hark to the boatswain's call, the cheering cry; - While through the seaman's hands the tackle glides: - Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by, - Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides, - And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.--Byron. - - -As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more -clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him -to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck -by the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of -her masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood -out against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be -composed of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. -There was not, however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, -which seemed, either from inattention or contempt, to care but little -for the visit she was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, -however, at one moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping -out of one of the port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was -pointed towards the boat; but the ship being gently moved round by -the quiet heaving of the waves, presented her prow toward them, his -attention was attracted by the figure-head which generally bears -some allusion to the name of the vessel that it decorates: it was -a representation of one of the daughters of America, discovered by -Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a head-dress of many colored -feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with a coral necklace. As to -the remainder of the figure, it was a curious combination, half syren, -half serpent, attached to the fore part of the ship in a graceful though -fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached the ship, the more did -the attention of the count appear attracted by this figure. It was, in -fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but very remarkable -from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to perceive, that -it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by a superior -artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a seaman, the -increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the soldier; -and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the -figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that -the latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did -not give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its -beauties, he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question -his young companion. - -"Well, count," said he, concealing the interest which he took in -his reply under an apparent gaiety, "what do you think of this -master-piece?" - -"I think," replied Emanuel, "that comparing it with works of the same -description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have -given it." - -"Yes," said the lieutenant, carelessly, "it is the last work of William -Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of -his pupils, named Dupr, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is -obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of -ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See," said -he, giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, -"it is a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls -that are hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond -worth a hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, -besides the honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to -offer to his bride." - -"What an odd caprice," exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the -singularity of the object he was gazing at, "to ornament a ship in the -same way that one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable -sums to the chances of a battle, or the dangers of a storm." - -"Why should this astonish you?" said the lieutenant with an accent -of indescribable melancholy; "we seamen have no other family than our -sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the -tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to -something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, -who are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an -imaginary love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady -island, and every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the -ocean like a flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a -bird, when returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star -from out the firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the -Atlantic, every time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it -approaches nearer to him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There -are others, and they are the greater number, who attach themselves to -their frigate as to a well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the -tempest tears away any part of her, at every wound given by the shot -that strikes her, and when she is at length sunk by the tempest or -the combat, prefer to perish with her, rather than to save themselves -without her, giving to landsmen a holy example of fidelity. Captain Paul -is one of the latter class, that's all, and he has given to his frigate -the wedding present which he had intended for his bride. Ah? I see they -are waking up." - -"Boat ahoy?" cried some one from on board the frigate, "what boat's -that?" - -"We want to come on board," replied Emanuel; "throw us a rope that we -may catch hold of." - -"Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder." - -The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were -going up the ship's side. The officer of the watch came forward with an -eagerness which appeared in Emanuel's mind to promise well. - -"Sir," said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same -uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, "this is my -friend, the Count ---- By the by, I forgot to ask your name?" - -"Count Emanuel d'Auray." - -"I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d'Auray, -who anxiously desires to speak to Captain Paul. Is he on board?" - -"He has just this moment arrived," replied the officer. - -"In that case I will go below and prepare him to receive you, my dear -count. In the meantime, this is Mr. Walter, who will have the pleasure -of showing you through the ship. It is an interesting sight for a land -officer, and the more so, as I doubt whether you would find many ships -kept in such order as this is. The people are at supper just now, I -believe?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"In that case it will be the more curious sight." - -"But," observed the officer, hesitating a little, "it is my watch on -deck." - -"Bah! you can easily find one of your brother officers who will relieve -you for a short time. I will endeavour to manage so that the captain -shall not make you kick your heels too long in the ante-room. Adieu, -till I meet you again, count: I shall recommend you in such a way as will -insure a good reception for you." With these words, the young lieutenant -disappeared down the companion ladder, while the one who remained with -Emanuel to show him over the ship, took him into the 'tween decks. - -As the lieutenant had presumed, the crew of the frigate were at their -supper. It was the first time that the young count had been present at -such a repast; and however much he desired to speak immediately to -the captain, he felt so curious to observe what was going on, that he -examined everything with eager attention. - -Between every two guns, a table and benches were prepared, not standing -on their feet, but slung by ropes from above. Four men were seated -upon each of the benches, taking their portion of pieces of beef, which -seemed to resist the action of their knives, but which had to do with -hearty fellows who did not appear at all disposed to be daunted by its -toughness. At every table there were two cans of wine, that is to say, -about a pint for each man. As to the bread, it did not appear to be -distributed by rations, but they could take as much as they wanted. The -most profound silence reigned throughout the crew, which, was composed -of of more than from one hundred and eighty to two hundred men. - -Although none of those seated at the table, opened their mouths for any -other purpose than to eat, Emanuel perceived, with some surprise, -that they were composed of many different nations, which was easily -discernible from the contour of their countenances. His _cicerone_ -remarked his astonishment, and replying to his thought before he had -given utterance to it, said, with an American accent, which Emanuel had -already observed, and which proved that he who spoke to him was born on -the other side of the Atlantic: "Yes, yes, we have a tolerably pretty -sample of every nation in the world, and if all at once a good deluge -should carry off the children of Noah, as it formerly did those of Adam, -our ark could furnish people who speak every language. Do you observe -those three fellows who are exchanging a piece of roast beef for a -clove of garlick, they are lads from Galicia, whom we picked up at Cape -Ortegal, and who would not go into action without having said a prayer -to St Jago, of Corapostello, but who, when once their prayer is over, -would rather allow themselves to be cut in pieces, like martyrs, than -retreat a single step. Those two who are polishing their table at -the expense of their jacket-sleeves, are honest Dutchmen, who still -complain: of the injury done to their commerce by the discovery of the -Cape of Good Hope. You see them--at first sight they look like very -beer-pots. Well, those brave fellows, the moment they hear the drum beat -to quarters, become as active as monkeys; Go near them, and they will -talk to you about their ancestors; they will tell you they descend from -those famous sweepers of the sea, who when going into action, hoisted a -broom instead of a flag; but they will take good care not to inform you -that one fine morning the English took their broom, and made rods of it -to whip them with. That whole table, where they are chattering together -at such a rate, but in an under tone, is occupied by Frenchmen, who -would talk louder if they dared. The seat of honor is occupied by a -chief, elected by themselves; he is a Parisian by birth, a cosmopolite -from taste, a great master at the small sword, singlestick, and a -dancing-master to boot. Always gay and contented, he sings when he is -on duty, sings when he is fighting, and will die singing, unless a hemp -cravat should stop his voice, which may very likely happen to him should -he have the misfortune to fall into the hands of John Bull. Turn your -eyes to the other side now, and observe that row of square and idle -heads. These are strange faces to you, are they not? but which every -American born between Hudson's Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, would -recognize at once for bears born on: the borders of Lake Erie, or -seals from Nova Scotia.. There are three, or four of them who are one -eyed--this arises from, their peculiar mode of fighting; they twist -their fingers in the hair of their antagonist, and gouge out his eye -with their thumbs. There are some of them who are very expert at this -exercise, and who never miss their mark. So that when they are boarding -a ship, they almost invariable throw away their boarding, pikes, or -their cutlass, and seizing the first Englishman they can catch hold -of, they uneye him with a dexterity and quickness quite delightful to -behold. You will now comprehend that I did not deceive you in what I -said, and that our collection is complete." - -"But," asked Emanuel, who had listened to this long enumeration with -a certain degree of interest, "how does your captain manage to make -himself understood by men brought together from such distant nations?" - -"First of all our captain understands all languages--and although in -battle and during stormy weather he speaks his mother tongue, he; gives -such an accent to it that every one understands him and obeys: him. But -see, the larboard cabin door is opening, and I doubt not he is ready -to-receive you." - -And instantly a boy dressed in a midshipman's uniform came up to the -two officers, and asked Emanuel if he did not call himself the Count -d'Auray; and on his receiving an affirmative reply, he requested him -to follow him; and the officer who had so conscientiously sustained the -part of a cicerone, immediately went on deck to resume his duties there. -As to Emanuel, he advanced towards the cabin with a mixed feeling -of anxiety and curiosity, He was at last about to be ushered in the -presence of Captain Paul. - -He was a man who appeared to be between fifty and fifty-five years of -age, and to whom the habit of walking between decks had given him -a stoop rather than age. He wore the uniform of the French navy, -accord-ing to its strictest regulations. It was a blue coat with -scarlet facings, a red waistcoat, and breeches of the same color, grey -stockings, with frilled shirt and' ruffles. His hair, rolled up in large -curls, and powdered quite white, was tied into a queue by a ribbon, the -ends of which floated upon his shoulders. His cocked hat and his sword -were lying upon a table beside him. At the moment Emanuel entered the -door, he was sitting upon the carriage of a gun, but when he perceived -him, he rose up to receive him. - -The young count felt intimidated by the aspect of this man: there was -in his eye a searching look which appeared to peer into the very soul -of the person whom he gazed upon. Perhaps, also, this impression was the -more powerful, that he presented himself before him with a conscience -that reproached him with the act he was endeavouring to accomplish, and -of which he was about to render the captain, if not an accomplice, at -all events the executioner. These two men, as though they felt a -secret repulsion, the one towards the other, saluted each other with -politeness, but with cold reserve. - -"It is the Count d'Auray that I have the honor of addressing," said the -old officer. - -"And I Captain Paul, I believe," replied the young mousquetaire; they -both bowed a second time. - -"May I know to what fortunate chance I owe the honor," rejoined the -captain, "of the visit which is now paid to me by the heir of one of the -oldest and greatest families in Brittany?" - -Emanuel bowed again by way of thanks for this compliment, and then, -after hesitating for a moment as if he found it difficult to open the -conversation, he observed: "I am told, Captain Paul, that you are bound -to the Gulf of Mexico?" - -"And you have not been deceived, sir; I purpose sailing for New Orleans, -calling on my way at Cayenne, and at the Havannah." - -"This falls out very fortunately, captain, and you will not have to -alter your course, in case you should be willing to undertake the -execution of the order of which I am the bearer." - -"You have an order to communicate to me, sir, and from whom?" - -"From the Minister of Marine." - -"An order addressed to me personally?" reiterated the captain, -doubtingly. - -"Not personally to you, sir; but to any captain of the royal navy, who -may be about to sail for South America." - -"Of what nature is it, count?" - -"A state prisoner to be transported to Cayenne." - -"And you have the order with you?" - -"Here it is," replied Emanuel, taking it from his pocket, and presenting -it to the captain. - -He took the paper, and going near the cabin window, that he might avail -himself of the last gleam of daylight, he read aloud: - -"The Ministers of Marine and of the Colonies, orders any captain or -lieutenant, commanding a government vessel, who may be about to sail for -South America, or for the Gulf of Mexico, to take on board his ship -and to land at Cayenne, the person named Lusignan, condemned to -transportation for life. During the passage the convict shall take -his meals in his own cabin, and shall not be allowed to have any -communication with the ship's company." - -"Is the order in due form?" asked Emanuel. - -"Perfectly, sir," replied the captain. "And are you disposed to execute -it?" - -"Am I not under the orders of the Minister of Marine?" - -"The prisoner may then be sent to you?" - -"Whenever you will; but it had better be this evening, or as soon as -possible, as I do not expect to be long in these roads." - -"I will take care that due diligence shall be used." - -"Is this all that you have to say to me?" - -"Nothing further, excepting to add my thanks." - -"Do not add anything, sir. The minister orders, and I obey, that's all. -It is a duty which I fulfil, and not a service that I am rendering." - -Upon these words, the captain and the count bowed to each other and -separated, more coldly even than they had met. - -When he reached the deck, Emanuel asked the officer of the watch for his -friend who had accompanied him on board, but was informed he had been -detained by Captain Paul to sup with him, and that being anxious to -oblige the count, he had placed his boat as his disposal. - -She was waiting alongside the ship, and the sailors were in readiness -to accompany him. Emanuel had scarcely got into her when they rowed him -away with a rapidity equal to that with which they had conducted him on -board. But this time she proceeded in sorrowful silence, for the young -lieutenant was no longer there to animate the count with his practical -philosophy. - -That same night the prisoner was conducted on board the _Indienne_, and -the next morning at day-break the inquisitive inhabitants of the -coast no longer discerned the frigate which had given rise to so many -conjectures, and whose unexpected arrival, her remaining there without -any apparent object, and her spontaneous departure, remained an -inexplicable mystery to the inhabitants of Fort Louis. - - - -CHAPTER III.--THE SEA FIGHT. - - The gallant vessels side by side did lie, - Yard-arm and yard-arm, and the murd'rous guns - Belch'd forth their flame and shot, 'till the white decks - Ran like a sea with blood. Uncertain still - The victory stood, 'till Perry, waving - His bright sword o'er his head, cried, "Follow me!" - A hundred shouts responded to this call, - Then with one spring he bounded on the deck - Of his determined foe.--Oxd Play. - - -As the motives which had induced Captain Paul to visit the coast of -Brittany had no relation with our history, excepting as far as regards -the events which we have related, we shall leave our readers in the same -state of uncertainty as were the inhabitants of Fort Louis; and although -our' vocation and our sympathies naturally incline us to terra-firma, -we must follow our hero for a few days in his adventurous course upon -the ocean. The weather was as beautiful as it generally is on the -western coast of France, at the commencement of autumn. The _Indienne_ -sailed gaily on with as fair a wind as could blow for her. The ship's -crew, excepting those actually employed in manoeuvring the vessel, -were availing themselves of the fine weather and occupied in their own -matters, as caprice directed them, or were idly lounging about the ship, -when all at once a voice which appeared to descend from the sky, called -out, "Below, there!" - -"Hullo, there!" replied the quarter-master, who was standing near the -helm. - -"Sail, ho!" cried the seaman who was on the lookout, at the head-mast. - -"Sail, ho!" repeated the quarter-master. "Officer of the deck, be so -good as to inform the captain there is a sail in sight." - -"A sail! a sail!" re-echoed the crew from different parts of the deck; -for at that moment a wave, having raised the vessel which appeared upon -the horizon, had for an instant rendered her visible to the eyes of the -ship's company. - -"A sail!" exclaimed a young man of five-and-twenty, springing upon the -quarter deck from the cabin stairs; "ask Mr Arthur what he thinks of -her." - -"Mast head, there!" cried the lieutenant, using his speaking trumpet; -"the captain wants to know, Mr. Arthur, what you make of the strange -sail." - -Arthur, the young midshipman, had gone aloft immediately upon hearing -a sail announced. He replied, "She looks like a large square-rigged -vessel, close hauled, and steering for us." - -"Yes, yes," said the young man, to whom Walter had given the title of -captain, "she has as good eyes as we have, and she has seen us." - -"Very well, if she wishes for a little chat, she will find us ready to talk -to her. Besides, our guns must be almost choked from having their mouths -stopped so long." - -After some little time, the midshipman again hailed the officer on deck, -and told him that the strange ship had just set her mainsail, and had -altered her course a little, so as to cross their bow. - -"Sir," said the captain, addressing the lieutenant, "get ready to -beat to quarters, we must prepare for this fellow; he looks rather -suspicious." And then calling out to the midshipman, "How does the ship -seem to sail, Mr. Arthur? what do you think of her?" - -"She seems to be a fast sailer, and is a man-of-war, I should think, by -the squareness of her yards; and although I cannot see her flag, I would -wager that she bears King George's commission." - -"I should not wonder," observed the captain to the first lieutenant, -"and that she has orders to give chase to a certain frigate called the -Indienne, and that her commander is promised good promotion should he -succeed in capturing her. Ha! ha! now she is loosing her top gallant -sails. The blood hound has scented us, and is decidedly about to give us -chase. Set our top gallant sails, too, Mr. Walter, and let us keep our -course without varying a point. We shall see whether they will dare to -come athwart our hawse." - -The captain's orders were instantly repeated by the lieutenant, and in -a few minutes the ship which had been running under her top sails, -felt the influence of her top gallant sails, heeled over under this new -pressure and bounded along as if animated by the sight of an enemy, and -dashing away the spray from either bow with eager impetuosity. - -For some time there was hardly a word uttered on board. Every one -appeared to wait anxiously the termination of this state of suspense, -and we shall profit by this momentary quiet, to call the attention of -our readers to the person of the officer to whom the lieutenant had -given the title of captain. - -It was no longer either the young and sceptical lieutenant whom we -have seen accompanying the Count d'Auray on board the ship, nor the old -sea-wolf with his stooping gait, and harsh and snappish answers, who had -received him in the cabin. He was a handsome young man, from twenty to -twenty-five years of age, as we have said before, who, having thrown off -all disguise, appeared at length in his own person, and dressed in the -fanciful uniform which he always wore when upon the wide ocean. It was -a sort of great coat of black velvet, with gold shoulder knots and -fastened with hooks and eyes of the same metal. Round his waist he wore -a Turkish belt, in which was placed a pair of elegant duelling pistols, -richly inlaid and ornamented, apparently more for show than defence. His -pantaloons were of white kerseymere, with boots which reached nearly -to his knees. Round his neck, a cravat of transparent India muslin, -embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, was loosely tied; his -hair, no longer disfigured by powder, and black as ebony, flowed about -his cheeks, which were tanned by exposure to the sun; his eyes beamed -with hope and animation. Near him, upon a gun, was placed a steel helmet -which fastened by a curb chain under the chin. This was his battle -dress, and the only defensive armour which he wore. Some deep -indentations in his helmet proved that it had more than once-saved the -head which it protected from those severe wounds inflicted by those -terrible cutlasses used by seamen when boarding. As to the ship's -company, they wore the elegant though plain uniform of the French navy. - -During this time, the vessel which had been described by the man at -the mast head, and which had then appeared like a white speck upon the -horizon, had become, little by little, a pyramid of sails and rigging. -All eyes were fixed upon her, and although no order had been actually -given, every one of the crew had taken the position which individually -belonged to him, as though it had been determined that a combat should -take place. There reigned then on board the Indienne that solemn and -profound silence, which in a ship of war always precedes the decisive -orders of the captain. Finally, the hull of the strange sail appeared -rising out of the water, as her sails had successively done before. -It was then clearly discernible that she was a larger ship than the -Indienne, and that she carried thirty-six guns. She, however, showed no -colors, and as her crew were carefully and completely concealed behind -her bulwarks, it was impossible to ascertain, unless by some particular -indications, to what nation she belonged. These two observations were -made almost at the same moment by Captain Paul; the last, however, -seemed to strike him the most forcibly. - -"It appears," said he, addressing his lieutenant, "that we are going to -have a scene of a masked ball. Order Arthur to bring us a few flags, and -let us prove to this unknown, that the Indienne has several disguises -at her disposal. And then, Mr. Walter, give orders that cutlasses and -boarding pikes be distributed, for we can hardly expect, in these seas, -to meet with any but enemy's ships." - -The two orders were executed; as soon as given. In an instant the young -midshipman had brought on deck a dozen flags of different nations, and -Lieutenant Walter, having had the arm chest opened, had boarding pikes -piled in different positions throughout the ship, and had distributed -cutlasses and axes to the ship's company, he then returned to his place -by the Captain's side. Every man again resumed his post by instinct -rather than by order, for they had not yet beat to quarters; so that the -apparent confusion which had existed for a moment ceased at once, and -the frigate became once more, as it were, silent and attentive. - -However, the two ships following their converging directions, continued -to approach each other. When they were about the distance of three gun -shots, "Mr. Walter," said the Captain, "I think it is time we should -begin to mistify our good friend here. Let us show him the old Scotch -flag." - -The lieutenant gave a sign to the quartermaster, and the red Lion -of Scotland, on a blue field, rose like a flame to the peak of the -_Indienne_; but nothing on board the enemy's ship gave evidence of their -paying the slightest attention to this manouvre. - -"Yes, yes," murmured the captain, "the three leopards of England have so -well filed the teeth and pared the claws of the Scottish lion, that -they pay no attention to him, believing that he is tamed because he is -defenceless. Show him some other color, Mr. Walter, and perhaps we shall -succeed in loosening his tongue." - -"What flag shall I hoist, captain?" - -"Take the first one that comes; chance may perhaps favor us." - -This order was scarcely given, when the Scotch flag was hauled down, and -that of Sardinia took its place. The ship still remained mute. - -"Well, well," said the captain, jestingly, "it appears that His Majesty, -King George, is on good terms with his brother of Cyprus and Jerusalem. -Do not let us bring them to loggerheads by carrying our joke farther, -Mr. Walter, let us show the American flag, and prove that it is really -the right one, by firing an unshotted gun." - -The same manouvre was repeated. The Sardinian flag was hauled down, and -the stars of the United States rose slowly towards the sky, and were -certified by firing a gun. - -What the captain had foreseen then happened immediately on the display -of this symbol of rebellion rising insolently in the air. The unknown -ship immediately betrayed its incognita by hoisting the British flag. At -the same moment a cloud of smoke was seen issuing from the side of the -royalist ship, and before the report was heard, a cannon ball was seen -tipping from wave to wave, and fell about a hundred yards short of the -Indienne. - -"Beat to quarters, Mr. Walter, for you see we have guessed rightly. -Come, my boys," cried he, to the crew, "hurrah for America! and death to -England!" - -This was answered by a general shout, and had not ceased, when they -heard them beating to quarters on board the _Drake_, for that was the -name of the English ship. The drums of the Indienne immediately replied, -and every man ran to his post:--the gunners to their guns, the officers -to their stations, and the sailors to their running rigging. As to the -captain, he jumped upon the top of the companion, his speaking trumpet -in his hand--the supreme symbol, the sceptre of nautical royalty, which -the commander always wields in the hour of combat or during the raging -of the tempest. - -They now seem to have made an exchange of parts, for the English -appeared impatient, and the Americans affected calmness. The ships were -hardly within gun shot, when a long line of smoke was seen issuing from -the side of the English vessel, and a report similar to loud thunder -was heard, and the iron messengers sent to deal death among the rebels, -having in their impetuosity, miscalculated the distance, fell harmless -before reaching the sides of the frigate. The latter, however, as if -refusing to reply to so premature an attack, continued to haul to the -wind, as if to spare the enemy too long a course. - -At this moment the captain turned, as if to give a last look round his -ship, and his astonished gaze was attracted by the appearance of a new -personage on the deck, who had selected this dangerous and exciting -moment to make his entrance upon the scene. - -It was a young man, somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three years of -age. His face was pale and mild; he was plainly, but elegantly dressed, -and whom the captain had not before seen on board. He was leaning -against the mizen-mast, his arms folded over his chest, and looking with -melancholy indifference at the English vessel which was approaching them -under a heavy press of canvas. The calmness at such a moment, and in -a man who appeared a stranger to nautical combats, forcibly struck the -captain. He then remembered the prisoner, whom the Count d'Auray had -announced to him, and who had been brought on board during the last -night he had passed at the anchorage of Port Louis. - -"Who allowed you to come on deck, sir?" said he, softening as much as -possible, the tone of his enquiry, so that it would have been difficult -to ascertain whether this was addressed as a mere question, or as a -reproach. - -"No one, sir," replied the prisoner, in a soft and sorrowful voice; -"but I had hoped that under the present circumstances, you would less -severely observe the orders by which I became your prisoner." - -"Have you forgotten that you were forbidden to hold any communication -with the ship's company." - -"I did not come here for the purpose of holding communication with the -ship's company, sir; I came to see whether some friendly cannon ball -would do me a good' turn." - -"You may, but too soon, have your desire accomplished, if you remain -where you are now standing; therefore, believe me, you had better remain -below." - -"Is this your advice; or an order, captain?" - -"You have full liberty to construe it as you please." - -"In that case," replied the young man, "I thank you--I will remain -here." - -At this instant, another loud report was heard; but the two ships had by -this time neared each other so much, that they were within gun-shot, and -the whole tempest of shot passed through the sails of the Indienne. Two -splinters fell from the masts; and the groans and stifled cries of some -of the ship's company were heard. The captain, at that moment, had his -eyes fixed upon the prisoner, above whose head, a cannon ball had passed -within two feet, grazing the mizen mast, against which he was leaning; -but notwithstanding this death warning, he remained calm and unmoved, -in the same attitude as if he had not felt the wing of the exterminating -angel waft above his head. The captain knew how to appreciate -courage--this incident was sufficient to assure him of the undaunted -bravery of the man who stood before him. - -"Tis well, sir," said he to him; "remain where you are, and when we come -to boarding, if you should be tired of remaining with your arms crossed, -take up a cutlass, or an axe, and give us a helping hand. You will -excuse me not payings you more attention at this moment, for I have -other things to do." - -"Fire!" cried he, in a voice of thunder, through his speaking trumpet, -"now, give it her: fire!" - -"Fire!" repeated the officers like an echo, at their different stations. - -At the instant, the Indienne trembled from her keel, to her royal mast -head, as she poured her broadside into the enemy--a cloud of smoke -spread itself like a veil, along the starboard-side, which was -soon carried to leeward. The captain, standing upon the companion, -impatiently awaited its clearing off, that he might ascertain the effect -which the broadside had produced upon the enemy's vessel. When his gaze -could penetrate through the smoke, he perceived that the enemy's main -top mast had fallen, and had, with its sails, encumbered the after-part -of the Drake's deck, and that her other sails were cut to ribbons. Then -putting his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he cried-- - -"Well done! my lads. Now watch her closely. They will be too busy in -clearing away the wreck of their mast, to think of raking us--fire--as -you can--and this time shave close!" - -The crew hastened to obey this order--the frigate veered round, and as -the guns were brought to bear upon the enemy, they were discharged with -terrible effect; and, as the captain had imagined, without any hindrance -from the Drake. The Indienne once more trembled like a volcano, and, as -a volcano, vomited forth her flame and smoke. - -This time the gunners had followed the orders of their captain to the -letter, (and the broadside had been fired point blank) striking the hull -and the lower masts. Both her masts were still standing; but on all -sides the sails were hanging in tatters. It appeared that some more -considerable damage had been done, which it was impossible to ascertain -at that distance; for some time, the broadside was not returned; at -length it was, and instead of raking the _Indienne_, it struck her in a -diagonal direction. It was not the less terrible, for it swept off many -a brave fellow from the deck; but by a chance which appeared positively -magical, touched neither of the masts. Some of the running rigging -was cut, but nothing that prevented her manoeuvring as before. At one -glance, Paul ascertained that he had only lost some men. His heart -bounded with joy. He once more placed the speaking-trumpet to his mouth. - -"Larboard the helm," cried he, "and board her on the larboard side! -Boarders, to your stations--be ready! Give her one more broadside." - -At the first movement of the _Indienne_, the enemy at once perceived the -intention, and endeavoured to neutralize it by it similar movement, but -at the instant of attempting to execute it, a dreadful crash was heard -on board her, and the mainmast, which had been nearly cut through by the -last discharge from the _Indienne_, trembled, for a few seconds like an -uprooted tree, and fell forward, covering the deck with the mainsail -and the rigging. Captain Paul at once comprehended what had delayed the -return of the broadside. - -"Now, she is ours, my lads!" cried he; "we have only to take her. One -last broadside within pistol shot, and then we'll board her!" - -The _Indienne_ obeyed her helm, as does a well trained horse the -bridle, and unopposed, advanced towards her enemy, for the latter had no -steerage-way upon her, and her guns were consequently useless. The -Drake was therefore at the mercy of her adversary, who by remaining at a -distance and playing at long bowls, might have riddled her and sunk -her, but disdaining this too easy victory, sent in a last broadside; and -then, before seeing the effect it had produced, the frigate ran in upon -her larboard quarter, and threw her grappling-irons on board. On -the instant, the tops and forecastle of the Indienne blazed as with -fireworks on a holiday, and flaming grenades were showered upon the deck -of the Drake with the rapidity of hailstones. - -"Courage, my lads, courage, lash the bowsprit to her quarter rails. Well -done! now, to your two forecastle carronades--fire!" - -All these orders were executed with magical celerity: the two ships were -as securely lashed together as if by iron chains--the two carronades -which had not been fired during the combat, thundered in there turn, and -swept the enemy's deck with a cloud of grape shot, and then another cry -was heard, uttered by the same stentorian voice-- - -"Now, board her!!!" - -And, adding example to precept, the captain of the _Indienne_ threw -aside his speaking trumpet, now of no longer use, placed his helmet on -his head, fastening the clasp beneath his chin; placed the sabre which -he usually wore in his belt between his teeth, and rushed upon the -bowsprit to jump thence upon the deck of the enemy. - -Although this movement followed the order he had given with as great -rapidity as the thunder succeeds the lightning, he was only the second -upon the English deck: he was preceded by the young prisoner with whom -he had conversed, who had thrown aside his coat, and armed only with a -hatchet, was the first to encounter death or victory. - -"You are not conversant with the discipline of my ship," said Paul, -laughing; "it is my place to be the first to board a ship I am -attacking. I forgive you this time, but take care it does not again -happen." - -At the same instant, the seamen of the _Indienne_ rushed from their own -ship to the enemy's, taking advantage of every point of contact, some -from the bowsprit, others from the end of the yards, and nettings, and -fell upon the deck like ripe fruit falling from a tree when shaken -by the wind. Then the English, who had retreated to their forecastle, -unmasked a carronade which they had had time to turn upon their enemy. A -volley of fire and iron was vomited forth on the assailants. One fourth -of the crew of the _Indienne_ fell killed or mutilated on the enemy's -deck, in the midst of cries and maledictions. But above the cries and -blasphemous oaths, a voice resounded, crying: - -"Forward--all of you!" - -Then ensued a scene of appalling confusion--a combat hand to hand--a -general duel. To the roar of cannon, to the report of musketry, to the -explosion of hand grenades, had succeeded the struggle with cold steel, -less noisy but more sure, above all with seamen, who have retained for -their sole use this inheritance from the giants, proscribed for more -than two centuries on the field of battle. It was with hatchets that -they cleaved each other's sculls; it was with cutlasses they wounded -each other's breasts; it was with boarding-pikes that they nailed each -other to the deck and masts. From time to time, in the midst of this -mute carnage, a stray pistol shot was heard, but isolated, and as if -ashamed of taking part in such a butchery. It lasted nearly a quarter of -an hour, and amidst a confusion it would be impossible to describe. -And then the British flag was lowered, and the crew of the Drake being -driven below, there remained on deck only the conquerors, the wounded -and the dead; in the midst of whom was the captain of the _Indienne_, -surrounded by his crew, with his foot upon the breast of the captain of -the enemy's ship, having on his right his first lieutenant, Walter, and -on his left his young prisoner, whose shirt, steeped in blood, witnessed -the share he had in the victory. - -"Now, all is over," said Paul, stretching out his hand; "and he who -strikes another blow will have to deal with me." - -Then holding out his hand to his young prisoner, "Sir," said he, "you -will relate to me, to-night, how it was that you were made my prisoner, -will you not! For there must be some cowardly machination in this -affair. The infamous only are transported to Cayenne, and you are too -brave to be infamous." - - - -CHAPTER IV.--THE MARCHIONESS. - - She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth, - And of most royal presence--but sad thoughts - Seemed to possess her wholly--her children, even, - Seldom approached her, and when they did, - No soft affection, motherly caress, - Was e'er accorded to them--stern and cold, - She looked a moving statue.--Old Play. - - -About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just -related, and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise, -whose wheels and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified -that it had performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along, -although two powerful horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between -Vanness and Auray. The traveller it contained, and who was roughly -jolted in traversing the cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count -Emanuel, whom we saw open the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was -coming from Paris with all haste, and proceeding to his ancient family -mansion, with regard to which it is now necessary to give some more -precise and circumstantial details. - -Count Emanuel d'Auray was descended from one of the oldest families -in Brittany--one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy -Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor, -had been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in -its victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d'Auray, Chevalier -of the order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and -Grand Cross of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of -Louis XV., in which he filled the post of high steward, that high -distinction to which his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit, -truly entitled him. His influence there had been increased by his -marriage with Mademoiselle de Sable, who was his equal in every thing -that regarded family or credit at court: so that a brilliant future was -opened to the ambition of the young people, when, after being married -five years, a report was suddenly spread about the court, that the -Marquis d'Auray had become insane during a journey he had made to his -estates. This report was for a long time disbelieved. At length -the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his wife made their -appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him another -year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason, refused to -appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and even the -marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In France -people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which -even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of -indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old -chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting -or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of -a son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d'Aurays, -therefore, continued to figure among the names of the French nobility; -but not having mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in -court intrigues or in political affairs, not having sided either with -a Pampadour or a Du Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the -victories of the Marchal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count -Clermont--in short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been -completely forgotten. - -However, the ancient name of the lords of d'Auray had been twice -pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first -time on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel's being admitted in -1769, as one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after -having served his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires -of the young King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted -with the Baron de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who -was favorably disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable -degree of influence with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to -his old courtier, who having been informed that the Count d'Auray had -a sister, one day let fall a few words upon the possibility of an union -between the two families. Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied -with struggling beneath the veil which had obscured his family name, saw -in this marriage a means of regaining the position which his father had -occupied at court under the late king, and had eagerly caught at the -first overtures for this alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under -the pretext of uniting himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood, -to his young friend, had urged his suit with an eagerness which was so -much the more flattering to Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand -of his sister had never seen her. The Marchioness d'Auray had listened -the more readily to this proposal, as it opened to her son the road to -royal favor, and the marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two -young people, at all events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded -M. de Lectoure three or four days only, had hastened into the country -to inform his mother that everything had been arranged according to her -desire. As to Marguerite, the intended wife, they contented themselves -with informing her of the resolution they had taken without thinking -it necessary to ask her consent to it, in about the same way that a -criminal is informed of the sentence which condemns him to the scaffold. - -It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of -future exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated -projects of ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy -castle of his family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards, -overgrown with grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden -hopes that agitated him. The castle was a league and a half distant from -any other dwelling. The principal facade overlooked that part of the -ocean, which being so constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name -of "the Wild Sea." The other looked toward an immense park, which, -being for twenty years abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete -forest. As to the apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with -the exception of those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had -been renewed during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of -a numerous household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which -the more modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more -elegant, was less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops -of Boule, the appointed upholsterer of the court. - -It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney -pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was -ushered on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to -communicate to his mother the happy news of which he was the bearer, -that without taking the time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his -gloves, and travelling pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant -to inform the marchioness of his arrival, and to ask her permission to -present himself, saying that he would await it in that room; for such in -this old family was the respect paid to parents, that the son, after an -absence of five months, did not dare to present himself to his mother, -without in the first place consulting her desires upon the subject. As -to the Marquis d'Auray, his children could not remember having seen -him more than two or three times, and then it was by stealth: for his -insanity was of a nature, it was said, that certain objects irritated, -and they had been always kept from him with the greatest precaution. The -marchioness alone, a model of conjugal virtue, remained always with him, -fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not only the duties of a wife, -but also those of a servant. Consequently, her name was revered in the -surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose devotedness on earth has -gained a place in heaven. - -In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the -marchioness d'Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that -the count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost -immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel's -mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age, -tall and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy -features had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command. -She was in costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time -that her husband had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her -mourning garments. Her long black gown gave to her movements, cold and -slow as those of a shadow, a solemn appearance, which shed around this -extraordinary woman a feeling of awe, which even filial affection had -never been able to surmount. Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started -as at the sight of an unexpected apparition, and instantly rising, he -advanced three steps toward her, respectfully went down upon one knee, -and kissed the hand she presented to him. - -"Rise, sir," said the marchioness. "I am happy to see you again." And -she pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who -had been absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel -obeyed, conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated -herself, and he remained standing before her. - -"I received your letter, count," she said, "and I congratulate you on -your skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than -for military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain -an embassy for you, rather than a regiment." - -"Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what -is more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power -with M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister." - -"In love with a woman he has never seen?" - -"Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of -Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our -fortune, has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your -son and to call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that -all the preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You -have obtained the publication of the bans, madam?" - -"Yes." - -"The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed." - -"With the help of God, all will be ready." - -"Thanks, madam." - -"But tell me," continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her -chair, and bending toward Emanuel, "has he not questioned you regarding -that young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of -deportation?" - -"By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without -entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit -confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world, -that they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered." - -"Then he knows nothing?" - -"No--but did he know all----" - -"Well?" - -"Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the -discovery would not in any way influence his determination." - -"I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift," replied the -marchioness, with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if -speaking to herself. - -"But supposing it should be so," said Emanuel anxiously, "your -resolution would be still unchanged, I hope." - -"Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our -former influence?" - -"Then, there is only my sister----" - -"Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?" - -"Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?" - -"For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my -presence." - -"Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our -family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not -conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having -been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king -at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your -virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him, -even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason; -your virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses, -but of which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in -this old forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission, -which you call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they -forget you (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count -six hundred years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at -court, our name, the name of the family d'Auray, was hardly known to -their majesties, but as an historical recollection." - -"Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories," murmured -the marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such -a blasphemy, she rejoined, "I hope that the blessing of God may always -attend their majesties and France." - -"And what can in any way affect their happiness?" replied Emanuel, -with that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the -distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility. -"Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both -of them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them, -Heaven be praised, beyond the reach of every evil." - -"No one, my son," replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head, -"believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty. -No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master -it, firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head, -were it even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The -people, you say, are brave and loyal." The marchioness arose and slowly -advanced to the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean. -"Observe that sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this -night, in an hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the -cries of distress of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I -am separated from the world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears, -borne as it were by invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not -exist a sect of philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the -errors which it propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which -is detaching itself from the mother country, whose children refuse to -acknowledge their father? Is there not a people who style themselves a -nation? Have I not heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the -ocean, to offer to rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but -at the call of their legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told, -moreover, or is it but the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI. -and the Queen, Marie Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are -a family of brothers, have authorised these armed emigrations, and have -given letters of marque to I know not what foreign pirate?" - -"All this is true," said Emanuel, much astonished. - -"May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of -France!" rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room, -leaving Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw -her withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain -her. - -Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant -character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change -his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window -which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence -he could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between -d'Auray and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he -perceived two persons on horseback, following the same road he had just -travelled over, and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they -drew nearer he could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his -servant. The first, dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of -that day, that is to say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs, -stocking-knit breeches, and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad -brim, and his hair tied with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on -an English horse of rare beauty and great value, which he managed with a -grace that proved he had made equestrian exercises a profound study. He -was followed at a short distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery -was in perfect harmony with the lordly air of the person whom he served. -Emanuel imagined for a moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards -the castle, that it was the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his -departure from Paris, intended to surprise him; but he soon found that -he was mistaken; and although it appeared to him that it was not the -first time he had seen the horseman, he could not recollect where or -under what circumstances he had met him. While he was racking his memory -to discover the event in his life with which this vague remembrance was -connected, the strangers had disappeared behind an angle of the castle -wall. Five minutes afterwards Emanuel heard the sound of their horses' -feet in the court yard, and, almost immediately the door was opened; a -servant announced, "_Mr. Paul!_" - - - - -CHAPTER V.--DEVOTED LOVE. - - Woman's love - Once given, may break the heart that holds--but never - Melts into air save with her latest sigh. - - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain, - - -The name, as well as the appearance of the person thus announced, -awakened in their turn in the mind of Emanuel a confused recollection of -which he could not affix either date or event. The person, preceded by -the servant, entered the room by a door opposite the one through which -the marchioness had retired. Although the moment was ill-timed for a -visit, and though the young count, pre-occupied by his projects for the -future, would have preferred meditating upon and ripening them, he was -compelled, by the rules of etiquette, so severe in those days between -well-bred people, to receive the visitor with courtesy and politeness. -The deportment of the latter bespoke the man of distinction. After the -usual salutations, Emanuel, by a gesture, invited the stranger to be -seated, who bowed and took a chair, and then the conversation commenced -with some common-place polite observation. - -"I am delighted to meet you, count," said the stranger. - -"Chance has favored me, sir," replied Emanuel; "an hour sooner you would -not have found me here: I have just arrived from Paris." - -"I am aware of that, count, for we have been travelling the same road. -I set out an hour after you, and all along the road I heard of you, by -means of the postillions who had the honor of driving you." - -"May I be bold enough to ask," said Emanuel, in a tone which began to -evince a certain degree of dissatisfaction, "to what circumstance I owe -the interest you appear to evince concerning me." - -"This interest is perfectly natural between old acquaintance, and -perhaps. I might have reason to complain that it does not appear to be -reciprocal." - -"In fact, sir, it does appear to me," replied Emanuel, "that I have met -you somewhere; but my recollection serves me but confusedly; will you be -kind enough to assist it?" - -"If what you say be the case, count, your memory must indeed be rather -fugitive, for within the last six months, on three separate occasions, I -have the honor of exchanging compliments with you." - -"Even should I expose myself to further reproach, I am compelled to say -that I still remain in the same state of uncertainty with regard to your -person. Pray, therefore, have the goodness to fix my memory, by aid -of more precise dates, on some event, and remind me under what -circumstances I had the honor of meeting you for the first time." - -"The first time, count? it was on the jetty of Port Louis. You desired -to obtain some information with regard to a certain frigate, which I -was so fortunate as to be able to furnish you. I believe, even, that -I accompanied you on board. Upon that occasion I wore the uniform of a -lieutenant in the royal navy, and you that of a mousquetaire." - -"I now well recollect it, sir, and I was obliged to leave the vessel -without offering the thanks I owed you." - -"You are mistaken, count; I received those thanks during our second -interview." - -"And where did that take place?" - -"On board the very vessel to which I had conducted you--in the cabin. I -then wore the uniform of the captain of the ship: blue coat, red -waistcoat and breeches, with grey stockings, a three-cornered hat, and -curled hair. Only the captain appeared to you some thirty years older -than the lieutenant, and it was not without motive that I had made -myself appear so much older, for you would perhaps, not have chosen to -confide to a young man a secret of such importance as you then -communicated to me." - -"What you now say is incredible, sir; and yet something tells me that it -was really so. Yes, yes; I now remember that in the shade in which you -remained half concealed, I saw eyes sparkling similar to yours. I have -not forgotten them; but this was only the time before the last, you say, -that I had the honor of seeing you. Continue, sir, I beg, to assist my -memory, for I cannot recollect our third interview." - -"The last, count, was only a week since, at Paris--at a fencing match, -at Saint-George's, in the rue Chanterecin. You remember, do you not, an -English gentleman, with his hair so red that his powder could scarcely -conceal its brilliant color--a scarlet coat, and tightly fitting -pantaloons. I even had the honor of trying a bout with you, and I was -fortunate enough to hit you three times, while, on the contrary, you -were not lucky enough to touch me once. On that occasion I called myself -Jones." - -"It is most singular--it was certainly the same look, but it could not -be the same man." - -"The will of God has directed that the look should be the only thing -which cannot be disguised, and this is why he has thrown into the look -a spark of his own light. Well, then, the lieutenant, the captain, the -Englishman, were one and the same person." - -"At the present moment, sir, what are you if you please? For, with a man -who can so perfectly disguise himself, that question you must admit, is -not altogether unnecessary." - -"At the present moment, count, as you see, I have no motive for -concealment, and, therefore, I have come to you in the simple costume of -the young nobility, when they visit each other as neighbors in the -country. I am whatever you may please to consider me; French, English, -Spanish, or even an American. In which of these languages would you wish -our conversation to be continued?" - -"Although some of these languages may be as familiar to me as they are -to you, sir, I prefer the French language; it is that of a plain and -concise explanations." - -"Be it so," replied Paul, with an expression of profound melancholy; -"the French is also the language I prefer; I first saw the day upon -French ground, for the sun of France was that which gladdened my eyes; -and although I have often seen more fertile climes, and a more brilliant -sun, there has never been for me but one country and one sun, the sun -and the country of Franco!" - -"Your national enthusiasm," said Emanuel, interrupting him ironically, -"causes you to forget the motive to which I am indebted for the honor of -this visit." - -"You are right, sir, and I will return to it. It was, then, about six -months ago, while walking on the jetty of Port Louis, you saw in the -outer roads a fine sharp frigate, with tall masts and square yards, and -you said to yourself: 'the captain of that ship must have some motive -known only to himself, for carrying so much canvas, on masts so -slight,'--and from that sprung to your mind that he must be some -buccaneer, a pirate, a corsair"---- - -"And was I mistaken?" - -"I thought I had already expressed to you, count," replied Paul, with a -slight tone of irony, "my admiration of the perspicacity with which, at -the first glance, you sound the depths of men and circumstances"---- - -"A truce to compliments, if you please, sir, and let us to facts." - -"It was under this persuasion that you caused yourself to be conducted -on board the frigate, by a certain lieutenant, and that you found a -certain captain in the cabin. You were the bearer of a letter from the -Minister of Marine, ordering any officer, upon your requisition, and -whose ship was under the French flag and bound for the Gulf of Mexico, -to conduct to Cayenne a person named Lusignan, guilty of a crime against -the state." - -"That is true." - -"I obeyed that order, for I was then ignorant that this great culprit, -thus transported, had committed no other crime than that of being the -lover of your sister." - -"Sir," cried Emanuel, starting up. - -"These are very fine pistols, count," carelessly continued Paul, playing -with the weapons which the Count d'Auray had placed upon the table, on -alighting from his carriage. - -"And they are ready loaded," said Emanuel, in a tone which was not to be -mistaken. - -"Are they so?" returned Paul, with affected indifference. - -"That is a matter of which you can assure yourself, if you will take a -turn in the park with me." - -"There is no necessity for going out to do that," replied Paul, without -pretending to understand Emanuel's proposal in the sense which he meant -to give to it; "here is a mark which is well placed, and at a proper -distance." - -Saying these words, the captain cocked the pistol, and pointed it -through the open window towards the top of a small tree. A goldfinch -was rocking himself on the highest branch, singing forth his shrill and -joyful notes. Paul fired, and the poor bird, cut in two, fell at the -foot of the tree. Paul coolly replaced the pistol on the table. - -"You were perfectly right, count," said he, "they are excellent weapons, -and I advise you not to part with them." - -"You have just given me an extraordinary proof of it," replied Emanuel; -"and I feel bound to acknowledge that you have a steady hand." - -"There is nothing extraordinary in that," rejoined Paul, in that -melancholy tone which was peculiar to him. "During those long days, -when not a breath passes over that mirror of the Supreme Being, which -is called the ocean, we seamen are compelled to seek for amusements to -which you landsmen are daily accustomed. Then we try our skill upon -the sea-gulls, which hover over the crest of a wave; or the fish-hawks, -which dart down upon the imprudent tenant of the deep that rise to -its surface; or, again, upon the swallows which, fatigued with a long -flight, alight upon the royal mast-head or on the yards or rigging. It -is thus, count, that we acquire some dexterity in exercises which may -appear so incompatible with our profession." - -"Go on, sir; and if it be possible, let us return to the subject of our -conversation." - -"He was a handsome, brave young man, this Lusignan; he related his -whole history to me. That being the son of an old friend of your -father's, who had died poor, he had been adopted by him some two years -before the unknown accident occurred which deprived him of his -reason. That having been brought up with you, he had inspired you with -hatred--your sister with affection. He told me that, during the long -years they passed together in the same solitude, they never perceived -the isolation from the world in which they lived, excepting when they -were absent from each other. He recounted to me all the details of their -youthful love, and how Marguerite had one day said to him, in the words -of the tender maiden of Verona-- - - "'I will be thine, or else I'll be the tomb's.'" - -"She has but too truly kept her word." - -"Yes--has she not? And you virtuous people call that shame and -dishonour, when a poor child, lost through her own innocence, is carried -away by love. Your mother, whose duties estranged her from her daughter, -and perpetually confined her to your father's room--(for I know the -virtues of your mother, sir, as well as I know your sister's weakness: -she is an austere woman, more severe than one of God's creatures ought -to be, whose only advantage over others is, that of never having -fallen)--your mother, I say, one night heard some stifled cries; she -entered your sister's chamber, walked pale and silently up to her bed, -and coldly snatched from her arms a child which had just been born, and -left the room without addressing even a reproach to her daughter, but -only paler and more silent than when she entered it. As to poor -Marguerite, she did not utter even a cry--she made no complaint. She had -fainted away immediately on perceiving her mother. Was it so, sir? Have -I been rightly informed, and is the whole of this dreadful story true?" - -"You seem to be acquainted with every detail of it!" exclaimed Emanuel, -with amazement. - -"It is because the whole of these details are given in these letters -signed by your sister," replied Paul, opening a pocket-book, "and -which Lusignan, at the time he was about to be thrown amid robbers and -assassins, through your instrumentality, confided to me, that I might -restore them to her who had written them." - -"Give them to me, then," said Emanuel, stretching forth his hand towards -the pocket-book, "and they shall be faithfully delivered to her who has -had the imprudence"-- - -"To complain to the only person who loved her in this world--is it not -so?" said Paul, withdrawing the letters and the pocket-book. "Imprudent -daughter, whose own mother snatched the child from her heart, and who -poured her bitter tears into the bosom of the father of her child! -Imprudent sister, who, not finding any protection from this tyranny in -her brother, has compromised his noble name by signing with the name he -bears, letters, which, in the stupid and prejudiced eye of the world, -may--how is it you term this in your noble class--dishonour her family, -is it not?" - -"Then," cried Emanuel, reddening with impatience, "since you are aware -of the terrible tendency of these papers, fulfil the mission which you -have been charged, by delivering them either to me, to my mother, or my -sister." - -"This was my intention when I landed at Lorient; but about ten or twelve -days ago, on entering a church--" - -"A church!" - -"Yes, sir." - -"And for what purpose?" - -"To pray there." - -"Ah! Captain Paul believes in God, then!" - -"Did I not believe in him, whom should I invoke during the raging of the -tempest?" - -"And in this church, then?" - -"In that church, sir, I heard a priest announce the approaching marriage -of the noble Marguerite d'Auray with the very high and very potent Baron -de Lectoure. I immediately inquired for you, and was informed you were -at Paris, where I was myself compelled to go, to give an account of my -mission to the king." - -"To the king!" - -"Yes, sir, to the king--Louis XVI.; to his majesty, in person. I -immediately set out, intending to return here as soon as you did. I -met you in Saint George's rooms, and was informed of your approaching -departure. I arranged mine in consequence, in order that we might arrive -here at about the same time, and here I am, sir, with a very different -resolution to that I had formed before landing in Brittany." - -"And what is this new determination? Let me hear it, for we must come to -some conclusion." - -"Well, then, I think that as all the world, and even his mother, seem -to have forgotten the poor orphan, it is highly necessary that I should -remember it. In the position in which you are placed, sir, and with the -disposition you have evinced of becoming allied to the Baron de Lectoure -(who in your view, is the only person who can assist the realization -of your ambitious projects), these letters are well worth a hundred -thousand francs, are they not? and will make but a very trifling breach -in the income of two hundred thousand francs which your estates afford -you." - -"But who will prove to me that this hundred thousand francs--" - -"You are right, sir, and therefore it will be in exchange for a contract -for an annuity upon the young Hector de Lusignan, that I will deliver up -these letters." - -"Is that all, sir?" - -"I will also ask, that the child be confided to me, and I will have him -brought up, thanks to his little fortune, far from the mother who has -forgotten him, and far from his father whom you caused to be banished." - -"'Tis well, sir; had I known that it was for so small a sum, and so -trifling an interest that you had come, I should not have experienced so -much anxiety. You will, however, permit me to speak to my mother on the -subject." - -"Monsieur le Comte," said a servant, opening the door. - -"I am not at home to any one. Leave the room." replied Emanuel, -impatiently. - -"It is your sister, sir, who wishes to see you." - -"Tell her to come by and by." - -"She desires to speak to you this instant." - -"Do not put yourself out of the way on my account," said Paul. - -"But my sister must not see you, sir,--you comprehend it is important -that she should not see you." - -"As you please; but as it is important, also, that I should not leave -the castle before concluding the affair which brought me here, permit me -to go into this side room." - -"That will do," said Emanuel, himself opening the door; "but be quick, -I beg of you." - -Paul went into the small room, and Emanuel hastily closed the door upon -him, which was hardly done when Marguerite appeared. - - - -CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. - - Look kindly on them; I cannot bear - Severity; - My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough, - I should but weep and answer you with sobbing; - But use me gently, like a loving brother, - And search through all the secrets of my soul.--Otway. - - -Marguerite d'Auray, whose history the reader has become aquainted with, -from the conversation between Captain Paul and Emanuel, was one of those -delicate, pale beauties, who bear impressed upon their features the -characteristic stamp of high birth. At the first glance, from the soft -flexibility of her form, the whiteness of her skin, the shape of her -hands and tapering fingers, with their thin, rosy and transparent nails, -could be discerned that she was descended from an ancient race. It was -evident that her feet, so small that both of them could have been placed -in the foot-mark of most women, had never walked excepting on carpeted -saloons or on the flowery turf of a park. There was in her movements, -graceful as they were, a certain degree of haughtiness and pride, the -attribute of all her family; in fine, she conveyed the impression that -her soul, capable of making any sacrifice she had resolved upon, -was very likely to rebel against tyranny; that devotedness was an -instinctive virtue of her heart, while obedience, in her view, was only -an educational duty, so that the tempest wind which blew upon her, might -make her bend down before it as a lily, but not as a reed. - -And yet, when she appeared at the door, her features depicted such -complete discouragement, her eyes had retained the traces of such -burning tears, her whole frame seemed weighed down by such an -overwhelming despair, that Emanuel saw at once, that she must have -summoned all her strength to assume an appearance of calmness. On seeing -him, she made a violent effort, and it was with a certain degree of -nervous firmness that she approached the arm chair on which he was -sitting. And then, seeing that the features of her brother retained the -expression of impatience, which they had assumed on being interrupted, -she paused, and these two children of the same mother, looked at each -other as strangers, the one with the eyes of ambition, the other with -those of fear. By degrees, Marguerite resumed her courage. - -"You have come at last, Emanuel! I was awaiting your return as the blind -await the light, and yet from the manner in which you look upon your -sister, it is easy to perceive that she was wrong in placing her hopes -in you." - -"If my sifter has become, as she always ought to have been," replied -Emanuel, "that is to say, a submissive and respectful daughter, she will -have understood what her rank and her position demand of her; she will -have forgotten past events as things which never should have happened, -and which consequently she ought not to remember, and she will have -prepared herself for the new destiny which awaits her. If it is in this -disposition that she now comes before me, my arms are open to receive -her, and my sister is still my sister." - -"Listen attentively to what I am about to say," said Marguerite, "and -above all, consider it as a justification of myself, and not intended as -a reproach to others. If my mother--and God forbid that I should accuse -her, for a holy duty keeps her apart from us--if my mother had been, -I was about to say, toward me as other mothers are towards their -daughters, I should constantly have opened my heart to her as a book; -at the first word traced upon it by any stranger hand, she would have -warned me of my danger and I should have avoided it. Had I been educated -in the world instead of being brought up like a poor wild flower beneath -the shade of this old castle, I should have learned from infancy the -value of the rank and position which you speak of to-day, and I should, -perhaps, not have infringed the decorum they prescribe, or the duties -they impose. In short, had I been tutored amidst women of the world, -with their sparkling wit and frivolous hearts, whom I have so often -heard you praise, but whom I never knew, had I been guilty of some -faults from levity, which love has caused me to commit--yes, I can well -understand, I might then have forgotten the past, have sown upon the -surface new recollections as flowers are planted upon tombs; and then, -forgetting the place where they had grown, have formed of them a bouquet -for a ball, or a bridal wreath. But unfortunately it is not so, Emanuel. -I was told to beware, when it was too late to avoid the danger. They -spoke to me of my rank and position in society, when I had already -forfeited them, and I am now called upon to look forward to joy in the -future, when my heart is drowned in the tears and misery of the past." - -"And the conclusion of all this," bitterly rejoined Emanuel. - -"The conclusion depends on you alone, Emanuel; it is in your power to -render it, if not happy, at all events becoming. I cannot have recourse -to my father. Alas! I know not even if he could recognise his daughter. -I have no hope in my mother; her glance freezes me, her words are -death to me. You alone, Emanuel, were left to me, to whom I could say, -brother: you are now the head of the family; it is to you alone that we -are answerable for our honor. I have fallen from ignorance, and I have -been punished for my fault as if it had been a wilful crime." - -"Well! well!", murmured Emanuel impatiently, "what is it that you ask?" - -"Brother, I demand, since a union with the only being I could have -loved, is said to be impossible, I demand that my punishment be -regulated according to my strength to bear it. My mother--may heaven -pardon her!--tore my child from me as if she had never herself been a -mother, and my child will be brought up far from me, neglected, and in -obscurity. You, Emanuel, removed the father, as my mother did the child, -and you were more cruel to him than the case required; I will not say as -man to man, but even as a judge towards a guilty person. As to myself, -you have both united to impose upon me a martyrdom more painful still. -Well, then, Emanuel, I demand in the name of our childhood spent in the -same cradle, of our youth passed under the same roof, in the name of the -tender appellations of brother and sister, which nature bestowed upon -us--I demand that a convent be opened to me, and that its gates should -close upon me for ever. And in that convent, I swear to you, Emanuel, -that every day upon my knees, before God, my forehead bent down to the -stone-pavement, weighed down by my fault, I will entreat the Lord as -a recompense for all my sufferings, to restore my father to reason, my -mother to happiness, and to pour on you, Emanuel, honor, and glory and -fortune. I swear to you, I will do this." - -"Yes; and the world will say that I had a sister whom I sacrificed to my -fortune, whose property I inherited while she still lived! Why this is -sheer madness!" - -"Listen to me, Emanuel," rejoined Marguerite, supporting herself on the -back of a chair, near which she was standing. - -"Well?" replied Emanuel. - -"When you have pledged your word, you keep it, do you not?" - -"I am a gentleman." - -"Well, then! look at this bracelet." - -"I see it--perfectly--what then?" - -"It is fastened by a key--the key which opens it is attached to a ring, -and with that ring, I pledged my word that I would not be released from -a promise I had made, until the ring should be brought back and returned -to me." - -"And he who has the key of it?" - -"Thanks to you, and to my mother, Emanuel, he is too far from us to -ask it of him. He is at Cayenne." - -"Before you are married two months," replied Emanuel, with an ironical -smile, "that bracelet will be so irksome to you, that you will be the -first to get rid of it." - -"I thought that I had told you it is locked upon my arm." - -"You know what people do when they have lost the key and cannot get into -their house--they send for a locksmith." - -"Well! in my case, Emanuel," replied Marguerite, rasing her voice, -and extending her arm with a solemn gesture, "they must send for the -executioner then, for this hand shall be cut off before I give it to -another." - -"Silence! silence!" cried Emanuel, rising hastily, and looking anxiously -towards the door of the inner room. - -"And now I have said all I had to say," rejoined Marguerite: "my -only hope was in you, Emanuel; for although you cannot comprehend any -deep-seated feeling, you are not cruel. I came to you in tears, look -at me and you will see that it is true--I came to you to say, 'Brother, -this marriage is the misfortune, is the misery of my life--I would -prefer a convent--I would prefer death to it--and you have not listened -to me, or if you have listened, you have not understood me. Well, then, -I will address myself to this man--I will appeal to his honor, to his -delicacy; if that should not be sufficient, I will tell him all; my love -for another, my weakness, my fault, my crime! I will tell him that I -have a child; that although he was torn from me, although I have never -since seen him, although I am ignorant of his abode, still my child -exists. A child cannot die, without his death striking some chord within -its mother's heart. In short I will tell him, should it be necessary, -that I still love another, that I cannot love him, and that I never -will." - -"Well! tell him all this," cried Emanuel, irritated by her persistence, -"and that evening we will sign the contract, and the next day you will -be Baroness de Lectoure." - -"And then," replied Marguerite, "then, I shall be truly the most -miserable woman in existence, for I should then have a brother whom I -should no longer love, and a husband for whom I should have no esteem. -Farewell, Emanuel; believe me this contract is not yet signed." - -And after saying these words, Marguerite withdrew with that deep and -settled despair upon her features, which could not for a moment be -mistaken. And Emanuel, convinced that he had not, as he had anticipated, -obtained a victory, but that the struggle was still to be continued, -gazed after her with an anxiety which was not devoid of tenderness. - -After a few moments of silence, in which he sat pensive and motionless, -he turned round and saw Captain Paul, whom he had completely forgotten, -standing at the door of the study, and then considering the vital -importance it was to him to get possession of the papers, which the -captain had offered him, he hurriedly sat down at the table, took a pen -and paper, and turning towards him, said-- - -"And now, sir, we are again alone, and there is nothing to prevent our -at once concluding this affair. In what terms do you wish the promise -to be drawn up? Dictate them, I am ready to write them down." - -"It is now useless," coldly replied the captain. - -"And why so?" - -"I have changed my mind." - -"How is that?" said Emanuel, rising, alarmed at the consequences which -he perceived might arise from words which he was far from expecting. - -"I will give," replied Paul, with the calmness of a fixed determination, -"the hundred thousand livres to the child, and I will find a husband -for your sister." - -"Who are you, then," said Emanuel, advancing a step towards him, "who -are you, sir, who thus disposes of a young girl who is my sister, who -has never seen you, and who does not even know that you exist?" - -"Who am I!" replied Paul, smiling; "upon my honor, I know no more upon -that subject than you do, for my birth is a secret which is only to be -revealed to me when I have attained my twenty-fifth year." - -"And you will attain that age?"---- - -"This evening, sir. I place myself at your disposal from to-morrow -morning, to give you all the information you may require of me," and -saying these words, Paul bowed. - -"I allow you to depart, sir, but you will understand it is upon the -condition that we meet again." - -"I was about to propose that condition, count, and I thank you for -having anticipated me." - -He then bowed to Emanuel a second time, and left the room. At the castle -gate, Paul found his horse and servant, and resumed the route to Port -Louis. When he had got out of sight of the castle, he alighted from his -horse, and directed his steps towards a fisherman's hut, built upon -the beach. At the door of this house, seated upon a bench, and in a -sailor's' dress, was a young man so deeply absorbed in thought, that he -did not observe Paul's approach. The captain placed his hand upon the -young man's shoulder, the other started, looked at him, and became -frightfully pale, although the open and joyful countenance of Paul, -indicated that he was far from being the bearer of bad news. - -"Well!" said Paul to him, "I have seen her." - -"Who?" demanded the young man. - -"Marguerite, by heaven!" - -"And----" - -"She is charming." - -"I did not ask you that." - -"She loves you still." - -"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed the young man, throwing himself into Paul's -arms, and bursting into tears. - - - -CHAPTER VII.--THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. - - O good old man; how well in thee appears - The constant service of the antique world - When service sweat for duty, not for need! - - Thou art not for the fashion of these times - Where none will sweat but for promotion; - And having that, do choice their service up - Even with the having: it is not so with thee. - - Shakespeare. - - -Although our readers must readily comprehend, after that which we have -just related to them, all that had passed in the six months during which -we had lost sight of our heroes, some details are, however, necessary, -in order that they should fully understand the new events about to be -accomplished. - -On the evening after the combat between the _Indienne_ and the Drake, -and which, notwithstanding our ignorance in naval matters, we have -attempted to describe to our readers, Lusignan had related to Paul the -history of his whole life. It was a very simple one, and contained but -few incidents. Love had formed the principal event in it, and after -having been its only joy, it had become its greatest grief. The -adventurous and independent life of Paul, his station, which had placed -him beyond the trammels of society, his caprice which was superior -to all laws, his habit of supreme command on board his own ship, had -inspired him with too just a sense of natural rights to obey the order -he had received with regard to Lusignan. Moreover, although he had -anchored under the French flag, Paul, as we have seen, belonged to -the navy of America, whose cause he had enthusiastically espoused. -He continued, therefore, his cruise along the shores of England; but -finding there was nothing to be done on the sea he landed at Whitehaven, -a small port in Cumberland, at the head of twenty men, among whom was -Lusignan, took the fort, spiked the guns, and put to sea again, after -having burnt the merchant vessels in the roads. Thence he sailed for -the coast of Scotland, with the intention of carrying off the Earl -of Selkirk and taking him as a hostage to the United States; but this -project had miscarried from an unforeseen circumstance, that nobleman -having unexpectedly gone to London. In this enterprise, as in the other, -Lusignan had seconded him with the courage we have seen him exhibit -in the battle between the _Indienne_ and the Drake; so that Paul -congratulated himself more than ever upon the chance which had enabled -him to oppose an injustice. But it was not enough that he had saved -Lusignan from transportation, it was necessary to restore his honor, -and to our young adventurer, in whom our readers will doubtless have -recognised the celebrated privateersman, Paul Jones, it was a more easy -matter than to any other person; for having letters of marque from Louis -XVI., against the English, he had to repair to Versailles to give an -account of his cruize. - -Paul determined upon running into Lorient, and for the second time cast -anchor there, that he might be within a short distance of the Chateau -d'Auray. The first answer which the young men received to their -enquiries regarding that family, was that Marguerite d'Auray was about -to be married to M. do Lectoure. Lusignan thought himself' forgotten, -and in the first paroxysm of his despair, insisted, even at the risk of -falling into the hands of his former persecutors, on once more seeing -Marguerite, if it were only to reproach her for infidelity; but Paul, -more calm and less credulous, made him pledge his word that he would not -land until he had heard from him; then, being assured that the marriage -would not take place in less than fifteen days, he set out for Paris, -and was received by the king, who presented him with a sword, the hilt -of which was of gold, and decorated him with the order of military -merit. Paul had availed himself of the kindness of the king towards him -to relate to him Lusignan's adventures, and had obtained not only his -pardon, but also as a reward for his late services, the appointment -of Governor of Guadaloupe. All these cares had not prevented him -from keeping sight of Emanuel. Being informed of the count's intended -departure, he left Paris, and having written to Lusignan, appointing a -place of meeting, he arrived at Auray an hour after the young count. - -After their joyful meeting, Paul and Lusignan remained together until -nearly twilight. Then Paul, who, as he had told Emanuel, had a personal -revelation to receive, left his friend and again took the road to Auray. -But this time he was on foot, and did not enter the castle, but going -along the park wall, he directed his steps toward an iron gate which -opened into a wood belonging to the domains of Auray. - -About an hour before Paul left the fisherman's hut, where he had found -Lusignan, a person had preceded him on the road toward the cottage at -which he was to ask the revelation of the secret of his birth; that -person was the Marchioness d'Auray, the haughty heiress of the name of -Sable. She was attired in her usual mourning garments with the addition -of a long black veil, which enveloped her from head to foot. Moreover, -the habitation which our young adventurer, with the hesitation of -ignorance, was seeking for, was to her familiar. It was a sort of -keeper's house, situated at a few paces from the entrance to the park, -and inhabited by an old man, in whose behalf the Marchioness d'Auray -had for twenty years fulfilled one of those acts of sedulous benevolence -which had gained for her in that part of Lower Brittany, the reputation -of rigid holiness which she enjoyed. These attentions to age were given, -it is true, with the same gloomy and solemn face which we have observed -in her, and which the tender emotions of pity never softened; but they -were nevertheless afforded, and all knew it, with careful punctuality. - -The face of the Marchioness d'Auray was even more grave than it was wont -to be, while she crossed the park to repair to the dwelling of a man who -was said to be an old servant of the family. The door was standing open -as if to allow the last rays of the setting sun to penetrate into the -house, so sweet and balmy to old people in the month of May. The house -was however empty. The Marchioness d'Auray entered it, looked around -her, and then as if certain that the person she was in search of would -not be long absent, she resolved to await his return. She sat down. She -had remained there about half an hour, motionless and absorbed in her -reflections, when she saw, between her and the declining daylight, a -shadow cast before the door. She slowly raised her eyes and recognised -the person she had been expecting. They both started as though they had -met by chance, and were not in the habit of seeing each other every day. - -"It is you, Achard," said the marchioness, who was the first to speak. "I -have been waiting for you half an hour. Where can you have been?" - -"Had your ladyship walked fifty paces farther, you would have found me -under the large oak, on the edge of the forest." - -"You know I never walk that way," said the marchioness, with a visible -shudder. - -"And you are wrong, madam; there is one in heaven who has a right to our -joint prayers, and who, perhaps, is astonished to hear only those of old -Achard." - -"And how know you that I do not also pray?" said the marchioness, with -a certain degree of feverish agitation. "Do you believe that the dead -require we should be constantly kneeling on their tombs?" - -"No," replied the old man, with a feeling of profound sorrow; "no, I do -not believe that the dead are so exacting, madam; but I believe if any -part of us lives under ground, it would thrill at the noise caused by -the steps of those whom we have loved during our life." - -"But," said the marchioness, in a low and hollow tone, "if that love -were a guilty passion?" - -"However guilty it may have been, madam," replied the old man, also -lowering his voice, "do you not believe that blood and tears have -expatiated it? God was then, believe me, too severe a judge, not to have -now become an indulgent father." - -"Yes, God has perhaps pardoned it," murmured the marchioness, "but did the -world know that which God knows, would it pardon as God has done?" - -"The world!" exclaimed the old man; "the world! Yes, there is the great -word which has again escaped your lips! The world! It is to it, to that -phantom you have sacrificed everything, madam; your feelings as a lover, -your feelings as a wife, your feelings as a mother! your own happiness, -the happiness of others! The world! It is the fear of the world which -has clothed you in perpetual mourning, beneath which you hope to conceal -remorse! And in that you are right, for you have succeeded in deceiving -it, for it has taken your remorse for virtue!" - -The marchioness raised her head with some degree of agitation, and -putting aside her veil that she might look upon the person who addressed -her in such extraordinary language; then, after a momentary silence, not -being able to discover any sinister expression in the calm features of -the old man. - -"You speak to me," she said to him, "with a bitterness which would lead -me to believe you have some personal reason for reproaching me. Have I -failed in any promise I have made? The persons who attend on you by my -orders, are they wanting in that respect which I have desired them to -observe? You know, if this should be the case, you have only to say a -word." - -"Forgive me, madam, it is in sorrow that I speak, not bitterness; it is -the effect of solitude and of age. You must well know what it is to -have sorrows that you cannot speak of--tears which we dare not shed, -and which fall back, drop by drop, upon the heart! No, I have not to -complain of any one, madam, since first, from a feeling for which I am -truly grateful, without seeking to know whence it emanated, you have -been pleased to see personally that my wants were all supplied, and -you have not for a single day forgotten your promise, but like the old -prophet, I have sometimes seen an angel come as your messenger." - -"Yes," replied the marchioness, "I know that Marguerite often -accompanies the servant who is charged to wait upon you; and I have seen -with pleasure the attentions she has paid you, and the friendship she -feels for you." - -"But in my turn, I have not failed either, I trust, in the promises I -made. For twenty years I have lived far from the habitations of men, I -have kept away every living being from this dwelling; so much did I fear -on your account, the delirium of my waking hours, or the indiscretion of -my dreams." - -"Undoubtedly! undoubtedly! and happily the secret has been well -preserved," said the marchioness, placing her hand upon Achard's arm; -"but this is a stronger incentive in my mind not to lose in a single -day the fruit of twenty years, all more gloomy, more isolated, and more -terrible than yours have been." - -"Yes, I understand you perfectly; and you have shuddered more than once -upon suddenly remembering that there is roaming about the world, a man -who may one day call upon me to reveal that secret, and that I have not -the right to conceal it from that man. Ah! you tremble at the bare idea, -do you not? But, tranquilise yourself; that man, when but a boy, fled -from the school at which we had placed him in Scotland, and for -ten years past nothing has been heard of him. In short, destined to -obscurity, he himself rushed forward to meet his fate. He is now lost -amid the millions that crowd this populous world, and not a soul knows -where to find him; this poor unit, without a name, is lost for ever. He -must have lost his father's letter, have mislaid the token by which I -was to recognise him; or, better still, perhaps he exists no longer." - -"It is cruel of you, Achard," replied the marchioness, "to utter such -words to a mother. You cannot appreciate the strange feelings and -singular contradictions contained in the heart of woman. For, in fine, -can I not be tranquil unless my child be dead! Consider, my old friend; -this secret, of which he has been ignorant five and twenty years, has it -become at the age of twenty-five, so necessary to his existence that -he cannot live, unless it be revealed to him? Believe me, Achard, for -himself even it would be better he should still remain ignorant of it, -as he has been to this day. I feel assured that to this day he has been -happy--old man, do not mar this happiness--do not inspire his mind with -thoughts which may induce him to commit an evil action. No--tell him, -in lieu of the dreadful tale you were desired to communicate, that his -mother has gone to rejoin his father in heaven; and, would to God that -it were so! but that when dying (for I must see him whatever you may say -to the contrary, I will even if it be but once, press him to my heart), -when dying, as I said, his mother had bequeathed him to her friend the -Marchioness d'Auray, in whom he will find a second mother." - -"I understand you, madam," said Achard, smiling. "It is not the first -time you have pointed out this path, in which you wish to lead me -astray. Only to-day, you speak more openly, and if you dared to do so, -or if you knew me less, you would offer me some reward to induce me to -disobey the last injunctions of him who sleeps by us." - -The marchioness made a gesture as if about to interrupt him. - -"Listen to me, madam," hastily said the old man, stretching forth his -hand, "and let my words be considered by you as holy and irrevocable. As -faithful as I have been to the promise which I made to the Marchioness -d'Auray, so faithful will I be to that I made to the Count de Morlaix, -on the day when his son, or your son, shall present himself before me -with the token of recognition, and shall demand to know the secret. I -shall reveal it to him, madam. As to the papers which attest it, you are -aware that they are to be delivered to him only after the death of the -Marquis d'Auray. The secret is here," said the old man, placing his hand -upon his heart; "no human power could have extracted it before the time; -no human power, that time having arrived, can prevent me from revealing -it. The papers are there in that closet, the key of which I always have -about me, and it is only by robbery or by assassination that I can be -deprived of them." - -"But," said the marchioness, half rising and supporting herself on -the arm of her chair, "you might die before my husband, old man; for -although he is more dangerously ill than you are, you are older than he -is, and then what would become of those papers?" - -"The priest who shall attend my last moments will receive them under the -seal of confession." - -"Ah! it is that!" cried the marchioness, rising, "and thus this chain of -fears will be prolonged until my death! and the last link of it will be -to all eternity rivetted to my tomb. There is in this world a man, the -only one perhaps, who is as immoveable as a rock; and God has placed him -in my path, not only as a remorse,' but as a vengeance also. My secret -is in your hands, old man,--tis well!--do with it as you will!--you are -the master, and I am your slave--farewell!" - -So saying, the marchioness left the cottage, and returned towards the -chateau. - - - -CHAPTER VIII.--THE SECRET. - - More than ten years have passed since I beheld him, - The noble boy; now time annuls my oath - And cancels all his wrongs. - I took a solemn oath to veil the secret, - Conceal thy rights, while lived her lord, - And thus allow'd thy youth to quit my roof. - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain. - - -"Yes," said the old man, gazing after the marchioness as she withdrew, -"yes, I know you have a heart of adamant, madam, insensible to every -sort of fear, with the exception of that which God has placed within -your breast to supply the place of remorse. But that suffices; and it is -dearly buying that reputation you have obtained for virtue, to pay -the price of such eternal terrors. It is true that the virtue of the -Marchioness d'Auray is so firmly established, that if truth herself were -to rise from the earth or to descend from heaven to arraign her, she -would be treated as a calumniator. But God orders all things according -to His will, and what He does ordain, His wisdom has long before -matured." - -"Rightly reasoned," cried a youthful and sonorous voice, replying to -the religious axiom which the resignation of the old man had led him to -utter. "Upon my word, good father, you speak like Ecclesiastes." Achard -turned round and perceived Paul, who had arrived just as the marchioness -left him, but who was so absorbed by the scene we have just described, -that she had not observed the young captain. The latter, seeing the -old man alone, approached him, and not hearing the last words he had -uttered, had spoken with his usual good humor. Achard, who was surprised -by his unexpected appearance, looked at him as if he wished him to -repeat that which he had said. - -"I say," resumed Paul, "that there is more grandeur in resignation that -humbly bows itself, than in philosophy that doubts. That is a maxim of -our quakers, which, for my eternal welfare, I wish I had less often on -my tongue, and more frequently in my heart." - -"I beg your pardon, sir," said the old man on seeing our adventurer, who -was fixedly gazing at him, while standing with one foot on the threshold -of his door. "May I know who you are?" - -"For the moment," replied Paul, giving, as usual, free course to his -poetical and heedless gaiety, "I am a child of the republic of Plato, -having all human kind for brothers, the world for a country, and -possessing upon this earth only the station I have worked out for -myself." - -"And what are you in search of?" continued the old man, smiling in spite -of himself at the air of jovial good-nature which was spread over the -features of the young man. - -"I am seeking," replied Paul, "at three leagues distance from Lorient, -at five hundred paces from resembles this one, and in which I am to find -an old man, whom it is very likely is yourself." - -"And what is the name of this old man?" - -"Louis Achard." - -"That is my name." - -"Then may the blessing of heaven descend on your white hairs," said -Paul, in a voice which at once changing its tone, assumed that of deep -feeling and respect; "for here is a letter which I believe was written -by my father, in which he says that you are an honest man." - -"Does not that letter enclose something?" cried d'Auray, and advancing a -step nearer to the young captain. - -"It does," replied the latter, opening the letter and taking out of it -one half of a Venetian sequin, which had been broken in two; "it seems -to be part of a gold coin, of which I have one half, and you ought to be -in possession of the other." - -Achard mechanically held out his hand, while gazing with intense -interest at the young man. - -"Yes, yes," said the old man, and eyes gradually became more and more -suffused with tears: "yes, this is the true token, and more than -that, the extraordinary resemblance," and opening his arms, he cried, -"child!--oh! my God! my God!" - -"What is it?" cried Paul, extending his arms to support the old man, who -was quite overcome by his emotions. - -"Oh! can you not comprehend?" replied the latter, "can you not -comprehend that you are the living portrait of your father, and that I -loved your father--loved him so much that I would have shed my blood, -have given my life to serve him, as I would now for you, young man, were -you to demand it." - -"Embrace me, then, my old friend," said Paul, throwing his arms around -the old man, "for the chain of feeling, believe me, is not broken, which -extended from the tomb of the father to the cradle of the son. Whatever -my father may have been, if in order to resemble him it be only -necessary to have a conscience without reproach, undaunted courage, -and a memory which never forgets a benefit conferred, although it may -sometimes forget an injury; if this be so, then am I, as you have said, -my father's living portrait, and more so in soul than in form." - -"Yes, he possessed all these," replied the old man, with solemnity, and -clasping Paul to his breast, looking at him with affectionate though -tearful tenderness--"Yes, he had the same commanding voice, the same -flashing eyes, the same nobleness of heart. But why was it that I have -not seen you sooner, young man? I have, during my life, passed many -gloomy hours, which your presence would have brightened." - -"Why--because this letter told me to seek you out only when I should -have attained the age of twenty-five, and because it is not long since I -attained that age, not more than an hour ago." - -The old man bowed down his head with a pensive air, and remained silent -for some time, seemingly absorbed by recollections of the past. - -"Can it be so?" at length ne said, raising his head, "can it be -twenty-five years ago. Good heaven! it appears to me only yesterday that -you were born in this house, that you first saw the light in that very -room:" and the old man raised his head, and pointed to a door which led -into another room. - -Paul, in his turn, appeared to reflect, and then, looking around him, to -strengthen by the aid of objects which presented themselves to his view, -the recollections which crowded on his memory. - -"In this cottage, in that room," he repeated, "and I lived here till -I was five years old, did I not?" - -"Yes," murmured the old man, as if fearful to disturb the feelings which -were taking possession of the young man's mind. - -"Well," continued Paul, leaning his head on both his hands, as if to -concentrate his thoughts, "allow me for one moment to look back, in my -turn, to the past, for I am recollecting a room which I had thought I -had seen in a dream--it may be that one. Listen to me! Oh! how strange -it is--remembrances now rush upon me." - -"Speak, my child, speak!" said the old man. - -"It it be that room, there ought to be on the right, as you go in, at -the end of the room, a bed with green hangings." - -"Yes." - -"A crucifix at the head of the bed." - -"Yes." - -"A closet opposite, in which were books, among the rest a large Bible, -with numerous engravings." - -"There it is," said the old man, pointing to the sacred book which was -lying open on a desk for prayer. - -"Oh! it is that--it is that," cried Paul, pressing his lips against the -leaves. - -"Oh! good and pious heart," cried the old man, "I thank thee, oh! my -God--I thank thee." - -"Then," said Paul, rising, "in that room there is a window, from which -you can discern the sea, and on the sea, three islands?" - -"Yes, Houat, Hoedic, and Belle-Ileen-mer. - -"Then, it is really so," said Paul, rushing towards the room, and then -perceiving that the old man was about to follow him, he said: "No, no! I -must be alone--let me enter it alone--I feel that I must be alone," and he -went into the room, closing the door after him. - -He then paused a moment, impressed with that holy respect which -accompanies the remembrance of our infancy. The room was as he had -described it, for the religious devotedness of the old servant had -preserved it from any change. Paul, feeling doubtless that the eye of -a stranger would have interrupted the expression of the feelings he -experienced, and now certain of being alone, abandoned himself to them -He slowly advanced, and with clasped hands, towards the ivory crucifix; -and falling on his knees, which formerly he had the habit of doing, -morning and evening, he endeavoured to remember one of those simple -prayers, in which a child, still on the threshold of this life, prays -to God for those who have opened its gates to him. "What events had -succeeded each other in the lapse of time which had passed between these -genuflexions! Paul remained for a considerable time absorbed in thought, -and then slowly arose, and went to the window. The night was beautiful -and calm, the moon was shining in the heavens, and tipped the ocean -waves with silver. The three islands appeared on the horizon, like blue -vapor floating on the ocean. He remembered how often in his infancy he -had leaned against that window, gazing upon that same scene, following -with his eyes some bark, with its snowy sails, which glided silently -over the sea, like the wing of a night bird. Then his heart swelled with -sweet and tender recollection; his head fell upon his chest, and silent -tears ran down his cheeks. At that moment he felt that some one pressed -his hands--it was the old man--he wished to conceal his emotions; but -instantly repenting this vain feeling, he turned toward Achard, and -frankly let him see his face, down which the tears were streaming. - -"You weep, my child," said the old man. - -"Yes, I weep," replied Paul; "and why should I conceal it? Yea, look at -me. And yet I have, during my life, witnessed dreadful scenes. I have -seen the tempest bear my vessel to the summit of a mountain wave, and -then sink her into an abyss, from which I thought she would never rise -again; and I felt that she weighed no more upon the wings of the storm -than does a dried leaf on the evening breeze. I have seen men fall -around me like the ripe ears of corn before the sickle of the reaper. -I have heard the cries of distress, and the dying groans of those whose -meal I had shared but the day before. In order to receive their last -sigh, I have walked amid a shower of bullets, and grape-shot, upon a -plank slippery with blood. And yet, amid all this, my soul was calm--my -eyes remained unmoistened. But this room, see you; this room, of which -I had retained so holy a remembrance; this room, in which I had received -the first caresses of a father whom I shall never see again, and the -last kisses of a mother who perhaps desires no more to see me; this room -is sacred as a cradle and as a tomb. I cannot thus revisit it without -giving vent to my emotions; I must weep, or I shall suffocate." The old -man clasped him in his arms. Paul leaned his head upon his shoulder, -and during some time nothing was heard but his sobs. At length the old -servant rejoined: - -"Yes, you are right; this room is at once a cradle and a tomb; it was -there that you were born;" he pointed to one corner with his hand; -"and it was there that you received the last blessing of your father," -continued he, pointing to the opposite side of the room. - -"He is then dead?" said Paul. - -"He is dead." - -"You must tell me how he died." - -"I will tell you all." - -"Defer it for a moment," added Paul, as he reached a chair and seated -himself, "for I am now too weak to listen to you. Let me recover -myself." He placed his elbow on the window-sill, leaned his head upon -his hand, and once more cast his eyes upon the sea. - -"What a magnificent spectacle is the ocean when the moon shines upon -it as brightly as it does now," continued he, with that accent of soft -melancholy which was habitual to him. "It is as calm as God himself, and -vast as eternity. I do not believe that a man accustomed to study such a -scene can be afraid of death. My father met death bravely, did he not?" - -"Assuredly!" proudly replied Achard. - -"It could not be otherwise," continued Paul, "for I remember my father, -although I was only four years old when I last saw him." - -"He was a handsome young man, as you yourself are," said Achard, looking -sorrowfully at Paul, "and just as old as you are." - -"What was his name?" - -"The Count de Moraix." - -"Then I also am of an old and noble family. I also have arms and an -escutcheon as well as those young and insolent nobles who ask me for my -parchments when I show them my wounds?" - -"Wait, young man, wait; do not allow pride to carry you thus away, for -I have not yet told you the name of her who gave you being, and you are -still ignorant of the dreadful secret of your birth." - -"Well: be it so. I shall not with the less respect and veneration hear -the name of my mother. What was my mother's name?" - -"The Marchioness d'Auray," slowly replied the old man, as if regretting -that he was compelled to mention her name. - -"What is it that you tell me!" cried Paul, starting from his chair, and -seizing the hands of the old man. - -"The truth!" replied Achard, sorrowfully. - -"Then Emanuel is my brother--Marguerite is my sister." - -"Do you then already know them?" exclaimed the old servant, much -astounded. - -"Oh! you were right, old man," said Paul, throwing himself into his -chair. "God orders all things according to His will, and what He does -ordain, His wisdom has long before matured." - -They both remained silent for a time, when at length Paul raised his -head, and resolutely fixing his eyes on the old man's face, said: - -"Now, I am ready to hear all you have to communicate--you may go on." - - - -CHAPTER IX.--FATAL LOVE. - - I shall a tale unfold - Will harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; - Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres; - Thy knotted and combined locks to part. - And each particular hair to stand on end, - Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. - - Shakespeare. - - -The old man seemed to be summoning up his recollections for a time, and -then began: - -"They were affianced to each other. I know not what mortal hatred it -was that arose between the families and separated them. The Count de -Morlaix, broken hearted, could not remain in France. He sailed for Saint -Domingo, where his father possessed a large estate; I accompanied him, -for the Count de Morlaix reposed much confidence in me. I was the son of -her who had nursed him; I had received the same education as himself; he -used to call me his brother, and I alone remembered the distance which -nature had placed between us. The Marquis de Morlaix confided to me the -charge of watching over his son, for I loved him with all the love of -a father. We remained two years under a tropical sun; during that two -years, your father, lost amid the solitude of that magnificent island, -a traveller without an object and without an aim, an ardent and -indefatigable sportsman, endeavouring to cure the griefs of the mind, -by the fatigues of the body; but so far from succeeding, one would have -thought that his heart became still more inflamed under that ardent sun. -At length, after two years of trial and incessant struggles, his love -conquered. He must either see her again or die. I yielded and we set -sail for France. Never was a voyage more beautiful, or more prosperous. -The sea and sky seemed to smile upon us; so favourable were they that -it would have induced one to believe in lucky omens. Six weeks after our -departure from Port au Prince, we landed at Havre. Mademoiselle de Sabl -was married. The Marquis d'Auray was at Versailles, fulfilling at the -court of Louis XV. the duties of his charge, and his wife, who was -too much indisposed to follow him, was at the old chateau d'Auray, the -turrets of which you see from this place." - -"Yes, yes," said Paul, "I know it; pray go on." - -"As to myself," rejoined the old map, "during our voyage, one of my -uncles, an old servant of the house of Auray, had died, and left me -this small house, with a small quantity of land surrounding it. I took -possession of it. Your father had left me at Vannes, telling me he was -going to Paris, and for the whole of the first year that I inherited -this house I did not see him." - -"One night,--it is exactly twenty-five years ago,--some one knocked at -my door; I went to open it and found your father there, carrying in his -arms a woman whose face was veiled. He brought her into this room, and -laid her on that bed. And then returning to me in the adjoining room, -where I was waiting mute and motionless with astonishment, he placed -his hand upon my shoulder, and looking at me in a supplicating manner, -although he had the right to command me, said, 'Louis, you can do more -than save my life and honor--you can save the life and honor of her I -love--get on horseback, gallop to the next town, and return here in an -hour with a doctor.' He spoke to me in that short and hasty tone, which -indicated that there was not a moment to be lost. I immediately -obeyed. The day was beginning to break when we returned. The doctor was -introduced by the Count de Morlaix into this room, the door of which was -immediately closed: he remained there during the whole day; towards -five in the afternoon, the doctor left the house, and at nightfall your -father also left the house carrying in his arms the mysterious veiled -lady whom he had brought the previous night. When they had gone, I came -into this room and found you here--you had just been born." - -"And how did you learn that this woman was the Marchioness d'Auray?" - -"Oh!" exclaimed the old man, in a way which was as terrible as it was -unexpected; "I had offered the Count de Morlaix to keep you here, and he -accepted my proposal: from time to time he would come to spend an hour -with you." - -"Alone?" demanded Paul, with much anxiety. - -"Yes, always; but as he had given me permission to walk with you in the -park, it would sometimes happen that at the corner of one of the avenues -I would meet the marchioness, whom chance appeared to have conducted in -that direction. She would make you a sign to come to her, and she would -kiss you as people kiss a strange child, because he is handsome. Four -years passed on in this way, and then one night some one again knocked -at this door, and it was again your father. He was more calm, but had, -perhaps, a more gloomy look than on the first occasion. 'Louis,' said -he, 'to-morrow, at the break of day, I have to meet the Marquis d'Auray. -It is a duel in which one of us must fall, and you are to be the only -witness of it. The terms are agreed upon. You must, therefore, give me -shelter for this night, and let me have materials for writing.' He sat -down at this table, on the very chair you are now seated." - -Paul sprang up, but supported himself on the back of the chair, without -again sitting down upon it. "He sat up all night. At day-break he came -into my room and found me up--I had not gone to bed. As to you poor -child, unconscious of the passions and miseries of this life, you were -quietly sleeping." - -"And then,--pray go on." - -"Your father bent slowly over you, supporting himself by the wall, and -looking sorrowfully upon you: 'Louis,' said he to me, in a hollow voice, -'should I be killed, and which may happen, wo to this child! You will -deliver him with this letter to Field, my valet de chambre, whom I have -charged to conduct him to Selkirk, in Scotland, there to leave him in -sure hands. When he is twenty-five years old, he will bring you the -other half of this gold coin, and will ask you to reveal to him the -secret of his birth. You will communicate it; for then, perhaps, his -mother will be alone and isolated. As to these papers which prove his -birth, you will not deliver them to him, until after the death of the -Marquis d'Auray. Now I have said all that is necessary, let us go, for -it is the appointed hour. He then leaned over your bed, bent down toward -you, and although he was a man of fortitude, as I have told you, I saw a -tear fall upon your cheek." - -"Proceed," said Paul, in a voice choked by emotion. - -"The rendezvous was in one of the avenues of the park, about a hundred -paces from this house. When we reached the place, we found the marquis -there, he had been waiting for us some minutes. Near him upon a bank -were pistols ready loaded. The adversaries bowed to each other without -exchanging a word. The marquis pointed to the weapons--they each took -one, and then, according to the terms which had been agreed upon, as -your father had told me, they placed themselves, mute and gloomily, at -the distance of thirty paces, and then began to walk towards each other. -Oh! it was a moment ef agony for me, I can assure you," rejoined the -old man, almost as much moved as if the scene were then actually passing -before him, "when I saw the distance gradually diminishing between these -two men. When they were only about ten paces, the marquis stopped and -fired. I looked at your father; not a muscle of his face was moved, so -that I thought him safe and unhurt. He continued to walk on till he came -close to the marquis, and then placing the muzzle of the pistol to his -heart--" - -"He did not kill him, I trust," cried Paul seizing the old man's arm. - -"He said to him, Your life is in my hands, sir, and I might take it, but -I wish you to live, that you may pardon me, as I do you. And uttering -these words, he fell dead at the feet of the marquis, whose ball had -passed through his chest." - -"Oh! my father! my father!" cried Paul, wringing his hands. "And the man -who killed my father--he still lives, does he not? He is still young, -and has strength enough to wield a sword or raise a pistol? We will go -to him--to-day--instantly! You will tell him, that it is his son! -that he must fight with him." - -"God has avenged your father," replied Achard--"that man is mad." - -"That is true--I had forgotten that," murmured Paul. - -"And in his madness that bloody scene is ever before his eyes, and he -repeats ten times a day the dying words your father addressed to him." - -"And that must be the reason why the marchioness will not leave him for -a single moment." - -"And that is also the reason, under the pretext that he will not see his -children, that she keeps Emanuel and Marguerite from him." - -"My poor sister," said Paul, with an accent of undefinable tenderness; -"and now she wishes to sacrifice her by forcing her to marry that wretch -Lectoure." - -"Yes, but that wretch Lectoure will take Marguerite with him to Paris, -and give a regiment of dragoons to her brother, so that the marchioness -will no longer have cause to dread the presence of her children. Her -secret, therefore, remains henceforward in the breasts of two old men, -who to-morrow, this night even, may die. The grave is silent." - -"But, I--I!"---- - -"You! Does she know that you still exist! Has anything been heard of you -since you escaped from Selkirk? Could not some accident have prevented -you from coming to the appointment, which fortunately you have done -safely? It is certain that she has not forgotten you, but she hopes"---- - -"Oh! can you believe that my mother"---- - -"I beg your pardon, that is true. I do not believe it!" cried Achard, "I -was wrong; forget what I have said." - -"Yes, yes, let us speak of you, my friend; let us speak of my father." - -"Is it necessary that I should tell you that his last wishes were -fulfilled. Field came to fetch you during the day, and took you away -with him. Twenty-one years have passed since then, and since then not -a single day has passed without my putting up a prayer that I might see -you at the appointed time. My prayers have been granted," continued the -old man; "and thanks be to God, you are here. Your father lives again in -you--I once more see him--I am speaking to him. I weep no longer, I am -now consoled." - -"And he died thus, instantly, without a struggle, without a sigh?" - -"Yes--I brought him here. I placed him on the bed in which you were -born--I closed the door that no one might enter the house, and I went -alone and dug his grave. I passed the whole day in this painful duty; -for, according to the request of your father, to no one was to be -confided this dreadful secret. In the evening I returned for the body. -The heart of man is singularly constituted, and hope which God has -planted in it can with difficulty be eradicated. I had seen him fall--I -had felt his hands grow cold--I had kissed his ice-like face--I had -left him, to hollow out his grave, and that grave being made, that duty -being accomplished, I returned with a beating heart, for it appeared to -me, although a miracle would be required for such a change, that during -my absence life had returned to him, and that he would rise from his bed -and speak to me. I entered the house--alas! alas! the days of miracles -had passed away. Lazarus remained lying on his couch--dead! dead! dead!" -and the old man remained for some time overwhelmed with grief, silent -and voiceless, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks. - -"Yes, yes," cried Paul, also bursting into tears; "yes, and you then -fulfilled your holy mission. Good old man, let me kiss those hands which -deposited my father in his last home. And you have remained faithful -to his tomb as you had been to him during life. Poor guardian of the -sepulchre; you have remained near him that your tears might water the -grass which grew about the unknown grave. Oh! how little are those who -think themselves great because their name resounds amid the tempest, -and the cry of war, louder than the storm or the din of battle, in -comparison with you, old man, whose devotedness has been mute and -noiseless. Oh! give me your blessings lay those hallowed hands upon my -head, since my father is not here to bless me," continued Paul, throwing -himself on his knees before him. - -"Rise to my arms--let me clasp you to my heart, my child, for you -exaggerate these actions, in themselves so simple and so natural. And -then, believe me, that which you term my piety has not been a useless -lesson to me. I have seen how little space a man occupies beneath the -ground, and how soon he is lost amid the world, should God turn his -face from him. Your father was young, full of courage, with a brilliant -career opening before him. Your father was the last descendant of an -ancient line; he bore a noble name. His path seemed marked with honors -and distinction; he had a family and powerful friends. Well, he suddenly -disappeared, as if the earth had opened beneath his feet. I know not if -some tearful eyes sought for him till they lost all trace of him; but -this I know, that for one-and-twenty years no one has sought out his -tomb--no one knows that he lies beneath that spot, where the grass -is greener and grows more luxuriantly than elsewhere--and yet, vain, -glorious, and miserable as he is, man considers himself of some value." - -"Oh! and my mother, has she not visited his grave?" - -The old man did not answer. - -"Well, then! there will be two of us who henceforward will know the -spot, where he reposes. Come, and show it to me; for I will return -to it, I promise solemnly, every time my ship returns to the coast of -France." - -Saying this, he drew Achard into the outer room, but as they opened the -door they heard a slight noise in the park. It was a servant from the -castle, who had accompanied Marguerite. Paul hurriedly returned into the -bedroom. - -"It is my sister," said he to Achard; "leave me alone with her a -moment. It is necessary that I should speak to her. I have something -to communicate which will make her pass a happy night. We must have -compassion for those who watch and weep." - -"Reflect," said Achard, "that the secret I have revealed to you is your -mother's." - -"Fear not--I will speak to her but of that which concerns herself." - -At that moment Marguerite entered the room. - - - -CHAPTER X.--CONFIDENCE. - - This ring I gave him when he parted from me - To bind him to remember my good will; - The more shame for him that he sends it to me. - - Shakespeare. - - -Marguerite had come, as she frequently did, to bring some provisions for -the old man, and it was not without astonishment that she perceived in -the outer room, where she usually found Achard, a young and handsome -man, who looked at her with gladdened eyes, and with a kindly smile. -She made a sign to the servant to put down the basket in a corner of the -room; he obeyed, and then went out to wait for his mistress in the park. -When he had withdrawn, she advanced towards Paul, saying,-- - -"I beg your pardon, sir, but I expected to find my old friend, Achard, -here, and I came, to bring him something from my mother"-- - -Paul pointed to the inner room, to let her know that the person she was -seeking was within, for he could not reply to her; he felt that the tone -of his voice would betray the emotions he experienced. The young girl -thanked him, with a bow, and went into the room to find Achard. - -Paul followed her with his eyes--his hand pressed upon his heart. That -virgin soul into which love had never penetrated, now expanded with -fraternal tenderness. Isolated as he had always been, having no friends -but the rude children of the ocean, all that was soft or tender in his -heart, he had turned towards God, and although in the eyes of rigid -Christians, his religion might not have appeared as strictly orthodox, -it is no less true, that the poetry which overflowed in every word he -uttered was nothing more than one vast and eternal prayer. It was not, -therefore, astonishing, that this first feeling which penetrated his -heart, although purely fraternal, was as extravagant and transporting as -the emotions of love. - -"Oh!" murmured he, "poor isolated being that I am! How shall I be -able to restrain my feelings when she returns, and prevent myself from -clasping her to my heart and saying to her: Marguerite! my sister, no -woman has yet felt love for me; love me then with sisterly affection. -Oh! mother! mother! by depriving me of your caresses, you have also -deprived me of those of this dear angel. May God restore to you in -eternity that happiness which you have driven from yourself and others." - -"Farewell!" said Marguerite to the old man, opening the door, "farewell! -I wished this evening to come myself, for I know not when I may see you -again." - -And she went toward the outer door, pensive, and with her eyes cast -down, without seeing Paul, without remembering that a stranger was in -that room. Paul remained gazing at her with outstretched arms as if -to prevent her leaving the house, with palpitating heart and moistened -eyes. At length, when he saw her placing her hand upon the door-latch, -he cried aloud-- - -"Marguerite!" - -She turned round amazed, but not being able to comprehend this strange -familiarity, in one who was totally unknown to her, she half-opened the -door. - -"Marguerite!" reiterated Paul, advancing a step towards his sister, -"Marguerite, do you not hear me call you?" - -"It is true that my name is Marguerite, sir," she replied, with dignity; -"but I could not imagine that word was addressed to me by a person whom -I have the honor of knowing." - -"But I know you!" exclaimed Paul, going nearer to her, and then closing -the door he brought her back into the room. "I know that you are -unhappy, that you have not one friendly heart into which you can pour -your sorrows, not one arm from which you can ask support." - -"You forget the one which is on high," replied Marguerite, raising her -eyes and hand toward heaven. - -"No, no, Marguerite, I do not forget, for it is He who sends me to offer -you that which you most need; to tell you when all lips and all hearts -are closed toward you, 'I am your friend, devotedly, eternally.'" - -"Oh! sir!" replied Marguerite, "these are sacred and solemn words which -you have uttered; words, unfortunately, to which it would be difficult -for me to give credence without proofs." - -"And should I give you one?" said Paul. - -"Impossible!" murmured Marguerite. - -"Irrefragable!" continued Paul. - -"Oh! then!" exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which -doubt began to give place to hope-- - -"Well! and then"-- - -"Oh! then--but no, no!" - -"Do you know this ring?" said Paul, showing her the one with the key -that opened the bracelet. - -"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed Marguerite, "have mercy upon me! he is -dead!" - -"He lives." - -"Then he no longer loves me." - -"He loves you!" - -"If he be living--if he still love me--oh! I shall go mad--what was it I -was saying? If he be living--if he still love me, how comes it that this -ring is in your possession?" - -"He confided it to me as a token of recognition." - -"And have I confided this bracelet to any one?" cried Marguerite, -pushing back the sleeve of her gown--"Look!" - -"Yes, but you, Marguerite, you are not proscribed--dishonored, in the -eyes of the whole world--thrown amongst a condemned race!" - -"Of what importance is that. Is he not innocent?" - -"And then, he thought," continued Paul, wishing to discover the extent -of the devotedness and love of his sister, "he thought that delicacy -required, banished as he is for ever from society, that he should offer -you, if not restore to you, the liberty of disposing of your hand." - -"When a woman has done for a man that which I have done for him," -replied Marguerite, "her only excuse is to love him eternally, and it is -that I mean to do." - -"Oh! you are an angel!" exclaimed Paul. - -"Tell me!" rejoined Marguerite, seizing the young man's hands, and -looking at him with a supplicating air-- - -"What?" - -"Have you seen him, then?" - -"I am his friend, his brother." - -"Speak to me of him, then?" she exclaimed, giving herself up entirely to -the recollection of her lover, and forgetting that it was the first -time she had seen the person to whom she was addressing questions of so -delicate a nature. "What is he doing? what hope has he? Poor, unhappy -man!" - -"He loves you--and he hopes again to see you." - -"Then, then," stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,--"he -has told you----?" - -"All!" - -"Oh!" she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a -sudden tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual -paleness. - -Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming-- - -"You are a miracle of devotedness!" - -"You do not then despise me, sir?" said Marguerite, Venturing to raise -her eyes. - -"Marguerite!" cried Paul, "had I a sister I would pray to heaven that -she might resemble you." - -"Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister," she replied, -leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears. - -"Perhaps," said Paul, smiling. - -"You know not, then----?" - -"Proceed." - -"That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning." - -"I have been informed of that." - -"And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed." - -"I know that, too." - -"Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can -I apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? -My brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my -feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman -whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will -inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe -that others can forget it, and when she has once said, 'It is my will,' -all that remains to do is to bow down one's head, to weep, and to obey. -My father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from -which he has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My -father! for any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove -a resource: but you know not that he is insane--that he has lost his -reason, and with it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, -it is ten years since I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not -pressed his trembling hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows -not that he has still a daughter! he knows not even whether he has a -heart, and will not be able even to recognize me. And were he but to -know me, and took compassion on me, my mother would place a pen in -his hand and would say, 'Sign that, it is my will!' and he would sign -it--the poor feeble old man! and his daughter would be condemned." - -"Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be -pacified, that contract never will be signed." - -"And who can prevent it?" - -"I will!" - -"You?" - -"Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council." - -"Who will present you there?" - -"I have the means." - -"My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while -striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?" - -"Your brother's person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite. -Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me." - -"Oh! I believe you, sir, and I implicitly confide in you," said -Marguerite, as if overwhelmed by the contending feelings of confidence -and mistrust which she had till then labored under. "For what advantage -could you derive from endeavoring to deceive me? What interest could you -have to betray me?" - -"None, undoubtedly; but let us talk of other matters. What line of -conduct do you intend to pursue with regard to the Baron de Lectoure?" - -"I will tell him all!" - -"Oh!" cried Paul, bowing profoundly, "allow me to adore you." - -"Sir!" murmured Marguerite, "sir!" - -"As a sister! as a sister!" - -"Yes, you are indeed kind and good," cried Marguerite, "and I believe it -is God who sent you to my aid." - -"Believe it," replied Paul. "Then--to-morrow evening." - -"Do not be astonished, nor alarmed at anything that may occur, only -contrive to let me know by letter, by a word, a sign, the result of your -interview with Lectoure!" - -"I will endeavor to do so." - -"It is now late, and your servant may be surprised at the length of this -interview. Return to the castle, and say not a word of me to any one. -Farewell!" - -"Farewell," reiterated Marguerite; "you to whom I know not what name to -give." - -"Call me your brother." - -"Farewell, then, brother." - -"Oh, my sister! my sister!" cried Paul, clasping her convulsively in his -arms, "your lips are the first from which I have heard so sweet a word. -God will reward you for it." - -The young girl drew back amazed; and then returning to Paul, she held -out her hand to him. Paul again pressed it, and Marguerite left the -cottage. - -The young man then went to the door of the inner room, and opened it. - -"And now, good old man," said he, "conduct me to my father's grave." - - - -CHAPTER XI.--THE COURTIER. - - Hamlet.--Dost thou know this water-fly? - Horatio.--No, my good lord. - Hamlet.--Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him. - SHAKESPEARE. - - Here on my knees by heaven's blest nower I swear, - If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you; - But rather wander through the world a beggar, - And live on sordid scraps at poor men's doors. - For, though to fortune lost, I'll still inherit - My mother's virtues and my father's honor.--Otway. - - -The day following that on which Paul had been made acquainted with the -secret of his birth, the inhabitants of the castle of Auray awoke more -than ever absorbed in the fears and hopes which their several interests -had created, for that day must necessarily prove a decisive one to -the whole of them. The marchioness, whom our readers have ere this -discovered, was neither perverse or wicked, but a haughty and inflexible -woman, saw in it the termination of those heart-rending apprehensions, -which for so many years, had been her daily companions; for it was -above all, in the eyes of her children, that she wished to preserve that -unsullied reputation, the usurpation of which had been purchased at -such cost. To her, Lectoure was not only a fitting son-in-law, being -the bearer of a name as noble as her own, but more than this, a man, or -rather a good genius, who at the same moment would bear away not only -her daughter, whom he would take with him as his wife, but her son also, -to whom the minister, thanks to this alliance, had promised to give a -regiment. Both her children gone, her first-born might come, and the -secret revealed to him, would find no echo. Moreover, there were -a thousand methods by which to close his lips. The fortune of the -marchioness was immense, and gold was one of those resources, which, -in such a case, she deemed infallible. The more terrible her fears, the -more ardently did she desire this union; so that she not only encouraged -the anxiety of Lectoure, but she also excited that of Emanuel. As to the -latter, tired of living unknown at Paris, or immured in Brittany, lost -in the crowd of brilliant young men who formed the household of the -King, or shut up in the antique castle of his ancestors, having their -portraits as his sole companions, he knocked with impatient eagerness at -the golden door which his intended brother-in-law was to open for him, -at Versailles. The grief and tears of his sister had, certainly, for -a time afflicted him; for he was ambitious, more from a dread of the -_ennui_, which would consume him if compelled to live on his estate, and -from the desire of parading at the head of his regiment, captivating the -hearts of all the ladies by the richness and good taste of his uniform, -than from either pride or hardness of heart. Being himself incapable of -forming any serious attachment, and despite the fatal consequences of -his sister's love, he considered that love, merely as a childish fancy, -which the tumult and pleasure of the world would soon efface from her -memory, and he really believed that before a year had elapsed, she would -be the first to thank him for having thus done violence to her feelings. - -As to Marguerite, poor victim, so irrevocably condemned to be immolated -to the fear of the one, and to the ambition of the other, the scene of -the preceding day had made a profound impression on her mind. She could -not at all account to herself for the extraordinary feelings which the -young man who had transmitted to her the words of Lusignan, had awakened -in her heart; who had tranquillized her as to the fate of the unhappy -exile, and had concluded by pressing her to his heart, and calling her -his sister. A vague and instinctive hope whispered to her heart, that -this man, as he had told her, had received from heaven the mission to -protect her. But as she was ignorant of the tie which bound him to -her, of the secret which made him master of his mother's will, of the -influence he might exercise over her future life, she did not dare -allow herself to dream of happiness, habituated as she had been for six -months, to consider death as the only term to her misfortunes. - -The marquis, alone, amid the various emotions which agitated all around -him, had remained coldly and impassibly indifferent; for to him the -world had ceased to move since the dreadful day on which reason had -abandoned him; continually absorbed by one fixed idea, that of his -mortal combat, without seconds. The only words he ever uttered, were -those pronounced by the Count de Morlaix, when he forgave him his death. -He was an old man, weak as an infant, and whom his wife could overawe -by a gesture, and who received from her cold and continuous will, -every impulsion, which, for twenty years, the vegetating instinct had -received, and which, on him, had usurped the place of reason and free -will. On this day, however, a great change had taken place in his -monotonous mode of life. A valet de chambre had entered his apartment, -and had succeeded to the marchioness in the cares of his toilette; -he had dressed him in his uniform of steward of the household, had -decorated his breast with the several orders that had been conferred -upon him; and then the marchioness, placing a pen in his hand, had -ordered him to try to sign his name, and he had obeyed, passively and -negligently, without imagining that he was studying the part of an -executioner. - -About three in the afternoon, a postchaise, the sound of whose wheels -had very differently impressed the hearts of the three persons who were -expecting it, entered the court-yard of the castle. Emanuel had eagerly -run down to the vestibule to receive his future brother-in-law, for it -was he who had arrived. Lectoure sprang lightly from his carriage. He -had halted for some time at the last post-house, to attire himself in a -presentable costume, so that he arrived in an elegant court dress of the -latest fashion. Emanuel smiled at this evidence of his anxiety, for it -was clearly to be perceived, that Lectoure was determined not to lose -the advantage of a first favorable impression, by presenting himself in -a dusty travelling dress. His intercourse with the fair sex had taught -him, that they almost invariably judge from the first glance, and the -effect which it produces upon their minds or hearts, let it be favorable -or unfavorable, is with difficulty removed. Moreover, it is but -rendering justice to the baron to acknowledge that his person was -graceful and elegant, and might have been dangerous to any woman whose -heart was not already occupied by another. - -"Permit me, my dear baron," said Emanuel, advancing toward him, "in the -momentary absence of the ladies, to do the honors of the mansion of -my ancestors. See," continued he, when they had reached the top of the -stone steps leading into the hall, and pointing to the turrets and -the bastions, "these date from the time of Philip Augustus, as to -architecture, and from Henry IV., in point of ornament." - -"Upon my honor," replied the baron, in the affected tone which the young -men of that day had adopted, "it is a most charming fortress, and throws -around it, to a distance of at least three leagues, a baronial odour, -which would perfume even an army contractor. If ever," continued he, as -they passed through the hall and entered a gallery ornamented on each -side with long lines of family portraits, "I should take a fancy to -enter into a rebellion against his most Christian Majesty, I shall -entreat you to lend me this jewel of a place; and," added he, casting -his eyes on the long rows of ancestors which offered themselves to his -view, "the garrison with it." - -"Thirty-three quarters--I will not say in flesh and blood," replied -Emanuel, "for they are long since turned to dust--but in painting, -as you see. They begin with a certain Chevalier Hugues d'Auray, who -accompanied King Louis VII. to the crusades; that one, it is pretended, -is my aunt Deborah, whom you see decked out as Judith; and all this -eventually ends in the male line, in the last member of this illustrious -family, your very humble and very obedient servant, Emanuel d'Auray." - -"It is perfectly respectable, and nothing can be more authentic." - -"Yes; but as I do not feel that I have, as yet, become sufficiently a -patriarch," rejoined Emanuel, passing before the baron to show him the -way to the apartment which had been prepared for him, "to spend my days -in such formidable society, I hope, baron, that you have thought of the -means by which I can withdraw from it?" - -"Undoubtedly, my dear count," said Lectoure, following him. "I wished -even to have been myself the bearer of your commission, as my wedding -gift to you. I knew of a vacancy in the queen's dragoon's, and called -yesterday on M. de Maurepas to solicit it for you, when I heard that it -had been granted, at the request of I know not what mysterious admiral, -a sort of corsair, pirate, or fantastic being, whom the queen has made -the fashion by giving him her hand to kiss, and whom the king has taken -a great affection to because he beat the English, I know not where--so -that his majesty has conferred upon him the order of military merit, and -presented him a sword with a gold hilt, just as he would have done to -one of the nobility. In short, the game is lost on that side, but do not -be alarmed, we will turn round to another." - -"Very well," replied Emanuel, "I care not what regiment it may be in; -what I desire is, that it should be a rank suitable to my name, and a -position which would be becoming to our wealth." - -"Precisely--you shall have them." - -"But how," said Emanuel, wishing to change the subject of conversation, -"how did you manage to get rid of the thousand engagements you must have -had on your hands." - -"Why," said the baron, with that perfectly free and easy air, which -belonged only to that distinguished class, and stretching himself upon -a couch, for they had at length reached the apartment destined for him, -"why, by frankly stating the fact to them. I announced at the queen's -card table, I was going to be married." - -"Oh! good heaven! Why, this was perfect heroism! Above all, if you -acknowledged you were about to seek a wife in the depths of Lower -Brittany." - -"I did acknowledge it." - -"And then," said Emanuel, smiling, "compassion stifled every angry -feeling." - -"Gad! you will readily comprehend, my dear count," said Lectoure, -putting one knee over the other and, balancing his leg with a motion as -regular as that of a pendulum, "our women of the court believe that the -sun rises at Paris, and sets at Versailles--all the rest of France, is, -in their idea, a Lapland, Greenland, Nova Zembla! So that they expect, -as you have hinted, my dear count, to see me bring back with me from my -voyage to the pole some large hands, and formidable feet! Fortunately, -they are mistaken," he added, with an accent half timorous, half -interrogatory; "is it not so, Emanuel? for you told me that your -sister"---- - -"You will see her," replied Emanuel. - -"It will be a dreadful disappointment to that poor Madame de Chaulne--it -cannot be helped--and she must console herself. What is it?" - -This question was induced by the entrance of Emanuel's valet-de-chambre; -who had half opened the door, and remained upon the threshold, waiting, -as was then the custom of all servants in great houses, till his master -should address him. - -"What is it? repeated Emanuel. - -"Mademoiselle Marguerite d' Auray requests that Monsieur, the Baron de -Lectoure, will honor her with a private interview." - -"Me!" said Lectoure, rising from the sofa, "certainly, with the greatest -pleasure." - -"But no! it is a mistake!" exclaimed Emanuel; "you must be mistaken, -Celestin." - -"I have the honor to assure your lordship," replied the valet de -chambre, "that I have correctly and faithfully executed the order which -was given to me." - -"Impossible!" said Emanuel, uneasy to the highest degree, at the step -his sister had ventured to take: "Baron, if you will be advised by me, -you will send the little simpleton about her business." - -"By no means! by no means," replied Lectoure. "What does this bluebeard -of a brother mean? Celestin! Did you not call this lad, Celestin?" - -Emanuel impatiently bowed his head in the affirmative. "Well then, -Celestin, tell my lovely betrothed that I throw myself at her knees, at -her feet, and that I await her orders either to go to her or to receive -her here;--and there, take this for the charges of your embassy." - -He threw him his purse. - -"And you, count," rejoined Lectoure, "I trust that you have confidence -enough in me, to permit this _ tte--tte?_" - -"But it is so perfectly absurd!" - -"Not at all," replied Lectoure; "on the contrary, it is perfectly -befitting. I am not a crowned head, that I should marry a woman upon her -portrait, and by proxy. I wish to see her in person. Come, Emanuel," he -continued, pushing his friend toward a side door, that he might not -meet his sister--"Come, now, tell me frankly--in confidence, between -ourselves--is there any--deformity?" - -"Why, no, by heaven!" replied the young count, "no--on the contrary, she -is as lovely as an angel." - -"Well, then!" said the baron, "what does all this opposition mean? Come, -now, begone, or must I call my guards?" - -"No; but on my word, I am afraid that this little simpleton, who has -not the slightest notion of the world, is coming to destroy all that has -been arranged between us." - -"Oh! if that is all you fear," replied Lectoure, opening the door, "you -may be perfectly at ease. I like the brother too well not to look over -some caprice--some extraordinary fantasies in the sister--and I pledge -you my word as a gentleman, unless the devil should play us some strange -trick, (whom, I trust, is at this moment fully occupied in some other -corner of the world!) that Mademoiselle Marguerite d'Auray, shall be -Madame the Baroness de Lectoure, and that in a month you shall have your -regiment." - -This promise appeared in some degree to pacify Emanuel, who allowed -himself to be pushed out of the door without making further difficulty. -Lectoure immediately ran to a looking-glass to repair the slight -traces of disorder, which the jolting over the three last leagues had -occasioned in his dress. He had scarcely given to his, hair and garments -the most becoming turn and folds, when the door again opened, and -Celestin announced-- - -"Mademoiselle Marguerite d'Auray." - -The baron turned round, and perceived his betrothed standing pale and -trembling on the threshold of the door. Although the promises of Emanuel -had inspired him with some degree of hope, a certain residue of doubt -had still remained on his mind, if not as to the beauty, at all events, -with regard to the deportment of the lady who was about to become his -wife. His surprise was therefore unbounded, when he saw that delicate -and graceful creature standing before him, and whom the most fastidious -critic of female elegance could only have reproached with being in -a slight degree too pallid. Marriages, such as the one about to be -contracted by Lectoure, were by no means rare in an age in which -questions as to rank and suitableness of fortune in general, decided -alliances between noble houses; but that which was scarcely found once -in a thousand times, was, that a man in the baron's position should -meet, immured in a distant province, a lady possessed of an immense -fortune, and whom, at the first glance, he could discern, was worthy, -by her demeanor, her elegance, and her beauty, to shine in the most -brilliant circles of the court. He, therefore, advanced toward her, -no longer with the feeling of superiority as a courtier, addressing a -country girl, but with all the respectful ease which distinguished good -society at that time. - -"Pardon me, mademoiselle," said he, offering her his hand to conduct her -to an arm chair, but which she did not accept; "it was to me to -solicit the favor you have bestowed upon me; and believe me, it was the -apprehension of being considered indiscreet, which alone has occasioned -the apparent neglect of allowing myself to be forestalled." - -"I truly appreciate this delicacy, sir," replied Marguerite, in a -trembling voice, and retreating one step, she remained standing. "It -strengthens me still more in the confidence which, without having seen -you, without knowing you, I had placed in your honor and good faith." - -"Whatever aim this confidence may have had, I am honored by it, -mademoiselle, and I will endeavor to render myself worthy of it. But, -good heaven, what can so affect you?" - -"Nothing, sir, nothing," replied Marguerite, endeavoring to overcome her -emotion; "but it is--it is--that I have to tell you that--but--really--I -am not sufficiently mistress of myself to--" - -She staggered, and appeared as if about to fall; the baron sprang toward -her to offer his support, but he had scarcely touched her when a flush -of crimson suffused the cheeks of the young girl, and with a feeling, -which might be attributed as well to modesty as to repugnance, she -disengaged herself from his arms. Lectoure had taken her hand, and -conducted her to a chair, against which she leaned, but would not seat -herself in it. - -"Good God!" exclaimed the baron, still retaining her hand, "it must then -be something very difficult to utter, that has brought you hither! Or, -without my at all suspecting it, has my being affianced to you already -conferred upon me the imposing air of a husband?" Marguerite made -another effort to withdraw her hand from the baron, and which induced -the latter to observe it. - -"How!" said he, "not satisfied with having the most adorable of -faces, the elegant figure of a fairy, but you must have such lovely -hands!--hands perfectly royal in their shape--why, 'tis enough to make -me expire at once." - -"I trust M. le Baron," rejoined Marguerite, and making a last effort, -she withdrew her hand from his grasp, "that the words with which you are -now addressing me, are merely words of gallantry." - -"No, by my soul! they are the sincere truth." - -"Well then, I hope, should it be, which I much doubt, that you really -think that which you have been pleased to say--I trust, I say, that such -motives will not lead you to attach a higher value to the union which -has been projected?" - -"They will, indeed, and that I swear to you." - -"And yet," continued Marguerite, gasping for breath, so much was her -heart oppressed, "and yet, sir, you consider marriage as a solemn -matter?" - -"That is as it may happen," smilingly replied Lectoure; "for example, if -I were about to marry an old dowager." - -"In short," rejoined Marguerite, in a more determined tone, "I beg your -pardon, sir, if I have been mistaken; I thought, perhaps, that with -regard to the alliance proposed between us, you had formed some idea of -reciprocity of feeling." - -"Never!" cried Lectoure, interrupting her, for he appeared as eager to -avoid the frank explanation, which Marguerite desired, as she seemed to -provoke it. "Never! and above all, since I have seen you, I could not -hope to be worthy of your love. And yet my name, my position in society, -notwithstanding I should fail to influence your heart, may yet give me a -title to your hand." - -"But how, sir," said Marguerite, timidly, "how can you separate the one -from the other?" - -"As do three-fourths of the people who get married, mademoiselle," -replied Lectoure, with a carelessness which would have at once deterred -the confidence of a woman less candid than Marguerite. "A man marries -in order to have a wife, the wife to have a husband; it is a social -compact, an arrangement of convenience. What can love have to do in a -matter of this nature?" - -"Your pardon, sir; perhaps I have not clearly expressed my meaning," -continued Marguerite, making an effort to control her feelings, and to -conceal from the man upon whom her future fate depended, the impression -his words had produced upon her mind. "But you must attribute my -hesitation, sir, to the timidity of a young girl, compelled by imperious -circumstances to speak on such a subject." - -"Not at all, mademoiselle," replied Lectoure, bowing and giving to his -voice a tone which nearly approached raillery; "on the contrary, you -speak like _Clarissa Harlowe_, and all you say is as clear as daylight. -God has endowed me with a mind sufficiently quick-sighted perfectly -to comprehend things which are but hinted at." - -"How, sir!" cried Marguerite, "you comprehend what I had the intention -of saying, and you allow me to continue? How would it be if on looking -deeply into my heart and interrogating all its feelings, I found it -impossible to love--to love the person who had been presented to me as -my future husband?" - -"Why," replied Lectoure, in the same sarcastic tone in which he had -before spoken, "in my opinion the best course to pursue would be not to -tell him of it." - -"And why not, sir?" - -"Because--but--but--because it would really be too simple." - -"And if that avowal were made, not from simplicity but from delicacy? -If I added, and may the shame of such an avowal fall back on those who -compel me to make it--if I added sir, that I have loved, that I -still love?" - -"Oh! some little romance, is it not so?" said Lectoure, carelessly, -crossing his leg and playing with the frill of his shirt; "upon my -honor, the race of little cousins is an accursed race. But fortunately -we know what these ephemeral attachments are; and there is not a -school-girl, who, after the holidays, does not return to her convent but -with a passion in her little heart." - -"Unfortunately for me," replied Marguerite, with, a voice as sorrowful -and grave as that of the baron was sarcastic and light, "unfortunately, -I am no longer a school-girl, sir; and although still young, I have long -ago passed the age of childish games and infantine attachments. When I -speak to the man who does me the honor to solicit my hand and to offer -me his name, of my love for another, he ought to understand that I -am speaking of a serious, profound, and eternal love; of one of those -passions, in fine, which leave their traces in the heart, and imprint -them there for ever." - -"The devil!" exclaimed Lectoure, as if beginning to attach some -importance to Marguerite's confession; "why, this is perfectly pastoral. -But let us see! is it a young man whom one can receive at one's house?" - -"Oh! sir," cried Marguerite, catching at the hope which these words -seemed to inspire: "oh! believe me, he is the most estimable being, the -most devoted soul----" - -"Why, I am not asking you to tell me this--I was not speaking of the -qualities of his heart--he has all these, of course, that's perfectly -understood. I ask you whether he is noble? if he is of good race? -in short, whether a woman of quality could acknowledge him, and that -without degrading her husband?" - -"His father, whom he lost when very young, and who was my father's -friend from infancy, was a counsellor at the Court of Rennes." - -"Nobility of the bar!" exclaimed Lectoure, dropping his nether lip with -a contemptuous shrug; "I would rather it were otherwise--is he a knight -of Malta, at least?" - -"He was educated for a military life." - -"Oh! then, we must get a regiment for him, to give him rank and standing -in society. Well, that's all arranged, and it is well. Now, listen to -me: he will absent himself for six months, merely for decency's sake, -will obtain leave of absence, no difficult matter now, as we are not -at war--he will get himself presented to you for form's sake, by some -mutual friend, and then all will go on rightly." - -"I do not understand you, sir," replied Marguerite, looking at the baron -with an expression of profound astonishment. - -"What I have said to you is, notwithstanding, perfectly pellucid," -rejoined the latter, with some show of impatience; "you have engagements -on your side--I have on mine--but that is no reason for preventing -an union which is perfectly suitable in every respect; and once -accomplished, why, I think, we are bound to render it as bearable as we -can. Do you comprehend me now?" - -"Oh! pardon me, sir, pardon me," cried Marguerite, starting back, as -though these words had outraged her; "I have been very imprudent, very -culpable perhaps; but whatever I may have been, I did not dream I could -have merited so gross an insult. Oh! sir, the blush of shame is now -scorching my cheek, but more for you than for myself. Yes, I understand -you--an apparent love and a concealed one; the face of vice and the mask -of virtue; and it is to me--to me, the daughter of the Marquis d'Auray, -that so shameful, so humiliating, so infamous a bargain is proposed. -Oh!" continued she, falling into an arm-chair, and hiding her face with -both her hands, "I must then be a most unfortunate, most contemptible -lost creature! Oh! my God! my God!" - -"Emanuel! Emanuel!" cried the baron, opening the door, at which he -rightly suspected Marguerite's brother had remained; "come in, my dear -friend; your sister is attacked with spasms; these things ought to be -attended to, or they may become chronic; Madame do Moulan died of them. -Here, take my scent bottle, and let her smell at it. As to myself, I am -going down into the park. If you have nothing else to do, you can rejoin -me there, and bring me, if you please, news of your sister." - -Saying these words, the Baron de Lectoure left the room with miraculous -calmness, leaving Marguerite and Emanuel together. - - - -CHAPTER XII.--THE CHALLENGE. - - Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me, - It shall not anger me--I tell thee Claudius, - Thou art enshrined in a holy circle - My foot can never pass--nor taunt, nor insult - Can e'er induce this hand to rise against thee. - Therefore be satisfied-- - Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee. - --Old Play. - - -On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron -de Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so -diametrically opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl, -on that day at four o'clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the -castle. Emanuel did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could -not leave her husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to -come down stairs. The other guests were the notary, the relations of the -family, and the witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding -the imperturbable gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his -joyous humor, so stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun -his own feelings. From time to time, indeed, his boisterous -liveliness failed all at once, like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly -extinguished, and then it suddenly burst forth again, as doth the flame -when it devours its last aliment. At seven o'clock they rose from table, -and went into the drawing-room. It would be difficult to form an idea -of the strange aspect which the old castle then presented; the vast -apartments of which were hung with damask draperies, with gothic -designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times of Louis XIII. and -Louis XIV. - -They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the -presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance -of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the -feeble and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to -illuminate the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the -arches of a cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to -be joined during the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the -neighbourhood, increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the -emblazoned columns of the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons, -the same one in which Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from -Paris, had received Captain Paul, was placed a table prepared with much -solemnity, on which was laid a closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a -stranger ignorant of all that was preparing, might as well have enclosed -a death warrant as a marriage contract. In the midst of these grave -aspects and gloomy impressions, from time to time a shrill mocking laugh -would reach the ears of a group of persons whispering to each other. It -proceeded from Lectoure, who was amusing himself at the expense of some -good country gentlemen, without any respect for the feelings of Emanuel, -upon whom a portion of his raillery necessarily recoiled. He would, -however, every now and then cast an anxious glance around the room, and -then a gloomy cloud would pervade his features, for he saw not either -his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or Marguerite enter the room. -As we have already stated, that neither of them had been present at -the dinner table, and his interview with the latter had not, however -careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some uneasiness with -regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take place during -the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and he had -just determined to go up to his sister's apartment, when in passing -through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw -near. - -"By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count," said he -to him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country -gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of -perfect intimacy; "here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very -curious things, upon my word! But do you know," continued he, turning -to the narrator, "this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also -have marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to -Paris, to tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild -ducks in this way." - -"An immense quantity," replied the gentleman, and with the accent of -perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of -detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same -tone. - -"What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?" inquired Emanuel. - -"Only imagine, my dear friend," replied Lectoure, with the most complete -sang froid, "that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,--At -what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?" - -"In the month of December and January." - -"It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying, -then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool -over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so -completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and -allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?" - -"As near as I am to you." - -"Bah! really?" exclaimed Emanuel. - -"And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases." - -"I kill them by dozens," said he, proudly, being enchanted by the -attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his -exploits. - -"It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of -ducks," said Emanuel. - -"She adores them," said M. de Nozay. - -"I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a -person," said Lectoure, bowing. - -"Undoubtedly baron." - -"I swear to you," said Lectoure, "that instantly on my return to -Paris, I will speak of this sport in the king's dressing-room, and I am -persuaded that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his -large ponds of Versailles." - -"I beg your pardon, dear marquis," said Emanuel, taking Lectoure's arm, -and whispering in his ear, "this is one of our country neighbors, whom -we could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion." - -"It requires no apology, my dear friend," said Lectoure, using the same -precaution not to be heard by the party in question: "you would have -been decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He -is an appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been -greatly chagrined not to have made his acquaintance." - -"Monsieur de la Jarry," said a servant, opening the door. - -"A sporting companion?" said Lectoure. - -"No," replied M. de Nozay; "he is a traveller." - -"Ah! ah!" exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the -newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had -hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room, -muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur. - -"Ah! my dear La Jarry," cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and -holding out his hand to him, "but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, -you look like the Czar Peter." - -"It is," replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no -means cold, "because, when one arrives from Naples--perrrrrou!" - -"Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples," said Lectoure, joining in -the conversation. - -"Direct, sir." - -"Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?" - -"No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then," -continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to -the volcano, "Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen -at Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when -the wind is in the wrong quarter,--and besides Madame La Jarry was -dreadfully alarmed at the idea of an eruption." - -"But of course you visited the _Grotto del Cane?_" continued Lectoure. - -"To what purpose?" rejoined La Jarry; "to see an animal that has -vapors--give a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as -much. And then, Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it -would have given her pain to witness so cruel an exhibition." - -"I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself," said Emanuel, -bowing, "did not neglect the Solfatara." - -"Who, I--I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine what -three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which is -a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the -odour of sulphur." - -"What do you think of our new friend?" said Emanuel, leading Lectoure -into the room in which the contract was to be signed. - -"I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly -prefer Nozay." - -The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, "Monsieur -Paul." - -"Eh!" exclaimed Emanuel, turning round. - -"Who is this?" inquired Lectoure, listlessly, "another country -neighbour?" - -"No; this is quite another sort of person," replied Emanuel, with -agitation. "How does this man dare to present himself here?" - -"Ah! ah! a plebeian--eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I -suppose. No--a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you, Emanuel, -that they are beginning to receive this sort of people--that accursed -philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my dear -fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it--we have come to -that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches the -corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises--they -converse together on court matters--they jest, they joke, they squabble, -it is _bon ton_ though decidedly bad taste." - -"You are mistaken, Lectoure," replied Emanuel; "he is neither poet, -painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead -off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry." - -Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours -by the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting -and travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely -closed upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into -the room he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door--the one -led to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up -on his first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between -Marguerite and Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained -there for a moment, looking attentively at the two doors, as though he -had expected to see one of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In -a few moments, that of the library was opened, and he perceived a white -form standing within it; he rushed towards it. - -"Is it you, Marguerite?" said he. - -"Yes," replied a trembling voice. - -"Well?" - -"I told him all?" - -"And--" - -"And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed." - -"I suspected as much--he is a miserable wretch." - -"What's to be done?" cried the young girl. - -"Take courage, Marguerite." - -"Courage--oh! it now fails me entirely." - -"There is that which will restore it," said Paul, handing her a letter. - -"What does this letter contain?" - -"The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name -of the woman in whose house he has been concealed." - -"My son! oh! you are my guardian angel," cried Marguerite, endeavoring -to kiss the hand which held the paper to her. - -"Silence! someone is coming--whatever may happen, you will find one at -Achards." - -Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had -heard: the sound of her brother's footsteps. Paul turned round, and went -to meet him, which he did, near the table. - -"I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company," -said Emanuel, who was the first to speak. - -"It appears to me that we are alone at this moment," said Paul, glancing -around the room. - -"Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an -instant this room will be full." - -"But many things may be said in an instant, count." - -"You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more -than an instant to comprehend them." - -"I am listening," said Paul. - -"You spoke to me of letters," rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him, -and lowering his voice. - -"It is true," said Paul, with the same calmness. - -"You fixed a price upon those letters?" - -"That is also true." - -"Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum -enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them -up." - -"Yes, sir, yes," replied Paul, "the case stood thus, as long as I -believed your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault -she had committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was -seconding your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a -sufficiently bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without -a name and without a family, not to allow him to enter it without -a fortune also, and I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in -exchange for the letters in my possession. But now the state of things -is altered, sir. I saw your sister throw herself upon her knees before -you, I heard her entreat you not to force her into this infamous -marriage, and neither prayers, nor tears, nor supplications could make -any impression on your heart. It is now for me, for me who hold your -honor, and the honor of your family within my hands, it is for me to -save the mother from despair, as I would have saved the child from -penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be delivered to you, when -you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the marriage contract -of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of Mademoiselle -Marguerite d'Auray with Anatole de Lusignan." - -"Never, sir, never!" - -"You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count." - -"Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them." - -"I know not any," coldly replied Paul. - -"Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!" - -"Count," replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under -the circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, "count, listen -to me?" - -"Will you return me those letters, sir?" - -"Count--" - -"Yes, or no!" - -"No!" said Paul, calmly. - -"Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or -rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together, -and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful -from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases." - -"I regret I cannot accept the offer, count." - -"How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side -that sword, and you refuse a duel." - -"Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against -you, count--believe me, I entreat you." - -"You cannot fight with me!" - -"I cannot, upon my honor." - -"You cannot fight with me, you say?" - -"At this moment a person who had entered the room without being -perceived, burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul -and Emanuel turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them. - -"But," said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, "I can fight with him, for he is -a miserable and infamous wretch." - -A burning blush passed over Lectoure's features, like the reflection of -a flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped. - -"It is well, sir," said he; "send your second to Emanuel and they can -arrange this matter." - -"You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred," -said Emanuel, to Paul. - -"Silence!" replied Paul, "they are announcing your mother." - -"Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure," added Emanuel, -"let us go to receive my mother." - -Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he -entered the small room in which he had before been concealed. - - - -CHAPTER XIII.--THE CONTRACT. - - Listen to me and heed me! - If this contract - Thou holdst me to, abide thou the result! - Answer to heaven for what I suffer! act! - Prepare thyself for such calamity - To fall on me, and those whose evil - Have linked them with me, as no past mishap, - However rare and marvellously Sad, - Can parallel. - - Knowles--The Hunchback. - - -At the moment that Paul went into the study, the marchioness appeared -at the door of the drawing-room, followed by the notary, and the -several persons who had been invited to be present at the signing of the -contract. Notwithstanding the nature of the meeting, the marchioness -had not considered it proper to lay aside, even for one evening, her -mourning garments, and dressed in complete black, as she had been always -during twenty years, she came into the room a few moments before the -marquis. None of the persons present, not even his son, had seen the -marquis for many years. Such attention was in those days paid to ancient -forms, that the marchioness would not allow the marriage contract of her -daughter to be signed, without the head of the family, although deprived -of reason, being present; at the ceremony. However little accustomed -Lectoure was to feel intimidated, the marchioness produced upon him the -effect which she did on every one that approached her, and on seeing her -enter the room with so grave and dignified an aspect, he bowed to her -with a feeling of profound respect. - -"I am grateful to you, gentlemen," said the marchioness, bowing to the -persons who accompanied her, "for the honor you have been pleased -to confer upon me, by being present at the betrothal of Mademoiselle -Marguerite d'Auray, with the Baron de Lectoure. I, in consequence, was -desirous that the marquis, although suffering from illness, should also -be present at this meeting, to thank you at least by his presence, if he -cannot do so verbally. You are all aware of his unfortunate malady, and -you will, therefore, not be astonished, should some disjointed words--" - -"Yes, madam," said Lectoure, interrupting her, "we know the misfortune -which has befallen him, and we admire the devoted wife, who for twenty -years has borne half the weight of this sad visitation." - -"You see, madam," said Emanuel, addressing in his turn, and kissing -the hand of his mother, "all the world bows down in admiration of your -conjugal piety." - -"Where is Marguerite?" murmured the marchioness, in a hair whisper. - -"She was here not a moment ago," said Emanuel. "Let her know that we are -all assembled," rejoined the marchioness, in the same tone. - -A servant then announced "the Marquis d'Auray." All present drew to -one side, so as to leave free passage from the door, and all eyes were -directed to the spot at which this new personage was to appear. It -was not long before their curiosity was satisfied; the marquis came in -almost immediately, supported by two servants. - -He was an old man, whose countenance, notwithstanding that the traces -of suffering had deeply furrowed it, still retained that noble -and dignified appearance which had rendered him one of the most -distinguished men of the court of Louis XV. His large, hollow, and -feverish eyes, glanced around the assembly with a strange expression of -astonishment. He was dressed in his costume of Steward of the Household, -wore the order of the Holy Ghost suspended from his neck, and that of -St. Louis, at his button hole. He advanced slowly, and without uttering -a word. The two servants led him forward amid the most profound silence, -to an arm-chair, in which he seated himself, and the servants left the -room. The marchioness then placed herself at his right hand. The notary -opened the portfolio, drew from it the marriage contract and read it -aloud. The marquis and the marchioness made over the sum of five hundred -thousand francs to Lectoure, and gave a like sum to Marguerite, as her -dowry. - -During the whole of the time occupied by the reading of the contract, -the marchioness, notwithstanding her great self command, had betrayed -some symptoms of uneasiness. But just at the moment when the notary had -placed the contract open on the table, Emanuel returned and approached -his mother. - -"And Marguerite?" said the marchioness. - -"She will be here instantly." - -"Madam," murmured Marguerite, half opening the door, and clasping her -hands. - -The marchioness pretended not to hear her, and pointed with her finger -at the pen. - -"Baron, it is you who are first to sign." - -Lectoure immediately approached the table and signed the contract. - -"Madam!" cried Marguerite, in a tone of supplication, and advancing one -step toward her mother. - -"Pass the pen to your betrothed, Baron," said the marchioness. - -The Baron walked round the table, and drew near to Marguerite. - -"Madam!" again cried the latter, with an accent so melancholy, that -it struck to the heart of every person present, and even the marquis -himself raised his head. - -"Sign!" said the marchioness, pointing to the marriage contract. - -"Oh! my father! my father!" exclaimed Marguerite throwing herself at the -feet of the marquis. - -"What does this mean?" said the marchioness, leaning upon the arm of the -marquis' chair, and bending over him, "are you mad, mademoiselle?" - -"My father! oh! my father!" again cried Marguerite, throwing her arms -around him, "my father, have pity, save your daughter!" - -"Marguerite!" murmured the marchioness, in a threatening accent. - -"Madam!" replied Marguerite, "I cannot address myself to you--permit me, -then, to implore my father's pity; unless," she added, pointing to the -notary with a firm and determined gesture, "you would prefer my invoking -the protection of the law." - -"Come, come," said the marchioness, rising, and in a tone of bitter -irony, "this is a family scene, and which, although highly interesting -to near relations, must be sufficiently tedious to strangers. Gentlemen, -you will find refreshments in the adjoining rooms. My son, conduct these -gentlemen, and do the honors. Baron, I must beg your pardon for a short -time." Emanuel and Lectoure bowed in silence and withdrew, followed by -all the company. The marchioness remained motionless until the last of -them had withdrawn, and then she closed all the doors leading into the -room, when, returning to the marquis, whom Marguerite still held clasped -in her arms. - -"And now," said she, "that there is no one present excepting those -who have the right to lay their commands upon you, sign that paper, -mademoiselle, or leave the room." - -"For pity's sake, madam, for pity's sake, do not compel me to commit so -infamous an act!" - -"Have you not heard me?" said the marchioness, giving to her voice an -imperative tone, which she thought impossible to be resisted, "or must I -repeat my words? 'Sign, or leave the room.'" - -"Oh! my father!" cried Marguerite, "mercy! mercy! No, it shall not be -said, that after having been banished from my father's presence for ten -years, I was torn from his arms the first time I again beheld him--and -that, before he had recognized me, before he has embraced me. Oh! -father! father!--it is I, it is your daughter!" - -"What is that voice that is imploring me?" murmured the marquis. "Who -is this child who calls me father?" - -"That voice," said the marchioness, seizing the arm of her daughter, -"is a voice that is raised against the rights of nature. That child is a -rebellious daughter." - -"My father!" cried Marguerite imploringly, "look at me. Oh! my father, -save me I defend me! I am Marguerite." - -"Marguerite? Marguerite?" stammered the marquis, "I had formerly a child -of that name." - -"It is I! it is I!" rejoined Marguerite: "I am your child--I am your -daughter." - -"There are no children but those who obey. Obey! and you will then have -the right to call yourself our daughter," rejoined the marchioness. - -"To you, my father, yes,--to you I am ready to obey. But you do -not command this sacrifice! you do not wish that I should be -unhappy--unhappy even to despair--unhappy even to death." - -"Come! come!" said the marquis holding her in his turn, and pressing her -to his heart. "Oh! this is a delicious and unknown feeling to me. And -now--wait! wait!" He pressed his hand to his forehead. "It seems to me -that I recollect." - -"Sir!" cried the marchioness, "tell her that she ought to obey; that -the malediction of God awaits rebellious children. Tell her that, rather -than to encourage her in her impiety!" - -The marquis slowly raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his -wife, and then slowly pronounced the following words: "Take care! madam, -take care. Have I not told you that I begin to remember!" and then again -bending down his head to that of Marguerite, so that his grey hairs -mingled with the dark tresses, of his daughter--"Speak--speak!" said he, -"what is it that disturbs you, my child--tell me all." - -"Oh! I am most unhappy!" - -"Everybody, then, is unhappy here," exclaimed the marquis, "whether -their hair be grey or black--an old man or a child.. Oh! and I also--I -am unhappy--be assured. - -"Sir, go up stairs into your room again: you must," said the -marchioness. - -"Yes, that I may again be face to face with you; shut up like a -prisoner! That may be very well, when I am mad." - -"Yes, yes, my father, you are right. My mother has devoted herself to -you long enough; it is now time that your daughter should perform that -duty. Take me with you, father. I will not leave you day or night. You -will only have to make a sign, to utter a word, and I will serve you on -my knees." - -"Oh! you would not have the strength to do it." - -"Yes, yes, my father, I will--as truly as I am your daughter." - -The marchioness wrung her hands with impatience. - -"If you are my daughter, how is it that I have not seen you for ten -years?" - -"Because I was told that you would not see me, my father; because they -told me that you did not love me." - -"You were told that I would not see you--not see that angel face!" said -he, taking her head between his hands, and looking at her with intense -auction; "they told you that--they told you that a poor condemned soul -did not wish for heaven! Who was it, then, that told you a father would -not see his child? Who has dared to say, child, your father loves you -not?" - -"I!----" said the marchioness, again endeavoring to take Marguerite from -her father's arms. - -"You!" exclaimed the marquis, interrupting her: "it was you? To you -then, has been confided the fatal mission of deceiving me in all my -affections. All my griefs, then, must find their source in you? You -wish, then, now to break the father's heart, as twenty years ago, you -did that of the husband." - -"You are delirious, sir," said the marchioness, loosing the arm of her -daughter; and going to the right of the marquis, she whispered--"be -silent!" - -"No, madam, no, I am not now delirious," replied the marquis, "No! no! -Say rather, say that,--and it will be the truth,--say that I am now -between an angel who would recall me to reason, and a demon who wishes -me again to become insane. No! No! I am not mad. Do you wish that I -should prove it to you?" He rose, supporting himself on the arms of his -chair. "Must I speak to you of letters, of adultery, of a duel?" - -"I say," said the marchioness, grasping his arm, "I tell you that you -are more forsaken by heaven than ever, when you utter such things, -without reflecting as to whose ears are listening. Cast down your eyes, -sir--look who is standing yonder, and then dare assert that you are not -mad!" - -"You are right;" said the marquis, falling back in his chair. "Your -mother is right," continued he, addressing Marguerite--"I am mad, and -you must not believe what I say, but what she says. Your mother is -devotedness, virtue itself, and therefore, she has not sleepless nights, -nor remorse, nor madness. What does your mother wish?" - -"My misery, father; my everlasting misery." - -"And how can I prevent this misery?" said the unhappy old man, with a -most heart-rending anguish; "how can I, a poor, insane old man, prevent -it? who thinks he always sees the blood issuing from a wound--who thinks -he constantly hears a voice proceeding from a tomb!" - -"Oh you can do all; say but one word and I am saved! They wish me to -marry--" - -The marquis listlessly reclined his head on the back of his chair. - -"Listen to me! they wish to marry me to a man whom I do not love--do you -understand me?--to a wretch!--and you have been brought here--placed -in that arm-chair, before the table--you, you my father! to sign this -infamous contract--this contract which I now hand to you." - -"Without consulting me," said the marquis, taking the contract; "without -asking me whether I will, or I will not! Do they believe me dead? And if -they think me dead, do they fear me less than they would a spectre? This -marriage would cause your misery, you say?" - -"My eternal misery!" exclaimed Marguerite. "The marriage, then, shall -not take place." - -"I have pledged your word and mine," said the marchioness, and with -the more energy, that she felt her influence over her husband about to -escape her. - -"This marriage, I tell you, shall not take place!" replied the marquis, -in a tone louder than that of his wife. "It is too dreadful a thing," -continued he, in a gloomy sepulchral tone, "to be permitted. A marriage -in which a wife loves not her husband--why, it causes madness! As -to myself, the marchioness has always loved me, and loved me -faithfully--that which drove me mad--oh! that was a different matter." - -A flash of diabolical joy shot from the eyes of the marchioness, for she -at once saw from the violence of the expressions used by her husband, -and the terror depicted on his features, that his insanity was about to -return. - -"This contract," said the marquis, and he raised it in his hands as if -about to tear it. - -The marchioness eagerly caught his hand. Marguerite appeared to be -hanging by a thread between heaven and hell. - -"That which drives me mad!" reiterated the marquis, "is a tomb which -widely opens, a spectre that issues from the earth, it is a phantom that -speaks to me, and says--" - -"Your life is in my hands!" murmured the marchioness in his ear, -repeating the last words of the dying Morlaix: "I could take it." - -"Do you hear that?" cried the marquis, rising, and as if about to rush -from the room. - -"My father! oh! my father! recall your senses; there is no tomb, there -is no spectre, there is no phantom; those words were uttered by the -marchioness." - -"But I wish you to live," continued the latter, concluding the sentence -she had begun, "to forgive me as I forgive you." - -"Pardon, Morlaix, pardon!" cried the marquis, falling back in his -arm-chair, his hair standing on end with terror, and the perspiration -streaming from his forehead. - -"Oh! father! father!" - -"You see that your father is altogether deranged," said the -marchioness, triumphantly; "say no more to him." - -"Oh!" cried Marguerite, "God will, I trust perform a miracle! My love, -my caresses, my tears, will restore him to reason." - -"Make the attempt," replied the marchioness, coldly, abandoning to her -care the marquis, who was powerless, speechless, and almost without -consciousness. - -"Oh! my poor father!" exclaimed Marguerite, in a tone of agony. - -The marquis remained perfectly impassible. - -"Sir!" said the marchioness, in an imperative manner. - -"Eh! eh!" cried the marquis, shuddering. - -"Save me! oh! save me, father!" cried Marguerite, wringing her hands, -and throwing herself back in despair. - -"Take this pen and sign," said the marchioness, "you must--it is my -will." - -"Now, I am lost indeed!" cried Marguerite, overwhelmed with terror, and -feeling that she had no longer strength to continue the struggle. - -But at the moment that the marquis, overpowered, had written the first -letters of his name; when the marchioness was congratulating herself on -the victory she had obtained, and Marguerite was about to leave the room -in despair, an unexpected incident suddenly changed the scene. The door -of the study opened, and Paul, who had been anxiously watching, though -invisibly, the whole of this terrible conflict, issued from it. - -"Madam," said he, "one word before this contract is signed!" - -"Who is it calls me!" said the marchioness, endeavoring to distinguish -in the distance that separated them, the person who had thus spoken, and -who stood in a dark corner of the room. - -"I know that voice!" exclaimed the marquis, shuddering, as if seared by -a red-hot iron. - -Paul advanced three paces, and the light from the lustre hanging in the -centre of the room fell full upon him. - -"Is it a spectre?" cried the marchioness, in her turn, struck with the -resemblance of the youth who stood before her to her former lover. - -"I know that face!" cried the marquis, believing that he saw the man -whom he had killed. - -"My God! my God! protect me," stammered Marguerite, raising her eyes and -hands to heaven. - -"Morlaix! Morlaix!" said the marquis, rising and advancing toward Paul, -"Morlaix!--pardon! mercy!" and he fell at full length upon the floor. - -"My father!" cried Marguerite, rushing to his assistance. - -At that moment a servant entered the room, with terror in his looks, and -addressing the marchioness said-- - -"Madam, Achard has sent to request that the priest and the doctor of the -castle, may instantly be ordered to attend him--he is dying." - -"Tell him," replied the marchioness, pointing to her husband, whom -Marguerite was vainly endeavoring to restore to consciousness, "that -they are both obliged to remain here to attend upon the marquis." - - - -CHAPTER XIV.--RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. - - And this our life, exempt from public haunt, - Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, - Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. - - Shakespeare. - - -As has been seen by the end of the preceding chapter, God, by one of -those extraordinary combinations, which short-sighted man almost always -attributes to chance, had summoned to his presence, and almost at -the same moment, the souls of the noble Marquis d'Auray, and the poor -low-born Achard. We have seen that the former, struck by the sight of -Paul, the living portrait of his father, as if by a thunderbolt, fell at -the feet of the young man, who was himself terrified at the effect his -appearance had produced. - -As to Achard, the circumstances which had hastened his death, although -differing in their nature, and from very opposite feelings, had arisen -from the same fatal causes, and had been brought about by the same -individual. The sight of Paul had created direful emotions in the -breasts both of the marquis and Achard. On the former from excess of -terror, on the latter from excess of joy. - -During the day which had preceded the intended signing of the contract, -Achard had felt himself more feeble than usual. Notwithstanding this, he -had not neglected in the evening to crawl to his master's grave, there -to put up his accustomed prayer. Thence he had observed with a devotion -more profound than ever, that ever new and splendid spectacle, the sun -sinking into the ocean. He had followed the decline of its enpurpled -light, and as though the vast torch of the world had drawn his soul -toward it, he had felt his strength extinguished with its last rays; -so that when the servant from the castle came in the evening at the -accustomed hour to receive his orders, not finding him in his house, -had sought for him without the park, and as it was well known that he -generally walked in that direction, found him lying extended at the foot -of the great oak tree, upon the grave of his master, and deprived of -consciousness. Thus did he remain constant to the last in that religious -devotedness he had vowed to his master's tomb, and which had been the -exclusive feeling of the last years of his life. - -The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; -and then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the -marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a -physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the -servant then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, -under the pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as -the old servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at -the point of death, gave her husband the right of first employing. - -But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the -moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and -varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we -have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul. -Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible -from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to -whisper to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would -find him at Achard's cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and -winding his way amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill -of a sear man, who reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon -reached the house, entered it panting from his rapid course, and found -Achard just as he was recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him -in his arms. The delight of again seeing him renewed the strength of -the old man, who now felt certain of having a friendly hand to close his -eyes. - -"Oh! it is you--it is you!" exclaimed the old man. - -"I did not hope to see you again." - -"And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of -the state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your -assistance?" - -"But I knew not where to find you--where I could send to tell you that -I wished once more to see you before I died." - -"I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously -ill, and I hastened hither." - -"And how was it that you were at the castle?" said the old man, with -amazement. - -Paul related to him all that had occurred. - -"Eternal Providence!" cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his -recital, "how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after -twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, -and hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the -son!" - -"Yes, yes, thus it happens," replied Paul, "and it is Providence, also, -who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse -to send you the physician and the priest." - -"According to common justice," rejoined Achard, "they might have made -a fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the -physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the -priest." - -"I can go on horseback," said Paul, "and in less than an hour--" - -"In an hour it would be too late," said the dying man, in an enfeebled -voice, "a priest! a priest only--I ask but for a priest." - -"Father," replied Paul, "in his sacred functions, I know I cannot supply -his place; but we can speak of God, of his greatness and his goodness." - -"Yes, but let us first finish with the things of this earth, that we -may then be able to turn our thoughts wholly to those of heaven. You say -that, like myself, the marquis is dying." - -"I left him at the last agony." - -"You know, that immediately after his death, the papers which are -deposited in that closet, and which prove your birth, are yours by -right." - -"I know it." - -"If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?" The old man -sat up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. "You will -take that key, you will open the closet--in it you will find a casket. -You are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket -until the marquis shall be dead." - -"I swear it," said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the -crucifix hanging at the head of the bed. - -"'Tis well," replied Achard; "now I shall die in peace." - -"You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the -father stretches out his towards you from heaven!" - -"Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?" - -"No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since -his death." - -"Yes," murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, "I was but too exact -in following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have -taken place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, -Paul; it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is -the only thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been -moments of doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as -an assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only -been a witness, but an accomplice!" - -"Oh! my second father," replied Paul, "I know not whether the laws of -earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether -honor as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the -Lord; I know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits -that the injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs -inflicted upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the -judgment of heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword's point. These -are questions not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, -then, my conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have -done precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it -also misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right -than a priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, -I pardon you." - -"Thanks! thanks!" cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; -"thanks, for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying -man. Remorse is a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that -there exists no God. For without a judge there can be no judgment." - -"Listen to me," said Paul, in that poetic and solemn accent, which was -peculiar to him: "I also have often doubted in the existence of a God: -isolated and lost in the wide world, without family, and without a -single friend, I sought for support in the Lord, and I asked of every -thing that encircled me, some proof of his existence. Often have I -arrested my steps at the foot of one of these crosses, erected by the -road side, and with my eyes fixed upon the Saviour, I demanded, and with -tears, to be assured of his existence, and divine mission; I prayed that -his eyes would deign to look upon me: that one drop of blood might fall -from his wound, or that a sigh might issue from his lips. The crucifix -remained motionless, and I arose, my heart being overcome with despair, -saying--'did I but know where I could find my father's tomb, I would -question him as Hamlet did the ghost, and he would perhaps answer me!'" - -"Poor child!" - -"Then would I enter a church," continued Paul, "one of those churches of -the north, gloomy, religious, Christian! And I would feel myself borne -down with sorrow; but sorrow is not faith! I approached the altar; -I threw myself upon my knees before the tabernacle, in which God dwells; -I bowed my head till it touched the marble of the steps; and when I had -thus remained prostrated for hours and lost in doubt, I raised my head, -hoping that the God I was seeking would at length manifest his presence -to me by a ray of his glory, or by some dazzling proof of his power. But -the church remained gloomy, as the cross had remained motionless. And -I would then rush from its porches with insensate haste, crying, 'Lord! -Lord! didst thou exist, thou would reveal thyself to man. It is thy -will, then, that men should doubt, since thou canst reveal thyself to -them, but dost not.'" - -"Beware of what you are saying, Paul," cried the old man: "beware that -the doubt thy heart contains do not attaint mine! Thou hast time left to -thee to believe, whereas, I--I am about to die." - -"Wait, father, wait!" continued Paul, with softened voice, and placid -features. "I have not told you all. It was then, that I said to myself, -'the crucifix by the road side, the churches of the cities are but the -work of man. Let us seek God, in God's own works.' From that moment, my -father, began that wandering life, which will remain an eternal mystery, -known only to the heavens, the ocean, and myself--it led me into the -solitary wilds of America, for I thought the newer a world was, the more -freshly would it retain the impress of God's hand. I did not deceive -myself. There, often in those virgin forests, into which I was perhaps -the first who had ever penetrated; with no shelter, but the heavens, no -couch, but the earth, absorbed by one sole thought, I have listened -to the thousand noises of a world about to sleep, and nature when -awakening. For a long time, did I still remain without comprehending -that unknown tongue, formed by the mingling of the murmur of rivers, -the vapor of the lakes, the rustling of the forest, and the perfume of -flowers. Finally, the veil which had obscured my eyes, and the weight -which had oppressed my heart, was little by little removed; and from -that time, I began to believe that these noises of evening, and of -approaching day, were but one universal hymn, by which created things -expressed their gratitude to the Creator." - -"Almighty God!" cried the dying man, clasping his hands, and raising his -eyes to heaven, with an expression of holy faith, "I cried to you from -the bottomless pit, and you heard me in my distress; oh! my God I I -thank thee." - -"Then," continued Paul, with still increasing enthusiasm, "then, I -sought upon the ocean, that full conviction which earth had refused to -me. The earth is but a span--the ocean is immensity! The ocean is, after -God himself, the grandest, the most powerful object in the universe. I -have heard the ocean roar like a chafed lion, and then at the voice of -its master, become tranquil as a submissive dog; I have seen it rise -like a Titan, to scale the heavens; and then beneath the whip of the -tempest, moan like a weeping infant. I have seen it dashing its waves to -meet the lightning, and endeavoring to quench the thunder with its foam; -and then become smooth as a mirror, and reflect even the smallest -star in the heavens. Upon the land, I had become convinced of God's -existence, upon the ocean, I recognised his power. In the solitary -wilds, as Moses, I had heard the voice of the Lord, but during the -tempest, I saw him, as did Ezekiel, riding upon the wings of the storm. -Thenceforward, my father, thenceforward, all doubt was driven from my -mind, and from the evening on which I witnessed the first hurricane, I -believed, and prayed." - -"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth," said -the dying man, with ardent faith; and he continued thus the symbol of -the apostles to the last word. - -Paul listened to him in silence, with his eyes raised to heaven, and -when he had concluded, said-- - -"It is not thus, that a priest would have spoken to you, my father, for -I have spoken to you as a seaman, and with a voice more accustomed to -pronounce words of death than consolation. Forgive me, father, forgive -me for it." - -"You have made me pray, and believe as you do," said the old man; "tell -me, then, what more could a priest have done? What you have said is -plain and grand--let me reflect on what you have said." - -"Listen!" said Paul, shuddering, "What is it?" - -"Did you not hear?" - -"No." - -"I thought that a voice of some one in distress called to me--there -again--do you not hear it?--now, again!--It is the voice of Marguerite." - -"Go to her instantly," replied the old man; "I need to be alone." - -Paul rushed into the adjoining room, and as he entered it he heard his -name again repeated, and close to the door of the cottage. Then, running -to the door he anxiously opened it, and found Marguerite upon the -threshold, her strength having failed her, and she had fallen upon her -knees. - -"Save me! save me!" she cried, with an expression of profound terror, on -perceiving Paul, and clasped his knees. - - - -CHAPTER XV.--THE PAPERS. - - Mercy from him! - And how can I expect it? - By what right - Can I demand he should withhold his claim, - The proofs once in his power?--Anonymous. - - -Paul ran to Marguerite, and caught her in his arms; she was pale and icy -cold. He carried her into the first room, placed her in an arm chair, -returned to the door which had remained open, and closed it, and then -hastened back. - -"What is it that so terrifies you? who is pursuing you? and how does it -happen that you come here at this unusual hour?" - -"Oh!" exclaimed Marguerite, "at any hour, whether by day or night, I -should have flown as long as the earth would have borne me! I should -have flown till I had found some heart in which I could have poured -forth my sorrows, an arm capable of defending me. Paul! Paul! my father -is dead?" - -"Poor child!" said Paul, pressing Marguerite to his heart, "who flies -from one house of death to fall into another; who leaves death in the -castle, to find it in the cottage." - -"Yes, yes!" cried Marguerite rising, still trembling with terror, and -convulsively pressing Paul's arm. "Death is yonder, and I find death -here! but yonder it is attended with despair and fear, while here it is -met with tranquillity and hope. Oh! Paul! Paul! had you but seen that -which I have seen!" - -"Tell me all that happened." - -"You saw the terrible effect produced by your appearance, and the mere -sound of your voice?" - -"Yes, I saw that." - -"They carried him still fainting and speechless into his own room." - -"It was to your mother that I spoke," said Paul, "and he heard me; I -could not foresee it would so much have terrified him." - -"You full well know all that had passed, for you must have heard from -the room in which you were concealed, every word we uttered. My father, -my poor father, had recognized me, and I, seeing him thus, could, not -repress my uneasiness: notwithstanding the risk I ran of irritating my -mother, I went up to his room--the door was locked; I knocked softly at -it. He had recovered his senses, for I heard a faint voice asking 'who -was there?'" - -"And your mother?" said Paul eagerly. - -"My mother," replied Marguerite, "was no longer there, and she had -locked him in as she would have done to a child; but when he had -recognized my voice, when I had told him that it was his daughter -Marguerite who wished to see him, he told me that I could get into the -room by going down stairs again, and that in the study I should find a -private staircase which led to it. A minute afterwards, I was kneeling -by his bedside, and he gave me his blessing. Yes, Paul, I received his -blessing before he died, his paternal benediction, which I trust will -bring down the blessing of God upon my head." - -"Yes," said Paul, "God will pardon you; you may now feel tranquil. Weep -for your father, Marguerite, but weep no longer for yourself, for you -are saved." - -"You have heard nothing yet, Paul!" exclaimed Marguerite. "Hear me -still." - -"Proceed!" - -"At the very moment when I was kneeling, kissing the hand of my father, -and thanking him for the relief he had afforded my afflicted mind, I -heard my mothers footstep on the staircase. I recognized her voice, and -my father also recognized it, for he again embraced me, and made a sign -to me to leave him. I obeyed him, but such was my terror and confusion, -that I mistook the door, and instead of the staircase by which I had -ascended, I found myself in a small cabinet which had no issue. I felt -all around its walls, but could find no door. I was compelled to remain -there. I then heard my mother, accompanied by the priest, entering my -father's room--I restrained my breathing, fearing that she should hear -me. I saw then through the glass window of the door, and I assure you, -Paul, that she was paler than my father who was about to die." - -"Gracious heaven!" murmured Paul. - -"The priest seated himself by the bed-side," continued Marguerite, -so terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; "my mother -remained standing at the foot of the bed--I was there, just opposite to -them, compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without -the means of retreat!--a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession -of her father!--was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my -eyes that I might not see--praying that I might not hear--and yet in -spite of myself--and this I swear to you, Paul--I saw and I heard--Oh! -what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my memory--I saw -my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him with a feverish -strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death imprinted on -his face. I heard him--I heard him pronounce the words, a -duel--adultery--assassination!--and at each word he uttered, I saw my -mother turn pale--and paler even than before--and I heard her raise her -voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying man, saying to the -priest: 'believe him not--believe him not, reverend father; what he says -is false--or rather, he is mad, he knows not what he says--believe him -not!' Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a -cold perspiration stood upon my forehead, and I fainted." - -"Justice of Heaven!" cried Paul. "I know not how long I remained without -consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the -tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were -burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my -eyes on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the -sheet which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I -divined that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between -the funereal awe which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of -raising the covering to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in -his coffin, the venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, -overcame every other feeling--an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror -drove me from the room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but -I believe without touching a single step,--I fled across the rooms and -through the corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I -had left the castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps -were leading me, until I remembered you had told me I should find -you here. A secret instinct--tell me what it was--for I cannot myself -comprehend it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I -was pursued by shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the -avenues I thought--(had I then lost my senses?)--I thought I saw my -mother, dressed all in black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. -Oh! then, then! terror lent me wings--I at first fled without knowing -whither; after this my strength failed me, and it was then you heard my -cries. I dragged myself along a few more paces, and fell motionless at -this door; had you not opened it, I should have expired upon the spot, -for I was so much terrified, that it appeared to me,"--then suddenly -pausing, Marguerite trembled, and whispered to Paul, "Silence! do you -not hear?" - -"Yes," replied Paul, instantly extinguishing the lamp, "yes, -yes--footsteps--I hear them also." - -"Look! look!" cried Marguerite, concealing herself behind the curtain of -the window, and throwing them around Paul at the same moment--"look! I -was not mistaken--it was my mother." - -The door had been opened, and the marchioness, pale as a spectre, -entered the room slowly, closed the door after her, and locked it, and -then without observing Paul and Marguerite, went into the second room -where Achard was lying. She then walked up to his bed, as she had only -a short time before to that of the marquis, only that she was not now -accompanied by a priest. - -"Who is there?" said Achard, drawing back one of the curtains of his -bed. - -"It is I," replied the marchioness, drawing back the other curtain. - -"You, madam," cried the old man with terror; "for what purpose have you -come to the bedside of a dying man?" - -"I have come to make a proposal to him." - -"One that will lose his soul! is it not?" - -"To save it, on the contrary. There is only one thing in this world, -Achard, of which you stand in need," rejoined the marchioness, bending -down over the bed of the dying man, "and that is a priest." - -"You refused to allow the one who is attached to the castle to attend -me." - -"In five minutes, if you wish it, he shall be here." - -"Let him be sent then," said the old man, "and believe me there is not a -moment to be lost. He must come quickly." - -"But if I give you the peace of heaven, you will give me in exchange -peace on earth." - -"What can I do for you?" murmured the dying man, closing his eyes, that -he might not see a woman whose looks chilled him. - -"You stand in need of a priest, that you may die in peace," said -the marchioness, "you know the gift I require, in order to exist in -tranquillity." - -"You would close heaven to me by a perjury." - -"I would open it to you by a pardon." - -"That pardon I have already received." - -"And from whom?--" - -"From him who, perhaps, had alone the right to grant it to me." - -"Has Morlaix then descended from heaven?" asked the marchioness, in a -tone in which there was almost as much terror as irony. - -"No, madam," replied he, "but have you forgotten that he left a son upon -this earth?" - -"Then you have also seen him," exclaimed the marchioness. - -"Yes," replied Achard. - -"And you have told him all----" - -"All!" - -"And the papers which prove his birth?" asked the marchioness, with -trembling anxiety. - -"The marquis was not dead--the papers are still there." - -"Achard!" cried the marchioness, falling upon her knees, by the bedside. -"Achard! you will take pity on me?" - -"You, on your knees, before me, madam?" - -"Yes, old man," replied the marchioness, in a supplicating tone, "yes, -I am on my knees before you--and I beg, I implore you, for you hold in -your hands the honor of one of the most ancient families in France--my -past, my future life! Those papers are my heart, my soul--they are -more than this--they are my name--the name of my forefathers--of my -children--and you well know all that I have suffered to preserve that -name unsullied. Do you believe that I had not a heart as other women -have? the feelings of a lover, of a wife, and of a mother? Well! I have -overcome them all, one by one, and the struggle has been long. I am -twenty years younger than you are, old man, I am still in the prime -of life, and you are on the verge of the grave. Look, then, upon these -hairs; they are even whiter than your own." - -"What says she?" whispered Marguerite, who had softly crept to the door, -and could see all that was passing in the inner room. "Gracious heaven!" - -"Listen, listen, dear child," said Paul, "it is the Lord who permits -that all shall be thus revealed." - -"Yes, yes," murmured Achard, who was becoming weaker every moment. "Yes, -you doubted the goodness of the Lord, you had forgotten that he had -forgiven the adulterous woman--" - -"Yes, but when she met with Christ, men were about to cast stones at -her--men, who for twenty generations have been accustomed to revere our -name, to honor our family--did they but learn, that which, thank heaven! -has heretofore been hidden from them--would hear it uttered with shame -and with contempt. I have so much suffered, that God will pardon me--but -man! men are so implacable, that they will not pardon--moreover, am I -alone exposed to their insults--on either side, the cross I bear, have I -not a child?--and is not the other that we speak of, the first-born? In -the eyes of the law, is he not the son of the Marquis d'Auray? do you -forget that he is the first-born, the head of the family? Do you not -know, that in order to possess himself of the title, the estates, the -fortune of the family of Auray, he has only to invoke the law? and then -what would remain to Emanuel? The cross of the order of Malta--and to -Marguerite?--a convent." - -"Oh! yes, yes," whispered Marguerite, and stretching out her arms, -toward the marchioness, "yes, a convent, in which I would pray for you, -my mother." - -"Silence! silence!" whispered Paul. - -"Oh! you know him not," said Achard, whose voice was scarcely audible. - -"No! but I know human nature," replied the marchioness, "he may recover -a name, he! who has no name--a fortune, he! who has no fortune. And do -you believe he would renounce that fortune and that name." - -"Should you ask it of him, he would." - -"And by what right could I demand it?" said the marchioness; "by -what right could I ask him to spare me, to spare Emanuel, to spare -Marguerite? He would say, 'I do not know you, madam--I have never seen -you--you are my mother, and that is all I know.'" - -"In his name," stammered Achard, whose tongue death was beginning to -benumb, "in his name, madam, I engage, I swear--oh! my God! my God!" - -The marchioness arose, observing attentively by the old man's features, -the approach of death. - -"You engage, you swear!" she said, "is he here to ratify this -engagement--you engage! you swear! and on your word, you would, that I -should stake the years I have yet to live, against the moments which -yet remain between you and death! I have entreated, I have implored, and -again, I entreat and implore you to give up those papers to me." - -"Those papers now are his." - -"I must have them! I repeat, I must have them," continued the -marchioness, gaining strength, as the dying man became more feeble. - -"My God! my God! have mercy upon me!" murmured Achard. - -"No one can now come," rejoined the marchioness "you told me that you -wore the key of that closet always about you----" - -"Would you wrest it from the hands of a dying man?" - -"No," replied the marchioness, "I will wait." - -"Let me die in peace," exclaimed Achard tearing the crucifix from the -head of his bed, and raising it between, himself and the marchioness, he -cried: "leave me! leave me; in the name of Jesus Christ!" - -The marchioness fell upon her knees, bowing her head to the ground. The -old man, for a moment, remained in the same awful attitude; then, by -degrees, his strength forsook him, and he fell back on his bed, crossed -his arms, and pressed the image of the Saviour to his breast. - -The marchioness seized the lower part of the two curtains, and without -raising her head, she crossed them in such a manner as to conceal the -last struggles of the dying man. - -"Horror! horror!" murmured Marguerite. - -"Let us kneel, and pray," said Paul. - -A moment of solemn and dreadful silence then ensued, which was only -interrupted by the last gasps of the dying man; these gasps became -fainter by degrees, and then ceased altogether. All was over; the old -man was dead. - -The marchioness slowly raised her head, listened with intense anxiety -for some minutes, and then, without opening the curtains, passed her -hand between them, and after some effort, withdrew her hand again--she -had obtained the key. She then silently arose, and with her face still -turned toward the bed, walked to the closet. But at the moment she was -about to unlock it, Paul, who was observing all her movements, rushed -into the room, and seizing her by the arm, said--? - -"Give me that key, my mother! for the marquis is dead, and those papers -now belong to me." - -"Justice of heaven!" exclaimed the marchioness, starting back with -terror, and falling into a chair, "justice of heaven! it is my son!" - -"Merciful heaven!" murmured Marguerite, throwing herself upon her knees -in the outer room: "merciful heaven! he is my brother!" - -Paul opened the closet, and took the casket which contained the papers. - - - -CHAPTER XVI.--RECRIMINATION. - - Thou canst save me, - Thou ought'st! thou must! - I tell thee at his feet - I'll fall a corse, ere mount his bridal bed! - Go choose betwixt my rescue and my grave. - - Knowles.--The hunchbach - - -Notwithstanding the dreadful nature of the events which had occurred -during that fatal night, Paul had not forgotten the mortal defiance -which had been exchanged between himself and Lectoure. As that young -gentleman would probably not know where to find him, he thought it only -decorous to save Lectoure the trouble of seeking for him, and about -seven in the morning, Lieutenant Walter presented himself at the castle, -being charged on behalf of Paul to arrange the terms of the combat. He -found Emanuel in Lectoure's apartment. The latter, on perceiving the -officer, withdrew, and went down into the park, that the two young -men might more freely discuss the matter. Walter had received from his -commander directions to accede to every thing that might be proposed. -The preliminary terms were, therefore, very speedily arranged; and -it was agreed between them, that the meeting should take place in the -afternoon, at four o'clock. The place of rendezvous the sea-side, near -the fisherman's hut, which was about half-way between Port Louis and -Auray castle. As to the weapons, they were to bring their pistols and -their swords; it would be decided on the spot which they were to use, it -being clearly understood that Lectoure, having been the party insulted, -should have the right to make his choice. - -As to the marchioness, although in the first instance petrified by -the unexpected appearance of Paul, she soon recovered all her natural -firmness, and drawing her veil over her face, she withdrew from -the chamber, and walked across the outer room which had remained in -darkness. She did not, therefore, perceive Marguerite, who was kneeling -in one corner of it, mute from astonishment and terror. She after that -crossed the park, entered the castle, and repaired to the room in which -the scene of the contract had taken place. There, by the dying light -of the wax tapers, with both her elbows resting on the table, her head -supported on her hands, her eyes riveted to the paper to which Lectoure -had already affixed his name, and the marquis had signed the half -of his, she passed the remainder of the night reflecting upon a new -determination. Thus she awaited the coming day without even thinking of -taking the least repose, so powerfully did her soul of adamant support -the body in which it was enclosed. This resolution was to get Emanuel and -Marguerite away from the castle as speedily as possible, for it was from -her children, most especially, that she desired to conceal that which -was about to take place between Paul and herself. - -Marguerite, who had been thus most unexpectedly present at the death-bed -of the marquis and of Achard, through which she had so providentially -discovered her mother's secret, rushed into Paul's arms immediately -after her mother's departure from the cottage, exclaiming: - -"Oh! now you are really my brother." - -Her tears choked further utterance, and it was some minutes before -Paul could tranquillize her agitated spirit, torn by so many and such -conflicting emotions. Paul then fearing that the marchioness might -enquire for her daughter, on her arrival at the castle, urged -Marguerite to hasten thither; and seeing she was still trembling at the -recollection of the many horrors she had witnessed, led her out of the -cottage, of which he locked the door, and accompanied her to within a -few paces of the castle. During this walk, Marguerite had in a certain -degree, recovered her composure. Paul stood gazing at her till he saw -that she had safely entered the court yard, and then returned to watch -and pray beside the body of his father's faithful servant. - -At seven o'clock, the marchioness hearing the noise occasioned by -Lieutenant Walter's arrival at the castle, reached a bell which was -standing on the table and rang it. A servant presented himself at the -door in the grand livery he had worn the previous evening--it was easy -to perceive that he also had not been in bed. - -"Inform Mademoiselle d'Auray, that her mother is waiting for her in the -drawing room," said the marchioness. - -The servant obeyed, and the marchioness resumed, gloomy and motionless, -her previous attitude. In a few minutes afterward, she heard a slight -noise behind her, and turned round. It was Marguerite. The young girl, -with more respect, perhaps, than she had ever before evinced, held out -her hand toward her mother, that she might give her her hand to kiss. -But the marchioness remained motionless, as if she had not understood -the intention of her daughter. Marguerite let fall her hand, and -silently awaited her mother's pleasure. She also wore the same dress -as the night before. Sleep had hovered over the whole world, but had -forgotten the inhabitants of Auray castle. - -"Come nearer," said the marchioness. - -Marguerite advanced one step. - -"Why is it that you are thus pale and trembling," continued the -marchioness. - -"Madam," murmured Marguerite. - -"Speak," said the marchioness. - -"The death of my father--so sudden--so unexpected," stammered -Marguerite; "indeed I have suffered so much this night." - -"Yes, yes," rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on -her daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: "yes, -the young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves. -The old oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, -Marguerite, and suffered much. I have passed a dreadful night, and yet -you see me calm and firm." - -"God has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you -should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others. -You would destroy them." - -"And therefore is it," replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall -upon the table, "that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is -dead, Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must -immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel." - -"I!" exclaimed Marguerite, "I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?" - -"Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same -moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession -of the father." - -"My mother!" replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish, -"it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between -two ceremonies of so opposite a nature." - -"True piety," rejoined the marchioness, "should lead us to fulfil the -last wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the -first letters of your father's name." - -"Oh! madam!" cried Marguerite, "allow me to ask you whether my father, -when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing, -was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own -free will?" - -"Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle," replied the marchioness, with -that imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all -that approached her. - -"I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made -him thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as -long as they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the -authority of God. Now, God has ordained me to effect things terrible in -themselves, and I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!" - -"Madam," said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed -motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother -was so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; "madam! it is -only three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the -feet of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to -receive as my husband, and then at my father's. Neither of them would or -could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened -their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, -my mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are -best capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I -am about to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, -I would make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I -must also sacrifice my son.--You are a mother, and I also, madam." - -"A mother!--a mother!" cried the marchioness. - -"Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault----" - -"Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a -mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam, -tell me--for you should better comprehend these things than I--tell -me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice -which speaks to our hearts--have not those to whom we have given birth a -voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each other, -to which ought we to obey?" - -"You will never hear the voice of your child." said the marchioness; -"for you will never again see him." - -"I shall never again see my son!" exclaimed Marguerite, "and who, madam, -can assert that positively?" - -"He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is." - -"And should he some day discover it?" replied Marguerite; whose respect -as a daughter was giving way before her mother's harshness; "if he -should then come to me and demand an account of his birth--and this may -happen, madam,"--she took up the pen--"and, with such an alternative -awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?" - -"Sign it," said the marchioness. - -"But," observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers -upon the contract, "should my husband some day discover the existence of -this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong -committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and -without seconds--a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he -should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued -by a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of -reason--" - -"Be silent!" cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror, -but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery -which dictated the words her daughter had employed: "be silent!" - -"You would have me, then," continued Marguerite, who had now said too -much to pause, "you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, -and that of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure -myself with a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my -sight, and from his, every living being, and that I should render my -heart iron, that I may no longer feel--that my eyes should never shed -a tear! You would have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, -before my husband's death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty -years before the accustomed time?" - -"Be silent! say not another word!" cried the marchioness, in a tone -which proved that menaces were giving way to fear: "be silent!" - -"You would have me, then," continued Marguerite, carried away by the -bitterness of her grief; "you would have me, then, in order that the -dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that -I should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician--you -would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that -I might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying." - -"Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!" again cried the -marchioness, wringing her hands. - -"Well, then," continued Marguerite, "tell me again, my mother, to sign -this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord -will be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited -upon the children, even to the third and fourth generations." - -"Ah! my God! my God!" exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, -"am I not sufficiently humbled--am I not sufficiently punished?" - -"Pardon! pardon! madam," cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling -by the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; "I implore you to -forgive me." - -"Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter," said the -marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, "you who have wrenched the -scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied -the lash even on your mother's forehead." - -"Mercy! mercy!" reiterated Marguerite; "pardon me, my mother. I knew not -what I said. You had deprived me of reason---I was mad!" - -"Oh! my God! my God," said the marchioness, raising both her hands above -her daughter's head, "Thou hast heard the words which have issued from -my daughter's lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will -forget them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I -have not cursed her!" - -She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, -but the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance -so fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite -dropped the skirt of her mother's dress, and remained with arms -outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness -had disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon -the ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed -that the heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken. - - - -CHAPTER XVII.--THE BROTHERS - - Be angry as - You will, it shall have scope; - Ah, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb - That carries anger, as the flint bears fire-- - Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, - And straight is cold again. - And from henceforth - When you are over earnest with your brother, - He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. - --Shakespeare - - -Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent -manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had -not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who -had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together -with Count d'Auray, had received from his commander directions to make -every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not -meet Lectoure until the afternoon. - -The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the -time arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, -having in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last -found himself in the position of the head of the family, his life -belonged not to himself, and that he had not the right to risk it. -Moreover, as we have seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; -and Lectoure, who was ignorant of the reason which could have induced -his adversary to require it, had acceded to it without much difficulty. - -Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as -soon as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present -himself to the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle. - -The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned -so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without -meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the -apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on -going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the -floor. - -On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of -consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must -have taken place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to -Marguerite, raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to -give her air. The state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more -from a complete prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; -and therefore, as soon as she felt that assistance was being rendered -her, and with a kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the -person who had thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and -recognized her brother, that living Providence, whom God had sent to -sustain her every time she felt she was about to succumb. - -Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her -to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her -brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away -by the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her -mother to perceive that she knew all. - -Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart -of the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and -anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had -been brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to -one of the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. -Therefore, compassionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to -terminate them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview -he had come to seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to -the intentions of that son, whose existence she was so unwilling to -acknowledge, Marguerite, on her side, wished to obtain her mother's -forgiveness; she, therefore, undertook to inform the marchioness that -the young captain waited her orders. - -Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece, -above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose -himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of -the last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the -sovereign arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly -opened, and Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On -hearing the door open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately -perceiving the young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal -expression, which reflected in his features the serenity of his soul. - -Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as -politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence -of the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had -awakened to flush his features, and they instantly assumed a look of -fierce defiance. - -"I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir," said Emanuel, -placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from -Paul; "and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you; -for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have -the gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me -that he had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved -me the trouble I was about to take, in thus anticipating my desire." - -"I am happy," replied Paul, "that my desire in this instance, although -probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously -chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here--what do you ask of me?" - -"Cannot you divine even that, sir?" replied Emanuel, with increasing -agitation. "In that case--and you will allow me to express my -astonishment that it should be so--you are but ill-informed as to the -duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that -you put upon me." - -"Believe me, Emanuel," rejoined Paul, in a calm tone-- - -"I yesterday called myself the count; to-day I call myself the Marquis -d'Auray," said Emanuel, interrupting him with a gesture of haughtiness -and contempt; "and I beg, sir, that you will not forget it." - -An almost imperceptible smile passed over the lips of Paul. - -"I was saying, then," continued Emanuel, "that you but imperfectly -comprehend the feelings of a gentleman, if you believed that I would -permit another to take up, on my behalf, a quarrel which you came here -to seek. Yes, sir, for it is you who have thrown yourself across -my path, and not I who have sought you." - -"His lordship, the Marquis d'Auray," said Paul, smiling, "forgets his -visit on board the _Indienne_." - -"A truce to your cavils, sir, and let us at once proceed to facts. -Yesterday, I know not from what strange and inexplicable feeling, when -I proposed to you that, which I will not say every gentleman, every -officer, but simply, any man of courage would instantly, and without -hesitation, have acceded to, you refused, sir, and evading my -provocation, you went, as it were, behind my back to seek an adversary, -who, although not precisely a stranger to the quarrel, yet good taste -should have dictated that he ought not to have been drawn into it." - -"Believe me, that in this, sir," replied Paul, with the calmness and the -same candor of manner which had accompanied all he said; I was compelled -to yield to the exigency of the case, which did not leave me the choice -of an adversary. You had proposed a duel, which I could not accept, you -being my adversary, but which was perfectly indifferent to me with -any other person. I am too much habituated to encounters of this -description, and to encounters of a far more murderous and mortal -nature, to consider an event of this kind, but as one of the usual -accidents of my adventurous life. You will, however, please to remember -that it was not I who sought this duel; you, yesterday, proposed it to -me; but, as I could not, I again repeat it, appear as your antagonist, -I selected M. de Lectoure, as I would have done M. de Nozay or M. la -Jarry, because he happened to be there, within my reach--and because, -if it were absolutely necessary that I should kill some one, I preferred -killing an useless and insolent fop, rather than a good and honest -country gentleman, who would consider himself dishonored, did he but -dream that he had entered into a bargain of so vile and despicable a -nature as that which the Baron de Lectoure has, in reality, proposed to -you." - -"'Tis well, sir," said Emanuel, jeeringly; "continue to constitute -yourself as the redresser of wrongs, to dub yourself the knight-errant -of oppressed princesses, and to shield yourself under the buckler of -your mysterious replies! As long as this antiquated quixotism does not -come in collision with my views, my interests, and my engagements, I -will fully permit it to wander over the whole earth, and ocean also, -even from pole to pole, and I shall merely smile at it as it passes by -me; but whenever this madness breaks out against me, as yours has done, -sir; whenever, in the intimate concerns of a family of which I am the -head, I meet a stranger, who orders as a master where I alone have the -right to raise my voice, I shall present myself before him, as I now do -before you, should I have the happiness to meet him alone as I do you, -and then feeling assured, that no one will come to interrupt us before -I had obtained the necessary explanation, I would say to him: 'You have, -if not insulted me, at all events wounded my feelings, sir, by coming to -my house, and injuring me in my in-terests, and my family affections. It -is then with me, and not with another, that you ought to fight, and you -shall fight with me.'" - -"You are mistaken, Emanuel," replied Paul; "I will not fight, at all -events, with you; the thing is impossible." - -"Oh! sir, the time of enigmas is gone by," cried Emanuel, impatiently; -"we live in the midst of a world, in which at every moment we elbow a -reality. Let us, therefore, leave the poetical and the mysterious, to -the authors of romances and tragedies. Your presence in this castle has -been marked by circumstances too fatal to render it necessary to add -that which is not, to that which is. Lusignan returned, notwithstanding -the order which condemned him to transportation; my sister, who, for -the first time, has shown herself rebellious against the orders of her -mother; my father, killed by your mere presence: these are the disasters -by which you have been accompanied, which have heralded you from another -hemisphere, and have formed your funereal escort: for all this, you have -to account to me; therefore, speak, sir; speak as a man should to a man, -in the broad daylight, face to face, and not as a phantom gliding in the -darkness, which escapes under the cloud of night, letting fall some few -solemn and prophetic words, as if from the other world. Such things are -well calculated to terrify nurses and children! Speak, sir, speak! Look -at me, you will see that I am calm. If you have anything to reveal to me -I will listen to you." - -"The secret which you ask of me is not my own," replied Paul, whose -perfect calmness strongly contrasted with the feverish excitement -of Emanuel; "believe what I have said, and do not insist farther. -Farewell!" - -After pronouncing these words, Paul moved toward the door. - -"Oh!" cried Emanuel, rushing between him and the door, to prevent his -passage; "you shall not leave me thus, sir! I have you now, we are alone -in this room, without fear of any interruption, into which, it was not -I that enticed you, but you have come here of your own free will. -Therefore, hearken to that which I am about to say. The person you have -insulted is myself! the person to whom you owe satisfaction is myself! - -"The person with whom you have to fight is----" - -"You are mad, sir," tranquilly replied Paul; "I have already told you it -is impossible. Therefore, allow me to withdraw." - -"Take care, sir," cried Emanuel, stretching out his hand to the box, and -taking out the pistols; "take care, sir. After having done every thing -in my power to compel you to act as a gentleman, I may treat you as a -brigand.--You are here in a house, in which you are a total stranger; -you have entered it, I know not how, nor for what purpose; if you have -not come into it to despoil us of our gold and jewels, you have entered -it to steal the obedience of a daughter to her mother, and to cancel the -sacred promise given by a friend to a friend. In one case or the other, -you are a violator, whom I have met at the moment that his hands were -about to seize a treasure; that treasure, is honor, the most precious -of all riches! Come, sir, believe me, you will do better to accept this -weapon"--Emanuel endeavored to thrust one of the pistols into Paul's -hand--"and defend yourself." - -"You may kill me, sir," replied Paul, again placing his elbow on the -chimney-piece, as if he were continuing an ordinary conversation; -"although I do not believe that God would permit so great a crime: but -you shall not force me to fight with you. I have before told you so, and -I repeat it." - -"Take the pistol, sir!" cried Emanuel, "take it, sir, I tell you! you -believe that the threat I am making is but a vain menace; undeceive -yourself! for three days have you fatigued my patience! for three days -have you filled my soul with gall and hatred! for three days have I -familiarised my mind with the idea of ridding myself of you; whether it -be by a duel or by murder! Do not imagine, that the dread of punishment -withholds my hand; this castle is isolated, mute, and deaf. The sea is -there; and before you could be even laid in the tomb, I should be in -England. Therefore, sir, for the last time, I say to you, take this -pistol and defend yourself." Paul, without uttering a word, gently put -the pistol aside. - -"Well then!" cried Emanuel, exasperated to the highest degree, by the -sangfroid of his adversary; "as you will not defend yourself like a man, -die like a dog!" And so saying, he raised the muzzle of the pistol to -the level of the captain's breast. - -At that moment a dreadful shriek was heard; it was Marguerite, who had -returned from her mother, and who had, at a glance, comprehended all -that had happened. She rushed upon Emanuel, and at that instant he fired -the pistol, but the direction of the ball having been changed by the -young girl's striking up his arm, it passed two or three inches above -Paul's head, and shattered the glass above the chimney-piece. - -"My brother!" cried Marguerite, with one bound, springing to were -Paul stood, and throwing her arms around him: "my brother, are you not -wounded?" - -"Your brother!" exclaimed Emanuel, letting fall the pistol which was -still smoking; "your brother!" - -"Well, Emanuel!" said Paul, with the same calmness which he had evinced -during the whole of this painful scene; "do you now comprehend why it -was I could not fight with you?" - -At that moment, the marchioness appeared at the door, pale as a spectre, -for she had heard the report of the pistol; then looking around her with -an expression of infinite terror, and seeing that no one was wounded, -she silently raised her eyes to heaven, as if to ask if its anger was -at length appeased. She remained thus for some time in an attitude of -mental thanksgiving. When she again cast down her eyes, Emanuel and -Marguerite were on their knees before her, each holding one of her -hands, and covering it with tears and kisses. - -"I thank you, my children," said the marchioness, after a short silence; -"and now leave me with this young man." - -Marguerite and Emanuel bowed with an expression of the most profound -respect, and obeyed the command of their mother. - - - -CHAPTER XVIII--RECOGNITION. - - Oh! my mother! - You do not know the heart that you have pierced! - I--I--thy son--thine Arthur--I avenge? - Never on thee. - - Live happy--love my brother-- - Forget that I was born. - Here, here--these proofs-- - These--these! - - Oh! see you where the words are blistered - With my hot tears? - I wept--it was for joy-- - I did not think of lands, of name, of birthright-- - I did but think these arms should clasp a' mother. - - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain. - - -The marchioness closed the door as soon as they had withdrawn, advanced -into the middle of the room, and went without looking at Paul, and -leaning upon the arm-chair in which the marquis had the night before -been seated to sign the contract. There she remained standing, with her -eyes cast upon the ground. Paul for a moment experienced the desire to -throw himself upon his knees before her, but there was upon the features -of the marchioness such an expression of severity, that he repressed -the yearnings of his heart, and stood motionless awaiting her commands. -After a few moments of ice-like silence, the marchioness addressed him. -"You desired to see me, sir, and I have come to know your will--you -wished to speak to me--I am listening." - -These words were uttered without the marchioness making the least -movement--her lips trembled, rather than opened--it seemed a marble -statue that was speaking. - -"Yes, madam," replied Paul, in a tone of intense feeling, "yes, yes, -I desired to speak with you; it is long since first this desire was -cherished in my heart, and it has never left me. Recollections of -infancy preyed upon the mind of the grown man. I remembered a woman who -would formerly glide to my cradle, and in my youthful dreams, I thought -her the guardian angel of my infancy. Since that time, still so fresh -in my memory, although so distant, more than once, believe me, I have -awakened with a start, imagining that I had felt upon my forehead the -impression of a maternal kiss: and then seeing that there was no one -near me, I would call that person, hoping she would, perhaps, return. It -is now twenty years since first I thus had called, and this is the first -time she has replied to me. Can it have been as I have often fearfully -imagined, that you would have trembled at again beholding me? Can it be -true, as I at this moment fear, that you have naught to say to me?" - -"And had I feared your return," said the marchioness, in a hollow tone, -"should I have been to blame? You appeared before me only yesterday, -sir, and now the mystery which ought to have been concealed to all but -God and myself, is known to both my children." - -"Is it my fault that God has been pleased to reveal the secret to them? -Was it I that conducted Marguerite, despairing and in tears, to the -bedside of her dying father, whose protection she had gone to ask, and -whose confession she was compelled to hear? Was it I that led her to -Achard, and was it not you, madam, that followed her thither? As to -Emanuel, the report you heard, and that shattered glass, attest, that -I would have preferred death rather than to have saved my life at the -expense of your secret. No, no, believe me, madam, I am the instrument, -and not the hand; the effect, and not the cause. No, madam, it is God -who has brought about all this, that you might see at your feet, as you -have just now seen them, your two children whom you have so long banished -from your arms!" - -"But there is a third," said the marchioness, in a voice in which -emotion began to evince itself, "and I know not what I have to expect -from him." - -"Let me accomplish a last duty, madam, and that once fulfilled, he will -on his knees await your orders." - -"And of what nature is this duty?" - -"It is to restore his brother to the rank to which he is entitled, -his sister to that happiness which she has lost--to his mother that -tranquillity of mind, which she has so long sought in vain." - -"And yet, thanks to you," replied the marchioness, "M. de Maurepas -refused to M. de Lectoure the regiment he had solicited for my son." - -"Because," replied Paul, taking the commission from his pocket and -laying it on the table, "because the king had already granted it to me, -for the brother of Marguerite." - -The marchioness cast her eyes upon the commission, and saw that it was -made out in the name of Emanuel d'Auray. - -"And yet you would give the hand of Marguerite to a man without name, -without fortune--and what is more, to a man who is banished." - -"You are mistaken, madam; I would give Marguerite to the man she loves. -I would give Marguerite not to the banished Lusignan, but to the -Baron Anatole de Lusignan, his majesty's governor of the Island of -Gaudaloupe--there is his commission also." The marchioness looked at the -parchment, and saw that in this instance, as in the former one, Paul had -uttered but the truth. - -"Yes, I acknowledge it," she replied, "these will satisfy the ambition -of Emanuel, and confer happiness on Marguerite." - -"And at the same time, secures your tranquillity madam; for Emanuel will -join his regiment, and Marguerite will follow her husband. You will then -remain here alone, as you have, alas! so frequently desired." - -The marchioness sighed. - -"Is not this all you desire, or have I deceived myself," continued Paul. - -"But," said the marchioness, "how can I recall the promise given to the -Baron de Lectoure?" - -"The marquis is dead, madam," replied Paul; "is not the death of -a husband and a father a sufficient cause for the adjournment of a -marriage?" - -The marchioness, without replying, seated herself in the arm-chair, took -a pen and paper, wrote a few lines, folded the letter, and putting on -the address the name of the Baron de Lectoure, she rang the bell for the -servant. After waiting a few moments, during which time, both Paul and -herself remained silent, a servant came into the room. - -"In two hours from this time, you will deliver this to the Baron -de Lectoure," said the Marchioness. The servant took the letter and -withdrew. - -"And now," continued the marchioness, looking at Paul, "now sir, that -you have done justice to the innocent, it remains to you to pardon the -guilty. You have papers which prove your birth, you are the elder--at -all events, in the eyes of the law. The fortunes of Emanuel and -Marguerite are yours by right. What do you require in exchange for these -papers?" - -Paul took them from his pocket, and showing them to the marchioness, -said, "Here are the documents, look at them--they are the letters you -wrote to my poor father--look here, they are moistened by my tears, -for I read them last night, while watching by Achard's corpse." Then -approaching the fire-place, he held them over the flaming wood, saying, -"permit me even but once to call you mother! call me but once your son, -and----" - -"Can it be possible!" exclaimed the marchioness, rising. - -"You speak of name, of fortune," continued Paul, with an expression of -profound melancholy; "what need have I of them. I have by my own -sword gained a rank which few men of my age have ever attained--I have -acquired a name which is pronounced with blessings by one nation, andi -with terror by another. I could, did it so please me, amass a fortune, -worthy of being bequeathed to a king. What, then, are your name your -fortune, and your rank, to me, if you have nothing else to offer me--if -you do not give me that which I have incessantly, and in every position -of my life most yearned for--that which I have not the power to -create--which God had granted to me, but which misfortune wrested from -me--that which you alone can restore to me--a mother!" - -"My son!" exclaimed the marchioness, overcome at length, by his tears, -and supplicating accent, "my son! my son! my son!" - -"Ah!" exclaimed Paul, letting the papers fall into the flames, which -speedily consumed them, "ah! that missed appellation has at length -escaped your lips--that tender name so long desired, and which I have -so unceasingly prayed to hear addressed to me. Merciful heaven! I thank -thee." - -The marchioness had fallen back into her chair, and Paul had thrown -himself upon his knees, his head leaning upon her bosom. At length the -marchioness gently raised him. - -"Look at me!" she said; "for twenty years, this is the first tear that -has ever escaped my eyelids, give me your hand!"--she placed it upon -her heart--"for twenty years this is the first feeling of happiness with -which my heart has palpitated. Come to my arms! For twenty years this -is the first caress I have either given or received. These twenty years -have doubtless been my expiation, since God now pardons me, for he has -restored to me the power of weeping, of feeling joy, and has permitted -me to embrace my son. Thanks to G-od! and thanks to thee, my son!" - -"My mother!" cried Paul, "my beloved mother!" - -"And I trembled at the thoughts of seeing you again--I trembled when I -did see you--I knew not--I could not have imagined that such feelings -still existed in my heart. Oh! I bless thee! I bless thee!" - -At that moment, the tolling of the chapel bell was heard: the -marchioness shuddered. The funeral hour had arrived. The bodies of the -noble Marquis d'Auray and that of the poor man Achard, were about to be -returned to earth at the same moment. - -"This hour must be consecrated to prayer," said the marchioness: "I must -now leave you." - -"I must sail to-morrow, my mother," said Paul; "shall I not once more -see you?" - -"Oh! yes, yes," replied the marchioness, "we must meet again." - -"Well, then, my mother, this evening I shall be at the park gate. There -is a spot which is sacred to me, and to which I must pay a last visit. -I shall expect to meet you there. It is on that spot, my mother, that we -should say farewell." - -"I will be there," said the marchioness. - -"Here, my mother, here," said Paul, "take these commissions: the one for -Emanuel, and the other for the husband of Marguerite. Let the happiness -of your children be conferred by yourself. Believe me, mother, you have -bestowed more on me than I on them." - -The marchioness retired to shut herself up in her oratory. Paul left the -castle, and proceeded toward the hut of the fisherman. - - - -CHAPTER XIX.--THE FAREWELL. - - Hark! she has bless'd her son--I bid ye witness, - Ye listening heavens--thou circumambient air; - The ocean sighs it back--and with the murmur - Bustle the happy leaves. - - All nature breathes - Aloud---aloft--to the Great Parent's ear, - The blessing of the mother on her child. - - -ON approaching the fisherman's hut, the place appointed with Lectoure, -Paul perceived Lusignan and Walter, who were waiting for him. - -Precisely at the hour agreed, Lectoure appeared on horseback; he had -been obliged to find his way as he best could, for he had no guide, and -his own servant was as much a stranger as himself in that part of the -country. On seeing him at a distance the young men came out of the hut. -The baron instantly put his horse into a gallop, to hasten to them. When -within a few paces of them he alighted from his horse, and threw the -rein to his servant. - -"I trust you will pardon me, gentlemen," said he, "that I should have -approached you thus alone, like a forsaken orphan; but the hour selected -by that gentleman," he added, raising his hat to Paul, who returned the -salutation, "was precisely that fixed upon for the funeral obsequies -of the marquis; I have therefore left Emanuel to fulfil the duties of -a son, and have come here without a second, trusting that I had to deal -with an adversary generous enough to procure some friend of his own to -aid me in this dilemma." - -"We are entirely at your service, baron," replied Paul; "here are two -friends of mine. Select which you please, and he who shall be honored by -your choice, will instantly become yours." - -"I have no preference, I swear to you," said Lectoure; "please to -designate which of these two gentlemen you may desire should reader me -this service." - -"Walter," said Paul, "be so good as to officiate as second to the -baron." - -The lieutenant assented; the two adversaries again bowed to each other. - -"And now, sir," continued Paul, "permit me, before our respective -seconds, to address a few words to you, not of apology, but -explanation." - -"At your own pleasure, sir, replied Lectoure. - -"When I uttered the words which have been the cause of your coming -hither, the events which have since occurred at the castle were hidden -in the womb of time, and these events might have entailed the misery of -a whole family. You, sir, had on your side Madame d'Auray, Emanuel, and -the Marquis--Marguerite had but me alone. Every chance was, therefore, -in your favor. It was for this reason that I addressed myself directly -to you, for had I fallen by your hand from circumstances which must for -ever remain hidden to you, Marguerite could not have married you. If -I had killed you, the case would have been still more simplified, and -requires no commentary. - -"This exordium is really most logical, sir," replied the baron, smiling, -and tapping his boots with his riding-whip; "let us proceed, if you -please, to the main body of the discourse." | - -"Now," continued Paul, bowing in sign of acquiescence, "every -circumstance has changed; the marquis is dead, Emanuel has received his -commission, the marchioness renounces your alliance, honorable as it may -be, and Marguerite marries the Baron Anatole de Lusignan, who, for that -reason, I did not name your second." - -"Ah! ah!" exclaimed Lectoure, "then that is the true meaning of the note -which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave -the castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an -adjournment. It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. 'Tis well, -sir, and now to the peroration." - -"It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know -you--I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each -other, and with opposing interests--hence our collision. Then, as I have -before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make sure -of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my death -or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed to -the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank it -would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?" - -"I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed -so long a journey," replied Lectoure: "Not having the honor to espouse -Mademoiselle Marguerite d'Auray, I should desire, at least, to have -the honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have -travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at -your orders, sir," continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it -saluting his adversary. - -"At your good pleasure, sir," replied Paul, and replying to the -salutation in the same manner. - -The two young men then advanced towards each other--their swords -crossed--at the third parry Lectoure's sword was twisted from his hand, -and flew to a distance of twenty yards. - -"Before taking sword in hand," said Paul, "I had offered an explanation, -and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology." - -"And this time I will accept it, sir," said Lectoure, in the same -careless and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. "Pick -up my sword, Dick." - -His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very -tranquilly put it into the scabbard. - -"Now," continued he, "if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for -Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot." - -"Tell the king, sir," replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing -his sword, "that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed -against the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my -own countrymen." - -And then the two young men again bowed to each other. Lectoure remounted -his horse, and at about a hundred paces from the sea shore, got into the -high road leading to Vannes, and galloped off; while his servant went -to the castle to get his travelling carriage, with which Lectoure had -ordered him to rejoin him speedily. - -"And now, Mr. Walter," said Paul, "you must send the long-boat to the -nearest creek to Auray castle, and have every thing in readiness to set -sail tonight." - -The lieutenant immediately set out for Port Louis, and Paul and Lusignan -returned into the fisherman's hut. - -During this time Emanuel and Marguerite had fulfilled the mournful duty -to which they had been summoned by the chapel bell. The body of the -marquis had been deposited in the emblazoned tomb of his ancestors, and -Achard's in the humble cemetery outside the chapel, and then the -brother and sister repaired to their mother's apartment. The marchioness -delivered to Emanuel the commission which he so anxiously coveted, and -gave to Marguerite her unexpected consent to her marriage with Lusignan. -She then handed to Marguerite the king's sign manual appointing Lusignan -governor of Guadaloupe. And then, in order that the emotions which they -experienced should not be renewed, and which were the more poignant, -because they were concealed within their own breasts, for neither of -them made any allusion to past events, the mother and the children -embraced each other for the last time, each feeling the innate -conviction that they should never meet again. - -The remainder of the day was occupied in the necessary preparations for -departure. Toward the evening the marchioness left the castle, to meet -Paul at the place which he had appointed. When passing through the -court-yard she perceived a carriage, with horses already attached to it, -standing on one side of it, and the young midshipman, Arthur, with four -sailors, on the other. Her heart was oppressed by the sight of this -two-fold preparation. She, however, passed on, and went into the park, -without giving way to her emotions, so much had her long-continued -restraint upon natural feelings given her the power of self-command. - -However, when she had reached a small clearing, from which she could -see Achard's house, she paused, for her knees trembled beneath her, and -she was obliged to lean for support against a tree, while she pressed -her hand to her breast to restrain the violent beatings of her heart. -For there are souls which present danger, however imminent, cannot cause -to quail, but which tremble at the remembrance of perils past; and the -marchioness recalled to mind the agonizing fears and emotions to which -she had been for twenty years a prey, and during which time she had -daily visited that house, now closed never again to be opened. She, -however, soon overcame this weakness, and reached the park gate. - -There she again paused. Above all the trees rose the summit of a -gigantic oak, whose wide spreading branches could be discerned from -many places in the park. Often had the eyes of the marchioness remained -riveted for hours upon its verdant dome: but never had she dared to seek -repose beneath its shade. It was there, however, that she had promised -to meet Paul, and there Paul was awaiting her. At length she made a last -effort, and entered the forest. - -From a distance she perceived a man kneeling upon the ground in the -attitude of prayer. She slowly approached him, and kneeling down by his -side, prayed also. When the prayer was concluded, they both rose, and -without uttering a word, the marchioness placed her arm around Paul's -neck, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. After some moments' -silence, they heard the noise of the wheels of a carriage at a distance. -The marchioness shuddered, and made a sign to Paul to listen; it was -Emanuel setting out to join his regiment. Shortly afterwards Paul -pointed in a direction opposite to that in which they had heard the -noise, and showed the marchioness a boat gliding rapidly and silently -upon the surface of the ocean; it was Marguerite going on board the -frigate. - -The marchioness listened to the noise of the receding wheels as long as -she could hear it, and followed with anxious eyes the movements of the -boat, as long as she could distinguish it; then she turned toward -Paul, and raising her eyes to heaven, for she felt that the moment was -approaching, when he, whom she was leaning upon, would, in his turn, -leave her, she exclaimed-- - -"May God bless, as I now bless, the duteous son, who was the last to -leave his mother." - -Saying these words, she threw her arms around his neck, pressed him -convulsively to her heart, and kissed him; then gazing at him intently, -she seemed to be scanning every outline of his face, and then, again, -rapturously embraced him. - -"Yes," she cried, "in every feature he is the living resemblance of my -poor lost Morlaix," then for some moments she seemed to be absorbed in -thought; at last after a seemingly violent struggle, she continued, -"Paul, you have refused to accept any portion of that fortune to which -you are legally entitled, although you know the wealth of the Auray -family is unbounded--and that the fortune which I inherit in my own -right, from the family of Sabl, is very large." Paul shook his head. -"Well, then, there is one thing that you must receive from your mother, -as her parting gift. It is twenty years since I have dared to look -upon it, and yet I have clung to its possession--it is your father's -portrait, presented to me when I was authorized to receive it--when, by -the assent of both our families, he was to have become my husband--take -it, my dear son, for although it tears my heart to part with it, yet I -feel that I shall be more tranquil when it is in your possession--to no -one but yourself would I have given it. You will sometimes look upon it, -and you will think of your mother, who must now remain for ever isolated -from the world. But it is better that it should be so--henceforward all -my moments shall be spent in making my peace with Heaven." - -While saying these words, she had drawn from her pocket a case, which -she put into Paul's hands, and which he had eagerly opened, and gazed -with intense interest at the features of his father. The miniature was -richly set in diamonds of great value. - -Then summoning all her fortitude, the marchioness for the last time -kissed her son, who was kneeling before her, and tearing herself from -his arms, she returned alone to the castle. - -The next morning the inhabitants of Port Louis vainly sought the frigate -they had seen only the evening before, and which for fifteen days had -remained at anchor in the outer roads of Lorient. As on the former -occasion, she had disappeared without their being able to comprehend the -cause of her arrival, or the motive of her so sudden departure. - - - -EPILOGUE. - - Last scene of all - That ends this strange, eventful history. - - -Five years had elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have -related. The independence of the United States had been recognized; New -York, the last strong-hold of the English, had been evacuated. The roar -of cannon,-which had resounded in the Indian seas, as well as in the -Gulf of Mexico, had ceased to thunder. Washington, in the solemn meeting -of Congress of the 28th December, 1783, had resigned his commission as -general-in-chief, and had retired to Mount Vernon, his parental estate, -without any other recompence than that of being allowed to receive and -send letters free of charge; and the tranquillity which America had -begun to enjoy, had extended to the French colonies in the West Indies; -for the mother country having espoused the American cause, they had been -several times exposed to the hostile attempts of Great Britain. Among -these islands, Guadaloupe had been more particularly threatened, in -consequence of its military and commercial importance; but, thanks to -the vigilance of its new governor, the attempts of the enemy to land -there had always failed, and France had not to mourn over any serious -discomfiture in this important position, so that at the commencement of -the year 1784, the island, without being altogether denuded of warlike -appearance, which was maintained in it more from custom than from -necessity, the inhabitants generally had applied themselves anew to the -cultivation of the numerous products which form its riches. - -If our readers will be pleased by a last effort of their complaisance, -to accompany us to the other side of the Atlantic, and land with us at -the port of Basseterre, we will conduct them amidst fountains which jet -on every side, through the street which leads to the promenade, called -Champ d'Arbaud; then, after having availed ourselves of the cool -shade of the tamarind trees, planted on each side of it, till we have -proceeded about two-thirds of its length, we will turn upon the left up -a small beaten road, which conducts to the gate of a garden, the upper -part of which commands a view of the whole town. - -When we have arrived there, we will allow them for a few moments to -inhale the evening breeze, so refreshingly sweet after the mid-day -heat of the month of May, and they can cast a glance with us over the -luxuriant vegetation of the tropics. - -With our backs turned to the woody and volcanic mountains, which divide -the western part of the island, and amid which arise, crowned with their -plumes of smoke and sparks, the two calcined pinnacles of the sulphur -mountain, we have at our feet, sheltered by the hills, which have been -named Bellevue, Mont-Dsir, Beau Soliel, Esprance and Saint Charles, -the city gracefully descending towards the sea, the waves of which -sparkling with the last rays of the setting sun, laves its white walls. -The horizon, formed by the ocean, lying like a vast and limpid mirror, -and to the right and left, the most beautiful and richest plantation of -the island; large square fields of coffee trees, transplanted originally -from Arabia, with their knotty and flexible branches, covered with dark -green glossy leaves, of an oblong and pointed form, and bearing clusters -of flowers as white as snow; long rows of cotton plants, covering with -a rich carpet of verdure, the dry and stony soil, on which they thrive -best, and among which we see, like so many colossal ants, negroes -occupied in reducing to two or three, the thousand shoots which -sprout out from each stalk. And then again, but in more level and well -sheltered spots, in which the soil is richer and more argillaceous, we -see plantations of cocoa trees, first introduced into the West Indies by -the Jew, Benjamin Dacosta, with their lofty trunks and porous branches, -covered with fawn colored bark, from which large oblong leaves are -pending, among which we see fresh shoots of a soft rose color, which -contrast strongly with the long, curved and yellow fruit, which bends -the branches with its weight. And further off, whole fields of the -plant, discovered at Tabaco, first brought to France by the Ambassador -of Francis II., who presented it to Catherine de Medicis, from which -circumstance it derived its name of _Herbe-a-l-reine_.* This did not, -however, prevent it from being, like every popular thing, in the first -instance, excommunicated and proscribed, in Europe and Asia, by the -two powers who then divided the world, proscribed by the Grand Duke of -Muscovy, Michael Fedorowich, by the Turkish Sultan Amurath IV., by -the Emperor of Persia, and excommunicated by Pope Urban VIII. Here and -there, we see springing up to a height of forty or fifty feet above all -the shrubs and plants, by which it is surrounded, the banana tree of -Paradise, of which, according to tradition, the oval leaves, seven or -eight feet in length, served to form the first garment of the first -created woman. And finally, elevated above all the rest, and standing -forth pre-eminent, whether hacked by the azure of the Heavens, or by the -dark green tea, the cocoa-nut and the palm-tree, those two giants of -the Western Archipelago graceful and prodigal, as is everything that is -powerful. Figure to yourselves, then these beautiful hills, intersected -by seventy rivers, eased in beds, ninety feet in depth; these mountains -illuminated during the day by a tropical sun, at night, by the volcano -of the sulphur mountain; that vegetation, which never is arrested, -the new leaves of which succeed the leaves which fall; this soil -so salubrious, and air so pure, that notwithstanding the insensate -experiments that man, the real enemy of himself, has made by -transporting serpents from Martinique, and Saint Lucie, it was found -that they could neither live nor reproduce there, and then judge after -the sufferings they had endured in Europe, of the happiness which Antole -de Lusignan and Marguerite d'Auray must have enjoyed there. - - * Queen's Grass. - -To a life agitated by the passions, to that struggle of natural rights -against legal power, to that succession of scenes in which all earthly -pains, from childbirth even to death, had played their part, had -succeeded a life of pure delights, each day of which had passed on -calmly and tranquilly; the only clouds that darkened it, arose from that -vague uneasiness for distant friends, which as if borne upon the air, -and which contracts the heart like a painful presentiment. However, -from time to time, whether by newspapers, or by vessels, touching at -the island, Anatole and Marguerite had obtained some intelligence of the -generous being who had so powerfully served them as a protector; they -had heard of his victories; that after he had left them, he had been -appointed to the command of a small squadron, and had destroyed the -English establishments on the coast of Acadia, which had gained for him -the title of commodore; that, in an engagement with the _Serapis_ and -the _Countess of Scarborough_, after a combat yard-arm to yard-arm, -which lasted four hours, he had obliged the two frigates to strike to -him, and that finally, as a reward for the services he had rendered to -the cause of American Independence, he had received the public thanks -of Congress, who had voted him a gold medal, and had selected him to -command the frigate _America_, to which that name had been given as -being the finest in the service, and the command of which had been -conferred on him as the bravest of its officers; but this splendid ship -had been presented by Congress to the King of France, to replace -the _Magnifique_, which had been lost at Boston. Paul Jones, after -conducting this frigate to Havre, had joined the fleet of the Count -de Vaudreuil, who had projected an attack upon Jamaica. This last -intelligence had overjoyed the hearts of Lusignan and Marguerite, for -this enterprize would bring Paul into their latitude, and they hoped at -last they should soon see their brother and their friend; but peace, as -we have before said, had intervened, and from that time, they had heard -no more of the adventurous seaman. - -In the evening of the day on which we have transported our readers from -the wild shores of Brittany to the fertile coast of Guadaloupe, the -young family were assembled in the very garden which we have entered, -and which commands a view of the immense panorama we have described; -the foreground of which is formed by the city, at its feet the ocean, -studded with islands in the distance. - -Marguerite had promptly habituated herself to the soft listlessness of -Creole life; and her mind now tranquil and full of happiness, she -gave herself up to the _dolce far niente_, which renders the sensual -existence of the colonies a half sleep, the incidents of which appear as -dreams. - -She was lying with her daughter in a Peruvian hammock, netted with -the silken fibres of the aloe, and ornamented with the most brilliant -colored plumes of the rarest tropical birds; her son was swinging her -with a soft and regular motion, and Lusignan was holding one of her -hands between both his. She was still pale, but delicate and graceful as -a wild lily. Her looks were vacantly wandering over the immense extent -of ocean lying before her, and she felt her soul and senses enraptured -by all the bliss which heaven can promise, and all the enjoyments which -this earth can offer. At that moment, and as if everything concurred -to complete the magic spectacle which every evening she came there to -contemplate, and which every succeeding evening she found still more -marvellously beautiful, there suddenly appeared, doubling the cape -_Trois Pointes_, and looking like an ocean king, a large vessel, gliding -along the surface of the sea without more apparent effort than a swan -playing upon the tranquil bosom of a lake. Marguerite was the first to -perceive it, and without speaking, for every action is a fatigue under -that burning clime, she made a sign with her head to Lusignan, who -directed his looks to the spot she had indicated, and then, like her, -silently followed with his eyes the rapid and graceful movements of the -vessel. By degrees as she approached, and as the elegant and delicate -proportions of her masts amidst the mass of sails which they sustained, -could be discerned, which, in the first instance, had seemed a cloud -floating upon the horizon--they began to discover in one corner of her -flag the stars of America, equal in number to the States they represent. -One same idea shot instantly through their minds, and they exchanged a -glance, radiant with hope that they were, perhaps, about to receive some -news of Paul. Lusignan immediately ordered a negro to bring a telescope: -but before he had returned, a hope still more delightful pervaded -both their hearts. It appeared to Lusignan and Marguerite that they -recognized an old friend in the frigate that was approaching. To -persons, however, unaccustomed, it is so difficult to distinguish, at a -great distance, signs which speak at once to the eye of an experienced -seaman, that they did not yet dare to have faith in this hope, and -which, indeed, was more an instinctive presentiment than positive -reality. At last the negro brought the so much longed for telescope. -Lusignan uttered a cry of joy, and then handed it to Marguerite: he -had recognized the sculpture of Guillaume Costou, upon the prow of the -vessel, and it was really the _Indienne_ which was advancing towards -Basseterre. - -Lusignan raised Marguerite from the hammock and placed her on her feet, -for their first impulse was to hasten to the harbour; but then they -reflected that Paul had left the _Indienne_ nearly five years, at the -time that his promotion entitled him to the command of a larger vessel, -and that she might now be under the orders of another captain, and they -paused with palpitating hearts and trembling limbs. During this time, -their son Hector had taken up the telescope, and placing it to his eye, -looked through it, and soon after exclaimed,--"Father, see there,--upon -the deck stands an officer, dressed in a black coat, embroidered -with gold, just like the one in the picture of my dear friend, Paul!" -Lusignan hastily snatched the glass from his son's hands, looked through -it for a few moments, then again passed it to Marguerite, who, after -directing it toward the vessel, let it fall, and then they threw -themselves into each other's arms; they had recognized their friend, -who, as he was about to visit them, had put on the dress which we have -before said he had generally worn. At this instant the frigate passed -the fort, which it saluted with three guns, and the fort returned the -salute with an equal number. - -From the moment that Lusignan and Marguerite had acquired the certitude -that their friend and brother was actually on board the _Indienne_, they -had hastened down the mountain, followed by young Hector, towards the -port, leaving their little Blanche in the hammock. The captain had -also recognized them, so that at the moment they left the garden he had -ordered a boat to be lowered, and, thanks to the united strength of ten -vigorous oarsmen, he had rapidly glided over the distance between the -anchorage ground and the port, and had sprung upon the jetty at the -instant that his friends arrived there. Such sensations as then filled -their breasts cannot be expressed in words; tears are their only -interpreter. And thus their joy more closely resembled grief, for they -all wept, even to the child, who wept because he saw them weep. - -After giving some orders relating to the vessel, the young commodore, -with his delighted friends, slowly ascended the hill down which they -had rushed so rapidly to meet him. Paul told them that the expedition -of Admiral Vaudreuil having failed, he had returned to Philadelphia, and -peace having been signed, as we have before mentioned, with England, the -Congress, as a token of gratitude, had presented him with the first ship -he had commanded as captain. - -Upon hearing this, Lusignan and Marguerite experienced the most lively -joy, for they hoped that their brother had come with the intention of -taking up his abode with them; but the character of the young seaman -was too adventurous, and stood too much in need of excitement, to sink -quietly down into the monotonous and unvaried dulness of a life on -shore. He informed his friends that he had but eight days to remain with -them, after which he should seek in another quarter of the globe, to -follow the profession he had adopted. - -These eight days passed by as rapidly as a dream, and notwithstanding -the reiterated entreaties of both Lusignan and Marguerite, Paul would -not consent to delay his departure even for twenty-four hours. He was -still the same ardent determined being, considering the execution of a -resolution he had once formed as a positive duty, and more austere with -regard to himself than toward others. - -The hour of separation had arrived. Marguerite and Lusignan wished to -accompany the young commodore on board his ship; but Paul wished not to -prolong the grief of this leave-taking. When they reached the jetty he -embraced them for the last time, then jumped into his boat, which was -rowed away as swiftly as an arrow. Marguerite and Lusignan followed him -with their eyes until his boat had disappeared on the leeward side -of the frigate, and they sorrowfully reascended the hill to watch the -ship's departure, from the same terrace from which they had before -discerned its arrival. - -At the moment they reached it, they observed that activity and bustle -on board the frigate which always precede the departure of a vessel. The -sailors had surrounded the capstan, and were employed in getting up the -anchor, and thanks to the pureness of the atmosphere, the sonorous and -lively cries of the seamen reached the ears of Lusignan and Marguerite; -the anchor was soon apeak, and they saw it rising slowly under the -ship's bows; then the sails dropped successively from the yards, from -the royals to the courses, and the ship, seemingly endowed with an -instinctive and animated feeling, gracefully turned her prow toward the -harbour's mouth, and beginning to move, cut through the waves with an -easy motion, as if merely gliding upon their surface. Then, as if the -frigate might be abandoned to her own will, they saw the young commodore -spring upon the stern rails, and devote all his attention to the land he -was thus leaving. Lusignan took out his handkerchief and made a signal, -to which Paul replied. And then, when they could no longer perceive each -other with the naked eye, they had recourse to their telescopes, and, -thanks to this ingenious invention, they retarded the separation for -another hour. They all felt a presentiment that this separation would be -eternal. - -The vessel gradually diminished upon the horizon, and darkness was about -to cover the heavens, when Lusignan ordered a quantity of wood to be -brought upon the terrace, to form a beacon fire, which was instantly -ignited, in order that Paul, whose vessel was nearly enshrouded in the -darkness, might continue to fix his eyes upon that spot until he had -doubled Cape Trois Pointes. Lusignan and Marguerite had for an hour lost -sight of the ship, while Paul, thanks to their large brilliant fire, -might still perceive them, when a bright flame, like to a flash of -lightning, appeared on the horizon, and in a few seconds the report of -a gun, similar to the prolonged sound of distant thunder, reached their -ears, and all again was silent. Lusignan and Marguerite had received -Paul's last farewell. - -And now, although the domestic drama which we had undertook to relate, -has, in fact, terminated here, some of our readers may, perhaps, have -felt sufficient interest in the young adventurer, of whom we have made -the hero of this story, to follow him in the second part of his career; -to these then, after thanking them for the kind attention they have been -pleased to grant to us, we are about to recount truly and plainly, facts -which a most minute research have enabled us to lay before them. - -At the period we have reached, that is to say, in the month of May, -1784, the whole of Europe had fallen into that state of torpor, which -unthinking men imagined to be tranquillity, but which minds more -profound, regarded as the dull and momentary calm that precedes the -tempest. America, by obtaining her independence, had prepared France for -her revolution. Kings and people, mistrustful of each other, were upon -their guard. Peter III., who had become odious to the Russians, in -consequence of his ignoble character, the narrowness of his political -views, and above all, for his excessive leaning to Prussian manners, and -Prussian discipline, had been deposed without opposition, and strangled -without a struggle. Catherine had thus found herself, at the age of -thirty-two, mistress of an empire which extended over one-seventh part -of the globe; her first care was to compel the neighbouring powers to -accept her as a mediatrix in their quarrel, and thus become do-pendent -upon her. Thus, had she obliged the people of Courland to drive from -them their new Duke, Charles of Saxony, and to recall Biren; she had -sent her ambassadors and her armies to Warsaw, there to have crowned by -the name of Stanislaus Augustus, her former lover, Poniatowski; she had -formed an alliance with England; she had associated to her policy -the Courts of Vienna and Berlin; and notwithstanding all these -great projects of foreign policy, she had not neglected the internal -government of her own country, and in the interval of her amours, so -fickle and so various, she still found time to reward industry, to -encourage agriculture, to reform the laws, to raise a navy, to -send Pallas into provinces the productions of which were till then -unknown--Blumager into the northern Archipelago, and Bel-lings into -the Indian ocean; in fine, jealous of the literary reputation of her -brother, the King of Prussia, she wrote with the same hand that had -ordered the erection of a new city, signed the order for the execution -of young Ivan, and the dismemberment of Poland, _The Refutation of the -Journey into Siberia_, by the Abb Chappe, a romance of the Czarowich -Chlose, several plays, among which was a translation into French of -Oleg, a drama, written by the Russian poet, Dersehawin, so that Voltaire -proclaimed her the Semiraris of the North, and the King of Prussia, in -his letters, classed her between Solon and Lycurgus. - -The effect produced amid this voluptuous and chivalric court by the -arrival of such a man, as our adventurous seaman, can readily be -imagined. The reputation for courage, which had rendered him the terror -of the enemies of France and America, had preceded him to the court -of Russia, and in exchange for his frigate, which he presented to -Catherine, he received the rank of Rear-Admiral. Then the flag of -Russia, after having navigated round one-half the old world, appeared in -the Grecian seas, and beneath the ruins of Lacedemon and the Parthenon, -he, who had assisted in establishing the independence of America, dreamt -of the re-establishment of the Republics of Sparta and of Athens. The -old Ottoman empire was shaken to its foundations, the defeated Turks -signed a treaty of peace at Kainardji. Catherine retained Azof, -Taganrog, and Kenburr, and Kenburn, compelled the Turks to grant to -her the free navigation of the Black Sea, and the independence of the -Crimea; she then desired to visit her new possessions. Paul, recalled to -St. Petersburgh, accompanied her on this journey, the route of which had -been drawn up by Potemkin. During the whole of it, all the attributes of -triumph were offered to the conquering Empress and her suite; bonfires -were lighted all along the road, cities were illuminated with the most -fairy-like brilliancy, magnificent palaces erected, as if by magic, for -one day, amid desert countries, and which the next morning disappeared; -villages, rising as if beneath the wand of an enchanter, in solitudes, -in which eight days before the Tartars fed their flocks; towns appearing -on the horizon of which there existed but the exterior walls; in every -direction, homage, and songs of welcome, and dances of the people: -during the day, a numerous population crowded the road, and at night, -while the Empress was sleeping, they would run to station themselves in -the way she was to proceed on waking the following morning: a king and -emperor rode by her side, calling themselves not her brothers, not her -equals, but her courtiers; finally, a triumphal arch was erected at -the last halt she was to make on her journey southward, bearing the -inscription--"_This is the road to Byzantium,_" which if it did not -reveal the ambition of Catherine, demonstrated at least, the policy of -Potemkin. Then Russia became strengthened in her tyranny, as America had -in her independence. Catherine offered to her Admiral places which would -have more than satisfied the rapacity of a courtier, honors which would -have overwhelmed the ambitious, estates which would have consoled a -deposed king for the loss of his dominions; but it was the deck of -his ship, it was the sea with its combats and its tempests, it was -the boundless immensity of ocean for which yearned the heart of our -adventurous and poetic seaman. He, therefore, left the brilliant court -of Catherine, as he had left the austere Congress of America, and -returned to France to seek that, which he could not find elsewhere, that -is to say, a life of excitement, enemies to combat, a people to defend. -Paul arrived in Paris in the midst of our European wars and civil -struggles; while, with one hand, we were seizing a foreign enemy by the -throat, with the other, we were tearing our own entrails. That king, -whom he had seen ten years before, beloved, honored, powerful, was then -a captive, despised and strengthless. All that had been exalted was -abased, and great names fell as did high-born heads.--It was the reign -of equality, and the guillotine was the levelling instrument. Paul -inquired after Emanuel, and was told that he was proscribed. He asked -what had become of his mother, and was informed that she was dead. Then -he felt an irresistible longing to revisit once again, before he himself -might die, the spot on which, twelve years before, he had experienced -emotions at once so sweet and terrible. He set out for Brittany, left -his carriage at Vannes, and mounted on horseback, as he had done on the -first day he had seen Marguerite; but he was no longer the young and -enthusiastic seaman, whose desires and hopes had no horizon; he was a -man bereft of all those, brilliant illusions, for he had tasted of all, -whether weet or bitter, had learnt to appreciate all, both men and -things; had known all, glory and oblivion. Therefore, did he not come to -search a family, but to visit tombs. - -When he came within sight of the castle, he turned his eyes toward -Achard's house, and not being able to discover it, he thought he -would go into the forest, but the forest seemed to have vanished as by -enchantment. It had been sold as national property to twenty-five or -thirty farmers of the neighbourhood, who had cleared off the timber, and -transformed it into a large plain. The gigantic oak had disappeared, and -the plough had passed over the unknown grave of the Count de Morlaix, -and the eyes of his son even, could no longer recognize the spot. - -Then he returned through the park toward the castle, now become even -more gloomy and desolate than when he had last seen it. In it he found -only an old man, a living ruin amidst these ruins of the past; it was at -first intended to have pulled down the mansion, but the reputation for -holiness which the marchioness had left behind her, was regarded with -such religious veneration throughout the country, that the old walls, -which for four centuries had been the abode of her ancestors, remained -undesecrated. Paul went through the apartments, which for three years -had remained closed, and which were now open for him. He walked through -the portrait gallery; it was in the same state as he had formerly seen -it; no pious hand had added to the portrait either of the marquis or -the marchioness. He went into the study in which he had been -concealed--found a book lying in it which he had opened and placed upon -the very spot on which he found it, and read the same passages which -he had read so many years before. He then pushed open the door which -communicated with the contract chamber, where had passed the chief -scenes of that drama in which he was the principal actor. The table -was still in the same place and the Venetian looking-glass over the -chimney-piece was there, shattered as it had been by the ball of -Emanuels pistol. - -Paul advanced to the fire-place, and placing his elbow on the marble -mantle-piece, questioned the servant as to the last years of the -Marchioness. - -The account he received shewed that she had remained austere and -melancholy, as was her wont. Remaining secluded and alone at the castle, -her hours were uniformly spent in three different places: her oratory, -the vault in which the body of her husband had been buried, and the -spot sheltered by the oak tree, at the foot of which her lover had been -interred. For eight years after the evening on which Paul had taken -leave of her, she had been seen to wander amid the old corridors of -the castle, and in the gloomy avenues of the Park, slow and pale as a -spectre; then a disease of the heart, engendered by the agonies she had -suffered, declared itself, and she daily became weaker. At length, one -evening, when her failing strength no longer permitted her to walk, she -had ordered the servants to carry her to the foot of the oak tree, her -favorite walk, that she might once more see, she said, the sun setting -in the ocean. When they had reached the spot, she desired the servants -to withdraw, and to come back to her in half an hour. On their return -they found her lying fainting on the ground. They immediately bore her -to the castle, but having recovered her senses on the way, she ordered -them, instead of conducting her to her own room, which they usually did, -to take her down into the family vault. There she had still strength -enough to kneel upon the tomb of her husband, and made a sign that she -desired to be left alone. However imprudent their doing so might be, the -servants elbow on the marble withdrew, for she had accustomed them -to obey her in every thing at the first intimation of her will. They, -however, remained at a short distance, concealed behind the corner of a -tomb, that they might be ready to render her assistance, should it be -necessary. In a few minutes they saw her fall down upon the stone on -which she had been praying; they rushed forward, imagining that she had -again fainted. She was dead. - -Paul requested the old servant to conduct him into the vault, and slowly -entered it with uncovered head; and when he had reached the stone -which covered the grave of his mother, he knelt down and prayed. On the -monumental stone were inscribed the following words, and which may still -be seen in one of the chapels of the church of the small town of Auray, -to which it has since been removed. The inscription had been written by -the marchioness herself, and she had desired that it should be placed -upon her tomb. - -"Here lies the very noble and very puissant lady Marguerite Blanche de -Sabl, Marchioness of Auray; born the 2nd of August 1729--died the 3rd -September, 1788. - -"Pray for her and for her children." - -Paul raised his eyes to heaven, with an expression of infinite -gratitude, His mother, who during her life, had for so long a time -forgotten him, had remembered him in her funeral inscription. - -Six months after this visit, the National Convention decreed, in solemn -sitting, that they would attend in a body the funeral procession of Paul -Jones, formerly a commodore in the American navy, and whose burial was -to take place in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise. - -They had come to this decision, said the decree, in order to consecrate -the establishment of _religious freedom throughout France_. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL *** - -***** This file should be named 41222-8.txt or 41222-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/2/2/41222/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere
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-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
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-Title: Captain Paul
-
-Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere
-
-Release Date: October 29, 2012 [EBook #41222]
-Last Updated: November 21, 2016
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-Language: English
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- CAPTAIN PAUL
- </h1>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h2>
- By Alexandre Dumas, pere
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> CAPTAIN PAUL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- INTRODUCTION.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The admirers of “The Pilot,” one of the most magnificent of Cooper’s
- novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves
- have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether lose
- sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such intense
- interest, through the narrows of the Devil’s Grip, and the Cloisters of
- St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and in the actions
- of this person, introduced in the first place by the name of John, and
- afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a grief so
- bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every reader
- desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so brave
- and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have more than
- once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of it, it might
- have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for information
- regarding the early career and closing years of this adventurous seaman—information
- which we have vainly searched for in his narrative. I thought that such a
- request would be readily forgiven by him to whom it was addressed, for it
- would have been accompanied by the expression of the most sincere and
- ardent admiration of his work; but I was restrained by the reflection that
- the author himself, perhaps, knew no more of that career, of which, he had
- given us but an episode, than that portion of it which had been
- illuminated by the sun of American Independence: for, in fact, this
- brilliant meteor had passed from the clouds which environed his birth to
- the obscurity of his death in such a manner, that it was quite possible
- the “poet historian,” being far distant from the place where his hero was
- born, and from the country in which he died, knew no more of him than what
- he has transmitted to us. The very mystery which surrounded him, may have
- been the cause of his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals.
- Urged by these considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own
- research, those details which I had so often desired to receive from
- others. I searched through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was
- a copy of the letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined
- the annals of the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at
- the time of his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that
- he was buried in the cemetery of Père la Chaise. This was all the
- information I could gather from my first attempts.
- </p>
- <p>
- I then consulted our living library—Nodier, the learned—Nodier,
- the philosopher—Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few
- moments, he mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself,
- containing memoirs of his life, bearing this motto, “Munera sunt Laudi.” I
- started off to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched
- through libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls—all that I could
- find was an infamous libel, entitled, “<i>Paul Jones, ou Prophétie sur
- l’Amérique, l’Angleterre, la France, l’Espagne et la Hollande</i>” which I
- threw from me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page,
- marvelling that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved,
- whilst we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food—I
- therefore renounced all hope in this quarter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having
- started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l’Orient. Upon my
- arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography of
- Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that port.
- This circumstance had struck me—I had noted down the dates, and had
- only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval
- archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which the
- two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of
- thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming
- there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept the
- register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office without
- further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk who was
- sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in the
- country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me that in
- 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office at Havre,
- had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore in the fleet of
- the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this officer, and his
- extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression upon him, that upon
- his, the clerk’s, return to Brittany, he spoke of him to his father, who
- then had charge of the Chateau d’Auray. Upon hearing the name of Paul
- Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to him to be silent—the
- young man obeyed, though not without astonishment. He frequently
- afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he always refused
- to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death of the
- Marchioness d’Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and the
- dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt himself
- permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious history,
- in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly blended.
- Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father had related
- that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression upon him that he
- repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for word.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have treasured up this history in the recesses of my memory for nearly
- seven years: and it would have still remained buried there, with a mass of
- other recollections, destined never to see the light, had I not about six
- months ago read “The Pilot” for the second time, and even with much
- greater interest than before; for, thanks to the researches I had made,
- the hero was no longer to me an unknown being, appearing only for an
- instant, his face but partially visible, and with merely the portion of a
- name; he had now become a friend, almost a brother, to me—for new
- sympathies had been awakened in my heart besides those which had formerly
- been inspired by the recital of the expedition to Whitehaven. These led me
- to reflect that whatever of interest and disappointment I had experienced
- on reading’ Cooper’s novel, they must have been entertained alike by
- others, and that the anxious desire I had felt to know more of the former
- lover of Alice Dunscombe was not a feeling peculiar to myself, but would
- be participated by all those, and their number must be great, who have
- followed this skilful seaman from the moment of his first meeting
- Lieutenant Barnstaple on the English cliffs, until that in which he
- quitted the Alert to land on the shores of Holland.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have, therefore, gathered up my recollections, and have written this
- history.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- CAPTAIN PAUL.
- </h1>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hoarse o’er her side the rustling cable rings-
- The sails are furled—and anchoring, round she swings;
- And gathering loiterers on the land discern
- Her boat descending from the latticed stern.
- ‘Tis mann’d—the oars keep concert to the strand,
- Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.—Byron.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Toward the close of a fine evening in the month of October, 1779, the most
- inquisitive among the inhabitants of the small town of Fort Louis, had
- assembled on the point of land immediately opposite to that on which
- stands the city of Lorient. The object which attracted their attention,
- and which was the subject of their inquiries, was a noble beautiful
- frigate, carrying 32 guns, which had been anchored for about a week, not
- in the port, but in a small cove in the roadstead, and which had been
- perceived for the first time early one morning, like an ocean flower which
- had suddenly blossomed during the night. From the elegant and coquettish
- appearance of this frigate, it was imagined that this was the first time
- of her putting to sea; she bore the French flag, for the three golden <i>fleur-de-lis</i>
- were seen glittering in the last rays of the setting sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- That which, above all, appeared to excite the curiosity of the admirers of
- this spectacle, so frequent, and notwithstanding, always so interesting in
- a seaport, was the uncertainty as to the country in which this vessel had
- been built; for, having all her sails clewed up and snugly stowed around
- her yards, showed in the setting sun the graceful outline of her hull, and
- a minute elegance as to her running rigging. Some thought they could
- discern in her the bold and taunt masts used by the Americans, but the
- perfection exemplified in the finish which distinguished the rest of her
- construction, was in perfect contrast with the barbarous rudeness of those
- rebellious children of England. Others, deceived by the flag she had
- hoisted, were endeavouring to divine in what port of France she had been
- launched, but their national pride soon gave way to the conviction that
- she was not built in France, for they sought in vain for those heavy
- galleries, ornamented with sculpture, which is the compulsory decoration
- of the stern of every daughter of the ocean, or of the Mediterranean, born
- on the stocks of Brest or of Toulon; others, again, knowing that the flags
- were frequently used as a mask to hide the real face, maintained that the
- lion and the towers of Spain would have more properly been placed upon the
- ensign waving from her peak, than the three <i>fleur-de-lis</i> of France:
- but the latter were asked whether the straight and elegant sides and
- quarters of the frigate all resembled the bulging build of Spanish
- galleons. In short, there were some among them who would have sworn that
- this beautiful fairy of the waters had been brought to life among the
- frogs of Holland, had not the dangerous boldness of her masts and rigging
- fully contradicted the suggestion that she could have been built by those
- old but prudent sweepers of the seas. But, as we have said, for eight
- whole days, and ever since the first appearance of this splendid vision
- upon the coast of Brittany, she had been the constant theme of wonder and
- of conversation, for nothing had happened to give them any positive
- information, as not an individual from the crew had landed from the ship,
- under any pretext whatever. They might, indeed, have doubted whether she
- had a crew or not, had not they now and then seen the head of a sentinel,
- or of the officer of the watch, peering above the bulwarks. It appeared,
- however, that this vessel, although she had not communicated with the
- shore, could not have any hostile intention; her arrival had not seemed to
- give the least uneasiness to the public authorities of Lorient, for she
- had run under the guns of a small fort, which the recent declaration of
- war between England and France had caused to be put in order, and which
- displayed a battery of long guns of heavy calibre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among this crowd of idlers, however, there was a young man, who was
- remarked for the anxious eagerness of his inquiries:—without any one
- being able to devise the cause, it was easily perceived that he felt some
- direct interest in this mysterious vessel. His brilliant uniform was that
- of the <i>mousquetaires</i>, and as these royal guards rarely left the
- capital, he had, at first, directed a portion of the public curiosity to
- himself, but it was soon discovered that this person, whom they thought a
- stranger, was the young Count d’Auray, the last scion of one of the most
- ancient families of Brittany. The castle inhabited by his family rose
- above the shores of the Golf of Morbihan, at six or seven leagues,
- distance from Fort Louis. The family consisted of the Marquis d’Auray, a
- poor insane old man, who for twenty years had never been seen beyond the
- boundaries of his estates; of the Marchioness d’Auray, whose rigid
- morality, and whose ancient nobility, could alone excuse her haughty and
- aristocratic bearing; of the young Marquerite, a sweet girl of seventeen
- or eighteen years of age, delicate and pale as the flower whose name she
- bore; and of Count Emanuel, whom we have mentioned above, and around whom
- the crowd had gathered, carried away, as it always is, by a sounding
- title, a brilliant uniform, and noble and lordly manners.
- </p>
- <p>
- However eager might have been the desire of those he addressed to satisfy
- his curiosity, they could only answer his questions in a vague and
- undecided manner; all they knew of the frigate being mere conjecture. The
- count was about retiring from the jetty, when he perceived a six-oared
- boat approaching it. At a moment when curiosity had been so much excited,
- this incident could not fail to attract all eyes. In the stern of the boat
- sat a young man, who appeared to be from twenty to twenty-two years of
- age, and who was dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the royal navy—he
- was sitting, or rather lying, upon a bearskin, one hand reclining
- carelessly on the tiller of the small boat, while the coxswain, who,
- thanks to the caprice of his officer, had nothing to do, was sitting in
- the bow. From the moment that it first made its appearance, every eye was
- directed towards it, as if it contained the means of solving the mystery
- which had so much puzzled them. The boat, urged on by the last efforts of
- its oarsmen, took the ground at eight or ten feet distance from the beach,
- there being too little water in that place to allow it to come nearer. Two
- of the sailors jumped into the sea up to their knees. The young lieutenant
- then rose up in a careless way, walked to the bow of the boat, and allowed
- the two sailors to carry him in their arms to the beach, so that not a
- drop of salt water should soil his elegant uniform. He then ordered his
- men to double the point of land which advanced about three hundred feet
- into the sea, and to go and wait for him on the opposite side of the
- battery. As for himself, he stopped a moment on the beach to arrange his
- dress, which had been a little disordered by the rough mode of transport
- he had been compelled to adopt, and then he advanced, humming a French
- air, towards the gate of a small fort, which he passed, after having
- slightly returned the military salute of the sentinel on duty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although nothing could, in a seaport, be more natural than that a naval
- officer should cross the roads and walk into a fort, the minds of the
- lookers-on had been so much occupied with the foreign vessel, that there
- was hardly one among the crowd who did not imagine that this visit to the
- commandant of the fort had some relation to her, so that when the young
- officer issued from it, he found himself surrounded so closely by the
- crowd, that for a moment he appeared half inclined to use the rattan which
- he carried in his hand, to make way through it. However after having
- flourished it with impertinent affectation above the heads of those who
- were nearest him, he appeared all at once to change his mind, and
- perceiving Count Emanuel, whose distinguished appearance, and elegant
- uniform, contrasted strikingly with the vulgar air and habiliments of the
- persons who surrounded him, he made a few steps towards him at the same
- moment that the count had advanced to meet him. The two officers merely
- exchanged a rapid glance, but that look at once assured both that they
- were persons of rank and station. They immediately saluted each other with
- that easy grace and affable politeness which characterized the young
- nobility of that period.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By Heaven!” exclaimed the young midshipman; “my dear countryman, for I
- suppose that like myself you are a Frenchman, although I meet you in a
- seemingly hyperborean land, and in regions which, if not absolutely
- savage, appear sufficiently barbarous—will you have the goodness to
- tell me what there is so extraordinary about me, that I seem to cause
- quite a revolution in the country? Or is the appearance of an officer of
- the navy an event so rare and so extraordinary at Lorient, that his mere
- presence excites, in so singular a degree, the curiosity of the natives of
- Lower Brittany? By solving this mystery, you will render me a service
- which I shall be happy to reciprocate, should any opportunity present
- itself in which I can be useful to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This will be so much the more easy,” replied Count Emanuel, “as this
- curiosity is not founded in any feeling which you would consider offensive
- to your uniform or hostile to your person—and the proof of this is,
- my dear comrade—for I see by your epaulettes that we are of equal
- rank in the service of his majesty—that I participate with these
- honest Britons in the curiosity which they evince, although, perhaps, my
- motives are more weighty than theirs, in endeavouring to obtain a solution
- of the problem which has occupied us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I can be of any assistance to you, in the inquiries which you have
- undertaken, I place all the algebra I possess at your disposal. Only the
- position we are in is not a comfortable one to carry out mathematical
- demonstrations. Will it please you to remove to a small distance from
- these honest people, whose presence would only tend to confuse our
- calculations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” replied the mousquetaire, “and the more readily, as, if I do
- not deceive myself, by walking this way I shall lead you nearer to your
- boat and your sailors.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! that is not of the slightest consequence; should this path not be
- convenient to you we can take another. I have plenty of time; and my men
- are less eager to, return on board than I am. Therefore, we will about
- ship, if such is your good pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all; on the contrary, let us go on, the nearer we are to the beach
- the better we can discuss the matter in question. Let us, therefore, walk
- upon this strip of land as far as we can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young seamen, without replying a word, conti-nued to walk on, like a
- man to whom the direction he was to take was perfectly indifferent, and
- these two young men, who had thus met for the first time, walked arm in
- arm, as though they had been friends from infancy, towards the end of the
- promontory. When they had reached the extreme point, Count Emanuel paused,
- and pointed towards the frigate, saying, “Do you know what ship that is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young seaman threw a rapid and scrutinizing glance upon the
- mousquetaire, and then looked towards the ship: “Yes,” replied he,
- negligently, “it is a pretty frigate carrying two and thirty guns, with
- her sails bent and her starboard anchor atrip, ready to sail at the first
- signal given.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excuse me,” replied Emanuel, smiling; “that is not what I ask of you. It
- signifies little to me how many guns she carries, or by what anchor she is
- holding—is not that your technical mode of speaking?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant smiled: in turn. “But,” continued Emanuel, “what I wish to
- know is, to what nation she actually belongs, the port, that she is bound
- to, and the name of her captain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to the nation she belongs to,” replied the lieutenant,
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has taken care to give us that information herself, or she is, an
- outrageous liar; Do you not see her flag flying from her peak? It is the
- flag without a stain, rather worn out from being too much used that’s all.
- As to the place she is bound to, it is as the commandant of the fort told
- you, when, you asked him,—Mexico.” Emanuel looked with astonishment
- at the young lieutenant. “And finally, as to her captain, that is a much
- more difficult matter.. There are some people who would swear he is a
- young man about my own age or yours, for; I, believe we left the cradle
- pretty closely the one after, the other, although the professions we
- follow may place a long interval between our graves. There are others who
- pretend he is of the same age with my uncle the Count d’Estaing, who as
- you doubtless know, has just been made an admiral, and who is at: this
- moment affording every assistance to the rebels of America, as some
- people, even in France, still call them. But, in short, as to his name,
- that is quite another thing; it is said he does not know it himself; and
- until some fortunate occurrence shall apprise him of it, he calls himself
- Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Captain Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul, what?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul, of the <i>Providence</i>, of the <i>Banger</i>, of the <i>Alliance</i>,
- according to the name of the ship he commands. Are there not also in
- France some of our young nobles, who, finding their family name too short,
- lengthen it out by the name of an estate, and surmount the whole with a
- knight’s casque, or a baron’s coronet: so that their seals or their
- carriages bear the evidence of belonging to some ancient family, quite
- delightful to reflect upon? Well! so it is with him. At this moment he
- calls himself, I believe, Paul, of the <i>Indienne</i>, and he is proud of
- the appellation; if I may judge front my naval sympathies, I do not think
- he would exchange his frigate for the finest estate to be found between
- the Port of Brest and the mouth of the Rhone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, tell me,” rejoined Emanuel, after reflecting for a moment on the
- singular mixture of simplicity and sarcasm which pervaded the answers of
- his companion; “what is the character of this man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His character—but, my dear baron—count—marquis”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count,” replied Emanuel, bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my dear count, then, I was about to say that you pursued me from
- one abstraction to another, and that when I placed at you disposal all my
- knowledge in algebra, I did not intend that we should enter into a
- research of the unknown. His character! good heaven, my dear count, who
- can speak knowingly of the character of a man, unless it be himself—and
- even then—but hold—I, myself, as you now see me, have ploughed
- for twenty years, at one time with the keel of a brig, at another with
- that of a frigate, this vast expanse, which now extends itself before us.
- My eyes, for so I may express myself, discerned the ocean almost at the
- same moment that they saw the sky above it; since my tongue was able to
- join two words together, or my comprehension could combine two ideas, I
- have interrogated and studied the caprices of the ocean, and yet I do not,
- even to this time, know its character—and there are only four
- principal winds and thirty-two breezes which agitate it—that’s all.
- How, then, can you expect that I should judge of man, torn as he is by his
- thousand passions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor did I ask you, my dear—duke—marquis—count?”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lieutenant,” replied the young sailor, bowing, as Emanuel had done
- before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was about to say, then, my dear lieutenant, I do not ask a
- physiological lecture on the passions of Captain Paul. I only wish to
- inform myself upon two points. Firstly, whether you consider him a man of
- honor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must first of all understand each other as to the meaning of words, my
- dear count—what is your precise definition of the word honor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Permit me to remark, my dear lieutenant, that this question is a most
- singular one. Honor! Why, honor—is—honor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s it precisely—a word without a definition, like the word God!
- God—is God! and every one creates a God after his own fashion. The
- Egyptians adored him under the form of a scorpion—the Israelites,
- under that of a golden calf. So it is with honor. There is the honor of
- Camillus, and that of Coriolanus—that of the Cid, and that of Count
- Julian. Define your question better if you wish me to reply to it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ask, then, whether his word may be relied upon?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not believe he ever failed in that regard. His enemies—and no
- one can arrive to his station without having them—even his enemies,
- I say, have never doubted that he would keep, even unto death, an oath
- which he had sworn to. This point is, therefore, believe me, fully
- settled. In this respect, he is a man of <i>honor</i>. Let us pass,
- therefore, to your second question, for if I do not deceive myself, you
- wish to know something farther.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I wish to know whether he would faithfully obey an order given by
- his Majesty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What Majesty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Really, my dear lieutenant, you affect a difficulty of comprehension
- which would better suit the gown of a sophist, than a naval uniform.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why so? You accuse me of cavilling, because, before replying, I wish to
- know precisely what I have to answer. We have, at this? present time,
- eight or ten majesties, seated securely or otherwise, upon the different
- thrones of Europe. We have his Catholic Majesty—a feeble majesty,
- who allows the inheritance, left him by Charles, the Fifth, to be torn
- from him piece by piece;—we have his Britannic Majesty—a
- headstrong majesty, who clings to his America, as Cyingetus to the Persian
- ship, and whose hands we shall cut off, if he does not loose his hold;—we
- have his Christian Majesty, whom I venerate and honor”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—it is of him I wish to speak,” said Emanuel,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you believe that Captain Paul would feel disposed to obey an order
- which I should deliver from him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Captain Paul,” replied the lieutenant, “would, as every captain ought to
- do, obey every order emanating from a power which has the right of
- commanding him—unless indeed he be an accursed pirate, or some
- damned privateersman, some buccaneer, who owes no allegiance, and which I
- should doubt from the appearance of the frigate he commands, and from the
- way she is fitted. He must have then in some drawer of his cabin, a
- commission signed by some power or other. Well! should this commission
- bear the name of Louis, and be sealed with the fleur-de-lis of France,
- there can be no doubt that he would obey any order sealed, and signed by
- the same name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is all then that I wish to be informed of,” replied the young
- mousquetaire, who began to grow impatient at the strange and evasive
- answers given by his companion. “I will only ask you one more question.”
- “I am ready to obey your wishes in that, as I have in the rest, count,”
- returned the lieutenant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know any way of getting on board of that ship?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is one,” replied the lieutenant, pointing towards his own boat,
- which lay rocked, by the waves, in a small creek close to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That boat! why, is it yours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! I will take you on board.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know this Captain Paul, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally
- acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the
- hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides which,
- we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic language, by
- which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of the ocean we may
- meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the same frankness in
- which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at your disposal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do me this service, then,” said Emanuel, “and”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations,
- will you not?” said the lieutenant. “You cannot be surprised at it,”
- continued he smiling, “my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman’s life
- has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During a
- calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and
- during the night we address ourselves to God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with
- that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread over
- his features every time he had become the object of investigation, to the
- mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of contempt for
- human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of God. But finding
- that this singular man was disposed to render him, although in a strange
- manner, the service he had asked of him, he accepted his proffered
- assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two young men were advancing
- towards the unknown vessel with as much rapidity as the vigor of six stout
- rowers could give to the light bark in which they were seated. Their oars
- rose and fell with so regular a movement, that it appeared rather impelled
- by some powerful machine, than by the combination of human strength.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- And oh! the little warlike world within!
- The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy;
- The hoarse command, the busy humming din-
- When, at a word, the tops are mann’d on high,
- Hark to the boatswain’s call, the cheering cry;
- While through the seaman’s hands the tackle glides:
- Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by,
- Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,
- And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.—Byron.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more
- clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him
- to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck by
- the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of her
- masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood out
- against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be composed
- of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. There was not,
- however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, which seemed,
- either from inattention or contempt, to care but little for the visit she
- was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, however, at one
- moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping out of one of the
- port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was pointed towards the
- boat; but the ship being gently moved round by the quiet heaving of the
- waves, presented her prow toward them, his attention was attracted by the
- figure-head which generally bears some allusion to the name of the vessel
- that it decorates: it was a representation of one of the daughters of
- America, discovered by Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a
- head-dress of many colored feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with
- a coral necklace. As to the remainder of the figure, it was a curious
- combination, half syren, half serpent, attached to the fore part of the
- ship in a graceful though fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached
- the ship, the more did the attention of the count appear attracted by this
- figure. It was, in fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but
- very remarkable from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to
- perceive, that it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by
- a superior artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a
- seaman, the increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the
- soldier; and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the
- figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that the
- latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did not
- give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its beauties,
- he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question his young
- companion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, count,” said he, concealing the interest which he took in his reply
- under an apparent gaiety, “what do you think of this master-piece?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think,” replied Emanuel, “that comparing it with works of the same
- description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have
- given it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the lieutenant, carelessly, “it is the last work of William
- Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of
- his pupils, named Duprè, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is
- obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of
- ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See,” said he,
- giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, “it is
- a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls that are
- hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond worth a
- hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, besides the
- honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to offer to his
- bride.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What an odd caprice,” exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the singularity
- of the object he was gazing at, “to ornament a ship in the same way that
- one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable sums to the chances
- of a battle, or the dangers of a storm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should this astonish you?” said the lieutenant with an accent of
- indescribable melancholy; “we seamen have no other family than our
- sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the
- tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to
- something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, who
- are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an imaginary
- love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady island, and
- every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the ocean like a
- flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a bird, when
- returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star from out the
- firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the Atlantic, every
- time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it approaches nearer to
- him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There are others, and they
- are the greater number, who attach themselves to their frigate as to a
- well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the tempest tears away any part
- of her, at every wound given by the shot that strikes her, and when she is
- at length sunk by the tempest or the combat, prefer to perish with her,
- rather than to save themselves without her, giving to landsmen a holy
- example of fidelity. Captain Paul is one of the latter class, that’s all,
- and he has given to his frigate the wedding present which he had intended
- for his bride. Ah? I see they are waking up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boat ahoy?” cried some one from on board the frigate, “what boat’s that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We want to come on board,” replied Emanuel; “throw us a rope that we may
- catch hold of.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were
- going up the ship’s side. The officer of the watch came forward with an
- eagerness which appeared in Emanuel’s mind to promise well.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same
- uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, “this is my
- friend, the Count —— By the by, I forgot to ask your name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count Emanuel d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d’Auray, who
- anxiously desires to speak to Captain Paul. Is he on board?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has just this moment arrived,” replied the officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case I will go below and prepare him to receive you, my dear
- count. In the meantime, this is Mr. Walter, who will have the pleasure of
- showing you through the ship. It is an interesting sight for a land
- officer, and the more so, as I doubt whether you would find many ships
- kept in such order as this is. The people are at supper just now, I
- believe?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case it will be the more curious sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” observed the officer, hesitating a little, “it is my watch on
- deck.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! you can easily find one of your brother officers who will relieve
- you for a short time. I will endeavour to manage so that the captain shall
- not make you kick your heels too long in the ante-room. Adieu, till I meet
- you again, count: I shall recommend you in such a way as will insure a
- good reception for you.” With these words, the young lieutenant
- disappeared down the companion ladder, while the one who remained with
- Emanuel to show him over the ship, took him into the ‘tween decks.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the lieutenant had presumed, the crew of the frigate were at their
- supper. It was the first time that the young count had been present at
- such a repast; and however much he desired to speak immediately to the
- captain, he felt so curious to observe what was going on, that he examined
- everything with eager attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- Between every two guns, a table and benches were prepared, not standing on
- their feet, but slung by ropes from above. Four men were seated upon each
- of the benches, taking their portion of pieces of beef, which seemed to
- resist the action of their knives, but which had to do with hearty fellows
- who did not appear at all disposed to be daunted by its toughness. At
- every table there were two cans of wine, that is to say, about a pint for
- each man. As to the bread, it did not appear to be distributed by rations,
- but they could take as much as they wanted. The most profound silence
- reigned throughout the crew, which, was composed of of more than from one
- hundred and eighty to two hundred men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although none of those seated at the table, opened their mouths for any
- other purpose than to eat, Emanuel perceived, with some surprise, that
- they were composed of many different nations, which was easily discernible
- from the contour of their countenances. His <i>cicerone</i> remarked his
- astonishment, and replying to his thought before he had given utterance to
- it, said, with an American accent, which Emanuel had already observed, and
- which proved that he who spoke to him was born on the other side of the
- Atlantic: “Yes, yes, we have a tolerably pretty sample of every nation in
- the world, and if all at once a good deluge should carry off the children
- of Noah, as it formerly did those of Adam, our ark could furnish people
- who speak every language. Do you observe those three fellows who are
- exchanging a piece of roast beef for a clove of garlick, they are lads
- from Galicia, whom we picked up at Cape Ortegal, and who would not go into
- action without having said a prayer to St Jago, of Corapostello, but who,
- when once their prayer is over, would rather allow themselves to be cut in
- pieces, like martyrs, than retreat a single step. Those two who are
- polishing their table at the expense of their jacket-sleeves, are honest
- Dutchmen, who still complain: of the injury done to their commerce by the
- discovery of the Cape of Good Hope. You see them—at first sight they
- look like very beer-pots. Well, those brave fellows, the moment they hear
- the drum beat to quarters, become as active as monkeys; Go near them, and
- they will talk to you about their ancestors; they will tell you they
- descend from those famous sweepers of the sea, who when going into action,
- hoisted a broom instead of a flag; but they will take good care not to
- inform you that one fine morning the English took their broom, and made
- rods of it to whip them with. That whole table, where they are chattering
- together at such a rate, but in an under tone, is occupied by Frenchmen,
- who would talk louder if they dared. The seat of honor is occupied by a
- chief, elected by themselves; he is a Parisian by birth, a cosmopolite
- from taste, a great master at the small sword, singlestick, and a
- dancing-master to boot. Always gay and contented, he sings when he is on
- duty, sings when he is fighting, and will die singing, unless a hemp
- cravat should stop his voice, which may very likely happen to him should
- he have the misfortune to fall into the hands of John Bull. Turn your eyes
- to the other side now, and observe that row of square and idle heads.
- These are strange faces to you, are they not? but which every American
- born between Hudson’s Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, would recognize at once
- for bears born on: the borders of Lake Erie, or seals from Nova Scotia..
- There are three, or four of them who are one eyed—this arises from,
- their peculiar mode of fighting; they twist their fingers in the hair of
- their antagonist, and gouge out his eye with their thumbs. There are some
- of them who are very expert at this exercise, and who never miss their
- mark. So that when they are boarding a ship, they almost invariable throw
- away their boarding, pikes, or their cutlass, and seizing the first
- Englishman they can catch hold of, they uneye him with a dexterity and
- quickness quite delightful to behold. You will now comprehend that I did
- not deceive you in what I said, and that our collection is complete.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” asked Emanuel, who had listened to this long enumeration with a
- certain degree of interest, “how does your captain manage to make himself
- understood by men brought together from such distant nations?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “First of all our captain understands all languages—and although in
- battle and during stormy weather he speaks his mother tongue, he; gives
- such an accent to it that every one understands him and obeys: him. But
- see, the larboard cabin door is opening, and I doubt not he is ready
- to-receive you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And instantly a boy dressed in a midshipman’s uniform came up to the two
- officers, and asked Emanuel if he did not call himself the Count d’Auray;
- and on his receiving an affirmative reply, he requested him to follow him;
- and the officer who had so conscientiously sustained the part of a
- cicerone, immediately went on deck to resume his duties there. As to
- Emanuel, he advanced towards the cabin with a mixed feeling of anxiety and
- curiosity, He was at last about to be ushered in the presence of Captain
- Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a man who appeared to be between fifty and fifty-five years of age,
- and to whom the habit of walking between decks had given him a stoop
- rather than age. He wore the uniform of the French navy, accord-ing to its
- strictest regulations. It was a blue coat with scarlet facings, a red
- waistcoat, and breeches of the same color, grey stockings, with frilled
- shirt and’ ruffles. His hair, rolled up in large curls, and powdered quite
- white, was tied into a queue by a ribbon, the ends of which floated upon
- his shoulders. His cocked hat and his sword were lying upon a table beside
- him. At the moment Emanuel entered the door, he was sitting upon the
- carriage of a gun, but when he perceived him, he rose up to receive him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young count felt intimidated by the aspect of this man: there was in
- his eye a searching look which appeared to peer into the very soul of the
- person whom he gazed upon. Perhaps, also, this impression was the more
- powerful, that he presented himself before him with a conscience that
- reproached him with the act he was endeavouring to accomplish, and of
- which he was about to render the captain, if not an accomplice, at all
- events the executioner. These two men, as though they felt a secret
- repulsion, the one towards the other, saluted each other with politeness,
- but with cold reserve.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the Count d’Auray that I have the honor of addressing,” said the
- old officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I Captain Paul, I believe,” replied the young mousquetaire; they both
- bowed a second time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I know to what fortunate chance I owe the honor,” rejoined the
- captain, “of the visit which is now paid to me by the heir of one of the
- oldest and greatest families in Brittany?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel bowed again by way of thanks for this compliment, and then, after
- hesitating for a moment as if he found it difficult to open the
- conversation, he observed: “I am told, Captain Paul, that you are bound to
- the Gulf of Mexico?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have not been deceived, sir; I purpose sailing for New Orleans,
- calling on my way at Cayenne, and at the Havannah.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This falls out very fortunately, captain, and you will not have to alter
- your course, in case you should be willing to undertake the execution of
- the order of which I am the bearer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have an order to communicate to me, sir, and from whom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From the Minister of Marine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An order addressed to me personally?” reiterated the captain, doubtingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not personally to you, sir; but to any captain of the royal navy, who may
- be about to sail for South America.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what nature is it, count?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A state prisoner to be transported to Cayenne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have the order with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here it is,” replied Emanuel, taking it from his pocket, and presenting
- it to the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took the paper, and going near the cabin window, that he might avail
- himself of the last gleam of daylight, he read aloud:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Ministers of Marine and of the Colonies, orders any captain or
- lieutenant, commanding a government vessel, who may be about to sail for
- South America, or for the Gulf of Mexico, to take on board his ship and to
- land at Cayenne, the person named Lusignan, condemned to transportation
- for life. During the passage the convict shall take his meals in his own
- cabin, and shall not be allowed to have any communication with the ship’s
- company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the order in due form?” asked Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfectly, sir,” replied the captain. “And are you disposed to execute
- it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Am I not under the orders of the Minister of Marine?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The prisoner may then be sent to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whenever you will; but it had better be this evening, or as soon as
- possible, as I do not expect to be long in these roads.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will take care that due diligence shall be used.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this all that you have to say to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing further, excepting to add my thanks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not add anything, sir. The minister orders, and I obey, that’s all. It
- is a duty which I fulfil, and not a service that I am rendering.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon these words, the captain and the count bowed to each other and
- separated, more coldly even than they had met.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he reached the deck, Emanuel asked the officer of the watch for his
- friend who had accompanied him on board, but was informed he had been
- detained by Captain Paul to sup with him, and that being anxious to oblige
- the count, he had placed his boat as his disposal.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was waiting alongside the ship, and the sailors were in readiness to
- accompany him. Emanuel had scarcely got into her when they rowed him away
- with a rapidity equal to that with which they had conducted him on board.
- But this time she proceeded in sorrowful silence, for the young lieutenant
- was no longer there to animate the count with his practical philosophy.
- </p>
- <p>
- That same night the prisoner was conducted on board the <i>Indienne</i>,
- and the next morning at day-break the inquisitive inhabitants of the coast
- no longer discerned the frigate which had given rise to so many
- conjectures, and whose unexpected arrival, her remaining there without any
- apparent object, and her spontaneous departure, remained an inexplicable
- mystery to the inhabitants of Fort Louis.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- The gallant vessels side by side did lie,
- Yard-arm and yard-arm, and the murd’rous guns
- Belch’d forth their flame and shot, ‘till the white decks
- Ran like a sea with blood. Uncertain still
- The victory stood, ‘till Perry, waving
- His bright sword o’er his head, cried, “Follow me!”
- A hundred shouts responded to this call,
- Then with one spring he bounded on the deck
- Of his determined foe.—Oxd Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As the motives which had induced Captain Paul to visit the coast of
- Brittany had no relation with our history, excepting as far as regards the
- events which we have related, we shall leave our readers in the same state
- of uncertainty as were the inhabitants of Fort Louis; and although our’
- vocation and our sympathies naturally incline us to terra-firma, we must
- follow our hero for a few days in his adventurous course upon the ocean.
- The weather was as beautiful as it generally is on the western coast of
- France, at the commencement of autumn. The <i>Indienne</i> sailed gaily on
- with as fair a wind as could blow for her. The ship’s crew, excepting
- those actually employed in manoeuvring the vessel, were availing
- themselves of the fine weather and occupied in their own matters, as
- caprice directed them, or were idly lounging about the ship, when all at
- once a voice which appeared to descend from the sky, called out, “Below,
- there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hullo, there!” replied the quarter-master, who was standing near the
- helm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sail, ho!” cried the seaman who was on the lookout, at the head-mast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sail, ho!” repeated the quarter-master. “Officer of the deck, be so good
- as to inform the captain there is a sail in sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sail! a sail!” re-echoed the crew from different parts of the deck; for
- at that moment a wave, having raised the vessel which appeared upon the
- horizon, had for an instant rendered her visible to the eyes of the ship’s
- company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sail!” exclaimed a young man of five-and-twenty, springing upon the
- quarter deck from the cabin stairs; “ask Mr Arthur what he thinks of her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mast head, there!” cried the lieutenant, using his speaking trumpet; “the
- captain wants to know, Mr. Arthur, what you make of the strange sail.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Arthur, the young midshipman, had gone aloft immediately upon hearing a
- sail announced. He replied, “She looks like a large square-rigged vessel,
- close hauled, and steering for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said the young man, to whom Walter had given the title of
- captain, “she has as good eyes as we have, and she has seen us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, if she wishes for a little chat, she will find us ready to
- talk to her. Besides, our guns must be almost choked from having their
- mouths stopped so long.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After some little time, the midshipman again hailed the officer on deck,
- and told him that the strange ship had just set her mainsail, and had
- altered her course a little, so as to cross their bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the captain, addressing the lieutenant, “get ready to beat to
- quarters, we must prepare for this fellow; he looks rather suspicious.”
- And then calling out to the midshipman, “How does the ship seem to sail,
- Mr. Arthur? what do you think of her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She seems to be a fast sailer, and is a man-of-war, I should think, by
- the squareness of her yards; and although I cannot see her flag, I would
- wager that she bears King George’s commission.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should not wonder,” observed the captain to the first lieutenant, “and
- that she has orders to give chase to a certain frigate called the
- Indienne, and that her commander is promised good promotion should he
- succeed in capturing her. Ha! ha! now she is loosing her top gallant
- sails. The blood hound has scented us, and is decidedly about to give us
- chase. Set our top gallant sails, too, Mr. Walter, and let us keep our
- course without varying a point. We shall see whether they will dare to
- come athwart our hawse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain’s orders were instantly repeated by the lieutenant, and in a
- few minutes the ship which had been running under her top sails, felt the
- influence of her top gallant sails, heeled over under this new pressure
- and bounded along as if animated by the sight of an enemy, and dashing
- away the spray from either bow with eager impetuosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some time there was hardly a word uttered on board. Every one appeared
- to wait anxiously the termination of this state of suspense, and we shall
- profit by this momentary quiet, to call the attention of our readers to
- the person of the officer to whom the lieutenant had given the title of
- captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was no longer either the young and sceptical lieutenant whom we have
- seen accompanying the Count d’Auray on board the ship, nor the old
- sea-wolf with his stooping gait, and harsh and snappish answers, who had
- received him in the cabin. He was a handsome young man, from twenty to
- twenty-five years of age, as we have said before, who, having thrown off
- all disguise, appeared at length in his own person, and dressed in the
- fanciful uniform which he always wore when upon the wide ocean. It was a
- sort of great coat of black velvet, with gold shoulder knots and fastened
- with hooks and eyes of the same metal. Round his waist he wore a Turkish
- belt, in which was placed a pair of elegant duelling pistols, richly
- inlaid and ornamented, apparently more for show than defence. His
- pantaloons were of white kerseymere, with boots which reached nearly to
- his knees. Round his neck, a cravat of transparent India muslin,
- embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, was loosely tied; his
- hair, no longer disfigured by powder, and black as ebony, flowed about his
- cheeks, which were tanned by exposure to the sun; his eyes beamed with
- hope and animation. Near him, upon a gun, was placed a steel helmet which
- fastened by a curb chain under the chin. This was his battle dress, and
- the only defensive armour which he wore. Some deep indentations in his
- helmet proved that it had more than once-saved the head which it protected
- from those severe wounds inflicted by those terrible cutlasses used by
- seamen when boarding. As to the ship’s company, they wore the elegant
- though plain uniform of the French navy.
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time, the vessel which had been described by the man at the
- mast head, and which had then appeared like a white speck upon the
- horizon, had become, little by little, a pyramid of sails and rigging. All
- eyes were fixed upon her, and although no order had been actually given,
- every one of the crew had taken the position which individually belonged
- to him, as though it had been determined that a combat should take place.
- There reigned then on board the Indienne that solemn and profound silence,
- which in a ship of war always precedes the decisive orders of the captain.
- Finally, the hull of the strange sail appeared rising out of the water, as
- her sails had successively done before. It was then clearly discernible
- that she was a larger ship than the Indienne, and that she carried
- thirty-six guns. She, however, showed no colors, and as her crew were
- carefully and completely concealed behind her bulwarks, it was impossible
- to ascertain, unless by some particular indications, to what nation she
- belonged. These two observations were made almost at the same moment by
- Captain Paul; the last, however, seemed to strike him the most forcibly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears,” said he, addressing his lieutenant, “that we are going to
- have a scene of a masked ball. Order Arthur to bring us a few flags, and
- let us prove to this unknown, that the Indienne has several disguises at
- her disposal. And then, Mr. Walter, give orders that cutlasses and
- boarding pikes be distributed, for we can hardly expect, in these seas, to
- meet with any but enemy’s ships.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The two orders were executed; as soon as given. In an instant the young
- midshipman had brought on deck a dozen flags of different nations, and
- Lieutenant Walter, having had the arm chest opened, had boarding pikes
- piled in different positions throughout the ship, and had distributed
- cutlasses and axes to the ship’s company, he then returned to his place by
- the Captain’s side. Every man again resumed his post by instinct rather
- than by order, for they had not yet beat to quarters; so that the apparent
- confusion which had existed for a moment ceased at once, and the frigate
- became once more, as it were, silent and attentive.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the two ships following their converging directions, continued to
- approach each other. When they were about the distance of three gun shots,
- “Mr. Walter,” said the Captain, “I think it is time we should begin to
- mistify our good friend here. Let us show him the old Scotch flag.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant gave a sign to the quartermaster, and the red Lion of
- Scotland, on a blue field, rose like a flame to the peak of the <i>Indienne</i>;
- but nothing on board the enemy’s ship gave evidence of their paying the
- slightest attention to this manouvre.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” murmured the captain, “the three leopards of England have so
- well filed the teeth and pared the claws of the Scottish lion, that they
- pay no attention to him, believing that he is tamed because he is
- defenceless. Show him some other color, Mr. Walter, and perhaps we shall
- succeed in loosening his tongue.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What flag shall I hoist, captain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the first one that comes; chance may perhaps favor us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This order was scarcely given, when the Scotch flag was hauled down, and
- that of Sardinia took its place. The ship still remained mute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, well,” said the captain, jestingly, “it appears that His Majesty,
- King George, is on good terms with his brother of Cyprus and Jerusalem. Do
- not let us bring them to loggerheads by carrying our joke farther, Mr.
- Walter, let us show the American flag, and prove that it is really the
- right one, by firing an unshotted gun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The same manouvre was repeated. The Sardinian flag was hauled down, and
- the stars of the United States rose slowly towards the sky, and were
- certified by firing a gun.
- </p>
- <p>
- What the captain had foreseen then happened immediately on the display of
- this symbol of rebellion rising insolently in the air. The unknown ship
- immediately betrayed its incognita by hoisting the British flag. At the
- same moment a cloud of smoke was seen issuing from the side of the
- royalist ship, and before the report was heard, a cannon ball was seen
- tipping from wave to wave, and fell about a hundred yards short of the
- Indienne.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beat to quarters, Mr. Walter, for you see we have guessed rightly. Come,
- my boys,” cried he, to the crew, “hurrah for America! and death to
- England!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was answered by a general shout, and had not ceased, when they heard
- them beating to quarters on board the <i>Drake</i>, for that was the name
- of the English ship. The drums of the Indienne immediately replied, and
- every man ran to his post:—the gunners to their guns, the officers
- to their stations, and the sailors to their running rigging. As to the
- captain, he jumped upon the top of the companion, his speaking trumpet in
- his hand—the supreme symbol, the sceptre of nautical royalty, which
- the commander always wields in the hour of combat or during the raging of
- the tempest.
- </p>
- <p>
- They now seem to have made an exchange of parts, for the English appeared
- impatient, and the Americans affected calmness. The ships were hardly
- within gun shot, when a long line of smoke was seen issuing from the side
- of the English vessel, and a report similar to loud thunder was heard, and
- the iron messengers sent to deal death among the rebels, having in their
- impetuosity, miscalculated the distance, fell harmless before reaching the
- sides of the frigate. The latter, however, as if refusing to reply to so
- premature an attack, continued to haul to the wind, as if to spare the
- enemy too long a course.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this moment the captain turned, as if to give a last look round his
- ship, and his astonished gaze was attracted by the appearance of a new
- personage on the deck, who had selected this dangerous and exciting moment
- to make his entrance upon the scene.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a young man, somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three years of
- age. His face was pale and mild; he was plainly, but elegantly dressed,
- and whom the captain had not before seen on board. He was leaning against
- the mizen-mast, his arms folded over his chest, and looking with
- melancholy indifference at the English vessel which was approaching them
- under a heavy press of canvas. The calmness at such a moment, and in a man
- who appeared a stranger to nautical combats, forcibly struck the captain.
- He then remembered the prisoner, whom the Count d’Auray had announced to
- him, and who had been brought on board during the last night he had passed
- at the anchorage of Port Louis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who allowed you to come on deck, sir?” said he, softening as much as
- possible, the tone of his enquiry, so that it would have been difficult to
- ascertain whether this was addressed as a mere question, or as a reproach.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one, sir,” replied the prisoner, in a soft and sorrowful voice; “but I
- had hoped that under the present circumstances, you would less severely
- observe the orders by which I became your prisoner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you forgotten that you were forbidden to hold any communication with
- the ship’s company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not come here for the purpose of holding communication with the
- ship’s company, sir; I came to see whether some friendly cannon ball would
- do me a good’ turn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may, but too soon, have your desire accomplished, if you remain where
- you are now standing; therefore, believe me, you had better remain below.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this your advice; or an order, captain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have full liberty to construe it as you please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case,” replied the young man, “I thank you—I will remain
- here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At this instant, another loud report was heard; but the two ships had by
- this time neared each other so much, that they were within gun-shot, and
- the whole tempest of shot passed through the sails of the Indienne. Two
- splinters fell from the masts; and the groans and stifled cries of some of
- the ship’s company were heard. The captain, at that moment, had his eyes
- fixed upon the prisoner, above whose head, a cannon ball had passed within
- two feet, grazing the mizen mast, against which he was leaning; but
- notwithstanding this death warning, he remained calm and unmoved, in the
- same attitude as if he had not felt the wing of the exterminating angel
- waft above his head. The captain knew how to appreciate courage—this
- incident was sufficient to assure him of the undaunted bravery of the man
- who stood before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tis well, sir,” said he to him; “remain where you are, and when we come
- to boarding, if you should be tired of remaining with your arms crossed,
- take up a cutlass, or an axe, and give us a helping hand. You will excuse
- me not payings you more attention at this moment, for I have other things
- to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire!” cried he, in a voice of thunder, through his speaking trumpet,
- “now, give it her: fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire!” repeated the officers like an echo, at their different stations.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the instant, the Indienne trembled from her keel, to her royal mast
- head, as she poured her broadside into the enemy—a cloud of smoke
- spread itself like a veil, along the starboard-side, which was soon
- carried to leeward. The captain, standing upon the companion, impatiently
- awaited its clearing off, that he might ascertain the effect which the
- broadside had produced upon the enemy’s vessel. When his gaze could
- penetrate through the smoke, he perceived that the enemy’s main top mast
- had fallen, and had, with its sails, encumbered the after-part of the
- Drake’s deck, and that her other sails were cut to ribbons. Then putting
- his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he cried—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done! my lads. Now watch her closely. They will be too busy in
- clearing away the wreck of their mast, to think of raking us—fire—as
- you can—and this time shave close!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The crew hastened to obey this order—the frigate veered round, and
- as the guns were brought to bear upon the enemy, they were discharged with
- terrible effect; and, as the captain had imagined, without any hindrance
- from the Drake. The Indienne once more trembled like a volcano, and, as a
- volcano, vomited forth her flame and smoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- This time the gunners had followed the orders of their captain to the
- letter, (and the broadside had been fired point blank) striking the hull
- and the lower masts. Both her masts were still standing; but on all sides
- the sails were hanging in tatters. It appeared that some more considerable
- damage had been done, which it was impossible to ascertain at that
- distance; for some time, the broadside was not returned; at length it was,
- and instead of raking the <i>Indienne</i>, it struck her in a diagonal
- direction. It was not the less terrible, for it swept off many a brave
- fellow from the deck; but by a chance which appeared positively magical,
- touched neither of the masts. Some of the running rigging was cut, but
- nothing that prevented her manoeuvring as before. At one glance, Paul
- ascertained that he had only lost some men. His heart bounded with joy. He
- once more placed the speaking-trumpet to his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Larboard the helm,” cried he, “and board her on the larboard side!
- Boarders, to your stations—be ready! Give her one more broadside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the first movement of the <i>Indienne</i>, the enemy at once perceived
- the intention, and endeavoured to neutralize it by it similar movement,
- but at the instant of attempting to execute it, a dreadful crash was heard
- on board her, and the mainmast, which had been nearly cut through by the
- last discharge from the <i>Indienne</i>, trembled, for a few seconds like
- an uprooted tree, and fell forward, covering the deck with the mainsail
- and the rigging. Captain Paul at once comprehended what had delayed the
- return of the broadside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, she is ours, my lads!” cried he; “we have only to take her. One last
- broadside within pistol shot, and then we’ll board her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The <i>Indienne</i> obeyed her helm, as does a well trained horse the
- bridle, and unopposed, advanced towards her enemy, for the latter had no
- steerage-way upon her, and her guns were consequently useless. The Drake
- was therefore at the mercy of her adversary, who by remaining at a
- distance and playing at long bowls, might have riddled her and sunk her,
- but disdaining this too easy victory, sent in a last broadside; and then,
- before seeing the effect it had produced, the frigate ran in upon her
- larboard quarter, and threw her grappling-irons on board. On the instant,
- the tops and forecastle of the Indienne blazed as with fireworks on a
- holiday, and flaming grenades were showered upon the deck of the Drake
- with the rapidity of hailstones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage, my lads, courage, lash the bowsprit to her quarter rails. Well
- done! now, to your two forecastle carronades—fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- All these orders were executed with magical celerity: the two ships were
- as securely lashed together as if by iron chains—the two carronades
- which had not been fired during the combat, thundered in there turn, and
- swept the enemy’s deck with a cloud of grape shot, and then another cry
- was heard, uttered by the same stentorian voice—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, board her!!!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And, adding example to precept, the captain of the <i>Indienne</i> threw
- aside his speaking trumpet, now of no longer use, placed his helmet on his
- head, fastening the clasp beneath his chin; placed the sabre which he
- usually wore in his belt between his teeth, and rushed upon the bowsprit
- to jump thence upon the deck of the enemy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although this movement followed the order he had given with as great
- rapidity as the thunder succeeds the lightning, he was only the second
- upon the English deck: he was preceded by the young prisoner with whom he
- had conversed, who had thrown aside his coat, and armed only with a
- hatchet, was the first to encounter death or victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not conversant with the discipline of my ship,” said Paul,
- laughing; “it is my place to be the first to board a ship I am attacking.
- I forgive you this time, but take care it does not again happen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same instant, the seamen of the <i>Indienne</i> rushed from their
- own ship to the enemy’s, taking advantage of every point of contact, some
- from the bowsprit, others from the end of the yards, and nettings, and
- fell upon the deck like ripe fruit falling from a tree when shaken by the
- wind. Then the English, who had retreated to their forecastle, unmasked a
- carronade which they had had time to turn upon their enemy. A volley of
- fire and iron was vomited forth on the assailants. One fourth of the crew
- of the <i>Indienne</i> fell killed or mutilated on the enemy’s deck, in
- the midst of cries and maledictions. But above the cries and blasphemous
- oaths, a voice resounded, crying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forward—all of you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then ensued a scene of appalling confusion—a combat hand to hand—a
- general duel. To the roar of cannon, to the report of musketry, to the
- explosion of hand grenades, had succeeded the struggle with cold steel,
- less noisy but more sure, above all with seamen, who have retained for
- their sole use this inheritance from the giants, proscribed for more than
- two centuries on the field of battle. It was with hatchets that they
- cleaved each other’s sculls; it was with cutlasses they wounded each
- other’s breasts; it was with boarding-pikes that they nailed each other to
- the deck and masts. From time to time, in the midst of this mute carnage,
- a stray pistol shot was heard, but isolated, and as if ashamed of taking
- part in such a butchery. It lasted nearly a quarter of an hour, and amidst
- a confusion it would be impossible to describe. And then the British flag
- was lowered, and the crew of the Drake being driven below, there remained
- on deck only the conquerors, the wounded and the dead; in the midst of
- whom was the captain of the <i>Indienne</i>, surrounded by his crew, with
- his foot upon the breast of the captain of the enemy’s ship, having on his
- right his first lieutenant, Walter, and on his left his young prisoner,
- whose shirt, steeped in blood, witnessed the share he had in the victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, all is over,” said Paul, stretching out his hand; “and he who
- strikes another blow will have to deal with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then holding out his hand to his young prisoner, “Sir,” said he, “you will
- relate to me, to-night, how it was that you were made my prisoner, will
- you not! For there must be some cowardly machination in this affair. The
- infamous only are transported to Cayenne, and you are too brave to be
- infamous.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth,
- And of most royal presence—but sad thoughts
- Seemed to possess her wholly—her children, even,
- Seldom approached her, and when they did,
- No soft affection, motherly caress,
- Was e’er accorded to them—stern and cold,
- She looked a moving statue.—Old Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just related,
- and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise, whose wheels
- and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified that it had
- performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along, although two powerful
- horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between Vanness and Auray. The
- traveller it contained, and who was roughly jolted in traversing the
- cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count Emanuel, whom we saw open
- the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was coming from Paris with all
- haste, and proceeding to his ancient family mansion, with regard to which
- it is now necessary to give some more precise and circumstantial details.
- </p>
- <p>
- Count Emanuel d’Auray was descended from one of the oldest families in
- Brittany—one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy
- Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor, had
- been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in its
- victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d’Auray, Chevalier of the
- order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and Grand Cross
- of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of Louis XV., in
- which he filled the post of high steward, that high distinction to which
- his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit, truly entitled him. His
- influence there had been increased by his marriage with Mademoiselle de
- Sable, who was his equal in every thing that regarded family or credit at
- court: so that a brilliant future was opened to the ambition of the young
- people, when, after being married five years, a report was suddenly spread
- about the court, that the Marquis d’Auray had become insane during a
- journey he had made to his estates. This report was for a long time
- disbelieved. At length the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his
- wife made their appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him
- another year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason,
- refused to appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and
- even the marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In
- France people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which
- even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of
- indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old
- chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting
- or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of a
- son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d’Aurays, therefore,
- continued to figure among the names of the French nobility; but not having
- mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in court intrigues
- or in political affairs, not having sided either with a Pampadour or a Du
- Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the victories of the
- Maréchal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count Clermont—in
- short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been completely forgotten.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the ancient name of the lords of d’Auray had been twice
- pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first time
- on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel’s being admitted in 1769, as
- one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after having served
- his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires of the young
- King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted with the Baron
- de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who was favorably
- disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable degree of influence
- with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to his old courtier, who
- having been informed that the Count d’Auray had a sister, one day let fall
- a few words upon the possibility of an union between the two families.
- Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied with struggling beneath the
- veil which had obscured his family name, saw in this marriage a means of
- regaining the position which his father had occupied at court under the
- late king, and had eagerly caught at the first overtures for this
- alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under the pretext of uniting
- himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood, to his young friend, had
- urged his suit with an eagerness which was so much the more flattering to
- Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand of his sister had never seen
- her. The Marchioness d’Auray had listened the more readily to this
- proposal, as it opened to her son the road to royal favor, and the
- marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two young people, at all
- events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded M. de Lectoure three or
- four days only, had hastened into the country to inform his mother that
- everything had been arranged according to her desire. As to Marguerite,
- the intended wife, they contented themselves with informing her of the
- resolution they had taken without thinking it necessary to ask her consent
- to it, in about the same way that a criminal is informed of the sentence
- which condemns him to the scaffold.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of future
- exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated projects of
- ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy castle of his
- family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards, overgrown with
- grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden hopes that agitated
- him. The castle was a league and a half distant from any other dwelling.
- The principal facade overlooked that part of the ocean, which being so
- constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name of “the Wild Sea.” The
- other looked toward an immense park, which, being for twenty years
- abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete forest. As to the
- apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with the exception of
- those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had been renewed
- during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of a numerous
- household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which the more
- modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more elegant, was
- less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops of Boule, the
- appointed upholsterer of the court.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney
- pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was ushered
- on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to communicate to his
- mother the happy news of which he was the bearer, that without taking the
- time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his gloves, and travelling
- pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant to inform the marchioness
- of his arrival, and to ask her permission to present himself, saying that
- he would await it in that room; for such in this old family was the
- respect paid to parents, that the son, after an absence of five months,
- did not dare to present himself to his mother, without in the first place
- consulting her desires upon the subject. As to the Marquis d’Auray, his
- children could not remember having seen him more than two or three times,
- and then it was by stealth: for his insanity was of a nature, it was said,
- that certain objects irritated, and they had been always kept from him
- with the greatest precaution. The marchioness alone, a model of conjugal
- virtue, remained always with him, fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not
- only the duties of a wife, but also those of a servant. Consequently, her
- name was revered in the surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose
- devotedness on earth has gained a place in heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the
- marchioness d’Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that the
- count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost
- immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel’s
- mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age, tall
- and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy features
- had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command. She was in
- costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time that her husband
- had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her mourning garments. Her
- long black gown gave to her movements, cold and slow as those of a shadow,
- a solemn appearance, which shed around this extraordinary woman a feeling
- of awe, which even filial affection had never been able to surmount.
- Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started as at the sight of an unexpected
- apparition, and instantly rising, he advanced three steps toward her,
- respectfully went down upon one knee, and kissed the hand she presented to
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rise, sir,” said the marchioness. “I am happy to see you again.” And she
- pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who had been
- absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel obeyed,
- conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated herself,
- and he remained standing before her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I received your letter, count,” she said, “and I congratulate you on your
- skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than for
- military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain an
- embassy for you, rather than a regiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what is
- more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power with
- M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In love with a woman he has never seen?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of
- Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our fortune,
- has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your son and to
- call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that all the
- preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You have
- obtained the publication of the bans, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With the help of God, all will be ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But tell me,” continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her chair,
- and bending toward Emanuel, “has he not questioned you regarding that
- young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of
- deportation?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without
- entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit
- confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world, that
- they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he knows nothing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—but did he know all——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the discovery
- would not in any way influence his determination.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift,” replied the marchioness,
- with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if speaking to
- herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But supposing it should be so,” said Emanuel anxiously, “your resolution
- would be still unchanged, I hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our former
- influence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, there is only my sister——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my
- presence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our
- family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not
- conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having
- been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king
- at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your
- virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him,
- even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason; your
- virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses, but of
- which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in this old
- forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission, which you
- call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they forget you
- (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count six hundred
- years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at court, our name,
- the name of the family d’Auray, was hardly known to their majesties, but
- as an historical recollection.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories,” murmured the
- marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such a
- blasphemy, she rejoined, “I hope that the blessing of God may always
- attend their majesties and France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what can in any way affect their happiness?” replied Emanuel, with
- that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the
- distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility.
- “Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both of
- them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them, Heaven be
- praised, beyond the reach of every evil.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one, my son,” replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head,
- “believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty.
- No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master it,
- firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head, were it
- even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The people, you
- say, are brave and loyal.” The marchioness arose and slowly advanced to
- the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean. “Observe that
- sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this night, in an
- hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the cries of distress
- of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I am separated from the
- world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears, borne as it were by
- invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not exist a sect of
- philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the errors which it
- propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which is detaching itself
- from the mother country, whose children refuse to acknowledge their
- father? Is there not a people who style themselves a nation? Have I not
- heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the ocean, to offer to
- rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but at the call of their
- legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told, moreover, or is it but
- the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI. and the Queen, Marie
- Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are a family of brothers,
- have authorised these armed emigrations, and have given letters of marque
- to I know not what foreign pirate?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All this is true,” said Emanuel, much astonished.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of France!”
- rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room, leaving
- Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw her
- withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant
- character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change
- his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window
- which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence he
- could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between d’Auray
- and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he perceived two
- persons on horseback, following the same road he had just travelled over,
- and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they drew nearer he
- could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his servant. The first,
- dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of that day, that is to
- say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs, stocking-knit breeches,
- and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad brim, and his hair tied
- with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on an English horse of rare
- beauty and great value, which he managed with a grace that proved he had
- made equestrian exercises a profound study. He was followed at a short
- distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery was in perfect harmony
- with the lordly air of the person whom he served. Emanuel imagined for a
- moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards the castle, that it was
- the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his departure from Paris,
- intended to surprise him; but he soon found that he was mistaken; and
- although it appeared to him that it was not the first time he had seen the
- horseman, he could not recollect where or under what circumstances he had
- met him. While he was racking his memory to discover the event in his life
- with which this vague remembrance was connected, the strangers had
- disappeared behind an angle of the castle wall. Five minutes afterwards
- Emanuel heard the sound of their horses’ feet in the court yard, and,
- almost immediately the door was opened; a servant announced, “<i>Mr. Paul!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Woman’s love
- Once given, may break the heart that holds—but never
- Melts into air save with her latest sigh.
-
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain,
-</pre>
- <p>
- The name, as well as the appearance of the person thus announced, awakened
- in their turn in the mind of Emanuel a confused recollection of which he
- could not affix either date or event. The person, preceded by the servant,
- entered the room by a door opposite the one through which the marchioness
- had retired. Although the moment was ill-timed for a visit, and though the
- young count, pre-occupied by his projects for the future, would have
- preferred meditating upon and ripening them, he was compelled, by the
- rules of etiquette, so severe in those days between well-bred people, to
- receive the visitor with courtesy and politeness. The deportment of the
- latter bespoke the man of distinction. After the usual salutations,
- Emanuel, by a gesture, invited the stranger to be seated, who bowed and
- took a chair, and then the conversation commenced with some common-place
- polite observation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am delighted to meet you, count,” said the stranger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Chance has favored me, sir,” replied Emanuel; “an hour sooner you would
- not have found me here: I have just arrived from Paris.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am aware of that, count, for we have been travelling the same road. I
- set out an hour after you, and all along the road I heard of you, by means
- of the postillions who had the honor of driving you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I be bold enough to ask,” said Emanuel, in a tone which began to
- evince a certain degree of dissatisfaction, “to what circumstance I owe
- the interest you appear to evince concerning me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This interest is perfectly natural between old acquaintance, and perhaps.
- I might have reason to complain that it does not appear to be reciprocal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In fact, sir, it does appear to me,” replied Emanuel, “that I have met
- you somewhere; but my recollection serves me but confusedly; will you be
- kind enough to assist it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If what you say be the case, count, your memory must indeed be rather
- fugitive, for within the last six months, on three separate occasions, I
- have the honor of exchanging compliments with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even should I expose myself to further reproach, I am compelled to say
- that I still remain in the same state of uncertainty with regard to your
- person. Pray, therefore, have the goodness to fix my memory, by aid of
- more precise dates, on some event, and remind me under what circumstances
- I had the honor of meeting you for the first time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The first time, count? it was on the jetty of Port Louis. You desired to
- obtain some information with regard to a certain frigate, which I was so
- fortunate as to be able to furnish you. I believe, even, that I
- accompanied you on board. Upon that occasion I wore the uniform of a
- lieutenant in the royal navy, and you that of a mousquetaire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I now well recollect it, sir, and I was obliged to leave the vessel
- without offering the thanks I owed you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, count; I received those thanks during our second
- interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And where did that take place?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On board the very vessel to which I had conducted you—in the cabin.
- I then wore the uniform of the captain of the ship: blue coat, red
- waistcoat and breeches, with grey stockings, a three-cornered hat, and
- curled hair. Only the captain appeared to you some thirty years older than
- the lieutenant, and it was not without motive that I had made myself
- appear so much older, for you would perhaps, not have chosen to confide to
- a young man a secret of such importance as you then communicated to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What you now say is incredible, sir; and yet something tells me that it
- was really so. Yes, yes; I now remember that in the shade in which you
- remained half concealed, I saw eyes sparkling similar to yours. I have not
- forgotten them; but this was only the time before the last, you say, that
- I had the honor of seeing you. Continue, sir, I beg, to assist my memory,
- for I cannot recollect our third interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The last, count, was only a week since, at Paris—at a fencing
- match, at Saint-George’s, in the rue Chanterecin. You remember, do you
- not, an English gentleman, with his hair so red that his powder could
- scarcely conceal its brilliant color—a scarlet coat, and tightly
- fitting pantaloons. I even had the honor of trying a bout with you, and I
- was fortunate enough to hit you three times, while, on the contrary, you
- were not lucky enough to touch me once. On that occasion I called myself
- Jones.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is most singular—it was certainly the same look, but it could
- not be the same man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The will of God has directed that the look should be the only thing which
- cannot be disguised, and this is why he has thrown into the look a spark
- of his own light. Well, then, the lieutenant, the captain, the Englishman,
- were one and the same person.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the present moment, sir, what are you if you please? For, with a man
- who can so perfectly disguise himself, that question you must admit, is
- not altogether unnecessary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the present moment, count, as you see, I have no motive for
- concealment, and, therefore, I have come to you in the simple costume of
- the young nobility, when they visit each other as neighbors in the
- country. I am whatever you may please to consider me; French, English,
- Spanish, or even an American. In which of these languages would you wish
- our conversation to be continued?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Although some of these languages may be as familiar to me as they are to
- you, sir, I prefer the French language; it is that of a plain and concise
- explanations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be it so,” replied Paul, with an expression of profound melancholy; “the
- French is also the language I prefer; I first saw the day upon French
- ground, for the sun of France was that which gladdened my eyes; and
- although I have often seen more fertile climes, and a more brilliant sun,
- there has never been for me but one country and one sun, the sun and the
- country of Franco!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your national enthusiasm,” said Emanuel, interrupting him ironically,
- “causes you to forget the motive to which I am indebted for the honor of
- this visit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, and I will return to it. It was, then, about six
- months ago, while walking on the jetty of Port Louis, you saw in the outer
- roads a fine sharp frigate, with tall masts and square yards, and you said
- to yourself: ‘the captain of that ship must have some motive known only to
- himself, for carrying so much canvas, on masts so slight,’—and from
- that sprung to your mind that he must be some buccaneer, a pirate, a
- corsair”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “And was I mistaken?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I had already expressed to you, count,” replied Paul, with a
- slight tone of irony, “my admiration of the perspicacity with which, at
- the first glance, you sound the depths of men and circumstances”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “A truce to compliments, if you please, sir, and let us to facts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was under this persuasion that you caused yourself to be conducted on
- board the frigate, by a certain lieutenant, and that you found a certain
- captain in the cabin. You were the bearer of a letter from the Minister of
- Marine, ordering any officer, upon your requisition, and whose ship was
- under the French flag and bound for the Gulf of Mexico, to conduct to
- Cayenne a person named Lusignan, guilty of a crime against the state.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I obeyed that order, for I was then ignorant that this great culprit,
- thus transported, had committed no other crime than that of being the
- lover of your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” cried Emanuel, starting up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “These are very fine pistols, count,” carelessly continued Paul, playing
- with the weapons which the Count d’Auray had placed upon the table, on
- alighting from his carriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And they are ready loaded,” said Emanuel, in a tone which was not to be
- mistaken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are they so?” returned Paul, with affected indifference.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a matter of which you can assure yourself, if you will take a
- turn in the park with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is no necessity for going out to do that,” replied Paul, without
- pretending to understand Emanuel’s proposal in the sense which he meant to
- give to it; “here is a mark which is well placed, and at a proper
- distance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, the captain cocked the pistol, and pointed it through
- the open window towards the top of a small tree. A goldfinch was rocking
- himself on the highest branch, singing forth his shrill and joyful notes.
- Paul fired, and the poor bird, cut in two, fell at the foot of the tree.
- Paul coolly replaced the pistol on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were perfectly right, count,” said he, “they are excellent weapons,
- and I advise you not to part with them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have just given me an extraordinary proof of it,” replied Emanuel;
- “and I feel bound to acknowledge that you have a steady hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is nothing extraordinary in that,” rejoined Paul, in that
- melancholy tone which was peculiar to him. “During those long days, when
- not a breath passes over that mirror of the Supreme Being, which is called
- the ocean, we seamen are compelled to seek for amusements to which you
- landsmen are daily accustomed. Then we try our skill upon the sea-gulls,
- which hover over the crest of a wave; or the fish-hawks, which dart down
- upon the imprudent tenant of the deep that rise to its surface; or, again,
- upon the swallows which, fatigued with a long flight, alight upon the
- royal mast-head or on the yards or rigging. It is thus, count, that we
- acquire some dexterity in exercises which may appear so incompatible with
- our profession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go on, sir; and if it be possible, let us return to the subject of our
- conversation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a handsome, brave young man, this Lusignan; he related his whole
- history to me. That being the son of an old friend of your father’s, who
- had died poor, he had been adopted by him some two years before the
- unknown accident occurred which deprived him of his reason. That having
- been brought up with you, he had inspired you with hatred—your
- sister with affection. He told me that, during the long years they passed
- together in the same solitude, they never perceived the isolation from the
- world in which they lived, excepting when they were absent from each
- other. He recounted to me all the details of their youthful love, and how
- Marguerite had one day said to him, in the words of the tender maiden of
- Verona—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- “‘I will be thine, or else I’ll be the tomb’s.’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “She has but too truly kept her word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—has she not? And you virtuous people call that shame and
- dishonour, when a poor child, lost through her own innocence, is carried
- away by love. Your mother, whose duties estranged her from her daughter,
- and perpetually confined her to your father’s room—(for I know the
- virtues of your mother, sir, as well as I know your sister’s weakness: she
- is an austere woman, more severe than one of God’s creatures ought to be,
- whose only advantage over others is, that of never having fallen)—your
- mother, I say, one night heard some stifled cries; she entered your
- sister’s chamber, walked pale and silently up to her bed, and coldly
- snatched from her arms a child which had just been born, and left the room
- without addressing even a reproach to her daughter, but only paler and
- more silent than when she entered it. As to poor Marguerite, she did not
- utter even a cry—she made no complaint. She had fainted away
- immediately on perceiving her mother. Was it so, sir? Have I been rightly
- informed, and is the whole of this dreadful story true?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be acquainted with every detail of it!” exclaimed Emanuel,
- with amazement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is because the whole of these details are given in these letters
- signed by your sister,” replied Paul, opening a pocket-book, “and which
- Lusignan, at the time he was about to be thrown amid robbers and
- assassins, through your instrumentality, confided to me, that I might
- restore them to her who had written them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give them to me, then,” said Emanuel, stretching forth his hand towards
- the pocket-book, “and they shall be faithfully delivered to her who has
- had the imprudence”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “To complain to the only person who loved her in this world—is it
- not so?” said Paul, withdrawing the letters and the pocket-book.
- “Imprudent daughter, whose own mother snatched the child from her heart,
- and who poured her bitter tears into the bosom of the father of her child!
- Imprudent sister, who, not finding any protection from this tyranny in her
- brother, has compromised his noble name by signing with the name he bears,
- letters, which, in the stupid and prejudiced eye of the world, may—how
- is it you term this in your noble class—dishonour her family, is it
- not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” cried Emanuel, reddening with impatience, “since you are aware of
- the terrible tendency of these papers, fulfil the mission which you have
- been charged, by delivering them either to me, to my mother, or my
- sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This was my intention when I landed at Lorient; but about ten or twelve
- days ago, on entering a church—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A church!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And for what purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To pray there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Captain Paul believes in God, then!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did I not believe in him, whom should I invoke during the raging of the
- tempest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in this church, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that church, sir, I heard a priest announce the approaching marriage
- of the noble Marguerite d’Auray with the very high and very potent Baron
- de Lectoure. I immediately inquired for you, and was informed you were at
- Paris, where I was myself compelled to go, to give an account of my
- mission to the king.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To the king!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, to the king—Louis XVI.; to his majesty, in person. I
- immediately set out, intending to return here as soon as you did. I met
- you in Saint George’s rooms, and was informed of your approaching
- departure. I arranged mine in consequence, in order that we might arrive
- here at about the same time, and here I am, sir, with a very different
- resolution to that I had formed before landing in Brittany.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is this new determination? Let me hear it, for we must come to
- some conclusion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, I think that as all the world, and even his mother, seem to
- have forgotten the poor orphan, it is highly necessary that I should
- remember it. In the position in which you are placed, sir, and with the
- disposition you have evinced of becoming allied to the Baron de Lectoure
- (who in your view, is the only person who can assist the realization of
- your ambitious projects), these letters are well worth a hundred thousand
- francs, are they not? and will make but a very trifling breach in the
- income of two hundred thousand francs which your estates afford you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But who will prove to me that this hundred thousand francs—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, and therefore it will be in exchange for a contract
- for an annuity upon the young Hector de Lusignan, that I will deliver up
- these letters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that all, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will also ask, that the child be confided to me, and I will have him
- brought up, thanks to his little fortune, far from the mother who has
- forgotten him, and far from his father whom you caused to be banished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well, sir; had I known that it was for so small a sum, and so
- trifling an interest that you had come, I should not have experienced so
- much anxiety. You will, however, permit me to speak to my mother on the
- subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur le Comte,” said a servant, opening the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not at home to any one. Leave the room.” replied Emanuel,
- impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is your sister, sir, who wishes to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell her to come by and by.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She desires to speak to you this instant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not put yourself out of the way on my account,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But my sister must not see you, sir,—you comprehend it is important
- that she should not see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As you please; but as it is important, also, that I should not leave the
- castle before concluding the affair which brought me here, permit me to go
- into this side room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will do,” said Emanuel, himself opening the door; “but be quick, I
- beg of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul went into the small room, and Emanuel hastily closed the door upon
- him, which was hardly done when Marguerite appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
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- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Look kindly on them; I cannot bear
- Severity;
- My heart’s so tender, should you charge me rough,
- I should but weep and answer you with sobbing;
- But use me gently, like a loving brother,
- And search through all the secrets of my soul.—Otway.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Marguerite d’Auray, whose history the reader has become aquainted with,
- from the conversation between Captain Paul and Emanuel, was one of those
- delicate, pale beauties, who bear impressed upon their features the
- characteristic stamp of high birth. At the first glance, from the soft
- flexibility of her form, the whiteness of her skin, the shape of her hands
- and tapering fingers, with their thin, rosy and transparent nails, could
- be discerned that she was descended from an ancient race. It was evident
- that her feet, so small that both of them could have been placed in the
- foot-mark of most women, had never walked excepting on carpeted saloons or
- on the flowery turf of a park. There was in her movements, graceful as
- they were, a certain degree of haughtiness and pride, the attribute of all
- her family; in fine, she conveyed the impression that her soul, capable of
- making any sacrifice she had resolved upon, was very likely to rebel
- against tyranny; that devotedness was an instinctive virtue of her heart,
- while obedience, in her view, was only an educational duty, so that the
- tempest wind which blew upon her, might make her bend down before it as a
- lily, but not as a reed.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet, when she appeared at the door, her features depicted such
- complete discouragement, her eyes had retained the traces of such burning
- tears, her whole frame seemed weighed down by such an overwhelming
- despair, that Emanuel saw at once, that she must have summoned all her
- strength to assume an appearance of calmness. On seeing him, she made a
- violent effort, and it was with a certain degree of nervous firmness that
- she approached the arm chair on which he was sitting. And then, seeing
- that the features of her brother retained the expression of impatience,
- which they had assumed on being interrupted, she paused, and these two
- children of the same mother, looked at each other as strangers, the one
- with the eyes of ambition, the other with those of fear. By degrees,
- Marguerite resumed her courage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have come at last, Emanuel! I was awaiting your return as the blind
- await the light, and yet from the manner in which you look upon your
- sister, it is easy to perceive that she was wrong in placing her hopes in
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If my sifter has become, as she always ought to have been,” replied
- Emanuel, “that is to say, a submissive and respectful daughter, she will
- have understood what her rank and her position demand of her; she will
- have forgotten past events as things which never should have happened, and
- which consequently she ought not to remember, and she will have prepared
- herself for the new destiny which awaits her. If it is in this disposition
- that she now comes before me, my arms are open to receive her, and my
- sister is still my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen attentively to what I am about to say,” said Marguerite, “and
- above all, consider it as a justification of myself, and not intended as a
- reproach to others. If my mother—and God forbid that I should accuse
- her, for a holy duty keeps her apart from us—if my mother had been,
- I was about to say, toward me as other mothers are towards their
- daughters, I should constantly have opened my heart to her as a book; at
- the first word traced upon it by any stranger hand, she would have warned
- me of my danger and I should have avoided it. Had I been educated in the
- world instead of being brought up like a poor wild flower beneath the
- shade of this old castle, I should have learned from infancy the value of
- the rank and position which you speak of to-day, and I should, perhaps,
- not have infringed the decorum they prescribe, or the duties they impose.
- In short, had I been tutored amidst women of the world, with their
- sparkling wit and frivolous hearts, whom I have so often heard you praise,
- but whom I never knew, had I been guilty of some faults from levity, which
- love has caused me to commit—yes, I can well understand, I might
- then have forgotten the past, have sown upon the surface new recollections
- as flowers are planted upon tombs; and then, forgetting the place where
- they had grown, have formed of them a bouquet for a ball, or a bridal
- wreath. But unfortunately it is not so, Emanuel. I was told to beware,
- when it was too late to avoid the danger. They spoke to me of my rank and
- position in society, when I had already forfeited them, and I am now
- called upon to look forward to joy in the future, when my heart is drowned
- in the tears and misery of the past.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the conclusion of all this,” bitterly rejoined Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The conclusion depends on you alone, Emanuel; it is in your power to
- render it, if not happy, at all events becoming. I cannot have recourse to
- my father. Alas! I know not even if he could recognise his daughter. I
- have no hope in my mother; her glance freezes me, her words are death to
- me. You alone, Emanuel, were left to me, to whom I could say, brother: you
- are now the head of the family; it is to you alone that we are answerable
- for our honor. I have fallen from ignorance, and I have been punished for
- my fault as if it had been a wilful crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! well!”, murmured Emanuel impatiently, “what is it that you ask?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brother, I demand, since a union with the only being I could have loved,
- is said to be impossible, I demand that my punishment be regulated
- according to my strength to bear it. My mother—may heaven pardon
- her!—tore my child from me as if she had never herself been a
- mother, and my child will be brought up far from me, neglected, and in
- obscurity. You, Emanuel, removed the father, as my mother did the child,
- and you were more cruel to him than the case required; I will not say as
- man to man, but even as a judge towards a guilty person. As to myself, you
- have both united to impose upon me a martyrdom more painful still. Well,
- then, Emanuel, I demand in the name of our childhood spent in the same
- cradle, of our youth passed under the same roof, in the name of the tender
- appellations of brother and sister, which nature bestowed upon us—I
- demand that a convent be opened to me, and that its gates should close
- upon me for ever. And in that convent, I swear to you, Emanuel, that every
- day upon my knees, before God, my forehead bent down to the
- stone-pavement, weighed down by my fault, I will entreat the Lord as a
- recompense for all my sufferings, to restore my father to reason, my
- mother to happiness, and to pour on you, Emanuel, honor, and glory and
- fortune. I swear to you, I will do this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; and the world will say that I had a sister whom I sacrificed to my
- fortune, whose property I inherited while she still lived! Why this is
- sheer madness!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, Emanuel,” rejoined Marguerite, supporting herself on the
- back of a chair, near which she was standing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” replied Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When you have pledged your word, you keep it, do you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! look at this bracelet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see it—perfectly—what then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is fastened by a key—the key which opens it is attached to a
- ring, and with that ring, I pledged my word that I would not be released
- from a promise I had made, until the ring should be brought back and
- returned to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he who has the key of it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks to you, and to my mother, Emanuel, he is too far from us to ask it
- of him. He is at Cayenne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before you are married two months,” replied Emanuel, with an ironical
- smile, “that bracelet will be so irksome to you, that you will be the
- first to get rid of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that I had told you it is locked upon my arm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know what people do when they have lost the key and cannot get into
- their house—they send for a locksmith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! in my case, Emanuel,” replied Marguerite, rasing her voice, and
- extending her arm with a solemn gesture, “they must send for the
- executioner then, for this hand shall be cut off before I give it to
- another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! silence!” cried Emanuel, rising hastily, and looking anxiously
- towards the door of the inner room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now I have said all I had to say,” rejoined Marguerite: “my only hope
- was in you, Emanuel; for although you cannot comprehend any deep-seated
- feeling, you are not cruel. I came to you in tears, look at me and you
- will see that it is true—I came to you to say, ‘Brother, this
- marriage is the misfortune, is the misery of my life—I would prefer
- a convent—I would prefer death to it—and you have not listened
- to me, or if you have listened, you have not understood me. Well, then, I
- will address myself to this man—I will appeal to his honor, to his
- delicacy; if that should not be sufficient, I will tell him all; my love
- for another, my weakness, my fault, my crime! I will tell him that I have
- a child; that although he was torn from me, although I have never since
- seen him, although I am ignorant of his abode, still my child exists. A
- child cannot die, without his death striking some chord within its
- mother’s heart. In short I will tell him, should it be necessary, that I
- still love another, that I cannot love him, and that I never will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! tell him all this,” cried Emanuel, irritated by her persistence,
- “and that evening we will sign the contract, and the next day you will be
- Baroness de Lectoure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” replied Marguerite, “then, I shall be truly the most miserable
- woman in existence, for I should then have a brother whom I should no
- longer love, and a husband for whom I should have no esteem. Farewell,
- Emanuel; believe me this contract is not yet signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And after saying these words, Marguerite withdrew with that deep and
- settled despair upon her features, which could not for a moment be
- mistaken. And Emanuel, convinced that he had not, as he had anticipated,
- obtained a victory, but that the struggle was still to be continued, gazed
- after her with an anxiety which was not devoid of tenderness.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a few moments of silence, in which he sat pensive and motionless, he
- turned round and saw Captain Paul, whom he had completely forgotten,
- standing at the door of the study, and then considering the vital
- importance it was to him to get possession of the papers, which the
- captain had offered him, he hurriedly sat down at the table, took a pen
- and paper, and turning towards him, said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, sir, we are again alone, and there is nothing to prevent our at
- once concluding this affair. In what terms do you wish the promise to be
- drawn up? Dictate them, I am ready to write them down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is now useless,” coldly replied the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have changed my mind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is that?” said Emanuel, rising, alarmed at the consequences which he
- perceived might arise from words which he was far from expecting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will give,” replied Paul, with the calmness of a fixed determination,
- “the hundred thousand livres to the child, and I will find a husband for
- your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who are you, then,” said Emanuel, advancing a step towards him, “who are
- you, sir, who thus disposes of a young girl who is my sister, who has
- never seen you, and who does not even know that you exist?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who am I!” replied Paul, smiling; “upon my honor, I know no more upon
- that subject than you do, for my birth is a secret which is only to be
- revealed to me when I have attained my twenty-fifth year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you will attain that age?”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “This evening, sir. I place myself at your disposal from to-morrow
- morning, to give you all the information you may require of me,” and
- saying these words, Paul bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I allow you to depart, sir, but you will understand it is upon the
- condition that we meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was about to propose that condition, count, and I thank you for having
- anticipated me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He then bowed to Emanuel a second time, and left the room. At the castle
- gate, Paul found his horse and servant, and resumed the route to Port
- Louis. When he had got out of sight of the castle, he alighted from his
- horse, and directed his steps towards a fisherman’s hut, built upon the
- beach. At the door of this house, seated upon a bench, and in a sailor’s’
- dress, was a young man so deeply absorbed in thought, that he did not
- observe Paul’s approach. The captain placed his hand upon the young man’s
- shoulder, the other started, looked at him, and became frightfully pale,
- although the open and joyful countenance of Paul, indicated that he was
- far from being the bearer of bad news.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well!” said Paul to him, “I have seen her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who?” demanded the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite, by heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is charming.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not ask you that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She loves you still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed the young man, throwing himself into Paul’s
- arms, and bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
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- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- O good old man; how well in thee appears
- The constant service of the antique world
- When service sweat for duty, not for need!
-
- Thou art not for the fashion of these times
- Where none will sweat but for promotion;
- And having that, do choice their service up
- Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Although our readers must readily comprehend, after that which we have
- just related to them, all that had passed in the six months during which
- we had lost sight of our heroes, some details are, however, necessary, in
- order that they should fully understand the new events about to be
- accomplished.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the evening after the combat between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake,
- and which, notwithstanding our ignorance in naval matters, we have
- attempted to describe to our readers, Lusignan had related to Paul the
- history of his whole life. It was a very simple one, and contained but few
- incidents. Love had formed the principal event in it, and after having
- been its only joy, it had become its greatest grief. The adventurous and
- independent life of Paul, his station, which had placed him beyond the
- trammels of society, his caprice which was superior to all laws, his habit
- of supreme command on board his own ship, had inspired him with too just a
- sense of natural rights to obey the order he had received with regard to
- Lusignan. Moreover, although he had anchored under the French flag, Paul,
- as we have seen, belonged to the navy of America, whose cause he had
- enthusiastically espoused. He continued, therefore, his cruise along the
- shores of England; but finding there was nothing to be done on the sea he
- landed at Whitehaven, a small port in Cumberland, at the head of twenty
- men, among whom was Lusignan, took the fort, spiked the guns, and put to
- sea again, after having burnt the merchant vessels in the roads. Thence he
- sailed for the coast of Scotland, with the intention of carrying off the
- Earl of Selkirk and taking him as a hostage to the United States; but this
- project had miscarried from an unforeseen circumstance, that nobleman
- having unexpectedly gone to London. In this enterprise, as in the other,
- Lusignan had seconded him with the courage we have seen him exhibit in the
- battle between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake; so that Paul
- congratulated himself more than ever upon the chance which had enabled him
- to oppose an injustice. But it was not enough that he had saved Lusignan
- from transportation, it was necessary to restore his honor, and to our
- young adventurer, in whom our readers will doubtless have recognised the
- celebrated privateersman, Paul Jones, it was a more easy matter than to
- any other person; for having letters of marque from Louis XVI., against
- the English, he had to repair to Versailles to give an account of his
- cruize.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul determined upon running into Lorient, and for the second time cast
- anchor there, that he might be within a short distance of the Chateau
- d’Auray. The first answer which the young men received to their enquiries
- regarding that family, was that Marguerite d’Auray was about to be married
- to M. do Lectoure. Lusignan thought himself’ forgotten, and in the first
- paroxysm of his despair, insisted, even at the risk of falling into the
- hands of his former persecutors, on once more seeing Marguerite, if it
- were only to reproach her for infidelity; but Paul, more calm and less
- credulous, made him pledge his word that he would not land until he had
- heard from him; then, being assured that the marriage would not take place
- in less than fifteen days, he set out for Paris, and was received by the
- king, who presented him with a sword, the hilt of which was of gold, and
- decorated him with the order of military merit. Paul had availed himself
- of the kindness of the king towards him to relate to him Lusignan’s
- adventures, and had obtained not only his pardon, but also as a reward for
- his late services, the appointment of Governor of Guadaloupe. All these
- cares had not prevented him from keeping sight of Emanuel. Being informed
- of the count’s intended departure, he left Paris, and having written to
- Lusignan, appointing a place of meeting, he arrived at Auray an hour after
- the young count.
- </p>
- <p>
- After their joyful meeting, Paul and Lusignan remained together until
- nearly twilight. Then Paul, who, as he had told Emanuel, had a personal
- revelation to receive, left his friend and again took the road to Auray.
- But this time he was on foot, and did not enter the castle, but going
- along the park wall, he directed his steps toward an iron gate which
- opened into a wood belonging to the domains of Auray.
- </p>
- <p>
- About an hour before Paul left the fisherman’s hut, where he had found
- Lusignan, a person had preceded him on the road toward the cottage at
- which he was to ask the revelation of the secret of his birth; that person
- was the Marchioness d’Auray, the haughty heiress of the name of Sable. She
- was attired in her usual mourning garments with the addition of a long
- black veil, which enveloped her from head to foot. Moreover, the
- habitation which our young adventurer, with the hesitation of ignorance,
- was seeking for, was to her familiar. It was a sort of keeper’s house,
- situated at a few paces from the entrance to the park, and inhabited by an
- old man, in whose behalf the Marchioness d’Auray had for twenty years
- fulfilled one of those acts of sedulous benevolence which had gained for
- her in that part of Lower Brittany, the reputation of rigid holiness which
- she enjoyed. These attentions to age were given, it is true, with the same
- gloomy and solemn face which we have observed in her, and which the tender
- emotions of pity never softened; but they were nevertheless afforded, and
- all knew it, with careful punctuality.
- </p>
- <p>
- The face of the Marchioness d’Auray was even more grave than it was wont
- to be, while she crossed the park to repair to the dwelling of a man who
- was said to be an old servant of the family. The door was standing open as
- if to allow the last rays of the setting sun to penetrate into the house,
- so sweet and balmy to old people in the month of May. The house was
- however empty. The Marchioness d’Auray entered it, looked around her, and
- then as if certain that the person she was in search of would not be long
- absent, she resolved to await his return. She sat down. She had remained
- there about half an hour, motionless and absorbed in her reflections, when
- she saw, between her and the declining daylight, a shadow cast before the
- door. She slowly raised her eyes and recognised the person she had been
- expecting. They both started as though they had met by chance, and were
- not in the habit of seeing each other every day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is you, Achard,” said the marchioness, who was the first to speak. “I
- have been waiting for you half an hour. Where can you have been?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had your ladyship walked fifty paces farther, you would have found me
- under the large oak, on the edge of the forest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know I never walk that way,” said the marchioness, with a visible
- shudder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are wrong, madam; there is one in heaven who has a right to our
- joint prayers, and who, perhaps, is astonished to hear only those of old
- Achard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how know you that I do not also pray?” said the marchioness, with a
- certain degree of feverish agitation. “Do you believe that the dead
- require we should be constantly kneeling on their tombs?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the old man, with a feeling of profound sorrow; “no, I do
- not believe that the dead are so exacting, madam; but I believe if any
- part of us lives under ground, it would thrill at the noise caused by the
- steps of those whom we have loved during our life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, in a low and hollow tone, “if that love were
- a guilty passion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “However guilty it may have been, madam,” replied the old man, also
- lowering his voice, “do you not believe that blood and tears have
- expatiated it? God was then, believe me, too severe a judge, not to have
- now become an indulgent father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, God has perhaps pardoned it,” murmured the marchioness, “but did the
- world know that which God knows, would it pardon as God has done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The world!” exclaimed the old man; “the world! Yes, there is the great
- word which has again escaped your lips! The world! It is to it, to that
- phantom you have sacrificed everything, madam; your feelings as a lover,
- your feelings as a wife, your feelings as a mother! your own happiness,
- the happiness of others! The world! It is the fear of the world which has
- clothed you in perpetual mourning, beneath which you hope to conceal
- remorse! And in that you are right, for you have succeeded in deceiving
- it, for it has taken your remorse for virtue!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness raised her head with some degree of agitation, and putting
- aside her veil that she might look upon the person who addressed her in
- such extraordinary language; then, after a momentary silence, not being
- able to discover any sinister expression in the calm features of the old
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak to me,” she said to him, “with a bitterness which would lead me
- to believe you have some personal reason for reproaching me. Have I failed
- in any promise I have made? The persons who attend on you by my orders,
- are they wanting in that respect which I have desired them to observe? You
- know, if this should be the case, you have only to say a word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forgive me, madam, it is in sorrow that I speak, not bitterness; it is
- the effect of solitude and of age. You must well know what it is to have
- sorrows that you cannot speak of—tears which we dare not shed, and
- which fall back, drop by drop, upon the heart! No, I have not to complain
- of any one, madam, since first, from a feeling for which I am truly
- grateful, without seeking to know whence it emanated, you have been
- pleased to see personally that my wants were all supplied, and you have
- not for a single day forgotten your promise, but like the old prophet, I
- have sometimes seen an angel come as your messenger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied the marchioness, “I know that Marguerite often accompanies
- the servant who is charged to wait upon you; and I have seen with pleasure
- the attentions she has paid you, and the friendship she feels for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But in my turn, I have not failed either, I trust, in the promises I
- made. For twenty years I have lived far from the habitations of men, I
- have kept away every living being from this dwelling; so much did I fear
- on your account, the delirium of my waking hours, or the indiscretion of
- my dreams.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly! undoubtedly! and happily the secret has been well
- preserved,” said the marchioness, placing her hand upon Achard’s arm; “but
- this is a stronger incentive in my mind not to lose in a single day the
- fruit of twenty years, all more gloomy, more isolated, and more terrible
- than yours have been.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I understand you perfectly; and you have shuddered more than once
- upon suddenly remembering that there is roaming about the world, a man who
- may one day call upon me to reveal that secret, and that I have not the
- right to conceal it from that man. Ah! you tremble at the bare idea, do
- you not? But, tranquilise yourself; that man, when but a boy, fled from
- the school at which we had placed him in Scotland, and for ten years past
- nothing has been heard of him. In short, destined to obscurity, he himself
- rushed forward to meet his fate. He is now lost amid the millions that
- crowd this populous world, and not a soul knows where to find him; this
- poor unit, without a name, is lost for ever. He must have lost his
- father’s letter, have mislaid the token by which I was to recognise him;
- or, better still, perhaps he exists no longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is cruel of you, Achard,” replied the marchioness, “to utter such
- words to a mother. You cannot appreciate the strange feelings and singular
- contradictions contained in the heart of woman. For, in fine, can I not be
- tranquil unless my child be dead! Consider, my old friend; this secret, of
- which he has been ignorant five and twenty years, has it become at the age
- of twenty-five, so necessary to his existence that he cannot live, unless
- it be revealed to him? Believe me, Achard, for himself even it would be
- better he should still remain ignorant of it, as he has been to this day.
- I feel assured that to this day he has been happy—old man, do not
- mar this happiness—do not inspire his mind with thoughts which may
- induce him to commit an evil action. No—tell him, in lieu of the
- dreadful tale you were desired to communicate, that his mother has gone to
- rejoin his father in heaven; and, would to God that it were so! but that
- when dying (for I must see him whatever you may say to the contrary, I
- will even if it be but once, press him to my heart), when dying, as I
- said, his mother had bequeathed him to her friend the Marchioness d’Auray,
- in whom he will find a second mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand you, madam,” said Achard, smiling. “It is not the first time
- you have pointed out this path, in which you wish to lead me astray. Only
- to-day, you speak more openly, and if you dared to do so, or if you knew
- me less, you would offer me some reward to induce me to disobey the last
- injunctions of him who sleeps by us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness made a gesture as if about to interrupt him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, madam,” hastily said the old man, stretching forth his
- hand, “and let my words be considered by you as holy and irrevocable. As
- faithful as I have been to the promise which I made to the Marchioness
- d’Auray, so faithful will I be to that I made to the Count de Morlaix, on
- the day when his son, or your son, shall present himself before me with
- the token of recognition, and shall demand to know the secret. I shall
- reveal it to him, madam. As to the papers which attest it, you are aware
- that they are to be delivered to him only after the death of the Marquis
- d’Auray. The secret is here,” said the old man, placing his hand upon his
- heart; “no human power could have extracted it before the time; no human
- power, that time having arrived, can prevent me from revealing it. The
- papers are there in that closet, the key of which I always have about me,
- and it is only by robbery or by assassination that I can be deprived of
- them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, half rising and supporting herself on the arm
- of her chair, “you might die before my husband, old man; for although he
- is more dangerously ill than you are, you are older than he is, and then
- what would become of those papers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The priest who shall attend my last moments will receive them under the
- seal of confession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! it is that!” cried the marchioness, rising, “and thus this chain of
- fears will be prolonged until my death! and the last link of it will be to
- all eternity rivetted to my tomb. There is in this world a man, the only
- one perhaps, who is as immoveable as a rock; and God has placed him in my
- path, not only as a remorse,’ but as a vengeance also. My secret is in
- your hands, old man,—tis well!—do with it as you will!—you
- are the master, and I am your slave—farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- So saying, the marchioness left the cottage, and returned towards the
- chateau.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- More than ten years have passed since I beheld him,
- The noble boy; now time annuls my oath
- And cancels all his wrongs.
- I took a solemn oath to veil the secret,
- Conceal thy rights, while lived her lord,
- And thus allow’d thy youth to quit my roof.
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain.
-</pre>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the old man, gazing after the marchioness as she withdrew,
- “yes, I know you have a heart of adamant, madam, insensible to every sort
- of fear, with the exception of that which God has placed within your
- breast to supply the place of remorse. But that suffices; and it is dearly
- buying that reputation you have obtained for virtue, to pay the price of
- such eternal terrors. It is true that the virtue of the Marchioness
- d’Auray is so firmly established, that if truth herself were to rise from
- the earth or to descend from heaven to arraign her, she would be treated
- as a calumniator. But God orders all things according to His will, and
- what He does ordain, His wisdom has long before matured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rightly reasoned,” cried a youthful and sonorous voice, replying to the
- religious axiom which the resignation of the old man had led him to utter.
- “Upon my word, good father, you speak like Ecclesiastes.” Achard turned
- round and perceived Paul, who had arrived just as the marchioness left
- him, but who was so absorbed by the scene we have just described, that she
- had not observed the young captain. The latter, seeing the old man alone,
- approached him, and not hearing the last words he had uttered, had spoken
- with his usual good humor. Achard, who was surprised by his unexpected
- appearance, looked at him as if he wished him to repeat that which he had
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say,” resumed Paul, “that there is more grandeur in resignation that
- humbly bows itself, than in philosophy that doubts. That is a maxim of our
- quakers, which, for my eternal welfare, I wish I had less often on my
- tongue, and more frequently in my heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, sir,” said the old man on seeing our adventurer, who
- was fixedly gazing at him, while standing with one foot on the threshold
- of his door. “May I know who you are?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For the moment,” replied Paul, giving, as usual, free course to his
- poetical and heedless gaiety, “I am a child of the republic of Plato,
- having all human kind for brothers, the world for a country, and
- possessing upon this earth only the station I have worked out for myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what are you in search of?” continued the old man, smiling in spite
- of himself at the air of jovial good-nature which was spread over the
- features of the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am seeking,” replied Paul, “at three leagues distance from Lorient, at
- five hundred paces from resembles this one, and in which I am to find an
- old man, whom it is very likely is yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is the name of this old man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Louis Achard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is my name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then may the blessing of heaven descend on your white hairs,” said Paul,
- in a voice which at once changing its tone, assumed that of deep feeling
- and respect; “for here is a letter which I believe was written by my
- father, in which he says that you are an honest man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does not that letter enclose something?” cried d’Auray, and advancing a
- step nearer to the young captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It does,” replied the latter, opening the letter and taking out of it one
- half of a Venetian sequin, which had been broken in two; “it seems to be
- part of a gold coin, of which I have one half, and you ought to be in
- possession of the other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Achard mechanically held out his hand, while gazing with intense interest
- at the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said the old man, and eyes gradually became more and more
- suffused with tears: “yes, this is the true token, and more than that, the
- extraordinary resemblance,” and opening his arms, he cried, “child!—oh!
- my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?” cried Paul, extending his arms to support the old man, who
- was quite overcome by his emotions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! can you not comprehend?” replied the latter, “can you not comprehend
- that you are the living portrait of your father, and that I loved your
- father—loved him so much that I would have shed my blood, have given
- my life to serve him, as I would now for you, young man, were you to
- demand it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Embrace me, then, my old friend,” said Paul, throwing his arms around the
- old man, “for the chain of feeling, believe me, is not broken, which
- extended from the tomb of the father to the cradle of the son. Whatever my
- father may have been, if in order to resemble him it be only necessary to
- have a conscience without reproach, undaunted courage, and a memory which
- never forgets a benefit conferred, although it may sometimes forget an
- injury; if this be so, then am I, as you have said, my father’s living
- portrait, and more so in soul than in form.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he possessed all these,” replied the old man, with solemnity, and
- clasping Paul to his breast, looking at him with affectionate though
- tearful tenderness—“Yes, he had the same commanding voice, the same
- flashing eyes, the same nobleness of heart. But why was it that I have not
- seen you sooner, young man? I have, during my life, passed many gloomy
- hours, which your presence would have brightened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—because this letter told me to seek you out only when I should
- have attained the age of twenty-five, and because it is not long since I
- attained that age, not more than an hour ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man bowed down his head with a pensive air, and remained silent
- for some time, seemingly absorbed by recollections of the past.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be so?” at length ne said, raising his head, “can it be
- twenty-five years ago. Good heaven! it appears to me only yesterday that
- you were born in this house, that you first saw the light in that very
- room:” and the old man raised his head, and pointed to a door which led
- into another room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul, in his turn, appeared to reflect, and then, looking around him, to
- strengthen by the aid of objects which presented themselves to his view,
- the recollections which crowded on his memory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In this cottage, in that room,” he repeated, “and I lived here till I was
- five years old, did I not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” murmured the old man, as if fearful to disturb the feelings which
- were taking possession of the young man’s mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” continued Paul, leaning his head on both his hands, as if to
- concentrate his thoughts, “allow me for one moment to look back, in my
- turn, to the past, for I am recollecting a room which I had thought I had
- seen in a dream—it may be that one. Listen to me! Oh! how strange it
- is—remembrances now rush upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak, my child, speak!” said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It it be that room, there ought to be on the right, as you go in, at the
- end of the room, a bed with green hangings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A crucifix at the head of the bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A closet opposite, in which were books, among the rest a large Bible,
- with numerous engravings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There it is,” said the old man, pointing to the sacred book which was
- lying open on a desk for prayer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! it is that—it is that,” cried Paul, pressing his lips against
- the leaves.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! good and pious heart,” cried the old man, “I thank thee, oh! my God—I
- thank thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” said Paul, rising, “in that room there is a window, from which you
- can discern the sea, and on the sea, three islands?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Houat, Hoedic, and Belle-Ileen-mer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, it is really so,” said Paul, rushing towards the room, and then
- perceiving that the old man was about to follow him, he said: “No, no! I
- must be alone—let me enter it alone—I feel that I must be
- alone,” and he went into the room, closing the door after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then paused a moment, impressed with that holy respect which
- accompanies the remembrance of our infancy. The room was as he had
- described it, for the religious devotedness of the old servant had
- preserved it from any change. Paul, feeling doubtless that the eye of a
- stranger would have interrupted the expression of the feelings he
- experienced, and now certain of being alone, abandoned himself to them He
- slowly advanced, and with clasped hands, towards the ivory crucifix; and
- falling on his knees, which formerly he had the habit of doing, morning
- and evening, he endeavoured to remember one of those simple prayers, in
- which a child, still on the threshold of this life, prays to God for those
- who have opened its gates to him. “What events had succeeded each other in
- the lapse of time which had passed between these genuflexions! Paul
- remained for a considerable time absorbed in thought, and then slowly
- arose, and went to the window. The night was beautiful and calm, the moon
- was shining in the heavens, and tipped the ocean waves with silver. The
- three islands appeared on the horizon, like blue vapor floating on the
- ocean. He remembered how often in his infancy he had leaned against that
- window, gazing upon that same scene, following with his eyes some bark,
- with its snowy sails, which glided silently over the sea, like the wing of
- a night bird. Then his heart swelled with sweet and tender recollection;
- his head fell upon his chest, and silent tears ran down his cheeks. At
- that moment he felt that some one pressed his hands—it was the old
- man—he wished to conceal his emotions; but instantly repenting this
- vain feeling, he turned toward Achard, and frankly let him see his face,
- down which the tears were streaming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You weep, my child,” said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I weep,” replied Paul; “and why should I conceal it? Yea, look at
- me. And yet I have, during my life, witnessed dreadful scenes. I have seen
- the tempest bear my vessel to the summit of a mountain wave, and then sink
- her into an abyss, from which I thought she would never rise again; and I
- felt that she weighed no more upon the wings of the storm than does a
- dried leaf on the evening breeze. I have seen men fall around me like the
- ripe ears of corn before the sickle of the reaper. I have heard the cries
- of distress, and the dying groans of those whose meal I had shared but the
- day before. In order to receive their last sigh, I have walked amid a
- shower of bullets, and grape-shot, upon a plank slippery with blood. And
- yet, amid all this, my soul was calm—my eyes remained unmoistened.
- But this room, see you; this room, of which I had retained so holy a
- remembrance; this room, in which I had received the first caresses of a
- father whom I shall never see again, and the last kisses of a mother who
- perhaps desires no more to see me; this room is sacred as a cradle and as
- a tomb. I cannot thus revisit it without giving vent to my emotions; I
- must weep, or I shall suffocate.” The old man clasped him in his arms.
- Paul leaned his head upon his shoulder, and during some time nothing was
- heard but his sobs. At length the old servant rejoined:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are right; this room is at once a cradle and a tomb; it was
- there that you were born;” he pointed to one corner with his hand; “and it
- was there that you received the last blessing of your father,” continued
- he, pointing to the opposite side of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is then dead?” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must tell me how he died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell you all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Defer it for a moment,” added Paul, as he reached a chair and seated
- himself, “for I am now too weak to listen to you. Let me recover myself.”
- He placed his elbow on the window-sill, leaned his head upon his hand, and
- once more cast his eyes upon the sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a magnificent spectacle is the ocean when the moon shines upon it as
- brightly as it does now,” continued he, with that accent of soft
- melancholy which was habitual to him. “It is as calm as God himself, and
- vast as eternity. I do not believe that a man accustomed to study such a
- scene can be afraid of death. My father met death bravely, did he not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Assuredly!” proudly replied Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It could not be otherwise,” continued Paul, “for I remember my father,
- although I was only four years old when I last saw him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a handsome young man, as you yourself are,” said Achard, looking
- sorrowfully at Paul, “and just as old as you are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What was his name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Count de Moraix.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I also am of an old and noble family. I also have arms and an
- escutcheon as well as those young and insolent nobles who ask me for my
- parchments when I show them my wounds?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, young man, wait; do not allow pride to carry you thus away, for I
- have not yet told you the name of her who gave you being, and you are
- still ignorant of the dreadful secret of your birth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well: be it so. I shall not with the less respect and veneration hear the
- name of my mother. What was my mother’s name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Marchioness d’Auray,” slowly replied the old man, as if regretting
- that he was compelled to mention her name.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it that you tell me!” cried Paul, starting from his chair, and
- seizing the hands of the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The truth!” replied Achard, sorrowfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then Emanuel is my brother—Marguerite is my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you then already know them?” exclaimed the old servant, much
- astounded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you were right, old man,” said Paul, throwing himself into his chair.
- “God orders all things according to His will, and what He does ordain, His
- wisdom has long before matured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They both remained silent for a time, when at length Paul raised his head,
- and resolutely fixing his eyes on the old man’s face, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, I am ready to hear all you have to communicate—you may go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- I shall a tale unfold
- Will harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
- Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres;
- Thy knotted and combined locks to part.
- And each particular hair to stand on end,
- Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The old man seemed to be summoning up his recollections for a time, and
- then began:
- </p>
- <p>
- “They were affianced to each other. I know not what mortal hatred it was
- that arose between the families and separated them. The Count de Morlaix,
- broken hearted, could not remain in France. He sailed for Saint Domingo,
- where his father possessed a large estate; I accompanied him, for the
- Count de Morlaix reposed much confidence in me. I was the son of her who
- had nursed him; I had received the same education as himself; he used to
- call me his brother, and I alone remembered the distance which nature had
- placed between us. The Marquis de Morlaix confided to me the charge of
- watching over his son, for I loved him with all the love of a father. We
- remained two years under a tropical sun; during that two years, your
- father, lost amid the solitude of that magnificent island, a traveller
- without an object and without an aim, an ardent and indefatigable
- sportsman, endeavouring to cure the griefs of the mind, by the fatigues of
- the body; but so far from succeeding, one would have thought that his
- heart became still more inflamed under that ardent sun. At length, after
- two years of trial and incessant struggles, his love conquered. He must
- either see her again or die. I yielded and we set sail for France. Never
- was a voyage more beautiful, or more prosperous. The sea and sky seemed to
- smile upon us; so favourable were they that it would have induced one to
- believe in lucky omens. Six weeks after our departure from Port au Prince,
- we landed at Havre. Mademoiselle de Sablé was married. The Marquis d’Auray
- was at Versailles, fulfilling at the court of Louis XV. the duties of his
- charge, and his wife, who was too much indisposed to follow him, was at
- the old chateau d’Auray, the turrets of which you see from this place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said Paul, “I know it; pray go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to myself,” rejoined the old map, “during our voyage, one of my
- uncles, an old servant of the house of Auray, had died, and left me this
- small house, with a small quantity of land surrounding it. I took
- possession of it. Your father had left me at Vannes, telling me he was
- going to Paris, and for the whole of the first year that I inherited this
- house I did not see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One night,—it is exactly twenty-five years ago,—some one
- knocked at my door; I went to open it and found your father there,
- carrying in his arms a woman whose face was veiled. He brought her into
- this room, and laid her on that bed. And then returning to me in the
- adjoining room, where I was waiting mute and motionless with astonishment,
- he placed his hand upon my shoulder, and looking at me in a supplicating
- manner, although he had the right to command me, said, ‘Louis, you can do
- more than save my life and honor—you can save the life and honor of
- her I love—get on horseback, gallop to the next town, and return
- here in an hour with a doctor.’ He spoke to me in that short and hasty
- tone, which indicated that there was not a moment to be lost. I
- immediately obeyed. The day was beginning to break when we returned. The
- doctor was introduced by the Count de Morlaix into this room, the door of
- which was immediately closed: he remained there during the whole day;
- towards five in the afternoon, the doctor left the house, and at nightfall
- your father also left the house carrying in his arms the mysterious veiled
- lady whom he had brought the previous night. When they had gone, I came
- into this room and found you here—you had just been born.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how did you learn that this woman was the Marchioness d’Auray?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” exclaimed the old man, in a way which was as terrible as it was
- unexpected; “I had offered the Count de Morlaix to keep you here, and he
- accepted my proposal: from time to time he would come to spend an hour
- with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alone?” demanded Paul, with much anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, always; but as he had given me permission to walk with you in the
- park, it would sometimes happen that at the corner of one of the avenues I
- would meet the marchioness, whom chance appeared to have conducted in that
- direction. She would make you a sign to come to her, and she would kiss
- you as people kiss a strange child, because he is handsome. Four years
- passed on in this way, and then one night some one again knocked at this
- door, and it was again your father. He was more calm, but had, perhaps, a
- more gloomy look than on the first occasion. ‘Louis,’ said he, ‘to-morrow,
- at the break of day, I have to meet the Marquis d’Auray. It is a duel in
- which one of us must fall, and you are to be the only witness of it. The
- terms are agreed upon. You must, therefore, give me shelter for this
- night, and let me have materials for writing.’ He sat down at this table,
- on the very chair you are now seated.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul sprang up, but supported himself on the back of the chair, without
- again sitting down upon it. “He sat up all night. At day-break he came
- into my room and found me up—I had not gone to bed. As to you poor
- child, unconscious of the passions and miseries of this life, you were
- quietly sleeping.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,—pray go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your father bent slowly over you, supporting himself by the wall, and
- looking sorrowfully upon you: ‘Louis,’ said he to me, in a hollow voice,
- ‘should I be killed, and which may happen, wo to this child! You will
- deliver him with this letter to Field, my valet de chambre, whom I have
- charged to conduct him to Selkirk, in Scotland, there to leave him in sure
- hands. When he is twenty-five years old, he will bring you the other half
- of this gold coin, and will ask you to reveal to him the secret of his
- birth. You will communicate it; for then, perhaps, his mother will be
- alone and isolated. As to these papers which prove his birth, you will not
- deliver them to him, until after the death of the Marquis d’Auray. Now I
- have said all that is necessary, let us go, for it is the appointed hour.
- He then leaned over your bed, bent down toward you, and although he was a
- man of fortitude, as I have told you, I saw a tear fall upon your cheek.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed,” said Paul, in a voice choked by emotion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The rendezvous was in one of the avenues of the park, about a hundred
- paces from this house. When we reached the place, we found the marquis
- there, he had been waiting for us some minutes. Near him upon a bank were
- pistols ready loaded. The adversaries bowed to each other without
- exchanging a word. The marquis pointed to the weapons—they each took
- one, and then, according to the terms which had been agreed upon, as your
- father had told me, they placed themselves, mute and gloomily, at the
- distance of thirty paces, and then began to walk towards each other. Oh!
- it was a moment ef agony for me, I can assure you,” rejoined the old man,
- almost as much moved as if the scene were then actually passing before
- him, “when I saw the distance gradually diminishing between these two men.
- When they were only about ten paces, the marquis stopped and fired. I
- looked at your father; not a muscle of his face was moved, so that I
- thought him safe and unhurt. He continued to walk on till he came close to
- the marquis, and then placing the muzzle of the pistol to his heart—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He did not kill him, I trust,” cried Paul seizing the old man’s arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He said to him, Your life is in my hands, sir, and I might take it, but I
- wish you to live, that you may pardon me, as I do you. And uttering these
- words, he fell dead at the feet of the marquis, whose ball had passed
- through his chest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father! my father!” cried Paul, wringing his hands. “And the man
- who killed my father—he still lives, does he not? He is still young,
- and has strength enough to wield a sword or raise a pistol? We will go to
- him—to-day—instantly! You will tell him, that it is his son!
- that he must fight with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God has avenged your father,” replied Achard—“that man is mad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is true—I had forgotten that,” murmured Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in his madness that bloody scene is ever before his eyes, and he
- repeats ten times a day the dying words your father addressed to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that must be the reason why the marchioness will not leave him for a
- single moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that is also the reason, under the pretext that he will not see his
- children, that she keeps Emanuel and Marguerite from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor sister,” said Paul, with an accent of undefinable tenderness;
- “and now she wishes to sacrifice her by forcing her to marry that wretch
- Lectoure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but that wretch Lectoure will take Marguerite with him to Paris, and
- give a regiment of dragoons to her brother, so that the marchioness will
- no longer have cause to dread the presence of her children. Her secret,
- therefore, remains henceforward in the breasts of two old men, who
- to-morrow, this night even, may die. The grave is silent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, I—I!”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “You! Does she know that you still exist! Has anything been heard of you
- since you escaped from Selkirk? Could not some accident have prevented you
- from coming to the appointment, which fortunately you have done safely? It
- is certain that she has not forgotten you, but she hopes”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! can you believe that my mother”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, that is true. I do not believe it!” cried Achard, “I
- was wrong; forget what I have said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, let us speak of you, my friend; let us speak of my father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it necessary that I should tell you that his last wishes were
- fulfilled. Field came to fetch you during the day, and took you away with
- him. Twenty-one years have passed since then, and since then not a single
- day has passed without my putting up a prayer that I might see you at the
- appointed time. My prayers have been granted,” continued the old man; “and
- thanks be to God, you are here. Your father lives again in you—I
- once more see him—I am speaking to him. I weep no longer, I am now
- consoled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he died thus, instantly, without a struggle, without a sigh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—I brought him here. I placed him on the bed in which you were
- born—I closed the door that no one might enter the house, and I went
- alone and dug his grave. I passed the whole day in this painful duty; for,
- according to the request of your father, to no one was to be confided this
- dreadful secret. In the evening I returned for the body. The heart of man
- is singularly constituted, and hope which God has planted in it can with
- difficulty be eradicated. I had seen him fall—I had felt his hands
- grow cold—I had kissed his ice-like face—I had left him, to
- hollow out his grave, and that grave being made, that duty being
- accomplished, I returned with a beating heart, for it appeared to me,
- although a miracle would be required for such a change, that during my
- absence life had returned to him, and that he would rise from his bed and
- speak to me. I entered the house—alas! alas! the days of miracles
- had passed away. Lazarus remained lying on his couch—dead! dead!
- dead!” and the old man remained for some time overwhelmed with grief,
- silent and voiceless, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” cried Paul, also bursting into tears; “yes, and you then
- fulfilled your holy mission. Good old man, let me kiss those hands which
- deposited my father in his last home. And you have remained faithful to
- his tomb as you had been to him during life. Poor guardian of the
- sepulchre; you have remained near him that your tears might water the
- grass which grew about the unknown grave. Oh! how little are those who
- think themselves great because their name resounds amid the tempest, and
- the cry of war, louder than the storm or the din of battle, in comparison
- with you, old man, whose devotedness has been mute and noiseless. Oh! give
- me your blessings lay those hallowed hands upon my head, since my father
- is not here to bless me,” continued Paul, throwing himself on his knees
- before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rise to my arms—let me clasp you to my heart, my child, for you
- exaggerate these actions, in themselves so simple and so natural. And
- then, believe me, that which you term my piety has not been a useless
- lesson to me. I have seen how little space a man occupies beneath the
- ground, and how soon he is lost amid the world, should God turn his face
- from him. Your father was young, full of courage, with a brilliant career
- opening before him. Your father was the last descendant of an ancient
- line; he bore a noble name. His path seemed marked with honors and
- distinction; he had a family and powerful friends. Well, he suddenly
- disappeared, as if the earth had opened beneath his feet. I know not if
- some tearful eyes sought for him till they lost all trace of him; but this
- I know, that for one-and-twenty years no one has sought out his tomb—no
- one knows that he lies beneath that spot, where the grass is greener and
- grows more luxuriantly than elsewhere—and yet, vain, glorious, and
- miserable as he is, man considers himself of some value.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! and my mother, has she not visited his grave?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man did not answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! there will be two of us who henceforward will know the spot,
- where he reposes. Come, and show it to me; for I will return to it, I
- promise solemnly, every time my ship returns to the coast of France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying this, he drew Achard into the outer room, but as they opened the
- door they heard a slight noise in the park. It was a servant from the
- castle, who had accompanied Marguerite. Paul hurriedly returned into the
- bedroom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is my sister,” said he to Achard; “leave me alone with her a moment.
- It is necessary that I should speak to her. I have something to
- communicate which will make her pass a happy night. We must have
- compassion for those who watch and weep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reflect,” said Achard, “that the secret I have revealed to you is your
- mother’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fear not—I will speak to her but of that which concerns herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment Marguerite entered the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- This ring I gave him when he parted from me
- To bind him to remember my good will;
- The more shame for him that he sends it to me.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Marguerite had come, as she frequently did, to bring some provisions for
- the old man, and it was not without astonishment that she perceived in the
- outer room, where she usually found Achard, a young and handsome man, who
- looked at her with gladdened eyes, and with a kindly smile. She made a
- sign to the servant to put down the basket in a corner of the room; he
- obeyed, and then went out to wait for his mistress in the park. When he
- had withdrawn, she advanced towards Paul, saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, sir, but I expected to find my old friend, Achard,
- here, and I came, to bring him something from my mother”—
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul pointed to the inner room, to let her know that the person she was
- seeking was within, for he could not reply to her; he felt that the tone
- of his voice would betray the emotions he experienced. The young girl
- thanked him, with a bow, and went into the room to find Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul followed her with his eyes—his hand pressed upon his heart.
- That virgin soul into which love had never penetrated, now expanded with
- fraternal tenderness. Isolated as he had always been, having no friends
- but the rude children of the ocean, all that was soft or tender in his
- heart, he had turned towards God, and although in the eyes of rigid
- Christians, his religion might not have appeared as strictly orthodox, it
- is no less true, that the poetry which overflowed in every word he uttered
- was nothing more than one vast and eternal prayer. It was not, therefore,
- astonishing, that this first feeling which penetrated his heart, although
- purely fraternal, was as extravagant and transporting as the emotions of
- love.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” murmured he, “poor isolated being that I am! How shall I be able to
- restrain my feelings when she returns, and prevent myself from clasping
- her to my heart and saying to her: Marguerite! my sister, no woman has yet
- felt love for me; love me then with sisterly affection. Oh! mother!
- mother! by depriving me of your caresses, you have also deprived me of
- those of this dear angel. May God restore to you in eternity that
- happiness which you have driven from yourself and others.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell!” said Marguerite to the old man, opening the door, “farewell! I
- wished this evening to come myself, for I know not when I may see you
- again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And she went toward the outer door, pensive, and with her eyes cast down,
- without seeing Paul, without remembering that a stranger was in that room.
- Paul remained gazing at her with outstretched arms as if to prevent her
- leaving the house, with palpitating heart and moistened eyes. At length,
- when he saw her placing her hand upon the door-latch, he cried aloud—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned round amazed, but not being able to comprehend this strange
- familiarity, in one who was totally unknown to her, she half-opened the
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” reiterated Paul, advancing a step towards his sister,
- “Marguerite, do you not hear me call you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true that my name is Marguerite, sir,” she replied, with dignity;
- “but I could not imagine that word was addressed to me by a person whom I
- have the honor of knowing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I know you!” exclaimed Paul, going nearer to her, and then closing
- the door he brought her back into the room. “I know that you are unhappy,
- that you have not one friendly heart into which you can pour your sorrows,
- not one arm from which you can ask support.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You forget the one which is on high,” replied Marguerite, raising her
- eyes and hand toward heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Marguerite, I do not forget, for it is He who sends me to offer
- you that which you most need; to tell you when all lips and all hearts are
- closed toward you, ‘I am your friend, devotedly, eternally.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir!” replied Marguerite, “these are sacred and solemn words which
- you have uttered; words, unfortunately, to which it would be difficult for
- me to give credence without proofs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And should I give you one?” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Irrefragable!” continued Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then!” exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which
- doubt began to give place to hope—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! and then”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then—but no, no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know this ring?” said Paul, showing her the one with the key that
- opened the bracelet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed Marguerite, “have mercy upon me! he is dead!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He lives.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he no longer loves me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He loves you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he be living—if he still love me—oh! I shall go mad—what
- was it I was saying? If he be living—if he still love me, how comes
- it that this ring is in your possession?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He confided it to me as a token of recognition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And have I confided this bracelet to any one?” cried Marguerite, pushing
- back the sleeve of her gown—“Look!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but you, Marguerite, you are not proscribed—dishonored, in the
- eyes of the whole world—thrown amongst a condemned race!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what importance is that. Is he not innocent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then, he thought,” continued Paul, wishing to discover the extent of
- the devotedness and love of his sister, “he thought that delicacy
- required, banished as he is for ever from society, that he should offer
- you, if not restore to you, the liberty of disposing of your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When a woman has done for a man that which I have done for him,” replied
- Marguerite, “her only excuse is to love him eternally, and it is that I
- mean to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you are an angel!” exclaimed Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me!” rejoined Marguerite, seizing the young man’s hands, and looking
- at him with a supplicating air—
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you seen him, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am his friend, his brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak to me of him, then?” she exclaimed, giving herself up entirely to
- the recollection of her lover, and forgetting that it was the first time
- she had seen the person to whom she was addressing questions of so
- delicate a nature. “What is he doing? what hope has he? Poor, unhappy
- man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He loves you—and he hopes again to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, then,” stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,—“he
- has told you——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a sudden
- tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual
- paleness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a miracle of devotedness!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do not then despise me, sir?” said Marguerite, Venturing to raise her
- eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” cried Paul, “had I a sister I would pray to heaven that she
- might resemble you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister,” she replied,
- leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps,” said Paul, smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know not, then——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been informed of that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that, too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can I
- apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? My
- brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my
- feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman
- whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will
- inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe that
- others can forget it, and when she has once said, ‘It is my will,’ all
- that remains to do is to bow down one’s head, to weep, and to obey. My
- father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from which he
- has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My father! for
- any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove a resource: but
- you know not that he is insane—that he has lost his reason, and with
- it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, it is ten years since
- I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not pressed his trembling
- hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows not that he has still a
- daughter! he knows not even whether he has a heart, and will not be able
- even to recognize me. And were he but to know me, and took compassion on
- me, my mother would place a pen in his hand and would say, ‘Sign that, it
- is my will!’ and he would sign it—the poor feeble old man! and his
- daughter would be condemned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be
- pacified, that contract never will be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And who can prevent it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who will present you there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the means.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while
- striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother’s person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite.
- Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I believe you, sir, and I implicitly confide in you,” said
- Marguerite, as if overwhelmed by the contending feelings of confidence and
- mistrust which she had till then labored under. “For what advantage could
- you derive from endeavoring to deceive me? What interest could you have to
- betray me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None, undoubtedly; but let us talk of other matters. What line of conduct
- do you intend to pursue with regard to the Baron de Lectoure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell him all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Paul, bowing profoundly, “allow me to adore you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” murmured Marguerite, “sir!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As a sister! as a sister!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are indeed kind and good,” cried Marguerite, “and I believe it
- is God who sent you to my aid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe it,” replied Paul. “Then—to-morrow evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not be astonished, nor alarmed at anything that may occur, only
- contrive to let me know by letter, by a word, a sign, the result of your
- interview with Lectoure!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will endeavor to do so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is now late, and your servant may be surprised at the length of this
- interview. Return to the castle, and say not a word of me to any one.
- Farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell,” reiterated Marguerite; “you to whom I know not what name to
- give.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Call me your brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell, then, brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, my sister! my sister!” cried Paul, clasping her convulsively in his
- arms, “your lips are the first from which I have heard so sweet a word.
- God will reward you for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young girl drew back amazed; and then returning to Paul, she held out
- her hand to him. Paul again pressed it, and Marguerite left the cottage.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man then went to the door of the inner room, and opened it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, good old man,” said he, “conduct me to my father’s grave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hamlet.—Dost thou know this water-fly?
- Horatio.—No, my good lord.
- Hamlet.—Thy state is the more gracious; for ‘tis a vice to know him.
- SHAKESPEARE.
-
- Here on my knees by heaven’s blest nower I swear,
- If you persist, I ne’er henceforth will see you;
- But rather wander through the world a beggar,
- And live on sordid scraps at poor men’s doors.
- For, though to fortune lost, I’ll still inherit
- My mother’s virtues and my father’s honor.—Otway.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The day following that on which Paul had been made acquainted with the
- secret of his birth, the inhabitants of the castle of Auray awoke more
- than ever absorbed in the fears and hopes which their several interests
- had created, for that day must necessarily prove a decisive one to the
- whole of them. The marchioness, whom our readers have ere this discovered,
- was neither perverse or wicked, but a haughty and inflexible woman, saw in
- it the termination of those heart-rending apprehensions, which for so many
- years, had been her daily companions; for it was above all, in the eyes of
- her children, that she wished to preserve that unsullied reputation, the
- usurpation of which had been purchased at such cost. To her, Lectoure was
- not only a fitting son-in-law, being the bearer of a name as noble as her
- own, but more than this, a man, or rather a good genius, who at the same
- moment would bear away not only her daughter, whom he would take with him
- as his wife, but her son also, to whom the minister, thanks to this
- alliance, had promised to give a regiment. Both her children gone, her
- first-born might come, and the secret revealed to him, would find no echo.
- Moreover, there were a thousand methods by which to close his lips. The
- fortune of the marchioness was immense, and gold was one of those
- resources, which, in such a case, she deemed infallible. The more terrible
- her fears, the more ardently did she desire this union; so that she not
- only encouraged the anxiety of Lectoure, but she also excited that of
- Emanuel. As to the latter, tired of living unknown at Paris, or immured in
- Brittany, lost in the crowd of brilliant young men who formed the
- household of the King, or shut up in the antique castle of his ancestors,
- having their portraits as his sole companions, he knocked with impatient
- eagerness at the golden door which his intended brother-in-law was to open
- for him, at Versailles. The grief and tears of his sister had, certainly,
- for a time afflicted him; for he was ambitious, more from a dread of the
- <i>ennui</i>, which would consume him if compelled to live on his estate,
- and from the desire of parading at the head of his regiment, captivating
- the hearts of all the ladies by the richness and good taste of his
- uniform, than from either pride or hardness of heart. Being himself
- incapable of forming any serious attachment, and despite the fatal
- consequences of his sister’s love, he considered that love, merely as a
- childish fancy, which the tumult and pleasure of the world would soon
- efface from her memory, and he really believed that before a year had
- elapsed, she would be the first to thank him for having thus done violence
- to her feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to Marguerite, poor victim, so irrevocably condemned to be immolated to
- the fear of the one, and to the ambition of the other, the scene of the
- preceding day had made a profound impression on her mind. She could not at
- all account to herself for the extraordinary feelings which the young man
- who had transmitted to her the words of Lusignan, had awakened in her
- heart; who had tranquillized her as to the fate of the unhappy exile, and
- had concluded by pressing her to his heart, and calling her his sister. A
- vague and instinctive hope whispered to her heart, that this man, as he
- had told her, had received from heaven the mission to protect her. But as
- she was ignorant of the tie which bound him to her, of the secret which
- made him master of his mother’s will, of the influence he might exercise
- over her future life, she did not dare allow herself to dream of
- happiness, habituated as she had been for six months, to consider death as
- the only term to her misfortunes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis, alone, amid the various emotions which agitated all around
- him, had remained coldly and impassibly indifferent; for to him the world
- had ceased to move since the dreadful day on which reason had abandoned
- him; continually absorbed by one fixed idea, that of his mortal combat,
- without seconds. The only words he ever uttered, were those pronounced by
- the Count de Morlaix, when he forgave him his death. He was an old man,
- weak as an infant, and whom his wife could overawe by a gesture, and who
- received from her cold and continuous will, every impulsion, which, for
- twenty years, the vegetating instinct had received, and which, on him, had
- usurped the place of reason and free will. On this day, however, a great
- change had taken place in his monotonous mode of life. A valet de chambre
- had entered his apartment, and had succeeded to the marchioness in the
- cares of his toilette; he had dressed him in his uniform of steward of the
- household, had decorated his breast with the several orders that had been
- conferred upon him; and then the marchioness, placing a pen in his hand,
- had ordered him to try to sign his name, and he had obeyed, passively and
- negligently, without imagining that he was studying the part of an
- executioner.
- </p>
- <p>
- About three in the afternoon, a postchaise, the sound of whose wheels had
- very differently impressed the hearts of the three persons who were
- expecting it, entered the court-yard of the castle. Emanuel had eagerly
- run down to the vestibule to receive his future brother-in-law, for it was
- he who had arrived. Lectoure sprang lightly from his carriage. He had
- halted for some time at the last post-house, to attire himself in a
- presentable costume, so that he arrived in an elegant court dress of the
- latest fashion. Emanuel smiled at this evidence of his anxiety, for it was
- clearly to be perceived, that Lectoure was determined not to lose the
- advantage of a first favorable impression, by presenting himself in a
- dusty travelling dress. His intercourse with the fair sex had taught him,
- that they almost invariably judge from the first glance, and the effect
- which it produces upon their minds or hearts, let it be favorable or
- unfavorable, is with difficulty removed. Moreover, it is but rendering
- justice to the baron to acknowledge that his person was graceful and
- elegant, and might have been dangerous to any woman whose heart was not
- already occupied by another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Permit me, my dear baron,” said Emanuel, advancing toward him, “in the
- momentary absence of the ladies, to do the honors of the mansion of my
- ancestors. See,” continued he, when they had reached the top of the stone
- steps leading into the hall, and pointing to the turrets and the bastions,
- “these date from the time of Philip Augustus, as to architecture, and from
- Henry IV., in point of ornament.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Upon my honor,” replied the baron, in the affected tone which the young
- men of that day had adopted, “it is a most charming fortress, and throws
- around it, to a distance of at least three leagues, a baronial odour,
- which would perfume even an army contractor. If ever,” continued he, as
- they passed through the hall and entered a gallery ornamented on each side
- with long lines of family portraits, “I should take a fancy to enter into
- a rebellion against his most Christian Majesty, I shall entreat you to
- lend me this jewel of a place; and,” added he, casting his eyes on the
- long rows of ancestors which offered themselves to his view, “the garrison
- with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thirty-three quarters—I will not say in flesh and blood,” replied
- Emanuel, “for they are long since turned to dust—but in painting, as
- you see. They begin with a certain Chevalier Hugues d’Auray, who
- accompanied King Louis VII. to the crusades; that one, it is pretended, is
- my aunt Deborah, whom you see decked out as Judith; and all this
- eventually ends in the male line, in the last member of this illustrious
- family, your very humble and very obedient servant, Emanuel d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is perfectly respectable, and nothing can be more authentic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; but as I do not feel that I have, as yet, become sufficiently a
- patriarch,” rejoined Emanuel, passing before the baron to show him the way
- to the apartment which had been prepared for him, “to spend my days in
- such formidable society, I hope, baron, that you have thought of the means
- by which I can withdraw from it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly, my dear count,” said Lectoure, following him. “I wished even
- to have been myself the bearer of your commission, as my wedding gift to
- you. I knew of a vacancy in the queen’s dragoon’s, and called yesterday on
- M. de Maurepas to solicit it for you, when I heard that it had been
- granted, at the request of I know not what mysterious admiral, a sort of
- corsair, pirate, or fantastic being, whom the queen has made the fashion
- by giving him her hand to kiss, and whom the king has taken a great
- affection to because he beat the English, I know not where—so that
- his majesty has conferred upon him the order of military merit, and
- presented him a sword with a gold hilt, just as he would have done to one
- of the nobility. In short, the game is lost on that side, but do not be
- alarmed, we will turn round to another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” replied Emanuel, “I care not what regiment it may be in; what
- I desire is, that it should be a rank suitable to my name, and a position
- which would be becoming to our wealth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Precisely—you shall have them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how,” said Emanuel, wishing to change the subject of conversation,
- “how did you manage to get rid of the thousand engagements you must have
- had on your hands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” said the baron, with that perfectly free and easy air, which
- belonged only to that distinguished class, and stretching himself upon a
- couch, for they had at length reached the apartment destined for him,
- “why, by frankly stating the fact to them. I announced at the queen’s card
- table, I was going to be married.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! good heaven! Why, this was perfect heroism! Above all, if you
- acknowledged you were about to seek a wife in the depths of Lower
- Brittany.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did acknowledge it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” said Emanuel, smiling, “compassion stifled every angry
- feeling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gad! you will readily comprehend, my dear count,” said Lectoure, putting
- one knee over the other and, balancing his leg with a motion as regular as
- that of a pendulum, “our women of the court believe that the sun rises at
- Paris, and sets at Versailles—all the rest of France, is, in their
- idea, a Lapland, Greenland, Nova Zembla! So that they expect, as you have
- hinted, my dear count, to see me bring back with me from my voyage to the
- pole some large hands, and formidable feet! Fortunately, they are
- mistaken,” he added, with an accent half timorous, half interrogatory; “is
- it not so, Emanuel? for you told me that your sister”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will see her,” replied Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be a dreadful disappointment to that poor Madame de Chaulne—it
- cannot be helped—and she must console herself. What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- This question was induced by the entrance of Emanuel’s valet-de-chambre;
- who had half opened the door, and remained upon the threshold, waiting, as
- was then the custom of all servants in great houses, till his master
- should address him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it? repeated Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’ Auray requests that Monsieur, the Baron de
- Lectoure, will honor her with a private interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me!” said Lectoure, rising from the sofa, “certainly, with the greatest
- pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But no! it is a mistake!” exclaimed Emanuel; “you must be mistaken,
- Celestin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the honor to assure your lordship,” replied the valet de chambre,
- “that I have correctly and faithfully executed the order which was given
- to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” said Emanuel, uneasy to the highest degree, at the step his
- sister had ventured to take: “Baron, if you will be advised by me, you
- will send the little simpleton about her business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means! by no means,” replied Lectoure. “What does this bluebeard of
- a brother mean? Celestin! Did you not call this lad, Celestin?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel impatiently bowed his head in the affirmative. “Well then,
- Celestin, tell my lovely betrothed that I throw myself at her knees, at
- her feet, and that I await her orders either to go to her or to receive
- her here;—and there, take this for the charges of your embassy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw him his purse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you, count,” rejoined Lectoure, “I trust that you have confidence
- enough in me, to permit this <i> tête-à-tête?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is so perfectly absurd!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all,” replied Lectoure; “on the contrary, it is perfectly
- befitting. I am not a crowned head, that I should marry a woman upon her
- portrait, and by proxy. I wish to see her in person. Come, Emanuel,” he
- continued, pushing his friend toward a side door, that he might not meet
- his sister—“Come, now, tell me frankly—in confidence, between
- ourselves—is there any—deformity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, no, by heaven!” replied the young count, “no—on the contrary,
- she is as lovely as an angel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then!” said the baron, “what does all this opposition mean? Come,
- now, begone, or must I call my guards?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; but on my word, I am afraid that this little simpleton, who has not
- the slightest notion of the world, is coming to destroy all that has been
- arranged between us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! if that is all you fear,” replied Lectoure, opening the door, “you
- may be perfectly at ease. I like the brother too well not to look over
- some caprice—some extraordinary fantasies in the sister—and I
- pledge you my word as a gentleman, unless the devil should play us some
- strange trick, (whom, I trust, is at this moment fully occupied in some
- other corner of the world!) that Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, shall be
- Madame the Baroness de Lectoure, and that in a month you shall have your
- regiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This promise appeared in some degree to pacify Emanuel, who allowed
- himself to be pushed out of the door without making further difficulty.
- Lectoure immediately ran to a looking-glass to repair the slight traces of
- disorder, which the jolting over the three last leagues had occasioned in
- his dress. He had scarcely given to his, hair and garments the most
- becoming turn and folds, when the door again opened, and Celestin
- announced—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The baron turned round, and perceived his betrothed standing pale and
- trembling on the threshold of the door. Although the promises of Emanuel
- had inspired him with some degree of hope, a certain residue of doubt had
- still remained on his mind, if not as to the beauty, at all events, with
- regard to the deportment of the lady who was about to become his wife. His
- surprise was therefore unbounded, when he saw that delicate and graceful
- creature standing before him, and whom the most fastidious critic of
- female elegance could only have reproached with being in a slight degree
- too pallid. Marriages, such as the one about to be contracted by Lectoure,
- were by no means rare in an age in which questions as to rank and
- suitableness of fortune in general, decided alliances between noble
- houses; but that which was scarcely found once in a thousand times, was,
- that a man in the baron’s position should meet, immured in a distant
- province, a lady possessed of an immense fortune, and whom, at the first
- glance, he could discern, was worthy, by her demeanor, her elegance, and
- her beauty, to shine in the most brilliant circles of the court. He,
- therefore, advanced toward her, no longer with the feeling of superiority
- as a courtier, addressing a country girl, but with all the respectful ease
- which distinguished good society at that time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon me, mademoiselle,” said he, offering her his hand to conduct her
- to an arm chair, but which she did not accept; “it was to me to solicit
- the favor you have bestowed upon me; and believe me, it was the
- apprehension of being considered indiscreet, which alone has occasioned
- the apparent neglect of allowing myself to be forestalled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I truly appreciate this delicacy, sir,” replied Marguerite, in a
- trembling voice, and retreating one step, she remained standing. “It
- strengthens me still more in the confidence which, without having seen
- you, without knowing you, I had placed in your honor and good faith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whatever aim this confidence may have had, I am honored by it,
- mademoiselle, and I will endeavor to render myself worthy of it. But, good
- heaven, what can so affect you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing, sir, nothing,” replied Marguerite, endeavoring to overcome her
- emotion; “but it is—it is—that I have to tell you that—but—really—I
- am not sufficiently mistress of myself to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She staggered, and appeared as if about to fall; the baron sprang toward
- her to offer his support, but he had scarcely touched her when a flush of
- crimson suffused the cheeks of the young girl, and with a feeling, which
- might be attributed as well to modesty as to repugnance, she disengaged
- herself from his arms. Lectoure had taken her hand, and conducted her to a
- chair, against which she leaned, but would not seat herself in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good God!” exclaimed the baron, still retaining her hand, “it must then
- be something very difficult to utter, that has brought you hither! Or,
- without my at all suspecting it, has my being affianced to you already
- conferred upon me the imposing air of a husband?” Marguerite made another
- effort to withdraw her hand from the baron, and which induced the latter
- to observe it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How!” said he, “not satisfied with having the most adorable of faces, the
- elegant figure of a fairy, but you must have such lovely hands!—hands
- perfectly royal in their shape—why, ‘tis enough to make me expire at
- once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust M. le Baron,” rejoined Marguerite, and making a last effort, she
- withdrew her hand from his grasp, “that the words with which you are now
- addressing me, are merely words of gallantry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, by my soul! they are the sincere truth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, I hope, should it be, which I much doubt, that you really
- think that which you have been pleased to say—I trust, I say, that
- such motives will not lead you to attach a higher value to the union which
- has been projected?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They will, indeed, and that I swear to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet,” continued Marguerite, gasping for breath, so much was her heart
- oppressed, “and yet, sir, you consider marriage as a solemn matter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is as it may happen,” smilingly replied Lectoure; “for example, if I
- were about to marry an old dowager.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In short,” rejoined Marguerite, in a more determined tone, “I beg your
- pardon, sir, if I have been mistaken; I thought, perhaps, that with regard
- to the alliance proposed between us, you had formed some idea of
- reciprocity of feeling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never!” cried Lectoure, interrupting her, for he appeared as eager to
- avoid the frank explanation, which Marguerite desired, as she seemed to
- provoke it. “Never! and above all, since I have seen you, I could not hope
- to be worthy of your love. And yet my name, my position in society,
- notwithstanding I should fail to influence your heart, may yet give me a
- title to your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how, sir,” said Marguerite, timidly, “how can you separate the one
- from the other?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As do three-fourths of the people who get married, mademoiselle,” replied
- Lectoure, with a carelessness which would have at once deterred the
- confidence of a woman less candid than Marguerite. “A man marries in order
- to have a wife, the wife to have a husband; it is a social compact, an
- arrangement of convenience. What can love have to do in a matter of this
- nature?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your pardon, sir; perhaps I have not clearly expressed my meaning,”
- continued Marguerite, making an effort to control her feelings, and to
- conceal from the man upon whom her future fate depended, the impression
- his words had produced upon her mind. “But you must attribute my
- hesitation, sir, to the timidity of a young girl, compelled by imperious
- circumstances to speak on such a subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all, mademoiselle,” replied Lectoure, bowing and giving to his
- voice a tone which nearly approached raillery; “on the contrary, you speak
- like <i>Clarissa Harlowe</i>, and all you say is as clear as daylight. God
- has endowed me with a mind sufficiently quick-sighted perfectly to
- comprehend things which are but hinted at.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How, sir!” cried Marguerite, “you comprehend what I had the intention of
- saying, and you allow me to continue? How would it be if on looking deeply
- into my heart and interrogating all its feelings, I found it impossible to
- love—to love the person who had been presented to me as my future
- husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” replied Lectoure, in the same sarcastic tone in which he had before
- spoken, “in my opinion the best course to pursue would be not to tell him
- of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why not, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because—but—but—because it would really be too simple.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if that avowal were made, not from simplicity but from delicacy? If I
- added, and may the shame of such an avowal fall back on those who compel
- me to make it—if I added sir, that I have loved, that I still love?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! some little romance, is it not so?” said Lectoure, carelessly,
- crossing his leg and playing with the frill of his shirt; “upon my honor,
- the race of little cousins is an accursed race. But fortunately we know
- what these ephemeral attachments are; and there is not a school-girl, who,
- after the holidays, does not return to her convent but with a passion in
- her little heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Unfortunately for me,” replied Marguerite, with, a voice as sorrowful and
- grave as that of the baron was sarcastic and light, “unfortunately, I am
- no longer a school-girl, sir; and although still young, I have long ago
- passed the age of childish games and infantine attachments. When I speak
- to the man who does me the honor to solicit my hand and to offer me his
- name, of my love for another, he ought to understand that I am speaking of
- a serious, profound, and eternal love; of one of those passions, in fine,
- which leave their traces in the heart, and imprint them there for ever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The devil!” exclaimed Lectoure, as if beginning to attach some importance
- to Marguerite’s confession; “why, this is perfectly pastoral. But let us
- see! is it a young man whom one can receive at one’s house?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir,” cried Marguerite, catching at the hope which these words seemed
- to inspire: “oh! believe me, he is the most estimable being, the most
- devoted soul——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I am not asking you to tell me this—I was not speaking of the
- qualities of his heart—he has all these, of course, that’s perfectly
- understood. I ask you whether he is noble? if he is of good race? in
- short, whether a woman of quality could acknowledge him, and that without
- degrading her husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His father, whom he lost when very young, and who was my father’s friend
- from infancy, was a counsellor at the Court of Rennes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobility of the bar!” exclaimed Lectoure, dropping his nether lip with a
- contemptuous shrug; “I would rather it were otherwise—is he a knight
- of Malta, at least?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was educated for a military life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then, we must get a regiment for him, to give him rank and standing
- in society. Well, that’s all arranged, and it is well. Now, listen to me:
- he will absent himself for six months, merely for decency’s sake, will
- obtain leave of absence, no difficult matter now, as we are not at war—he
- will get himself presented to you for form’s sake, by some mutual friend,
- and then all will go on rightly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not understand you, sir,” replied Marguerite, looking at the baron
- with an expression of profound astonishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I have said to you is, notwithstanding, perfectly pellucid,”
- rejoined the latter, with some show of impatience; “you have engagements
- on your side—I have on mine—but that is no reason for
- preventing an union which is perfectly suitable in every respect; and once
- accomplished, why, I think, we are bound to render it as bearable as we
- can. Do you comprehend me now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! pardon me, sir, pardon me,” cried Marguerite, starting back, as
- though these words had outraged her; “I have been very imprudent, very
- culpable perhaps; but whatever I may have been, I did not dream I could
- have merited so gross an insult. Oh! sir, the blush of shame is now
- scorching my cheek, but more for you than for myself. Yes, I understand
- you—an apparent love and a concealed one; the face of vice and the
- mask of virtue; and it is to me—to me, the daughter of the Marquis
- d’Auray, that so shameful, so humiliating, so infamous a bargain is
- proposed. Oh!” continued she, falling into an arm-chair, and hiding her
- face with both her hands, “I must then be a most unfortunate, most
- contemptible lost creature! Oh! my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Emanuel! Emanuel!” cried the baron, opening the door, at which he rightly
- suspected Marguerite’s brother had remained; “come in, my dear friend;
- your sister is attacked with spasms; these things ought to be attended to,
- or they may become chronic; Madame do Moulan died of them. Here, take my
- scent bottle, and let her smell at it. As to myself, I am going down into
- the park. If you have nothing else to do, you can rejoin me there, and
- bring me, if you please, news of your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, the Baron de Lectoure left the room with miraculous
- calmness, leaving Marguerite and Emanuel together.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me,
- It shall not anger me—I tell thee Claudius,
- Thou art enshrined in a holy circle
- My foot can never pass—nor taunt, nor insult
- Can e’er induce this hand to rise against thee.
- Therefore be satisfied—
- Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee.
- —Old Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron de
- Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so diametrically
- opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl, on that day at
- four o’clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the castle. Emanuel
- did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could not leave her
- husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to come down stairs.
- The other guests were the notary, the relations of the family, and the
- witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding the imperturbable
- gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his joyous humor, so
- stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun his own feelings.
- From time to time, indeed, his boisterous liveliness failed all at once,
- like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly extinguished, and then it suddenly
- burst forth again, as doth the flame when it devours its last aliment. At
- seven o’clock they rose from table, and went into the drawing-room. It
- would be difficult to form an idea of the strange aspect which the old
- castle then presented; the vast apartments of which were hung with damask
- draperies, with gothic designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times
- of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the
- presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance
- of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the feeble
- and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to illuminate
- the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the arches of a
- cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to be joined during
- the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the neighbourhood,
- increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the emblazoned columns of
- the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons, the same one in which
- Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from Paris, had received Captain
- Paul, was placed a table prepared with much solemnity, on which was laid a
- closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a stranger ignorant of all that
- was preparing, might as well have enclosed a death warrant as a marriage
- contract. In the midst of these grave aspects and gloomy impressions, from
- time to time a shrill mocking laugh would reach the ears of a group of
- persons whispering to each other. It proceeded from Lectoure, who was
- amusing himself at the expense of some good country gentlemen, without any
- respect for the feelings of Emanuel, upon whom a portion of his raillery
- necessarily recoiled. He would, however, every now and then cast an
- anxious glance around the room, and then a gloomy cloud would pervade his
- features, for he saw not either his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or
- Marguerite enter the room. As we have already stated, that neither of them
- had been present at the dinner table, and his interview with the latter
- had not, however careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some
- uneasiness with regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take
- place during the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and
- he had just determined to go up to his sister’s apartment, when in passing
- through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw
- near.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count,” said he to
- him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country
- gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of
- perfect intimacy; “here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very
- curious things, upon my word! But do you know,” continued he, turning to
- the narrator, “this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also have
- marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to Paris, to
- tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild ducks in this
- way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An immense quantity,” replied the gentleman, and with the accent of
- perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of
- detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?” inquired Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only imagine, my dear friend,” replied Lectoure, with the most complete
- sang froid, “that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,—At
- what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the month of December and January.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying,
- then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool
- over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so
- completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and
- allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As near as I am to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! really?” exclaimed Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I kill them by dozens,” said he, proudly, being enchanted by the
- attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his
- exploits.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of
- ducks,” said Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She adores them,” said M. de Nozay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a
- person,” said Lectoure, bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly baron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear to you,” said Lectoure, “that instantly on my return to Paris, I
- will speak of this sport in the king’s dressing-room, and I am persuaded
- that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his large ponds
- of Versailles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, dear marquis,” said Emanuel, taking Lectoure’s arm,
- and whispering in his ear, “this is one of our country neighbors, whom we
- could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It requires no apology, my dear friend,” said Lectoure, using the same
- precaution not to be heard by the party in question: “you would have been
- decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He is an
- appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been greatly
- chagrined not to have made his acquaintance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur de la Jarry,” said a servant, opening the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sporting companion?” said Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied M. de Nozay; “he is a traveller.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the
- newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had
- hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room,
- muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! my dear La Jarry,” cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and holding
- out his hand to him, “but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, you look
- like the Czar Peter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is,” replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no means
- cold, “because, when one arrives from Naples—perrrrrou!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples,” said Lectoure, joining in the
- conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Direct, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then,”
- continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to the
- volcano, “Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen at
- Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when the wind is
- in the wrong quarter,—and besides Madame La Jarry was dreadfully
- alarmed at the idea of an eruption.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But of course you visited the <i>Grotto del Cane?</i>” continued
- Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To what purpose?” rejoined La Jarry; “to see an animal that has vapors—give
- a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as much. And then,
- Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it would have given her
- pain to witness so cruel an exhibition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself,” said Emanuel,
- bowing, “did not neglect the Solfatara.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who, I—I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine
- what three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which
- is a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the
- odour of sulphur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think of our new friend?” said Emanuel, leading Lectoure into
- the room in which the contract was to be signed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly
- prefer Nozay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, “Monsieur Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh!” exclaimed Emanuel, turning round.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is this?” inquired Lectoure, listlessly, “another country neighbour?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; this is quite another sort of person,” replied Emanuel, with
- agitation. “How does this man dare to present himself here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah! a plebeian—eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I
- suppose. No—a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you,
- Emanuel, that they are beginning to receive this sort of people—that
- accursed philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my
- dear fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it—we have
- come to that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches
- the corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises—they
- converse together on court matters—they jest, they joke, they
- squabble, it is <i>bon ton</i> though decidedly bad taste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, Lectoure,” replied Emanuel; “he is neither poet,
- painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead
- off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours by
- the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting and
- travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely closed
- upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into the room
- he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door—the one led
- to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up on his
- first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between Marguerite and
- Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained there for a moment,
- looking attentively at the two doors, as though he had expected to see one
- of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In a few moments, that of the
- library was opened, and he perceived a white form standing within it; he
- rushed towards it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it you, Marguerite?” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied a trembling voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told him all?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suspected as much—he is a miserable wretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s to be done?” cried the young girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take courage, Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage—oh! it now fails me entirely.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is that which will restore it,” said Paul, handing her a letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this letter contain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name of
- the woman in whose house he has been concealed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son! oh! you are my guardian angel,” cried Marguerite, endeavoring to
- kiss the hand which held the paper to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! someone is coming—whatever may happen, you will find one
- at Achards.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had
- heard: the sound of her brother’s footsteps. Paul turned round, and went
- to meet him, which he did, near the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company,” said
- Emanuel, who was the first to speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears to me that we are alone at this moment,” said Paul, glancing
- around the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an instant
- this room will be full.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But many things may be said in an instant, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more
- than an instant to comprehend them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am listening,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You spoke to me of letters,” rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him, and
- lowering his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true,” said Paul, with the same calmness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You fixed a price upon those letters?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is also true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum
- enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them
- up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, yes,” replied Paul, “the case stood thus, as long as I believed
- your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault she had
- committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was seconding
- your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a sufficiently
- bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without a name and
- without a family, not to allow him to enter it without a fortune also, and
- I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in exchange for the letters
- in my possession. But now the state of things is altered, sir. I saw your
- sister throw herself upon her knees before you, I heard her entreat you
- not to force her into this infamous marriage, and neither prayers, nor
- tears, nor supplications could make any impression on your heart. It is
- now for me, for me who hold your honor, and the honor of your family
- within my hands, it is for me to save the mother from despair, as I would
- have saved the child from penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be
- delivered to you, when you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the
- marriage contract of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of
- Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray with Anatole de Lusignan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, sir, never!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know not any,” coldly replied Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count,” replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under the
- circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, “count, listen to
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you return me those letters, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, or no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” said Paul, calmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or
- rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together,
- and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful
- from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I regret I cannot accept the offer, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side
- that sword, and you refuse a duel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against
- you, count—believe me, I entreat you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot fight with me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot, upon my honor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot fight with me, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At this moment a person who had entered the room without being perceived,
- burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul and Emanuel
- turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, “I can fight with him, for he is a
- miserable and infamous wretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A burning blush passed over Lectoure’s features, like the reflection of a
- flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is well, sir,” said he; “send your second to Emanuel and they can
- arrange this matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred,” said
- Emanuel, to Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence!” replied Paul, “they are announcing your mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure,” added Emanuel, “let
- us go to receive my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he entered
- the small room in which he had before been concealed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Listen to me and heed me!
- If this contract
- Thou holdst me to, abide thou the result!
- Answer to heaven for what I suffer! act!
- Prepare thyself for such calamity
- To fall on me, and those whose evil
- Have linked them with me, as no past mishap,
- However rare and marvellously Sad,
- Can parallel.
-
- Knowles—The Hunchback.
-</pre>
- <p>
- At the moment that Paul went into the study, the marchioness appeared at
- the door of the drawing-room, followed by the notary, and the several
- persons who had been invited to be present at the signing of the contract.
- Notwithstanding the nature of the meeting, the marchioness had not
- considered it proper to lay aside, even for one evening, her mourning
- garments, and dressed in complete black, as she had been always during
- twenty years, she came into the room a few moments before the marquis.
- None of the persons present, not even his son, had seen the marquis for
- many years. Such attention was in those days paid to ancient forms, that
- the marchioness would not allow the marriage contract of her daughter to
- be signed, without the head of the family, although deprived of reason,
- being present; at the ceremony. However little accustomed Lectoure was to
- feel intimidated, the marchioness produced upon him the effect which she
- did on every one that approached her, and on seeing her enter the room
- with so grave and dignified an aspect, he bowed to her with a feeling of
- profound respect.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am grateful to you, gentlemen,” said the marchioness, bowing to the
- persons who accompanied her, “for the honor you have been pleased to
- confer upon me, by being present at the betrothal of Mademoiselle
- Marguerite d’Auray, with the Baron de Lectoure. I, in consequence, was
- desirous that the marquis, although suffering from illness, should also be
- present at this meeting, to thank you at least by his presence, if he
- cannot do so verbally. You are all aware of his unfortunate malady, and
- you will, therefore, not be astonished, should some disjointed words—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, madam,” said Lectoure, interrupting her, “we know the misfortune
- which has befallen him, and we admire the devoted wife, who for twenty
- years has borne half the weight of this sad visitation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see, madam,” said Emanuel, addressing in his turn, and kissing the
- hand of his mother, “all the world bows down in admiration of your
- conjugal piety.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is Marguerite?” murmured the marchioness, in a hair whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was here not a moment ago,” said Emanuel. “Let her know that we are
- all assembled,” rejoined the marchioness, in the same tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- A servant then announced “the Marquis d’Auray.” All present drew to one
- side, so as to leave free passage from the door, and all eyes were
- directed to the spot at which this new personage was to appear. It was not
- long before their curiosity was satisfied; the marquis came in almost
- immediately, supported by two servants.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was an old man, whose countenance, notwithstanding that the traces of
- suffering had deeply furrowed it, still retained that noble and dignified
- appearance which had rendered him one of the most distinguished men of the
- court of Louis XV. His large, hollow, and feverish eyes, glanced around
- the assembly with a strange expression of astonishment. He was dressed in
- his costume of Steward of the Household, wore the order of the Holy Ghost
- suspended from his neck, and that of St. Louis, at his button hole. He
- advanced slowly, and without uttering a word. The two servants led him
- forward amid the most profound silence, to an arm-chair, in which he
- seated himself, and the servants left the room. The marchioness then
- placed herself at his right hand. The notary opened the portfolio, drew
- from it the marriage contract and read it aloud. The marquis and the
- marchioness made over the sum of five hundred thousand francs to Lectoure,
- and gave a like sum to Marguerite, as her dowry.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the whole of the time occupied by the reading of the contract, the
- marchioness, notwithstanding her great self command, had betrayed some
- symptoms of uneasiness. But just at the moment when the notary had placed
- the contract open on the table, Emanuel returned and approached his
- mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Marguerite?” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She will be here instantly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” murmured Marguerite, half opening the door, and clasping her
- hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness pretended not to hear her, and pointed with her finger at
- the pen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Baron, it is you who are first to sign.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lectoure immediately approached the table and signed the contract.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” cried Marguerite, in a tone of supplication, and advancing one
- step toward her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pass the pen to your betrothed, Baron,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Baron walked round the table, and drew near to Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” again cried the latter, with an accent so melancholy, that it
- struck to the heart of every person present, and even the marquis himself
- raised his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sign!” said the marchioness, pointing to the marriage contract.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father! my father!” exclaimed Marguerite throwing herself at the
- feet of the marquis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this mean?” said the marchioness, leaning upon the arm of the
- marquis’ chair, and bending over him, “are you mad, mademoiselle?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father! oh! my father!” again cried Marguerite, throwing her arms
- around him, “my father, have pity, save your daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” murmured the marchioness, in a threatening accent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” replied Marguerite, “I cannot address myself to you—permit
- me, then, to implore my father’s pity; unless,” she added, pointing to the
- notary with a firm and determined gesture, “you would prefer my invoking
- the protection of the law.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, come,” said the marchioness, rising, and in a tone of bitter irony,
- “this is a family scene, and which, although highly interesting to near
- relations, must be sufficiently tedious to strangers. Gentlemen, you will
- find refreshments in the adjoining rooms. My son, conduct these gentlemen,
- and do the honors. Baron, I must beg your pardon for a short time.”
- Emanuel and Lectoure bowed in silence and withdrew, followed by all the
- company. The marchioness remained motionless until the last of them had
- withdrawn, and then she closed all the doors leading into the room, when,
- returning to the marquis, whom Marguerite still held clasped in her arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” said she, “that there is no one present excepting those who
- have the right to lay their commands upon you, sign that paper,
- mademoiselle, or leave the room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For pity’s sake, madam, for pity’s sake, do not compel me to commit so
- infamous an act!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you not heard me?” said the marchioness, giving to her voice an
- imperative tone, which she thought impossible to be resisted, “or must I
- repeat my words? ‘Sign, or leave the room.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father!” cried Marguerite, “mercy! mercy! No, it shall not be
- said, that after having been banished from my father’s presence for ten
- years, I was torn from his arms the first time I again beheld him—and
- that, before he had recognized me, before he has embraced me. Oh! father!
- father!—it is I, it is your daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is that voice that is imploring me?” murmured the marquis. “Who is
- this child who calls me father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That voice,” said the marchioness, seizing the arm of her daughter, “is a
- voice that is raised against the rights of nature. That child is a
- rebellious daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father!” cried Marguerite imploringly, “look at me. Oh! my father,
- save me I defend me! I am Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite? Marguerite?” stammered the marquis, “I had formerly a child
- of that name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I! it is I!” rejoined Marguerite: “I am your child—I am your
- daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are no children but those who obey. Obey! and you will then have
- the right to call yourself our daughter,” rejoined the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To you, my father, yes,—to you I am ready to obey. But you do not
- command this sacrifice! you do not wish that I should be unhappy—unhappy
- even to despair—unhappy even to death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come! come!” said the marquis holding her in his turn, and pressing her
- to his heart. “Oh! this is a delicious and unknown feeling to me. And now—wait!
- wait!” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “It seems to me that I
- recollect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” cried the marchioness, “tell her that she ought to obey; that the
- malediction of God awaits rebellious children. Tell her that, rather than
- to encourage her in her impiety!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis slowly raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his
- wife, and then slowly pronounced the following words: “Take care! madam,
- take care. Have I not told you that I begin to remember!” and then again
- bending down his head to that of Marguerite, so that his grey hairs
- mingled with the dark tresses, of his daughter—“Speak—speak!”
- said he, “what is it that disturbs you, my child—tell me all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I am most unhappy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everybody, then, is unhappy here,” exclaimed the marquis, “whether their
- hair be grey or black—an old man or a child.. Oh! and I also—I
- am unhappy—be assured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, go up stairs into your room again: you must,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that I may again be face to face with you; shut up like a prisoner!
- That may be very well, when I am mad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, my father, you are right. My mother has devoted herself to you
- long enough; it is now time that your daughter should perform that duty.
- Take me with you, father. I will not leave you day or night. You will only
- have to make a sign, to utter a word, and I will serve you on my knees.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you would not have the strength to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, my father, I will—as truly as I am your daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness wrung her hands with impatience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you are my daughter, how is it that I have not seen you for ten
- years?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I was told that you would not see me, my father; because they
- told me that you did not love me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were told that I would not see you—not see that angel face!”
- said he, taking her head between his hands, and looking at her with
- intense auction; “they told you that—they told you that a poor
- condemned soul did not wish for heaven! Who was it, then, that told you a
- father would not see his child? Who has dared to say, child, your father
- loves you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I!——” said the marchioness, again endeavoring to take
- Marguerite from her father’s arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You!” exclaimed the marquis, interrupting her: “it was you? To you then,
- has been confided the fatal mission of deceiving me in all my affections.
- All my griefs, then, must find their source in you? You wish, then, now to
- break the father’s heart, as twenty years ago, you did that of the
- husband.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are delirious, sir,” said the marchioness, loosing the arm of her
- daughter; and going to the right of the marquis, she whispered—“be
- silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, madam, no, I am not now delirious,” replied the marquis, “No! no! Say
- rather, say that,—and it will be the truth,—say that I am now
- between an angel who would recall me to reason, and a demon who wishes me
- again to become insane. No! No! I am not mad. Do you wish that I should
- prove it to you?” He rose, supporting himself on the arms of his chair.
- “Must I speak to you of letters, of adultery, of a duel?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say,” said the marchioness, grasping his arm, “I tell you that you are
- more forsaken by heaven than ever, when you utter such things, without
- reflecting as to whose ears are listening. Cast down your eyes, sir—look
- who is standing yonder, and then dare assert that you are not mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right;” said the marquis, falling back in his chair. “Your mother
- is right,” continued he, addressing Marguerite—“I am mad, and you
- must not believe what I say, but what she says. Your mother is
- devotedness, virtue itself, and therefore, she has not sleepless nights,
- nor remorse, nor madness. What does your mother wish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My misery, father; my everlasting misery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how can I prevent this misery?” said the unhappy old man, with a most
- heart-rending anguish; “how can I, a poor, insane old man, prevent it? who
- thinks he always sees the blood issuing from a wound—who thinks he
- constantly hears a voice proceeding from a tomb!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh you can do all; say but one word and I am saved! They wish me to marry—”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis listlessly reclined his head on the back of his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me! they wish to marry me to a man whom I do not love—do
- you understand me?—to a wretch!—and you have been brought here—placed
- in that arm-chair, before the table—you, you my father! to sign this
- infamous contract—this contract which I now hand to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without consulting me,” said the marquis, taking the contract; “without
- asking me whether I will, or I will not! Do they believe me dead? And if
- they think me dead, do they fear me less than they would a spectre? This
- marriage would cause your misery, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My eternal misery!” exclaimed Marguerite. “The marriage, then, shall not
- take place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have pledged your word and mine,” said the marchioness, and with the
- more energy, that she felt her influence over her husband about to escape
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This marriage, I tell you, shall not take place!” replied the marquis, in
- a tone louder than that of his wife. “It is too dreadful a thing,”
- continued he, in a gloomy sepulchral tone, “to be permitted. A marriage in
- which a wife loves not her husband—why, it causes madness! As to
- myself, the marchioness has always loved me, and loved me faithfully—that
- which drove me mad—oh! that was a different matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A flash of diabolical joy shot from the eyes of the marchioness, for she
- at once saw from the violence of the expressions used by her husband, and
- the terror depicted on his features, that his insanity was about to
- return.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This contract,” said the marquis, and he raised it in his hands as if
- about to tear it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness eagerly caught his hand. Marguerite appeared to be hanging
- by a thread between heaven and hell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That which drives me mad!” reiterated the marquis, “is a tomb which
- widely opens, a spectre that issues from the earth, it is a phantom that
- speaks to me, and says—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your life is in my hands!” murmured the marchioness in his ear, repeating
- the last words of the dying Morlaix: “I could take it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you hear that?” cried the marquis, rising, and as if about to rush
- from the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father! oh! my father! recall your senses; there is no tomb, there is
- no spectre, there is no phantom; those words were uttered by the
- marchioness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I wish you to live,” continued the latter, concluding the sentence
- she had begun, “to forgive me as I forgive you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon, Morlaix, pardon!” cried the marquis, falling back in his
- arm-chair, his hair standing on end with terror, and the perspiration
- streaming from his forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! father! father!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see that your father is altogether deranged,” said the marchioness,
- triumphantly; “say no more to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Marguerite, “God will, I trust perform a miracle! My love, my
- caresses, my tears, will restore him to reason.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make the attempt,” replied the marchioness, coldly, abandoning to her
- care the marquis, who was powerless, speechless, and almost without
- consciousness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my poor father!” exclaimed Marguerite, in a tone of agony.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis remained perfectly impassible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” said the marchioness, in an imperative manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh! eh!” cried the marquis, shuddering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Save me! oh! save me, father!” cried Marguerite, wringing her hands, and
- throwing herself back in despair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take this pen and sign,” said the marchioness, “you must—it is my
- will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, I am lost indeed!” cried Marguerite, overwhelmed with terror, and
- feeling that she had no longer strength to continue the struggle.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at the moment that the marquis, overpowered, had written the first
- letters of his name; when the marchioness was congratulating herself on
- the victory she had obtained, and Marguerite was about to leave the room
- in despair, an unexpected incident suddenly changed the scene. The door of
- the study opened, and Paul, who had been anxiously watching, though
- invisibly, the whole of this terrible conflict, issued from it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said he, “one word before this contract is signed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is it calls me!” said the marchioness, endeavoring to distinguish in
- the distance that separated them, the person who had thus spoken, and who
- stood in a dark corner of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that voice!” exclaimed the marquis, shuddering, as if seared by a
- red-hot iron.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul advanced three paces, and the light from the lustre hanging in the
- centre of the room fell full upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it a spectre?” cried the marchioness, in her turn, struck with the
- resemblance of the youth who stood before her to her former lover.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that face!” cried the marquis, believing that he saw the man whom
- he had killed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God! protect me,” stammered Marguerite, raising her eyes and
- hands to heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Morlaix! Morlaix!” said the marquis, rising and advancing toward Paul,
- “Morlaix!—pardon! mercy!” and he fell at full length upon the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father!” cried Marguerite, rushing to his assistance.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment a servant entered the room, with terror in his looks, and
- addressing the marchioness said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, Achard has sent to request that the priest and the doctor of the
- castle, may instantly be ordered to attend him—he is dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell him,” replied the marchioness, pointing to her husband, whom
- Marguerite was vainly endeavoring to restore to consciousness, “that they
- are both obliged to remain here to attend upon the marquis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
- Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
- Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As has been seen by the end of the preceding chapter, God, by one of those
- extraordinary combinations, which short-sighted man almost always
- attributes to chance, had summoned to his presence, and almost at the same
- moment, the souls of the noble Marquis d’Auray, and the poor low-born
- Achard. We have seen that the former, struck by the sight of Paul, the
- living portrait of his father, as if by a thunderbolt, fell at the feet of
- the young man, who was himself terrified at the effect his appearance had
- produced.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to Achard, the circumstances which had hastened his death, although
- differing in their nature, and from very opposite feelings, had arisen
- from the same fatal causes, and had been brought about by the same
- individual. The sight of Paul had created direful emotions in the breasts
- both of the marquis and Achard. On the former from excess of terror, on
- the latter from excess of joy.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the day which had preceded the intended signing of the contract,
- Achard had felt himself more feeble than usual. Notwithstanding this, he
- had not neglected in the evening to crawl to his master’s grave, there to
- put up his accustomed prayer. Thence he had observed with a devotion more
- profound than ever, that ever new and splendid spectacle, the sun sinking
- into the ocean. He had followed the decline of its enpurpled light, and as
- though the vast torch of the world had drawn his soul toward it, he had
- felt his strength extinguished with its last rays; so that when the
- servant from the castle came in the evening at the accustomed hour to
- receive his orders, not finding him in his house, had sought for him
- without the park, and as it was well known that he generally walked in
- that direction, found him lying extended at the foot of the great oak
- tree, upon the grave of his master, and deprived of consciousness. Thus
- did he remain constant to the last in that religious devotedness he had
- vowed to his master’s tomb, and which had been the exclusive feeling of
- the last years of his life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; and
- then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the
- marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a
- physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the servant
- then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, under the
- pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as the old
- servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at the point of
- death, gave her husband the right of first employing.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the
- moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and
- varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we
- have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul.
- Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible
- from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to whisper
- to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would find him at
- Achard’s cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and winding his way
- amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill of a sear man, who
- reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon reached the house, entered
- it panting from his rapid course, and found Achard just as he was
- recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him in his arms. The delight
- of again seeing him renewed the strength of the old man, who now felt
- certain of having a friendly hand to close his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! it is you—it is you!” exclaimed the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not hope to see you again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of the
- state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your
- assistance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I knew not where to find you—where I could send to tell you
- that I wished once more to see you before I died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously
- ill, and I hastened hither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how was it that you were at the castle?” said the old man, with
- amazement.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul related to him all that had occurred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eternal Providence!” cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his
- recital, “how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after
- twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, and
- hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, thus it happens,” replied Paul, “and it is Providence, also,
- who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse to
- send you the physician and the priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “According to common justice,” rejoined Achard, “they might have made a
- fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the
- physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the
- priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can go on horseback,” said Paul, “and in less than an hour—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In an hour it would be too late,” said the dying man, in an enfeebled
- voice, “a priest! a priest only—I ask but for a priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Father,” replied Paul, “in his sacred functions, I know I cannot supply
- his place; but we can speak of God, of his greatness and his goodness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but let us first finish with the things of this earth, that we may
- then be able to turn our thoughts wholly to those of heaven. You say that,
- like myself, the marquis is dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I left him at the last agony.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know, that immediately after his death, the papers which are
- deposited in that closet, and which prove your birth, are yours by right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?” The old man sat
- up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. “You will take
- that key, you will open the closet—in it you will find a casket. You
- are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket until
- the marquis shall be dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear it,” said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the
- crucifix hanging at the head of the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well,” replied Achard; “now I shall die in peace.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the father
- stretches out his towards you from heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since
- his death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, “I was but too exact in
- following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have taken
- place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, Paul;
- it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is the only
- thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been moments of
- doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as an
- assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only been
- a witness, but an accomplice!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my second father,” replied Paul, “I know not whether the laws of
- earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether honor
- as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the Lord; I
- know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits that the
- injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs inflicted
- upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the judgment of
- heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword’s point. These are questions
- not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, then, my
- conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have done
- precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it also
- misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right than a
- priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, I pardon
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks! thanks!” cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; “thanks,
- for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying man. Remorse is
- a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that there exists no
- God. For without a judge there can be no judgment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me,” said Paul, in that poetic and solemn accent, which was
- peculiar to him: “I also have often doubted in the existence of a God:
- isolated and lost in the wide world, without family, and without a single
- friend, I sought for support in the Lord, and I asked of every thing that
- encircled me, some proof of his existence. Often have I arrested my steps
- at the foot of one of these crosses, erected by the road side, and with my
- eyes fixed upon the Saviour, I demanded, and with tears, to be assured of
- his existence, and divine mission; I prayed that his eyes would deign to
- look upon me: that one drop of blood might fall from his wound, or that a
- sigh might issue from his lips. The crucifix remained motionless, and I
- arose, my heart being overcome with despair, saying—‘did I but know
- where I could find my father’s tomb, I would question him as Hamlet did
- the ghost, and he would perhaps answer me!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then would I enter a church,” continued Paul, “one of those churches of
- the north, gloomy, religious, Christian! And I would feel myself borne
- down with sorrow; but sorrow is not faith! I approached the altar; I threw
- myself upon my knees before the tabernacle, in which God dwells; I bowed
- my head till it touched the marble of the steps; and when I had thus
- remained prostrated for hours and lost in doubt, I raised my head, hoping
- that the God I was seeking would at length manifest his presence to me by
- a ray of his glory, or by some dazzling proof of his power. But the church
- remained gloomy, as the cross had remained motionless. And I would then
- rush from its porches with insensate haste, crying, ‘Lord! Lord! didst
- thou exist, thou would reveal thyself to man. It is thy will, then, that
- men should doubt, since thou canst reveal thyself to them, but dost not.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beware of what you are saying, Paul,” cried the old man: “beware that the
- doubt thy heart contains do not attaint mine! Thou hast time left to thee
- to believe, whereas, I—I am about to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, father, wait!” continued Paul, with softened voice, and placid
- features. “I have not told you all. It was then, that I said to myself,
- ‘the crucifix by the road side, the churches of the cities are but the
- work of man. Let us seek God, in God’s own works.’ From that moment, my
- father, began that wandering life, which will remain an eternal mystery,
- known only to the heavens, the ocean, and myself—it led me into the
- solitary wilds of America, for I thought the newer a world was, the more
- freshly would it retain the impress of God’s hand. I did not deceive
- myself. There, often in those virgin forests, into which I was perhaps the
- first who had ever penetrated; with no shelter, but the heavens, no couch,
- but the earth, absorbed by one sole thought, I have listened to the
- thousand noises of a world about to sleep, and nature when awakening. For
- a long time, did I still remain without comprehending that unknown tongue,
- formed by the mingling of the murmur of rivers, the vapor of the lakes,
- the rustling of the forest, and the perfume of flowers. Finally, the veil
- which had obscured my eyes, and the weight which had oppressed my heart,
- was little by little removed; and from that time, I began to believe that
- these noises of evening, and of approaching day, were but one universal
- hymn, by which created things expressed their gratitude to the Creator.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Almighty God!” cried the dying man, clasping his hands, and raising his
- eyes to heaven, with an expression of holy faith, “I cried to you from the
- bottomless pit, and you heard me in my distress; oh! my God I I thank
- thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” continued Paul, with still increasing enthusiasm, “then, I sought
- upon the ocean, that full conviction which earth had refused to me. The
- earth is but a span—the ocean is immensity! The ocean is, after God
- himself, the grandest, the most powerful object in the universe. I have
- heard the ocean roar like a chafed lion, and then at the voice of its
- master, become tranquil as a submissive dog; I have seen it rise like a
- Titan, to scale the heavens; and then beneath the whip of the tempest,
- moan like a weeping infant. I have seen it dashing its waves to meet the
- lightning, and endeavoring to quench the thunder with its foam; and then
- become smooth as a mirror, and reflect even the smallest star in the
- heavens. Upon the land, I had become convinced of God’s existence, upon
- the ocean, I recognised his power. In the solitary wilds, as Moses, I had
- heard the voice of the Lord, but during the tempest, I saw him, as did
- Ezekiel, riding upon the wings of the storm. Thenceforward, my father,
- thenceforward, all doubt was driven from my mind, and from the evening on
- which I witnessed the first hurricane, I believed, and prayed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth,” said
- the dying man, with ardent faith; and he continued thus the symbol of the
- apostles to the last word.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul listened to him in silence, with his eyes raised to heaven, and when
- he had concluded, said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not thus, that a priest would have spoken to you, my father, for I
- have spoken to you as a seaman, and with a voice more accustomed to
- pronounce words of death than consolation. Forgive me, father, forgive me
- for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have made me pray, and believe as you do,” said the old man; “tell
- me, then, what more could a priest have done? What you have said is plain
- and grand—let me reflect on what you have said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen!” said Paul, shuddering, “What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you not hear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that a voice of some one in distress called to me—there
- again—do you not hear it?—now, again!—It is the voice of
- Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go to her instantly,” replied the old man; “I need to be alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul rushed into the adjoining room, and as he entered it he heard his
- name again repeated, and close to the door of the cottage. Then, running
- to the door he anxiously opened it, and found Marguerite upon the
- threshold, her strength having failed her, and she had fallen upon her
- knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Save me! save me!” she cried, with an expression of profound terror, on
- perceiving Paul, and clasped his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Mercy from him!
- And how can I expect it?
- By what right
- Can I demand he should withhold his claim,
- The proofs once in his power?—Anonymous.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Paul ran to Marguerite, and caught her in his arms; she was pale and icy
- cold. He carried her into the first room, placed her in an arm chair,
- returned to the door which had remained open, and closed it, and then
- hastened back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it that so terrifies you? who is pursuing you? and how does it
- happen that you come here at this unusual hour?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” exclaimed Marguerite, “at any hour, whether by day or night, I
- should have flown as long as the earth would have borne me! I should have
- flown till I had found some heart in which I could have poured forth my
- sorrows, an arm capable of defending me. Paul! Paul! my father is dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child!” said Paul, pressing Marguerite to his heart, “who flies from
- one house of death to fall into another; who leaves death in the castle,
- to find it in the cottage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes!” cried Marguerite rising, still trembling with terror, and
- convulsively pressing Paul’s arm. “Death is yonder, and I find death here!
- but yonder it is attended with despair and fear, while here it is met with
- tranquillity and hope. Oh! Paul! Paul! had you but seen that which I have
- seen!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me all that happened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saw the terrible effect produced by your appearance, and the mere
- sound of your voice?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I saw that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They carried him still fainting and speechless into his own room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was to your mother that I spoke,” said Paul, “and he heard me; I could
- not foresee it would so much have terrified him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You full well know all that had passed, for you must have heard from the
- room in which you were concealed, every word we uttered. My father, my
- poor father, had recognized me, and I, seeing him thus, could, not repress
- my uneasiness: notwithstanding the risk I ran of irritating my mother, I
- went up to his room—the door was locked; I knocked softly at it. He
- had recovered his senses, for I heard a faint voice asking ‘who was
- there?’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And your mother?” said Paul eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother,” replied Marguerite, “was no longer there, and she had locked
- him in as she would have done to a child; but when he had recognized my
- voice, when I had told him that it was his daughter Marguerite who wished
- to see him, he told me that I could get into the room by going down stairs
- again, and that in the study I should find a private staircase which led
- to it. A minute afterwards, I was kneeling by his bedside, and he gave me
- his blessing. Yes, Paul, I received his blessing before he died, his
- paternal benediction, which I trust will bring down the blessing of God
- upon my head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Paul, “God will pardon you; you may now feel tranquil. Weep
- for your father, Marguerite, but weep no longer for yourself, for you are
- saved.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have heard nothing yet, Paul!” exclaimed Marguerite. “Hear me still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the very moment when I was kneeling, kissing the hand of my father,
- and thanking him for the relief he had afforded my afflicted mind, I heard
- my mothers footstep on the staircase. I recognized her voice, and my
- father also recognized it, for he again embraced me, and made a sign to me
- to leave him. I obeyed him, but such was my terror and confusion, that I
- mistook the door, and instead of the staircase by which I had ascended, I
- found myself in a small cabinet which had no issue. I felt all around its
- walls, but could find no door. I was compelled to remain there. I then
- heard my mother, accompanied by the priest, entering my father’s room—I
- restrained my breathing, fearing that she should hear me. I saw then
- through the glass window of the door, and I assure you, Paul, that she was
- paler than my father who was about to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” murmured Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The priest seated himself by the bed-side,” continued Marguerite, so
- terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; “my mother remained
- standing at the foot of the bed—I was there, just opposite to them,
- compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without the
- means of retreat!—a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession
- of her father!—was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my
- eyes that I might not see—praying that I might not hear—and
- yet in spite of myself—and this I swear to you, Paul—I saw and
- I heard—Oh! what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my
- memory—I saw my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him
- with a feverish strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death
- imprinted on his face. I heard him—I heard him pronounce the words,
- a duel—adultery—assassination!—and at each word he
- uttered, I saw my mother turn pale—and paler even than before—and
- I heard her raise her voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying
- man, saying to the priest: ‘believe him not—believe him not,
- reverend father; what he says is false—or rather, he is mad, he
- knows not what he says—believe him not!’ Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful
- spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a cold perspiration stood upon my
- forehead, and I fainted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Justice of Heaven!” cried Paul. “I know not how long I remained without
- consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the
- tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were
- burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my eyes
- on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the sheet
- which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I divined
- that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between the funereal awe
- which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of raising the covering
- to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in his coffin, the
- venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, overcame every other
- feeling—an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror drove me from the
- room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but I believe without
- touching a single step,—I fled across the rooms and through the
- corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I had left the
- castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps were leading
- me, until I remembered you had told me I should find you here. A secret
- instinct—tell me what it was—for I cannot myself comprehend
- it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I was pursued by
- shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the avenues I thought—(had
- I then lost my senses?)—I thought I saw my mother, dressed all in
- black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. Oh! then, then! terror
- lent me wings—I at first fled without knowing whither; after this my
- strength failed me, and it was then you heard my cries. I dragged myself
- along a few more paces, and fell motionless at this door; had you not
- opened it, I should have expired upon the spot, for I was so much
- terrified, that it appeared to me,”—then suddenly pausing,
- Marguerite trembled, and whispered to Paul, “Silence! do you not hear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied Paul, instantly extinguishing the lamp, “yes, yes—footsteps—I
- hear them also.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look! look!” cried Marguerite, concealing herself behind the curtain of
- the window, and throwing them around Paul at the same moment—“look!
- I was not mistaken—it was my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door had been opened, and the marchioness, pale as a spectre, entered
- the room slowly, closed the door after her, and locked it, and then
- without observing Paul and Marguerite, went into the second room where
- Achard was lying. She then walked up to his bed, as she had only a short
- time before to that of the marquis, only that she was not now accompanied
- by a priest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is there?” said Achard, drawing back one of the curtains of his bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I,” replied the marchioness, drawing back the other curtain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You, madam,” cried the old man with terror; “for what purpose have you
- come to the bedside of a dying man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come to make a proposal to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One that will lose his soul! is it not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To save it, on the contrary. There is only one thing in this world,
- Achard, of which you stand in need,” rejoined the marchioness, bending
- down over the bed of the dying man, “and that is a priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You refused to allow the one who is attached to the castle to attend me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In five minutes, if you wish it, he shall be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let him be sent then,” said the old man, “and believe me there is not a
- moment to be lost. He must come quickly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But if I give you the peace of heaven, you will give me in exchange peace
- on earth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can I do for you?” murmured the dying man, closing his eyes, that he
- might not see a woman whose looks chilled him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You stand in need of a priest, that you may die in peace,” said the
- marchioness, “you know the gift I require, in order to exist in
- tranquillity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would close heaven to me by a perjury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would open it to you by a pardon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That pardon I have already received.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And from whom?—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From him who, perhaps, had alone the right to grant it to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has Morlaix then descended from heaven?” asked the marchioness, in a tone
- in which there was almost as much terror as irony.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, madam,” replied he, “but have you forgotten that he left a son upon
- this earth?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you have also seen him,” exclaimed the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have told him all——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the papers which prove his birth?” asked the marchioness, with
- trembling anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The marquis was not dead—the papers are still there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Achard!” cried the marchioness, falling upon her knees, by the bedside.
- “Achard! you will take pity on me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You, on your knees, before me, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, old man,” replied the marchioness, in a supplicating tone, “yes, I
- am on my knees before you—and I beg, I implore you, for you hold in
- your hands the honor of one of the most ancient families in France—my
- past, my future life! Those papers are my heart, my soul—they are
- more than this—they are my name—the name of my forefathers—of
- my children—and you well know all that I have suffered to preserve
- that name unsullied. Do you believe that I had not a heart as other women
- have? the feelings of a lover, of a wife, and of a mother? Well! I have
- overcome them all, one by one, and the struggle has been long. I am twenty
- years younger than you are, old man, I am still in the prime of life, and
- you are on the verge of the grave. Look, then, upon these hairs; they are
- even whiter than your own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What says she?” whispered Marguerite, who had softly crept to the door,
- and could see all that was passing in the inner room. “Gracious heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen, listen, dear child,” said Paul, “it is the Lord who permits that
- all shall be thus revealed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” murmured Achard, who was becoming weaker every moment. “Yes,
- you doubted the goodness of the Lord, you had forgotten that he had
- forgiven the adulterous woman—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but when she met with Christ, men were about to cast stones at her—men,
- who for twenty generations have been accustomed to revere our name, to
- honor our family—did they but learn, that which, thank heaven! has
- heretofore been hidden from them—would hear it uttered with shame
- and with contempt. I have so much suffered, that God will pardon me—but
- man! men are so implacable, that they will not pardon—moreover, am I
- alone exposed to their insults—on either side, the cross I bear,
- have I not a child?—and is not the other that we speak of, the
- first-born? In the eyes of the law, is he not the son of the Marquis
- d’Auray? do you forget that he is the first-born, the head of the family?
- Do you not know, that in order to possess himself of the title, the
- estates, the fortune of the family of Auray, he has only to invoke the
- law? and then what would remain to Emanuel? The cross of the order of
- Malta—and to Marguerite?—a convent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! yes, yes,” whispered Marguerite, and stretching out her arms, toward
- the marchioness, “yes, a convent, in which I would pray for you, my
- mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! silence!” whispered Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you know him not,” said Achard, whose voice was scarcely audible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No! but I know human nature,” replied the marchioness, “he may recover a
- name, he! who has no name—a fortune, he! who has no fortune. And do
- you believe he would renounce that fortune and that name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should you ask it of him, he would.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And by what right could I demand it?” said the marchioness; “by what
- right could I ask him to spare me, to spare Emanuel, to spare Marguerite?
- He would say, ‘I do not know you, madam—I have never seen you—you
- are my mother, and that is all I know.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In his name,” stammered Achard, whose tongue death was beginning to
- benumb, “in his name, madam, I engage, I swear—oh! my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness arose, observing attentively by the old man’s features,
- the approach of death.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You engage, you swear!” she said, “is he here to ratify this engagement—you
- engage! you swear! and on your word, you would, that I should stake the
- years I have yet to live, against the moments which yet remain between you
- and death! I have entreated, I have implored, and again, I entreat and
- implore you to give up those papers to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Those papers now are his.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must have them! I repeat, I must have them,” continued the marchioness,
- gaining strength, as the dying man became more feeble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God! have mercy upon me!” murmured Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one can now come,” rejoined the marchioness “you told me that you wore
- the key of that closet always about you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you wrest it from the hands of a dying man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the marchioness, “I will wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me die in peace,” exclaimed Achard tearing the crucifix from the head
- of his bed, and raising it between, himself and the marchioness, he cried:
- “leave me! leave me; in the name of Jesus Christ!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness fell upon her knees, bowing her head to the ground. The
- old man, for a moment, remained in the same awful attitude; then, by
- degrees, his strength forsook him, and he fell back on his bed, crossed
- his arms, and pressed the image of the Saviour to his breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness seized the lower part of the two curtains, and without
- raising her head, she crossed them in such a manner as to conceal the last
- struggles of the dying man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Horror! horror!” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us kneel, and pray,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- A moment of solemn and dreadful silence then ensued, which was only
- interrupted by the last gasps of the dying man; these gasps became fainter
- by degrees, and then ceased altogether. All was over; the old man was
- dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness slowly raised her head, listened with intense anxiety for
- some minutes, and then, without opening the curtains, passed her hand
- between them, and after some effort, withdrew her hand again—she had
- obtained the key. She then silently arose, and with her face still turned
- toward the bed, walked to the closet. But at the moment she was about to
- unlock it, Paul, who was observing all her movements, rushed into the
- room, and seizing her by the arm, said—?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give me that key, my mother! for the marquis is dead, and those papers
- now belong to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Justice of heaven!” exclaimed the marchioness, starting back with terror,
- and falling into a chair, “justice of heaven! it is my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Merciful heaven!” murmured Marguerite, throwing herself upon her knees in
- the outer room: “merciful heaven! he is my brother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul opened the closet, and took the casket which contained the papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Thou canst save me,
- Thou ought’st! thou must!
- I tell thee at his feet
- I’ll fall a corse, ere mount his bridal bed!
- Go choose betwixt my rescue and my grave.
-
- Knowles.—The hunchbach
-</pre>
- <p>
- Notwithstanding the dreadful nature of the events which had occurred
- during that fatal night, Paul had not forgotten the mortal defiance which
- had been exchanged between himself and Lectoure. As that young gentleman
- would probably not know where to find him, he thought it only decorous to
- save Lectoure the trouble of seeking for him, and about seven in the
- morning, Lieutenant Walter presented himself at the castle, being charged
- on behalf of Paul to arrange the terms of the combat. He found Emanuel in
- Lectoure’s apartment. The latter, on perceiving the officer, withdrew, and
- went down into the park, that the two young men might more freely discuss
- the matter. Walter had received from his commander directions to accede to
- every thing that might be proposed. The preliminary terms were, therefore,
- very speedily arranged; and it was agreed between them, that the meeting
- should take place in the afternoon, at four o’clock. The place of
- rendezvous the sea-side, near the fisherman’s hut, which was about
- half-way between Port Louis and Auray castle. As to the weapons, they were
- to bring their pistols and their swords; it would be decided on the spot
- which they were to use, it being clearly understood that Lectoure, having
- been the party insulted, should have the right to make his choice.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to the marchioness, although in the first instance petrified by the
- unexpected appearance of Paul, she soon recovered all her natural
- firmness, and drawing her veil over her face, she withdrew from the
- chamber, and walked across the outer room which had remained in darkness.
- She did not, therefore, perceive Marguerite, who was kneeling in one
- corner of it, mute from astonishment and terror. She after that crossed
- the park, entered the castle, and repaired to the room in which the scene
- of the contract had taken place. There, by the dying light of the wax
- tapers, with both her elbows resting on the table, her head supported on
- her hands, her eyes riveted to the paper to which Lectoure had already
- affixed his name, and the marquis had signed the half of his, she passed
- the remainder of the night reflecting upon a new determination. Thus she
- awaited the coming day without even thinking of taking the least repose,
- so powerfully did her soul of adamant support the body in which it was
- enclosed. This resolution was to get Emanuel and Marguerite away from the
- castle as speedily as possible, for it was from her children, most
- especially, that she desired to conceal that which was about to take place
- between Paul and herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite, who had been thus most unexpectedly present at the death-bed
- of the marquis and of Achard, through which she had so providentially
- discovered her mother’s secret, rushed into Paul’s arms immediately after
- her mother’s departure from the cottage, exclaiming:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! now you are really my brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her tears choked further utterance, and it was some minutes before Paul
- could tranquillize her agitated spirit, torn by so many and such
- conflicting emotions. Paul then fearing that the marchioness might enquire
- for her daughter, on her arrival at the castle, urged Marguerite to hasten
- thither; and seeing she was still trembling at the recollection of the
- many horrors she had witnessed, led her out of the cottage, of which he
- locked the door, and accompanied her to within a few paces of the castle.
- During this walk, Marguerite had in a certain degree, recovered her
- composure. Paul stood gazing at her till he saw that she had safely
- entered the court yard, and then returned to watch and pray beside the
- body of his father’s faithful servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- At seven o’clock, the marchioness hearing the noise occasioned by
- Lieutenant Walter’s arrival at the castle, reached a bell which was
- standing on the table and rang it. A servant presented himself at the door
- in the grand livery he had worn the previous evening—it was easy to
- perceive that he also had not been in bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Inform Mademoiselle d’Auray, that her mother is waiting for her in the
- drawing room,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant obeyed, and the marchioness resumed, gloomy and motionless,
- her previous attitude. In a few minutes afterward, she heard a slight
- noise behind her, and turned round. It was Marguerite. The young girl,
- with more respect, perhaps, than she had ever before evinced, held out her
- hand toward her mother, that she might give her her hand to kiss. But the
- marchioness remained motionless, as if she had not understood the
- intention of her daughter. Marguerite let fall her hand, and silently
- awaited her mother’s pleasure. She also wore the same dress as the night
- before. Sleep had hovered over the whole world, but had forgotten the
- inhabitants of Auray castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come nearer,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite advanced one step.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why is it that you are thus pale and trembling,” continued the
- marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The death of my father—so sudden—so unexpected,” stammered
- Marguerite; “indeed I have suffered so much this night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on her
- daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: “yes, the
- young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves. The old
- oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, Marguerite,
- and suffered much. I have passed a dreadful night, and yet you see me calm
- and firm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you
- should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others.
- You would destroy them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And therefore is it,” replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall upon
- the table, “that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is dead,
- Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must
- immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I!” exclaimed Marguerite, “I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same
- moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession of
- the father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother!” replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish,
- “it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between
- two ceremonies of so opposite a nature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “True piety,” rejoined the marchioness, “should lead us to fulfil the last
- wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the first
- letters of your father’s name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! madam!” cried Marguerite, “allow me to ask you whether my father,
- when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing,
- was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own free
- will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle,” replied the marchioness, with that
- imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all that
- approached her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made him
- thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as long as
- they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the authority of
- God. Now, God has ordained me to effect things terrible in themselves, and
- I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed
- motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother was
- so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; “madam! it is only
- three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the feet
- of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to
- receive as my husband, and then at my father’s. Neither of them would or
- could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened
- their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, my
- mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are best
- capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I am about
- to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, I would
- make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I must also
- sacrifice my son.—You are a mother, and I also, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A mother!—a mother!” cried the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a
- mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam,
- tell me—for you should better comprehend these things than I—tell
- me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice
- which speaks to our hearts—have not those to whom we have given
- birth a voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each
- other, to which ought we to obey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will never hear the voice of your child.” said the marchioness; “for
- you will never again see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall never again see my son!” exclaimed Marguerite, “and who, madam,
- can assert that positively?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And should he some day discover it?” replied Marguerite; whose respect as
- a daughter was giving way before her mother’s harshness; “if he should
- then come to me and demand an account of his birth—and this may
- happen, madam,”—she took up the pen—“and, with such an
- alternative awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sign it,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers
- upon the contract, “should my husband some day discover the existence of
- this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong
- committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and
- without seconds—a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he
- should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued by
- a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of
- reason—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent!” cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror,
- but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery
- which dictated the words her daughter had employed: “be silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, who had now said too much
- to pause, “you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, and that
- of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure myself with
- a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my sight, and from
- his, every living being, and that I should render my heart iron, that I
- may no longer feel—that my eyes should never shed a tear! You would
- have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, before my husband’s
- death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty years before the
- accustomed time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent! say not another word!” cried the marchioness, in a tone which
- proved that menaces were giving way to fear: “be silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, carried away by the
- bitterness of her grief; “you would have me, then, in order that the
- dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that I
- should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician—you
- would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that I
- might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!” again cried the
- marchioness, wringing her hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” continued Marguerite, “tell me again, my mother, to sign
- this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord will
- be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited upon the
- children, even to the third and fourth generations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! my God! my God!” exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, “am
- I not sufficiently humbled—am I not sufficiently punished?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon! pardon! madam,” cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling by
- the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; “I implore you to
- forgive me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter,” said the
- marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, “you who have wrenched the
- scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied the
- lash even on your mother’s forehead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mercy! mercy!” reiterated Marguerite; “pardon me, my mother. I knew not
- what I said. You had deprived me of reason—-I was mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my God! my God,” said the marchioness, raising both her hands above
- her daughter’s head, “Thou hast heard the words which have issued from my
- daughter’s lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will forget
- them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I have not
- cursed her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, but
- the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance so
- fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite
- dropped the skirt of her mother’s dress, and remained with arms
- outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness had
- disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon the
- ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed that the
- heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Be angry as
- You will, it shall have scope;
- Ah, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
- That carries anger, as the flint bears fire—
- Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
- And straight is cold again.
- And from henceforth
- When you are over earnest with your brother,
- He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
- —Shakespeare
-</pre>
- <p>
- Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent
- manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had
- not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who
- had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together
- with Count d’Auray, had received from his commander directions to make
- every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not
- meet Lectoure until the afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the time
- arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, having
- in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last found himself
- in the position of the head of the family, his life belonged not to
- himself, and that he had not the right to risk it. Moreover, as we have
- seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; and Lectoure, who was
- ignorant of the reason which could have induced his adversary to require
- it, had acceded to it without much difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as soon
- as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present himself to
- the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned
- so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without
- meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the
- apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on
- going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of
- consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must have taken
- place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to Marguerite,
- raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to give her air. The
- state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more from a complete
- prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; and therefore, as
- soon as she felt that assistance was being rendered her, and with a
- kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the person who had
- thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and recognized her
- brother, that living Providence, whom God had sent to sustain her every
- time she felt she was about to succumb.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her
- to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her
- brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away by
- the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her mother
- to perceive that she knew all.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart of
- the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and
- anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had been
- brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to one of
- the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. Therefore,
- compassionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to terminate
- them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview he had come to
- seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to the intentions of that
- son, whose existence she was so unwilling to acknowledge, Marguerite, on
- her side, wished to obtain her mother’s forgiveness; she, therefore,
- undertook to inform the marchioness that the young captain waited her
- orders.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece,
- above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose
- himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of the
- last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the sovereign
- arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly opened, and
- Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On hearing the door
- open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately perceiving the
- young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal expression, which
- reflected in his features the serenity of his soul.
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as
- politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence of
- the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had awakened
- to flush his features, and they instantly assumed a look of fierce
- defiance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir,” said Emanuel,
- placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from
- Paul; “and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you;
- for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have the
- gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me that he
- had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved me the
- trouble I was about to take, in thus anticipating my desire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am happy,” replied Paul, “that my desire in this instance, although
- probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously
- chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here—what do you ask of me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cannot you divine even that, sir?” replied Emanuel, with increasing
- agitation. “In that case—and you will allow me to express my
- astonishment that it should be so—you are but ill-informed as to the
- duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that you
- put upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe me, Emanuel,” rejoined Paul, in a calm tone—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I yesterday called myself the count; to-day I call myself the Marquis
- d’Auray,” said Emanuel, interrupting him with a gesture of haughtiness and
- contempt; “and I beg, sir, that you will not forget it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- An almost imperceptible smile passed over the lips of Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was saying, then,” continued Emanuel, “that you but imperfectly
- comprehend the feelings of a gentleman, if you believed that I would
- permit another to take up, on my behalf, a quarrel which you came here to
- seek. Yes, sir, for it is you who have thrown yourself across my path, and
- not I who have sought you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His lordship, the Marquis d’Auray,” said Paul, smiling, “forgets his
- visit on board the <i>Indienne</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A truce to your cavils, sir, and let us at once proceed to facts.
- Yesterday, I know not from what strange and inexplicable feeling, when I
- proposed to you that, which I will not say every gentleman, every officer,
- but simply, any man of courage would instantly, and without hesitation,
- have acceded to, you refused, sir, and evading my provocation, you went,
- as it were, behind my back to seek an adversary, who, although not
- precisely a stranger to the quarrel, yet good taste should have dictated
- that he ought not to have been drawn into it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe me, that in this, sir,” replied Paul, with the calmness and the
- same candor of manner which had accompanied all he said; I was compelled
- to yield to the exigency of the case, which did not leave me the choice of
- an adversary. You had proposed a duel, which I could not accept, you being
- my adversary, but which was perfectly indifferent to me with any other
- person. I am too much habituated to encounters of this description, and to
- encounters of a far more murderous and mortal nature, to consider an event
- of this kind, but as one of the usual accidents of my adventurous life.
- You will, however, please to remember that it was not I who sought this
- duel; you, yesterday, proposed it to me; but, as I could not, I again
- repeat it, appear as your antagonist, I selected M. de Lectoure, as I
- would have done M. de Nozay or M. la Jarry, because he happened to be
- there, within my reach—and because, if it were absolutely necessary
- that I should kill some one, I preferred killing an useless and insolent
- fop, rather than a good and honest country gentleman, who would consider
- himself dishonored, did he but dream that he had entered into a bargain of
- so vile and despicable a nature as that which the Baron de Lectoure has,
- in reality, proposed to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well, sir,” said Emanuel, jeeringly; “continue to constitute
- yourself as the redresser of wrongs, to dub yourself the knight-errant of
- oppressed princesses, and to shield yourself under the buckler of your
- mysterious replies! As long as this antiquated quixotism does not come in
- collision with my views, my interests, and my engagements, I will fully
- permit it to wander over the whole earth, and ocean also, even from pole
- to pole, and I shall merely smile at it as it passes by me; but whenever
- this madness breaks out against me, as yours has done, sir; whenever, in
- the intimate concerns of a family of which I am the head, I meet a
- stranger, who orders as a master where I alone have the right to raise my
- voice, I shall present myself before him, as I now do before you, should I
- have the happiness to meet him alone as I do you, and then feeling
- assured, that no one will come to interrupt us before I had obtained the
- necessary explanation, I would say to him: ‘You have, if not insulted me,
- at all events wounded my feelings, sir, by coming to my house, and
- injuring me in my in-terests, and my family affections. It is then with
- me, and not with another, that you ought to fight, and you shall fight
- with me.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, Emanuel,” replied Paul; “I will not fight, at all
- events, with you; the thing is impossible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir, the time of enigmas is gone by,” cried Emanuel, impatiently; “we
- live in the midst of a world, in which at every moment we elbow a reality.
- Let us, therefore, leave the poetical and the mysterious, to the authors
- of romances and tragedies. Your presence in this castle has been marked by
- circumstances too fatal to render it necessary to add that which is not,
- to that which is. Lusignan returned, notwithstanding the order which
- condemned him to transportation; my sister, who, for the first time, has
- shown herself rebellious against the orders of her mother; my father,
- killed by your mere presence: these are the disasters by which you have
- been accompanied, which have heralded you from another hemisphere, and
- have formed your funereal escort: for all this, you have to account to me;
- therefore, speak, sir; speak as a man should to a man, in the broad
- daylight, face to face, and not as a phantom gliding in the darkness,
- which escapes under the cloud of night, letting fall some few solemn and
- prophetic words, as if from the other world. Such things are well
- calculated to terrify nurses and children! Speak, sir, speak! Look at me,
- you will see that I am calm. If you have anything to reveal to me I will
- listen to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The secret which you ask of me is not my own,” replied Paul, whose
- perfect calmness strongly contrasted with the feverish excitement of
- Emanuel; “believe what I have said, and do not insist farther. Farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- After pronouncing these words, Paul moved toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Emanuel, rushing between him and the door, to prevent his
- passage; “you shall not leave me thus, sir! I have you now, we are alone
- in this room, without fear of any interruption, into which, it was not I
- that enticed you, but you have come here of your own free will. Therefore,
- hearken to that which I am about to say. The person you have insulted is
- myself! the person to whom you owe satisfaction is myself!
- </p>
- <p>
- “The person with whom you have to fight is——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mad, sir,” tranquilly replied Paul; “I have already told you it
- is impossible. Therefore, allow me to withdraw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take care, sir,” cried Emanuel, stretching out his hand to the box, and
- taking out the pistols; “take care, sir. After having done every thing in
- my power to compel you to act as a gentleman, I may treat you as a
- brigand.—You are here in a house, in which you are a total stranger;
- you have entered it, I know not how, nor for what purpose; if you have not
- come into it to despoil us of our gold and jewels, you have entered it to
- steal the obedience of a daughter to her mother, and to cancel the sacred
- promise given by a friend to a friend. In one case or the other, you are a
- violator, whom I have met at the moment that his hands were about to seize
- a treasure; that treasure, is honor, the most precious of all riches!
- Come, sir, believe me, you will do better to accept this weapon”—Emanuel
- endeavored to thrust one of the pistols into Paul’s hand—“and defend
- yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may kill me, sir,” replied Paul, again placing his elbow on the
- chimney-piece, as if he were continuing an ordinary conversation;
- “although I do not believe that God would permit so great a crime: but you
- shall not force me to fight with you. I have before told you so, and I
- repeat it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the pistol, sir!” cried Emanuel, “take it, sir, I tell you! you
- believe that the threat I am making is but a vain menace; undeceive
- yourself! for three days have you fatigued my patience! for three days
- have you filled my soul with gall and hatred! for three days have I
- familiarised my mind with the idea of ridding myself of you; whether it be
- by a duel or by murder! Do not imagine, that the dread of punishment
- withholds my hand; this castle is isolated, mute, and deaf. The sea is
- there; and before you could be even laid in the tomb, I should be in
- England. Therefore, sir, for the last time, I say to you, take this pistol
- and defend yourself.” Paul, without uttering a word, gently put the pistol
- aside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then!” cried Emanuel, exasperated to the highest degree, by the
- sangfroid of his adversary; “as you will not defend yourself like a man,
- die like a dog!” And so saying, he raised the muzzle of the pistol to the
- level of the captain’s breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment a dreadful shriek was heard; it was Marguerite, who had
- returned from her mother, and who had, at a glance, comprehended all that
- had happened. She rushed upon Emanuel, and at that instant he fired the
- pistol, but the direction of the ball having been changed by the young
- girl’s striking up his arm, it passed two or three inches above Paul’s
- head, and shattered the glass above the chimney-piece.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother!” cried Marguerite, with one bound, springing to were Paul
- stood, and throwing her arms around him: “my brother, are you not
- wounded?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother!” exclaimed Emanuel, letting fall the pistol which was still
- smoking; “your brother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Emanuel!” said Paul, with the same calmness which he had evinced
- during the whole of this painful scene; “do you now comprehend why it was
- I could not fight with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment, the marchioness appeared at the door, pale as a spectre,
- for she had heard the report of the pistol; then looking around her with
- an expression of infinite terror, and seeing that no one was wounded, she
- silently raised her eyes to heaven, as if to ask if its anger was at
- length appeased. She remained thus for some time in an attitude of mental
- thanksgiving. When she again cast down her eyes, Emanuel and Marguerite
- were on their knees before her, each holding one of her hands, and
- covering it with tears and kisses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thank you, my children,” said the marchioness, after a short silence;
- “and now leave me with this young man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite and Emanuel bowed with an expression of the most profound
- respect, and obeyed the command of their mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Oh! my mother!
- You do not know the heart that you have pierced!
- I—I—thy son—thine Arthur—I avenge?
- Never on thee.
-
- Live happy—love my brother—
- Forget that I was born.
- Here, here—these proofs—
- These—these!
-
- Oh! see you where the words are blistered
- With my hot tears?
- I wept—it was for joy—
- I did not think of lands, of name, of birthright—
- I did but think these arms should clasp a’ mother.
-
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The marchioness closed the door as soon as they had withdrawn, advanced
- into the middle of the room, and went without looking at Paul, and leaning
- upon the arm-chair in which the marquis had the night before been seated
- to sign the contract. There she remained standing, with her eyes cast upon
- the ground. Paul for a moment experienced the desire to throw himself upon
- his knees before her, but there was upon the features of the marchioness
- such an expression of severity, that he repressed the yearnings of his
- heart, and stood motionless awaiting her commands. After a few moments of
- ice-like silence, the marchioness addressed him. “You desired to see me,
- sir, and I have come to know your will—you wished to speak to me—I
- am listening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These words were uttered without the marchioness making the least movement—her
- lips trembled, rather than opened—it seemed a marble statue that was
- speaking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, madam,” replied Paul, in a tone of intense feeling, “yes, yes, I
- desired to speak with you; it is long since first this desire was
- cherished in my heart, and it has never left me. Recollections of infancy
- preyed upon the mind of the grown man. I remembered a woman who would
- formerly glide to my cradle, and in my youthful dreams, I thought her the
- guardian angel of my infancy. Since that time, still so fresh in my
- memory, although so distant, more than once, believe me, I have awakened
- with a start, imagining that I had felt upon my forehead the impression of
- a maternal kiss: and then seeing that there was no one near me, I would
- call that person, hoping she would, perhaps, return. It is now twenty
- years since first I thus had called, and this is the first time she has
- replied to me. Can it have been as I have often fearfully imagined, that
- you would have trembled at again beholding me? Can it be true, as I at
- this moment fear, that you have naught to say to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And had I feared your return,” said the marchioness, in a hollow tone,
- “should I have been to blame? You appeared before me only yesterday, sir,
- and now the mystery which ought to have been concealed to all but God and
- myself, is known to both my children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it my fault that God has been pleased to reveal the secret to them?
- Was it I that conducted Marguerite, despairing and in tears, to the
- bedside of her dying father, whose protection she had gone to ask, and
- whose confession she was compelled to hear? Was it I that led her to
- Achard, and was it not you, madam, that followed her thither? As to
- Emanuel, the report you heard, and that shattered glass, attest, that I
- would have preferred death rather than to have saved my life at the
- expense of your secret. No, no, believe me, madam, I am the instrument,
- and not the hand; the effect, and not the cause. No, madam, it is God who
- has brought about all this, that you might see at your feet, as you have
- just now seen them, your two children whom you have so long banished from
- your arms!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there is a third,” said the marchioness, in a voice in which emotion
- began to evince itself, “and I know not what I have to expect from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me accomplish a last duty, madam, and that once fulfilled, he will on
- his knees await your orders.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And of what nature is this duty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is to restore his brother to the rank to which he is entitled, his
- sister to that happiness which she has lost—to his mother that
- tranquillity of mind, which she has so long sought in vain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet, thanks to you,” replied the marchioness, “M. de Maurepas refused
- to M. de Lectoure the regiment he had solicited for my son.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because,” replied Paul, taking the commission from his pocket and laying
- it on the table, “because the king had already granted it to me, for the
- brother of Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness cast her eyes upon the commission, and saw that it was
- made out in the name of Emanuel d’Auray.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet you would give the hand of Marguerite to a man without name,
- without fortune—and what is more, to a man who is banished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, madam; I would give Marguerite to the man she loves. I
- would give Marguerite not to the banished Lusignan, but to the Baron
- Anatole de Lusignan, his majesty’s governor of the Island of Gaudaloupe—there
- is his commission also.” The marchioness looked at the parchment, and saw
- that in this instance, as in the former one, Paul had uttered but the
- truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I acknowledge it,” she replied, “these will satisfy the ambition of
- Emanuel, and confer happiness on Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And at the same time, secures your tranquillity madam; for Emanuel will
- join his regiment, and Marguerite will follow her husband. You will then
- remain here alone, as you have, alas! so frequently desired.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is not this all you desire, or have I deceived myself,” continued Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, “how can I recall the promise given to the
- Baron de Lectoure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The marquis is dead, madam,” replied Paul; “is not the death of a husband
- and a father a sufficient cause for the adjournment of a marriage?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness, without replying, seated herself in the arm-chair, took a
- pen and paper, wrote a few lines, folded the letter, and putting on the
- address the name of the Baron de Lectoure, she rang the bell for the
- servant. After waiting a few moments, during which time, both Paul and
- herself remained silent, a servant came into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In two hours from this time, you will deliver this to the Baron de
- Lectoure,” said the Marchioness. The servant took the letter and withdrew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” continued the marchioness, looking at Paul, “now sir, that you
- have done justice to the innocent, it remains to you to pardon the guilty.
- You have papers which prove your birth, you are the elder—at all
- events, in the eyes of the law. The fortunes of Emanuel and Marguerite are
- yours by right. What do you require in exchange for these papers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul took them from his pocket, and showing them to the marchioness, said,
- “Here are the documents, look at them—they are the letters you wrote
- to my poor father—look here, they are moistened by my tears, for I
- read them last night, while watching by Achard’s corpse.” Then approaching
- the fire-place, he held them over the flaming wood, saying, “permit me
- even but once to call you mother! call me but once your son, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be possible!” exclaimed the marchioness, rising.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak of name, of fortune,” continued Paul, with an expression of
- profound melancholy; “what need have I of them. I have by my own sword
- gained a rank which few men of my age have ever attained—I have
- acquired a name which is pronounced with blessings by one nation, andi
- with terror by another. I could, did it so please me, amass a fortune,
- worthy of being bequeathed to a king. What, then, are your name your
- fortune, and your rank, to me, if you have nothing else to offer me—if
- you do not give me that which I have incessantly, and in every position of
- my life most yearned for—that which I have not the power to create—which
- God had granted to me, but which misfortune wrested from me—that
- which you alone can restore to me—a mother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son!” exclaimed the marchioness, overcome at length, by his tears, and
- supplicating accent, “my son! my son! my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” exclaimed Paul, letting the papers fall into the flames, which
- speedily consumed them, “ah! that missed appellation has at length escaped
- your lips—that tender name so long desired, and which I have so
- unceasingly prayed to hear addressed to me. Merciful heaven! I thank
- thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness had fallen back into her chair, and Paul had thrown
- himself upon his knees, his head leaning upon her bosom. At length the
- marchioness gently raised him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look at me!” she said; “for twenty years, this is the first tear that has
- ever escaped my eyelids, give me your hand!”—she placed it upon her
- heart—“for twenty years this is the first feeling of happiness with
- which my heart has palpitated. Come to my arms! For twenty years this is
- the first caress I have either given or received. These twenty years have
- doubtless been my expiation, since God now pardons me, for he has restored
- to me the power of weeping, of feeling joy, and has permitted me to
- embrace my son. Thanks to G-od! and thanks to thee, my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother!” cried Paul, “my beloved mother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I trembled at the thoughts of seeing you again—I trembled when
- I did see you—I knew not—I could not have imagined that such
- feelings still existed in my heart. Oh! I bless thee! I bless thee!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment, the tolling of the chapel bell was heard: the marchioness
- shuddered. The funeral hour had arrived. The bodies of the noble Marquis
- d’Auray and that of the poor man Achard, were about to be returned to
- earth at the same moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This hour must be consecrated to prayer,” said the marchioness: “I must
- now leave you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must sail to-morrow, my mother,” said Paul; “shall I not once more see
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! yes, yes,” replied the marchioness, “we must meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, my mother, this evening I shall be at the park gate. There is
- a spot which is sacred to me, and to which I must pay a last visit. I
- shall expect to meet you there. It is on that spot, my mother, that we
- should say farewell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will be there,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, my mother, here,” said Paul, “take these commissions: the one for
- Emanuel, and the other for the husband of Marguerite. Let the happiness of
- your children be conferred by yourself. Believe me, mother, you have
- bestowed more on me than I on them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness retired to shut herself up in her oratory. Paul left the
- castle, and proceeded toward the hut of the fisherman.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hark! she has bless’d her son—I bid ye witness,
- Ye listening heavens—thou circumambient air;
- The ocean sighs it back—and with the murmur
- Bustle the happy leaves.
-
- All nature breathes
- Aloud—-aloft—to the Great Parent’s ear,
- The blessing of the mother on her child.
-</pre>
- <p>
- ON approaching the fisherman’s hut, the place appointed with Lectoure,
- Paul perceived Lusignan and Walter, who were waiting for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Precisely at the hour agreed, Lectoure appeared on horseback; he had been
- obliged to find his way as he best could, for he had no guide, and his own
- servant was as much a stranger as himself in that part of the country. On
- seeing him at a distance the young men came out of the hut. The baron
- instantly put his horse into a gallop, to hasten to them. When within a
- few paces of them he alighted from his horse, and threw the rein to his
- servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust you will pardon me, gentlemen,” said he, “that I should have
- approached you thus alone, like a forsaken orphan; but the hour selected
- by that gentleman,” he added, raising his hat to Paul, who returned the
- salutation, “was precisely that fixed upon for the funeral obsequies of
- the marquis; I have therefore left Emanuel to fulfil the duties of a son,
- and have come here without a second, trusting that I had to deal with an
- adversary generous enough to procure some friend of his own to aid me in
- this dilemma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We are entirely at your service, baron,” replied Paul; “here are two
- friends of mine. Select which you please, and he who shall be honored by
- your choice, will instantly become yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no preference, I swear to you,” said Lectoure; “please to
- designate which of these two gentlemen you may desire should reader me
- this service.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Walter,” said Paul, “be so good as to officiate as second to the baron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant assented; the two adversaries again bowed to each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, sir,” continued Paul, “permit me, before our respective seconds,
- to address a few words to you, not of apology, but explanation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your own pleasure, sir, replied Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I uttered the words which have been the cause of your coming hither,
- the events which have since occurred at the castle were hidden in the womb
- of time, and these events might have entailed the misery of a whole
- family. You, sir, had on your side Madame d’Auray, Emanuel, and the
- Marquis—Marguerite had but me alone. Every chance was, therefore, in
- your favor. It was for this reason that I addressed myself directly to
- you, for had I fallen by your hand from circumstances which must for ever
- remain hidden to you, Marguerite could not have married you. If I had
- killed you, the case would have been still more simplified, and requires
- no commentary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This exordium is really most logical, sir,” replied the baron, smiling,
- and tapping his boots with his riding-whip; “let us proceed, if you
- please, to the main body of the discourse.” |
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” continued Paul, bowing in sign of acquiescence, “every circumstance
- has changed; the marquis is dead, Emanuel has received his commission, the
- marchioness renounces your alliance, honorable as it may be, and
- Marguerite marries the Baron Anatole de Lusignan, who, for that reason, I
- did not name your second.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, “then that is the true meaning of the note
- which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave the
- castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an adjournment.
- It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. ‘Tis well, sir, and now to
- the peroration.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know
- you—I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each
- other, and with opposing interests—hence our collision. Then, as I
- have before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make
- sure of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my
- death or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed
- to the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank
- it would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed so
- long a journey,” replied Lectoure: “Not having the honor to espouse
- Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, I should desire, at least, to have the
- honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have
- travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at your
- orders, sir,” continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it saluting
- his adversary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your good pleasure, sir,” replied Paul, and replying to the salutation
- in the same manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two young men then advanced towards each other—their swords
- crossed—at the third parry Lectoure’s sword was twisted from his
- hand, and flew to a distance of twenty yards.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before taking sword in hand,” said Paul, “I had offered an explanation,
- and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this time I will accept it, sir,” said Lectoure, in the same careless
- and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. “Pick up my sword,
- Dick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very tranquilly
- put it into the scabbard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” continued he, “if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for
- Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell the king, sir,” replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing his
- sword, “that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed against
- the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my own
- countrymen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the two young men again bowed to each other. Lectoure remounted
- his horse, and at about a hundred paces from the sea shore, got into the
- high road leading to Vannes, and galloped off; while his servant went to
- the castle to get his travelling carriage, with which Lectoure had ordered
- him to rejoin him speedily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, Mr. Walter,” said Paul, “you must send the long-boat to the
- nearest creek to Auray castle, and have every thing in readiness to set
- sail tonight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant immediately set out for Port Louis, and Paul and Lusignan
- returned into the fisherman’s hut.
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time Emanuel and Marguerite had fulfilled the mournful duty to
- which they had been summoned by the chapel bell. The body of the marquis
- had been deposited in the emblazoned tomb of his ancestors, and Achard’s
- in the humble cemetery outside the chapel, and then the brother and sister
- repaired to their mother’s apartment. The marchioness delivered to Emanuel
- the commission which he so anxiously coveted, and gave to Marguerite her
- unexpected consent to her marriage with Lusignan. She then handed to
- Marguerite the king’s sign manual appointing Lusignan governor of
- Guadaloupe. And then, in order that the emotions which they experienced
- should not be renewed, and which were the more poignant, because they were
- concealed within their own breasts, for neither of them made any allusion
- to past events, the mother and the children embraced each other for the
- last time, each feeling the innate conviction that they should never meet
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The remainder of the day was occupied in the necessary preparations for
- departure. Toward the evening the marchioness left the castle, to meet
- Paul at the place which he had appointed. When passing through the
- court-yard she perceived a carriage, with horses already attached to it,
- standing on one side of it, and the young midshipman, Arthur, with four
- sailors, on the other. Her heart was oppressed by the sight of this
- two-fold preparation. She, however, passed on, and went into the park,
- without giving way to her emotions, so much had her long-continued
- restraint upon natural feelings given her the power of self-command.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, when she had reached a small clearing, from which she could see
- Achard’s house, she paused, for her knees trembled beneath her, and she
- was obliged to lean for support against a tree, while she pressed her hand
- to her breast to restrain the violent beatings of her heart. For there are
- souls which present danger, however imminent, cannot cause to quail, but
- which tremble at the remembrance of perils past; and the marchioness
- recalled to mind the agonizing fears and emotions to which she had been
- for twenty years a prey, and during which time she had daily visited that
- house, now closed never again to be opened. She, however, soon overcame
- this weakness, and reached the park gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- There she again paused. Above all the trees rose the summit of a gigantic
- oak, whose wide spreading branches could be discerned from many places in
- the park. Often had the eyes of the marchioness remained riveted for hours
- upon its verdant dome: but never had she dared to seek repose beneath its
- shade. It was there, however, that she had promised to meet Paul, and
- there Paul was awaiting her. At length she made a last effort, and entered
- the forest.
- </p>
- <p>
- From a distance she perceived a man kneeling upon the ground in the
- attitude of prayer. She slowly approached him, and kneeling down by his
- side, prayed also. When the prayer was concluded, they both rose, and
- without uttering a word, the marchioness placed her arm around Paul’s
- neck, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. After some moments’ silence,
- they heard the noise of the wheels of a carriage at a distance. The
- marchioness shuddered, and made a sign to Paul to listen; it was Emanuel
- setting out to join his regiment. Shortly afterwards Paul pointed in a
- direction opposite to that in which they had heard the noise, and showed
- the marchioness a boat gliding rapidly and silently upon the surface of
- the ocean; it was Marguerite going on board the frigate.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness listened to the noise of the receding wheels as long as
- she could hear it, and followed with anxious eyes the movements of the
- boat, as long as she could distinguish it; then she turned toward Paul,
- and raising her eyes to heaven, for she felt that the moment was
- approaching, when he, whom she was leaning upon, would, in his turn, leave
- her, she exclaimed—
- </p>
- <p>
- “May God bless, as I now bless, the duteous son, who was the last to leave
- his mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, she threw her arms around his neck, pressed him
- convulsively to her heart, and kissed him; then gazing at him intently,
- she seemed to be scanning every outline of his face, and then, again,
- rapturously embraced him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she cried, “in every feature he is the living resemblance of my
- poor lost Morlaix,” then for some moments she seemed to be absorbed in
- thought; at last after a seemingly violent struggle, she continued, “Paul,
- you have refused to accept any portion of that fortune to which you are
- legally entitled, although you know the wealth of the Auray family is
- unbounded—and that the fortune which I inherit in my own right, from
- the family of Sablé, is very large.” Paul shook his head. “Well, then,
- there is one thing that you must receive from your mother, as her parting
- gift. It is twenty years since I have dared to look upon it, and yet I
- have clung to its possession—it is your father’s portrait, presented
- to me when I was authorized to receive it—when, by the assent of
- both our families, he was to have become my husband—take it, my dear
- son, for although it tears my heart to part with it, yet I feel that I
- shall be more tranquil when it is in your possession—to no one but
- yourself would I have given it. You will sometimes look upon it, and you
- will think of your mother, who must now remain for ever isolated from the
- world. But it is better that it should be so—henceforward all my
- moments shall be spent in making my peace with Heaven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While saying these words, she had drawn from her pocket a case, which she
- put into Paul’s hands, and which he had eagerly opened, and gazed with
- intense interest at the features of his father. The miniature was richly
- set in diamonds of great value.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then summoning all her fortitude, the marchioness for the last time kissed
- her son, who was kneeling before her, and tearing herself from his arms,
- she returned alone to the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning the inhabitants of Port Louis vainly sought the frigate
- they had seen only the evening before, and which for fifteen days had
- remained at anchor in the outer roads of Lorient. As on the former
- occasion, she had disappeared without their being able to comprehend the
- cause of her arrival, or the motive of her so sudden departure.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- EPILOGUE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Last scene of all
- That ends this strange, eventful history.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Five years had elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have related.
- The independence of the United States had been recognized; New York, the
- last strong-hold of the English, had been evacuated. The roar of
- cannon,-which had resounded in the Indian seas, as well as in the Gulf of
- Mexico, had ceased to thunder. Washington, in the solemn meeting of
- Congress of the 28th December, 1783, had resigned his commission as
- general-in-chief, and had retired to Mount Vernon, his parental estate,
- without any other recompence than that of being allowed to receive and
- send letters free of charge; and the tranquillity which America had begun
- to enjoy, had extended to the French colonies in the West Indies; for the
- mother country having espoused the American cause, they had been several
- times exposed to the hostile attempts of Great Britain. Among these
- islands, Guadaloupe had been more particularly threatened, in consequence
- of its military and commercial importance; but, thanks to the vigilance of
- its new governor, the attempts of the enemy to land there had always
- failed, and France had not to mourn over any serious discomfiture in this
- important position, so that at the commencement of the year 1784, the
- island, without being altogether denuded of warlike appearance, which was
- maintained in it more from custom than from necessity, the inhabitants
- generally had applied themselves anew to the cultivation of the numerous
- products which form its riches.
- </p>
- <p>
- If our readers will be pleased by a last effort of their complaisance, to
- accompany us to the other side of the Atlantic, and land with us at the
- port of Basseterre, we will conduct them amidst fountains which jet on
- every side, through the street which leads to the promenade, called Champ
- d’Arbaud; then, after having availed ourselves of the cool shade of the
- tamarind trees, planted on each side of it, till we have proceeded about
- two-thirds of its length, we will turn upon the left up a small beaten
- road, which conducts to the gate of a garden, the upper part of which
- commands a view of the whole town.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we have arrived there, we will allow them for a few moments to inhale
- the evening breeze, so refreshingly sweet after the mid-day heat of the
- month of May, and they can cast a glance with us over the luxuriant
- vegetation of the tropics.
- </p>
- <p>
- With our backs turned to the woody and volcanic mountains, which divide
- the western part of the island, and amid which arise, crowned with their
- plumes of smoke and sparks, the two calcined pinnacles of the sulphur
- mountain, we have at our feet, sheltered by the hills, which have been
- named Bellevue, Mont-Désir, Beau Soliel, Espérance and Saint Charles, the
- city gracefully descending towards the sea, the waves of which sparkling
- with the last rays of the setting sun, laves its white walls. The horizon,
- formed by the ocean, lying like a vast and limpid mirror, and to the right
- and left, the most beautiful and richest plantation of the island; large
- square fields of coffee trees, transplanted originally from Arabia, with
- their knotty and flexible branches, covered with dark green glossy leaves,
- of an oblong and pointed form, and bearing clusters of flowers as white as
- snow; long rows of cotton plants, covering with a rich carpet of verdure,
- the dry and stony soil, on which they thrive best, and among which we see,
- like so many colossal ants, negroes occupied in reducing to two or three,
- the thousand shoots which sprout out from each stalk. And then again, but
- in more level and well sheltered spots, in which the soil is richer and
- more argillaceous, we see plantations of cocoa trees, first introduced
- into the West Indies by the Jew, Benjamin Dacosta, with their lofty trunks
- and porous branches, covered with fawn colored bark, from which large
- oblong leaves are pending, among which we see fresh shoots of a soft rose
- color, which contrast strongly with the long, curved and yellow fruit,
- which bends the branches with its weight. And further off, whole fields of
- the plant, discovered at Tabaco, first brought to France by the Ambassador
- of Francis II., who presented it to Catherine de Medicis, from which
- circumstance it derived its name of <i>Herbe-a-là-reine</i>.* This did
- not, however, prevent it from being, like every popular thing, in the
- first instance, excommunicated and proscribed, in Europe and Asia, by the
- two powers who then divided the world, proscribed by the Grand Duke of
- Muscovy, Michael Fedorowich, by the Turkish Sultan Amurath IV., by the
- Emperor of Persia, and excommunicated by Pope Urban VIII. Here and there,
- we see springing up to a height of forty or fifty feet above all the
- shrubs and plants, by which it is surrounded, the banana tree of Paradise,
- of which, according to tradition, the oval leaves, seven or eight feet in
- length, served to form the first garment of the first created woman. And
- finally, elevated above all the rest, and standing forth pre-eminent,
- whether hacked by the azure of the Heavens, or by the dark green tea, the
- cocoa-nut and the palm-tree, those two giants of the Western Archipelago
- graceful and prodigal, as is everything that is powerful. Figure to
- yourselves, then these beautiful hills, intersected by seventy rivers,
- eased in beds, ninety feet in depth; these mountains illuminated during
- the day by a tropical sun, at night, by the volcano of the sulphur
- mountain; that vegetation, which never is arrested, the new leaves of
- which succeed the leaves which fall; this soil so salubrious, and air so
- pure, that notwithstanding the insensate experiments that man, the real
- enemy of himself, has made by transporting serpents from Martinique, and
- Saint Lucie, it was found that they could neither live nor reproduce
- there, and then judge after the sufferings they had endured in Europe, of
- the happiness which Antole de Lusignan and Marguerite d’Auray must have
- enjoyed there.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- * Queen’s Grass.
-</pre>
- <p>
- To a life agitated by the passions, to that struggle of natural rights
- against legal power, to that succession of scenes in which all earthly
- pains, from childbirth even to death, had played their part, had succeeded
- a life of pure delights, each day of which had passed on calmly and
- tranquilly; the only clouds that darkened it, arose from that vague
- uneasiness for distant friends, which as if borne upon the air, and which
- contracts the heart like a painful presentiment. However, from time to
- time, whether by newspapers, or by vessels, touching at the island,
- Anatole and Marguerite had obtained some intelligence of the generous
- being who had so powerfully served them as a protector; they had heard of
- his victories; that after he had left them, he had been appointed to the
- command of a small squadron, and had destroyed the English establishments
- on the coast of Acadia, which had gained for him the title of commodore;
- that, in an engagement with the <i>Serapis</i> and the <i>Countess of
- Scarborough</i>, after a combat yard-arm to yard-arm, which lasted four
- hours, he had obliged the two frigates to strike to him, and that finally,
- as a reward for the services he had rendered to the cause of American
- Independence, he had received the public thanks of Congress, who had voted
- him a gold medal, and had selected him to command the frigate <i>America</i>,
- to which that name had been given as being the finest in the service, and
- the command of which had been conferred on him as the bravest of its
- officers; but this splendid ship had been presented by Congress to the
- King of France, to replace the <i>Magnifique</i>, which had been lost at
- Boston. Paul Jones, after conducting this frigate to Havre, had joined the
- fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil, who had projected an attack upon Jamaica.
- This last intelligence had overjoyed the hearts of Lusignan and
- Marguerite, for this enterprize would bring Paul into their latitude, and
- they hoped at last they should soon see their brother and their friend;
- but peace, as we have before said, had intervened, and from that time,
- they had heard no more of the adventurous seaman.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the evening of the day on which we have transported our readers from
- the wild shores of Brittany to the fertile coast of Guadaloupe, the young
- family were assembled in the very garden which we have entered, and which
- commands a view of the immense panorama we have described; the foreground
- of which is formed by the city, at its feet the ocean, studded with
- islands in the distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite had promptly habituated herself to the soft listlessness of
- Creole life; and her mind now tranquil and full of happiness, she gave
- herself up to the <i>dolce far niente</i>, which renders the sensual
- existence of the colonies a half sleep, the incidents of which appear as
- dreams.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was lying with her daughter in a Peruvian hammock, netted with the
- silken fibres of the aloe, and ornamented with the most brilliant colored
- plumes of the rarest tropical birds; her son was swinging her with a soft
- and regular motion, and Lusignan was holding one of her hands between both
- his. She was still pale, but delicate and graceful as a wild lily. Her
- looks were vacantly wandering over the immense extent of ocean lying
- before her, and she felt her soul and senses enraptured by all the bliss
- which heaven can promise, and all the enjoyments which this earth can
- offer. At that moment, and as if everything concurred to complete the
- magic spectacle which every evening she came there to contemplate, and
- which every succeeding evening she found still more marvellously
- beautiful, there suddenly appeared, doubling the cape <i>Trois Pointes</i>,
- and looking like an ocean king, a large vessel, gliding along the surface
- of the sea without more apparent effort than a swan playing upon the
- tranquil bosom of a lake. Marguerite was the first to perceive it, and
- without speaking, for every action is a fatigue under that burning clime,
- she made a sign with her head to Lusignan, who directed his looks to the
- spot she had indicated, and then, like her, silently followed with his
- eyes the rapid and graceful movements of the vessel. By degrees as she
- approached, and as the elegant and delicate proportions of her masts
- amidst the mass of sails which they sustained, could be discerned, which,
- in the first instance, had seemed a cloud floating upon the horizon—they
- began to discover in one corner of her flag the stars of America, equal in
- number to the States they represent. One same idea shot instantly through
- their minds, and they exchanged a glance, radiant with hope that they
- were, perhaps, about to receive some news of Paul. Lusignan immediately
- ordered a negro to bring a telescope: but before he had returned, a hope
- still more delightful pervaded both their hearts. It appeared to Lusignan
- and Marguerite that they recognized an old friend in the frigate that was
- approaching. To persons, however, unaccustomed, it is so difficult to
- distinguish, at a great distance, signs which speak at once to the eye of
- an experienced seaman, that they did not yet dare to have faith in this
- hope, and which, indeed, was more an instinctive presentiment than
- positive reality. At last the negro brought the so much longed for
- telescope. Lusignan uttered a cry of joy, and then handed it to
- Marguerite: he had recognized the sculpture of Guillaume Costou, upon the
- prow of the vessel, and it was really the <i>Indienne</i> which was
- advancing towards Basseterre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lusignan raised Marguerite from the hammock and placed her on her feet,
- for their first impulse was to hasten to the harbour; but then they
- reflected that Paul had left the <i>Indienne</i> nearly five years, at the
- time that his promotion entitled him to the command of a larger vessel,
- and that she might now be under the orders of another captain, and they
- paused with palpitating hearts and trembling limbs. During this time,
- their son Hector had taken up the telescope, and placing it to his eye,
- looked through it, and soon after exclaimed,—“Father, see there,—upon
- the deck stands an officer, dressed in a black coat, embroidered with
- gold, just like the one in the picture of my dear friend, Paul!” Lusignan
- hastily snatched the glass from his son’s hands, looked through it for a
- few moments, then again passed it to Marguerite, who, after directing it
- toward the vessel, let it fall, and then they threw themselves into each
- other’s arms; they had recognized their friend, who, as he was about to
- visit them, had put on the dress which we have before said he had
- generally worn. At this instant the frigate passed the fort, which it
- saluted with three guns, and the fort returned the salute with an equal
- number.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the moment that Lusignan and Marguerite had acquired the certitude
- that their friend and brother was actually on board the <i>Indienne</i>,
- they had hastened down the mountain, followed by young Hector, towards the
- port, leaving their little Blanche in the hammock. The captain had also
- recognized them, so that at the moment they left the garden he had ordered
- a boat to be lowered, and, thanks to the united strength of ten vigorous
- oarsmen, he had rapidly glided over the distance between the anchorage
- ground and the port, and had sprung upon the jetty at the instant that his
- friends arrived there. Such sensations as then filled their breasts cannot
- be expressed in words; tears are their only interpreter. And thus their
- joy more closely resembled grief, for they all wept, even to the child,
- who wept because he saw them weep.
- </p>
- <p>
- After giving some orders relating to the vessel, the young commodore, with
- his delighted friends, slowly ascended the hill down which they had rushed
- so rapidly to meet him. Paul told them that the expedition of Admiral
- Vaudreuil having failed, he had returned to Philadelphia, and peace having
- been signed, as we have before mentioned, with England, the Congress, as a
- token of gratitude, had presented him with the first ship he had commanded
- as captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon hearing this, Lusignan and Marguerite experienced the most lively
- joy, for they hoped that their brother had come with the intention of
- taking up his abode with them; but the character of the young seaman was
- too adventurous, and stood too much in need of excitement, to sink quietly
- down into the monotonous and unvaried dulness of a life on shore. He
- informed his friends that he had but eight days to remain with them, after
- which he should seek in another quarter of the globe, to follow the
- profession he had adopted.
- </p>
- <p>
- These eight days passed by as rapidly as a dream, and notwithstanding the
- reiterated entreaties of both Lusignan and Marguerite, Paul would not
- consent to delay his departure even for twenty-four hours. He was still
- the same ardent determined being, considering the execution of a
- resolution he had once formed as a positive duty, and more austere with
- regard to himself than toward others.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hour of separation had arrived. Marguerite and Lusignan wished to
- accompany the young commodore on board his ship; but Paul wished not to
- prolong the grief of this leave-taking. When they reached the jetty he
- embraced them for the last time, then jumped into his boat, which was
- rowed away as swiftly as an arrow. Marguerite and Lusignan followed him
- with their eyes until his boat had disappeared on the leeward side of the
- frigate, and they sorrowfully reascended the hill to watch the ship’s
- departure, from the same terrace from which they had before discerned its
- arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the moment they reached it, they observed that activity and bustle on
- board the frigate which always precede the departure of a vessel. The
- sailors had surrounded the capstan, and were employed in getting up the
- anchor, and thanks to the pureness of the atmosphere, the sonorous and
- lively cries of the seamen reached the ears of Lusignan and Marguerite;
- the anchor was soon apeak, and they saw it rising slowly under the ship’s
- bows; then the sails dropped successively from the yards, from the royals
- to the courses, and the ship, seemingly endowed with an instinctive and
- animated feeling, gracefully turned her prow toward the harbour’s mouth,
- and beginning to move, cut through the waves with an easy motion, as if
- merely gliding upon their surface. Then, as if the frigate might be
- abandoned to her own will, they saw the young commodore spring upon the
- stern rails, and devote all his attention to the land he was thus leaving.
- Lusignan took out his handkerchief and made a signal, to which Paul
- replied. And then, when they could no longer perceive each other with the
- naked eye, they had recourse to their telescopes, and, thanks to this
- ingenious invention, they retarded the separation for another hour. They
- all felt a presentiment that this separation would be eternal.
- </p>
- <p>
- The vessel gradually diminished upon the horizon, and darkness was about
- to cover the heavens, when Lusignan ordered a quantity of wood to be
- brought upon the terrace, to form a beacon fire, which was instantly
- ignited, in order that Paul, whose vessel was nearly enshrouded in the
- darkness, might continue to fix his eyes upon that spot until he had
- doubled Cape Trois Pointes. Lusignan and Marguerite had for an hour lost
- sight of the ship, while Paul, thanks to their large brilliant fire, might
- still perceive them, when a bright flame, like to a flash of lightning,
- appeared on the horizon, and in a few seconds the report of a gun, similar
- to the prolonged sound of distant thunder, reached their ears, and all
- again was silent. Lusignan and Marguerite had received Paul’s last
- farewell.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, although the domestic drama which we had undertook to relate,
- has, in fact, terminated here, some of our readers may, perhaps, have felt
- sufficient interest in the young adventurer, of whom we have made the hero
- of this story, to follow him in the second part of his career; to these
- then, after thanking them for the kind attention they have been pleased to
- grant to us, we are about to recount truly and plainly, facts which a most
- minute research have enabled us to lay before them.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the period we have reached, that is to say, in the month of May, 1784,
- the whole of Europe had fallen into that state of torpor, which unthinking
- men imagined to be tranquillity, but which minds more profound, regarded
- as the dull and momentary calm that precedes the tempest. America, by
- obtaining her independence, had prepared France for her revolution. Kings
- and people, mistrustful of each other, were upon their guard. Peter III.,
- who had become odious to the Russians, in consequence of his ignoble
- character, the narrowness of his political views, and above all, for his
- excessive leaning to Prussian manners, and Prussian discipline, had been
- deposed without opposition, and strangled without a struggle. Catherine
- had thus found herself, at the age of thirty-two, mistress of an empire
- which extended over one-seventh part of the globe; her first care was to
- compel the neighbouring powers to accept her as a mediatrix in their
- quarrel, and thus become do-pendent upon her. Thus, had she obliged the
- people of Courland to drive from them their new Duke, Charles of Saxony,
- and to recall Biren; she had sent her ambassadors and her armies to
- Warsaw, there to have crowned by the name of Stanislaus Augustus, her
- former lover, Poniatowski; she had formed an alliance with England; she
- had associated to her policy the Courts of Vienna and Berlin; and
- notwithstanding all these great projects of foreign policy, she had not
- neglected the internal government of her own country, and in the interval
- of her amours, so fickle and so various, she still found time to reward
- industry, to encourage agriculture, to reform the laws, to raise a navy,
- to send Pallas into provinces the productions of which were till then
- unknown—Blumager into the northern Archipelago, and Bel-lings into
- the Indian ocean; in fine, jealous of the literary reputation of her
- brother, the King of Prussia, she wrote with the same hand that had
- ordered the erection of a new city, signed the order for the execution of
- young Ivan, and the dismemberment of Poland, <i>The Refutation of the
- Journey into Siberia</i>, by the Abbé Chappe, a romance of the Czarowich
- Chlose, several plays, among which was a translation into French of Oleg,
- a drama, written by the Russian poet, Dersehawin, so that Voltaire
- proclaimed her the Semiraris of the North, and the King of Prussia, in his
- letters, classed her between Solon and Lycurgus.
- </p>
- <p>
- The effect produced amid this voluptuous and chivalric court by the
- arrival of such a man, as our adventurous seaman, can readily be imagined.
- The reputation for courage, which had rendered him the terror of the
- enemies of France and America, had preceded him to the court of Russia,
- and in exchange for his frigate, which he presented to Catherine, he
- received the rank of Rear-Admiral. Then the flag of Russia, after having
- navigated round one-half the old world, appeared in the Grecian seas, and
- beneath the ruins of Lacedemon and the Parthenon, he, who had assisted in
- establishing the independence of America, dreamt of the re-establishment
- of the Republics of Sparta and of Athens. The old Ottoman empire was
- shaken to its foundations, the defeated Turks signed a treaty of peace at
- Kainardji. Catherine retained Azof, Taganrog, and Kenburr, and Kenburn,
- compelled the Turks to grant to her the free navigation of the Black Sea,
- and the independence of the Crimea; she then desired to visit her new
- possessions. Paul, recalled to St. Petersburgh, accompanied her on this
- journey, the route of which had been drawn up by Potemkin. During the
- whole of it, all the attributes of triumph were offered to the conquering
- Empress and her suite; bonfires were lighted all along the road, cities
- were illuminated with the most fairy-like brilliancy, magnificent palaces
- erected, as if by magic, for one day, amid desert countries, and which the
- next morning disappeared; villages, rising as if beneath the wand of an
- enchanter, in solitudes, in which eight days before the Tartars fed their
- flocks; towns appearing on the horizon of which there existed but the
- exterior walls; in every direction, homage, and songs of welcome, and
- dances of the people: during the day, a numerous population crowded the
- road, and at night, while the Empress was sleeping, they would run to
- station themselves in the way she was to proceed on waking the following
- morning: a king and emperor rode by her side, calling themselves not her
- brothers, not her equals, but her courtiers; finally, a triumphal arch was
- erected at the last halt she was to make on her journey southward, bearing
- the inscription—“<i>This is the road to Byzantium,</i>” which if it
- did not reveal the ambition of Catherine, demonstrated at least, the
- policy of Potemkin. Then Russia became strengthened in her tyranny, as
- America had in her independence. Catherine offered to her Admiral places
- which would have more than satisfied the rapacity of a courtier, honors
- which would have overwhelmed the ambitious, estates which would have
- consoled a deposed king for the loss of his dominions; but it was the deck
- of his ship, it was the sea with its combats and its tempests, it was the
- boundless immensity of ocean for which yearned the heart of our
- adventurous and poetic seaman. He, therefore, left the brilliant court of
- Catherine, as he had left the austere Congress of America, and returned to
- France to seek that, which he could not find elsewhere, that is to say, a
- life of excitement, enemies to combat, a people to defend. Paul arrived in
- Paris in the midst of our European wars and civil struggles; while, with
- one hand, we were seizing a foreign enemy by the throat, with the other,
- we were tearing our own entrails. That king, whom he had seen ten years
- before, beloved, honored, powerful, was then a captive, despised and
- strengthless. All that had been exalted was abased, and great names fell
- as did high-born heads.—It was the reign of equality, and the
- guillotine was the levelling instrument. Paul inquired after Emanuel, and
- was told that he was proscribed. He asked what had become of his mother,
- and was informed that she was dead. Then he felt an irresistible longing
- to revisit once again, before he himself might die, the spot on which,
- twelve years before, he had experienced emotions at once so sweet and
- terrible. He set out for Brittany, left his carriage at Vannes, and
- mounted on horseback, as he had done on the first day he had seen
- Marguerite; but he was no longer the young and enthusiastic seaman, whose
- desires and hopes had no horizon; he was a man bereft of all those,
- brilliant illusions, for he had tasted of all, whether weet or bitter, had
- learnt to appreciate all, both men and things; had known all, glory and
- oblivion. Therefore, did he not come to search a family, but to visit
- tombs.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he came within sight of the castle, he turned his eyes toward
- Achard’s house, and not being able to discover it, he thought he would go
- into the forest, but the forest seemed to have vanished as by enchantment.
- It had been sold as national property to twenty-five or thirty farmers of
- the neighbourhood, who had cleared off the timber, and transformed it into
- a large plain. The gigantic oak had disappeared, and the plough had passed
- over the unknown grave of the Count de Morlaix, and the eyes of his son
- even, could no longer recognize the spot.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he returned through the park toward the castle, now become even more
- gloomy and desolate than when he had last seen it. In it he found only an
- old man, a living ruin amidst these ruins of the past; it was at first
- intended to have pulled down the mansion, but the reputation for holiness
- which the marchioness had left behind her, was regarded with such
- religious veneration throughout the country, that the old walls, which for
- four centuries had been the abode of her ancestors, remained undesecrated.
- Paul went through the apartments, which for three years had remained
- closed, and which were now open for him. He walked through the portrait
- gallery; it was in the same state as he had formerly seen it; no pious
- hand had added to the portrait either of the marquis or the marchioness.
- He went into the study in which he had been concealed—found a book
- lying in it which he had opened and placed upon the very spot on which he
- found it, and read the same passages which he had read so many years
- before. He then pushed open the door which communicated with the contract
- chamber, where had passed the chief scenes of that drama in which he was
- the principal actor. The table was still in the same place and the
- Venetian looking-glass over the chimney-piece was there, shattered as it
- had been by the ball of Emanuels pistol.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul advanced to the fire-place, and placing his elbow on the marble
- mantle-piece, questioned the servant as to the last years of the
- Marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The account he received shewed that she had remained austere and
- melancholy, as was her wont. Remaining secluded and alone at the castle,
- her hours were uniformly spent in three different places: her oratory, the
- vault in which the body of her husband had been buried, and the spot
- sheltered by the oak tree, at the foot of which her lover had been
- interred. For eight years after the evening on which Paul had taken leave
- of her, she had been seen to wander amid the old corridors of the castle,
- and in the gloomy avenues of the Park, slow and pale as a spectre; then a
- disease of the heart, engendered by the agonies she had suffered, declared
- itself, and she daily became weaker. At length, one evening, when her
- failing strength no longer permitted her to walk, she had ordered the
- servants to carry her to the foot of the oak tree, her favorite walk, that
- she might once more see, she said, the sun setting in the ocean. When they
- had reached the spot, she desired the servants to withdraw, and to come
- back to her in half an hour. On their return they found her lying fainting
- on the ground. They immediately bore her to the castle, but having
- recovered her senses on the way, she ordered them, instead of conducting
- her to her own room, which they usually did, to take her down into the
- family vault. There she had still strength enough to kneel upon the tomb
- of her husband, and made a sign that she desired to be left alone. However
- imprudent their doing so might be, the servants elbow on the marble
- withdrew, for she had accustomed them to obey her in every thing at the
- first intimation of her will. They, however, remained at a short distance,
- concealed behind the corner of a tomb, that they might be ready to render
- her assistance, should it be necessary. In a few minutes they saw her fall
- down upon the stone on which she had been praying; they rushed forward,
- imagining that she had again fainted. She was dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul requested the old servant to conduct him into the vault, and slowly
- entered it with uncovered head; and when he had reached the stone which
- covered the grave of his mother, he knelt down and prayed. On the
- monumental stone were inscribed the following words, and which may still
- be seen in one of the chapels of the church of the small town of Auray, to
- which it has since been removed. The inscription had been written by the
- marchioness herself, and she had desired that it should be placed upon her
- tomb.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here lies the very noble and very puissant lady Marguerite Blanche de
- Sablé, Marchioness of Auray; born the 2nd of August 1729—died the
- 3rd September, 1788.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray for her and for her children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul raised his eyes to heaven, with an expression of infinite gratitude,
- His mother, who during her life, had for so long a time forgotten him, had
- remembered him in her funeral inscription.
- </p>
- <p>
- Six months after this visit, the National Convention decreed, in solemn
- sitting, that they would attend in a body the funeral procession of Paul
- Jones, formerly a commodore in the American navy, and whose burial was to
- take place in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had come to this decision, said the decree, in order to consecrate
- the establishment of <i>religious freedom throughout France</i>.
- </p>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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diff --git a/old/41222-h.htm.18-Feb-2021 b/old/41222-h.htm.18-Feb-2021 deleted file mode 100644 index 61c2723..0000000 --- a/old/41222-h.htm.18-Feb-2021 +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8399 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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- <head>
- <title>
- Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, pere
- </title>
- <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
-
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- P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
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- .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Captain Paul
-
-Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere
-
-Release Date: October 29, 2012 [EBook #41222]
-Last Updated: November 21, 2016
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- CAPTAIN PAUL
- </h1>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h2>
- By Alexandre Dumas, pere
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> CAPTAIN PAUL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- INTRODUCTION.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The admirers of “The Pilot,” one of the most magnificent of Cooper’s
- novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves
- have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether lose
- sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such intense
- interest, through the narrows of the Devil’s Grip, and the Cloisters of
- St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and in the actions
- of this person, introduced in the first place by the name of John, and
- afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a grief so
- bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every reader
- desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so brave
- and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have more than
- once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of it, it might
- have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for information
- regarding the early career and closing years of this adventurous seaman—information
- which we have vainly searched for in his narrative. I thought that such a
- request would be readily forgiven by him to whom it was addressed, for it
- would have been accompanied by the expression of the most sincere and
- ardent admiration of his work; but I was restrained by the reflection that
- the author himself, perhaps, knew no more of that career, of which, he had
- given us but an episode, than that portion of it which had been
- illuminated by the sun of American Independence: for, in fact, this
- brilliant meteor had passed from the clouds which environed his birth to
- the obscurity of his death in such a manner, that it was quite possible
- the “poet historian,” being far distant from the place where his hero was
- born, and from the country in which he died, knew no more of him than what
- he has transmitted to us. The very mystery which surrounded him, may have
- been the cause of his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals.
- Urged by these considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own
- research, those details which I had so often desired to receive from
- others. I searched through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was
- a copy of the letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined
- the annals of the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at
- the time of his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that
- he was buried in the cemetery of Père la Chaise. This was all the
- information I could gather from my first attempts.
- </p>
- <p>
- I then consulted our living library—Nodier, the learned—Nodier,
- the philosopher—Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few
- moments, he mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself,
- containing memoirs of his life, bearing this motto, “Munera sunt Laudi.” I
- started off to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched
- through libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls—all that I could
- find was an infamous libel, entitled, “<i>Paul Jones, ou Prophétie sur
- l’Amérique, l’Angleterre, la France, l’Espagne et la Hollande</i>” which I
- threw from me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page,
- marvelling that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved,
- whilst we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food—I
- therefore renounced all hope in this quarter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having
- started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l’Orient. Upon my
- arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography of
- Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that port.
- This circumstance had struck me—I had noted down the dates, and had
- only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval
- archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which the
- two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of
- thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming
- there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept the
- register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office without
- further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk who was
- sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in the
- country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me that in
- 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office at Havre,
- had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore in the fleet of
- the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this officer, and his
- extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression upon him, that upon
- his, the clerk’s, return to Brittany, he spoke of him to his father, who
- then had charge of the Chateau d’Auray. Upon hearing the name of Paul
- Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to him to be silent—the
- young man obeyed, though not without astonishment. He frequently
- afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he always refused
- to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death of the
- Marchioness d’Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and the
- dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt himself
- permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious history,
- in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly blended.
- Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father had related
- that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression upon him that he
- repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for word.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have treasured up this history in the recesses of my memory for nearly
- seven years: and it would have still remained buried there, with a mass of
- other recollections, destined never to see the light, had I not about six
- months ago read “The Pilot” for the second time, and even with much
- greater interest than before; for, thanks to the researches I had made,
- the hero was no longer to me an unknown being, appearing only for an
- instant, his face but partially visible, and with merely the portion of a
- name; he had now become a friend, almost a brother, to me—for new
- sympathies had been awakened in my heart besides those which had formerly
- been inspired by the recital of the expedition to Whitehaven. These led me
- to reflect that whatever of interest and disappointment I had experienced
- on reading’ Cooper’s novel, they must have been entertained alike by
- others, and that the anxious desire I had felt to know more of the former
- lover of Alice Dunscombe was not a feeling peculiar to myself, but would
- be participated by all those, and their number must be great, who have
- followed this skilful seaman from the moment of his first meeting
- Lieutenant Barnstaple on the English cliffs, until that in which he
- quitted the Alert to land on the shores of Holland.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have, therefore, gathered up my recollections, and have written this
- history.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- CAPTAIN PAUL.
- </h1>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hoarse o’er her side the rustling cable rings-
- The sails are furled—and anchoring, round she swings;
- And gathering loiterers on the land discern
- Her boat descending from the latticed stern.
- ‘Tis mann’d—the oars keep concert to the strand,
- Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.—Byron.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Toward the close of a fine evening in the month of October, 1779, the most
- inquisitive among the inhabitants of the small town of Fort Louis, had
- assembled on the point of land immediately opposite to that on which
- stands the city of Lorient. The object which attracted their attention,
- and which was the subject of their inquiries, was a noble beautiful
- frigate, carrying 32 guns, which had been anchored for about a week, not
- in the port, but in a small cove in the roadstead, and which had been
- perceived for the first time early one morning, like an ocean flower which
- had suddenly blossomed during the night. From the elegant and coquettish
- appearance of this frigate, it was imagined that this was the first time
- of her putting to sea; she bore the French flag, for the three golden <i>fleur-de-lis</i>
- were seen glittering in the last rays of the setting sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- That which, above all, appeared to excite the curiosity of the admirers of
- this spectacle, so frequent, and notwithstanding, always so interesting in
- a seaport, was the uncertainty as to the country in which this vessel had
- been built; for, having all her sails clewed up and snugly stowed around
- her yards, showed in the setting sun the graceful outline of her hull, and
- a minute elegance as to her running rigging. Some thought they could
- discern in her the bold and taunt masts used by the Americans, but the
- perfection exemplified in the finish which distinguished the rest of her
- construction, was in perfect contrast with the barbarous rudeness of those
- rebellious children of England. Others, deceived by the flag she had
- hoisted, were endeavouring to divine in what port of France she had been
- launched, but their national pride soon gave way to the conviction that
- she was not built in France, for they sought in vain for those heavy
- galleries, ornamented with sculpture, which is the compulsory decoration
- of the stern of every daughter of the ocean, or of the Mediterranean, born
- on the stocks of Brest or of Toulon; others, again, knowing that the flags
- were frequently used as a mask to hide the real face, maintained that the
- lion and the towers of Spain would have more properly been placed upon the
- ensign waving from her peak, than the three <i>fleur-de-lis</i> of France:
- but the latter were asked whether the straight and elegant sides and
- quarters of the frigate all resembled the bulging build of Spanish
- galleons. In short, there were some among them who would have sworn that
- this beautiful fairy of the waters had been brought to life among the
- frogs of Holland, had not the dangerous boldness of her masts and rigging
- fully contradicted the suggestion that she could have been built by those
- old but prudent sweepers of the seas. But, as we have said, for eight
- whole days, and ever since the first appearance of this splendid vision
- upon the coast of Brittany, she had been the constant theme of wonder and
- of conversation, for nothing had happened to give them any positive
- information, as not an individual from the crew had landed from the ship,
- under any pretext whatever. They might, indeed, have doubted whether she
- had a crew or not, had not they now and then seen the head of a sentinel,
- or of the officer of the watch, peering above the bulwarks. It appeared,
- however, that this vessel, although she had not communicated with the
- shore, could not have any hostile intention; her arrival had not seemed to
- give the least uneasiness to the public authorities of Lorient, for she
- had run under the guns of a small fort, which the recent declaration of
- war between England and France had caused to be put in order, and which
- displayed a battery of long guns of heavy calibre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among this crowd of idlers, however, there was a young man, who was
- remarked for the anxious eagerness of his inquiries:—without any one
- being able to devise the cause, it was easily perceived that he felt some
- direct interest in this mysterious vessel. His brilliant uniform was that
- of the <i>mousquetaires</i>, and as these royal guards rarely left the
- capital, he had, at first, directed a portion of the public curiosity to
- himself, but it was soon discovered that this person, whom they thought a
- stranger, was the young Count d’Auray, the last scion of one of the most
- ancient families of Brittany. The castle inhabited by his family rose
- above the shores of the Golf of Morbihan, at six or seven leagues,
- distance from Fort Louis. The family consisted of the Marquis d’Auray, a
- poor insane old man, who for twenty years had never been seen beyond the
- boundaries of his estates; of the Marchioness d’Auray, whose rigid
- morality, and whose ancient nobility, could alone excuse her haughty and
- aristocratic bearing; of the young Marquerite, a sweet girl of seventeen
- or eighteen years of age, delicate and pale as the flower whose name she
- bore; and of Count Emanuel, whom we have mentioned above, and around whom
- the crowd had gathered, carried away, as it always is, by a sounding
- title, a brilliant uniform, and noble and lordly manners.
- </p>
- <p>
- However eager might have been the desire of those he addressed to satisfy
- his curiosity, they could only answer his questions in a vague and
- undecided manner; all they knew of the frigate being mere conjecture. The
- count was about retiring from the jetty, when he perceived a six-oared
- boat approaching it. At a moment when curiosity had been so much excited,
- this incident could not fail to attract all eyes. In the stern of the boat
- sat a young man, who appeared to be from twenty to twenty-two years of
- age, and who was dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the royal navy—he
- was sitting, or rather lying, upon a bearskin, one hand reclining
- carelessly on the tiller of the small boat, while the coxswain, who,
- thanks to the caprice of his officer, had nothing to do, was sitting in
- the bow. From the moment that it first made its appearance, every eye was
- directed towards it, as if it contained the means of solving the mystery
- which had so much puzzled them. The boat, urged on by the last efforts of
- its oarsmen, took the ground at eight or ten feet distance from the beach,
- there being too little water in that place to allow it to come nearer. Two
- of the sailors jumped into the sea up to their knees. The young lieutenant
- then rose up in a careless way, walked to the bow of the boat, and allowed
- the two sailors to carry him in their arms to the beach, so that not a
- drop of salt water should soil his elegant uniform. He then ordered his
- men to double the point of land which advanced about three hundred feet
- into the sea, and to go and wait for him on the opposite side of the
- battery. As for himself, he stopped a moment on the beach to arrange his
- dress, which had been a little disordered by the rough mode of transport
- he had been compelled to adopt, and then he advanced, humming a French
- air, towards the gate of a small fort, which he passed, after having
- slightly returned the military salute of the sentinel on duty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although nothing could, in a seaport, be more natural than that a naval
- officer should cross the roads and walk into a fort, the minds of the
- lookers-on had been so much occupied with the foreign vessel, that there
- was hardly one among the crowd who did not imagine that this visit to the
- commandant of the fort had some relation to her, so that when the young
- officer issued from it, he found himself surrounded so closely by the
- crowd, that for a moment he appeared half inclined to use the rattan which
- he carried in his hand, to make way through it. However after having
- flourished it with impertinent affectation above the heads of those who
- were nearest him, he appeared all at once to change his mind, and
- perceiving Count Emanuel, whose distinguished appearance, and elegant
- uniform, contrasted strikingly with the vulgar air and habiliments of the
- persons who surrounded him, he made a few steps towards him at the same
- moment that the count had advanced to meet him. The two officers merely
- exchanged a rapid glance, but that look at once assured both that they
- were persons of rank and station. They immediately saluted each other with
- that easy grace and affable politeness which characterized the young
- nobility of that period.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By Heaven!” exclaimed the young midshipman; “my dear countryman, for I
- suppose that like myself you are a Frenchman, although I meet you in a
- seemingly hyperborean land, and in regions which, if not absolutely
- savage, appear sufficiently barbarous—will you have the goodness to
- tell me what there is so extraordinary about me, that I seem to cause
- quite a revolution in the country? Or is the appearance of an officer of
- the navy an event so rare and so extraordinary at Lorient, that his mere
- presence excites, in so singular a degree, the curiosity of the natives of
- Lower Brittany? By solving this mystery, you will render me a service
- which I shall be happy to reciprocate, should any opportunity present
- itself in which I can be useful to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This will be so much the more easy,” replied Count Emanuel, “as this
- curiosity is not founded in any feeling which you would consider offensive
- to your uniform or hostile to your person—and the proof of this is,
- my dear comrade—for I see by your epaulettes that we are of equal
- rank in the service of his majesty—that I participate with these
- honest Britons in the curiosity which they evince, although, perhaps, my
- motives are more weighty than theirs, in endeavouring to obtain a solution
- of the problem which has occupied us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I can be of any assistance to you, in the inquiries which you have
- undertaken, I place all the algebra I possess at your disposal. Only the
- position we are in is not a comfortable one to carry out mathematical
- demonstrations. Will it please you to remove to a small distance from
- these honest people, whose presence would only tend to confuse our
- calculations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” replied the mousquetaire, “and the more readily, as, if I do
- not deceive myself, by walking this way I shall lead you nearer to your
- boat and your sailors.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! that is not of the slightest consequence; should this path not be
- convenient to you we can take another. I have plenty of time; and my men
- are less eager to, return on board than I am. Therefore, we will about
- ship, if such is your good pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all; on the contrary, let us go on, the nearer we are to the beach
- the better we can discuss the matter in question. Let us, therefore, walk
- upon this strip of land as far as we can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young seamen, without replying a word, conti-nued to walk on, like a
- man to whom the direction he was to take was perfectly indifferent, and
- these two young men, who had thus met for the first time, walked arm in
- arm, as though they had been friends from infancy, towards the end of the
- promontory. When they had reached the extreme point, Count Emanuel paused,
- and pointed towards the frigate, saying, “Do you know what ship that is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young seaman threw a rapid and scrutinizing glance upon the
- mousquetaire, and then looked towards the ship: “Yes,” replied he,
- negligently, “it is a pretty frigate carrying two and thirty guns, with
- her sails bent and her starboard anchor atrip, ready to sail at the first
- signal given.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excuse me,” replied Emanuel, smiling; “that is not what I ask of you. It
- signifies little to me how many guns she carries, or by what anchor she is
- holding—is not that your technical mode of speaking?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant smiled: in turn. “But,” continued Emanuel, “what I wish to
- know is, to what nation she actually belongs, the port, that she is bound
- to, and the name of her captain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to the nation she belongs to,” replied the lieutenant,
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has taken care to give us that information herself, or she is, an
- outrageous liar; Do you not see her flag flying from her peak? It is the
- flag without a stain, rather worn out from being too much used that’s all.
- As to the place she is bound to, it is as the commandant of the fort told
- you, when, you asked him,—Mexico.” Emanuel looked with astonishment
- at the young lieutenant. “And finally, as to her captain, that is a much
- more difficult matter.. There are some people who would swear he is a
- young man about my own age or yours, for; I, believe we left the cradle
- pretty closely the one after, the other, although the professions we
- follow may place a long interval between our graves. There are others who
- pretend he is of the same age with my uncle the Count d’Estaing, who as
- you doubtless know, has just been made an admiral, and who is at: this
- moment affording every assistance to the rebels of America, as some
- people, even in France, still call them. But, in short, as to his name,
- that is quite another thing; it is said he does not know it himself; and
- until some fortunate occurrence shall apprise him of it, he calls himself
- Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Captain Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul, what?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul, of the <i>Providence</i>, of the <i>Banger</i>, of the <i>Alliance</i>,
- according to the name of the ship he commands. Are there not also in
- France some of our young nobles, who, finding their family name too short,
- lengthen it out by the name of an estate, and surmount the whole with a
- knight’s casque, or a baron’s coronet: so that their seals or their
- carriages bear the evidence of belonging to some ancient family, quite
- delightful to reflect upon? Well! so it is with him. At this moment he
- calls himself, I believe, Paul, of the <i>Indienne</i>, and he is proud of
- the appellation; if I may judge front my naval sympathies, I do not think
- he would exchange his frigate for the finest estate to be found between
- the Port of Brest and the mouth of the Rhone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, tell me,” rejoined Emanuel, after reflecting for a moment on the
- singular mixture of simplicity and sarcasm which pervaded the answers of
- his companion; “what is the character of this man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His character—but, my dear baron—count—marquis”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count,” replied Emanuel, bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my dear count, then, I was about to say that you pursued me from
- one abstraction to another, and that when I placed at you disposal all my
- knowledge in algebra, I did not intend that we should enter into a
- research of the unknown. His character! good heaven, my dear count, who
- can speak knowingly of the character of a man, unless it be himself—and
- even then—but hold—I, myself, as you now see me, have ploughed
- for twenty years, at one time with the keel of a brig, at another with
- that of a frigate, this vast expanse, which now extends itself before us.
- My eyes, for so I may express myself, discerned the ocean almost at the
- same moment that they saw the sky above it; since my tongue was able to
- join two words together, or my comprehension could combine two ideas, I
- have interrogated and studied the caprices of the ocean, and yet I do not,
- even to this time, know its character—and there are only four
- principal winds and thirty-two breezes which agitate it—that’s all.
- How, then, can you expect that I should judge of man, torn as he is by his
- thousand passions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor did I ask you, my dear—duke—marquis—count?”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lieutenant,” replied the young sailor, bowing, as Emanuel had done
- before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was about to say, then, my dear lieutenant, I do not ask a
- physiological lecture on the passions of Captain Paul. I only wish to
- inform myself upon two points. Firstly, whether you consider him a man of
- honor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must first of all understand each other as to the meaning of words, my
- dear count—what is your precise definition of the word honor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Permit me to remark, my dear lieutenant, that this question is a most
- singular one. Honor! Why, honor—is—honor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s it precisely—a word without a definition, like the word God!
- God—is God! and every one creates a God after his own fashion. The
- Egyptians adored him under the form of a scorpion—the Israelites,
- under that of a golden calf. So it is with honor. There is the honor of
- Camillus, and that of Coriolanus—that of the Cid, and that of Count
- Julian. Define your question better if you wish me to reply to it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ask, then, whether his word may be relied upon?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not believe he ever failed in that regard. His enemies—and no
- one can arrive to his station without having them—even his enemies,
- I say, have never doubted that he would keep, even unto death, an oath
- which he had sworn to. This point is, therefore, believe me, fully
- settled. In this respect, he is a man of <i>honor</i>. Let us pass,
- therefore, to your second question, for if I do not deceive myself, you
- wish to know something farther.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I wish to know whether he would faithfully obey an order given by
- his Majesty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What Majesty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Really, my dear lieutenant, you affect a difficulty of comprehension
- which would better suit the gown of a sophist, than a naval uniform.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why so? You accuse me of cavilling, because, before replying, I wish to
- know precisely what I have to answer. We have, at this? present time,
- eight or ten majesties, seated securely or otherwise, upon the different
- thrones of Europe. We have his Catholic Majesty—a feeble majesty,
- who allows the inheritance, left him by Charles, the Fifth, to be torn
- from him piece by piece;—we have his Britannic Majesty—a
- headstrong majesty, who clings to his America, as Cyingetus to the Persian
- ship, and whose hands we shall cut off, if he does not loose his hold;—we
- have his Christian Majesty, whom I venerate and honor”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—it is of him I wish to speak,” said Emanuel,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you believe that Captain Paul would feel disposed to obey an order
- which I should deliver from him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Captain Paul,” replied the lieutenant, “would, as every captain ought to
- do, obey every order emanating from a power which has the right of
- commanding him—unless indeed he be an accursed pirate, or some
- damned privateersman, some buccaneer, who owes no allegiance, and which I
- should doubt from the appearance of the frigate he commands, and from the
- way she is fitted. He must have then in some drawer of his cabin, a
- commission signed by some power or other. Well! should this commission
- bear the name of Louis, and be sealed with the fleur-de-lis of France,
- there can be no doubt that he would obey any order sealed, and signed by
- the same name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is all then that I wish to be informed of,” replied the young
- mousquetaire, who began to grow impatient at the strange and evasive
- answers given by his companion. “I will only ask you one more question.”
- “I am ready to obey your wishes in that, as I have in the rest, count,”
- returned the lieutenant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know any way of getting on board of that ship?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is one,” replied the lieutenant, pointing towards his own boat,
- which lay rocked, by the waves, in a small creek close to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That boat! why, is it yours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! I will take you on board.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know this Captain Paul, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally
- acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the
- hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides which,
- we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic language, by
- which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of the ocean we may
- meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the same frankness in
- which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at your disposal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do me this service, then,” said Emanuel, “and”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations,
- will you not?” said the lieutenant. “You cannot be surprised at it,”
- continued he smiling, “my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman’s life
- has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During a
- calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and
- during the night we address ourselves to God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with
- that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread over
- his features every time he had become the object of investigation, to the
- mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of contempt for
- human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of God. But finding
- that this singular man was disposed to render him, although in a strange
- manner, the service he had asked of him, he accepted his proffered
- assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two young men were advancing
- towards the unknown vessel with as much rapidity as the vigor of six stout
- rowers could give to the light bark in which they were seated. Their oars
- rose and fell with so regular a movement, that it appeared rather impelled
- by some powerful machine, than by the combination of human strength.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- And oh! the little warlike world within!
- The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy;
- The hoarse command, the busy humming din-
- When, at a word, the tops are mann’d on high,
- Hark to the boatswain’s call, the cheering cry;
- While through the seaman’s hands the tackle glides:
- Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by,
- Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,
- And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.—Byron.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more
- clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him
- to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck by
- the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of her
- masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood out
- against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be composed
- of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. There was not,
- however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, which seemed,
- either from inattention or contempt, to care but little for the visit she
- was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, however, at one
- moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping out of one of the
- port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was pointed towards the
- boat; but the ship being gently moved round by the quiet heaving of the
- waves, presented her prow toward them, his attention was attracted by the
- figure-head which generally bears some allusion to the name of the vessel
- that it decorates: it was a representation of one of the daughters of
- America, discovered by Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a
- head-dress of many colored feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with
- a coral necklace. As to the remainder of the figure, it was a curious
- combination, half syren, half serpent, attached to the fore part of the
- ship in a graceful though fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached
- the ship, the more did the attention of the count appear attracted by this
- figure. It was, in fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but
- very remarkable from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to
- perceive, that it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by
- a superior artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a
- seaman, the increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the
- soldier; and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the
- figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that the
- latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did not
- give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its beauties,
- he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question his young
- companion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, count,” said he, concealing the interest which he took in his reply
- under an apparent gaiety, “what do you think of this master-piece?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think,” replied Emanuel, “that comparing it with works of the same
- description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have
- given it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the lieutenant, carelessly, “it is the last work of William
- Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of
- his pupils, named Duprè, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is
- obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of
- ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See,” said he,
- giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, “it is
- a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls that are
- hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond worth a
- hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, besides the
- honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to offer to his
- bride.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What an odd caprice,” exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the singularity
- of the object he was gazing at, “to ornament a ship in the same way that
- one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable sums to the chances
- of a battle, or the dangers of a storm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should this astonish you?” said the lieutenant with an accent of
- indescribable melancholy; “we seamen have no other family than our
- sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the
- tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to
- something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, who
- are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an imaginary
- love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady island, and
- every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the ocean like a
- flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a bird, when
- returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star from out the
- firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the Atlantic, every
- time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it approaches nearer to
- him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There are others, and they
- are the greater number, who attach themselves to their frigate as to a
- well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the tempest tears away any part
- of her, at every wound given by the shot that strikes her, and when she is
- at length sunk by the tempest or the combat, prefer to perish with her,
- rather than to save themselves without her, giving to landsmen a holy
- example of fidelity. Captain Paul is one of the latter class, that’s all,
- and he has given to his frigate the wedding present which he had intended
- for his bride. Ah? I see they are waking up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boat ahoy?” cried some one from on board the frigate, “what boat’s that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We want to come on board,” replied Emanuel; “throw us a rope that we may
- catch hold of.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were
- going up the ship’s side. The officer of the watch came forward with an
- eagerness which appeared in Emanuel’s mind to promise well.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same
- uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, “this is my
- friend, the Count —— By the by, I forgot to ask your name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count Emanuel d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d’Auray, who
- anxiously desires to speak to Captain Paul. Is he on board?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has just this moment arrived,” replied the officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case I will go below and prepare him to receive you, my dear
- count. In the meantime, this is Mr. Walter, who will have the pleasure of
- showing you through the ship. It is an interesting sight for a land
- officer, and the more so, as I doubt whether you would find many ships
- kept in such order as this is. The people are at supper just now, I
- believe?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case it will be the more curious sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” observed the officer, hesitating a little, “it is my watch on
- deck.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! you can easily find one of your brother officers who will relieve
- you for a short time. I will endeavour to manage so that the captain shall
- not make you kick your heels too long in the ante-room. Adieu, till I meet
- you again, count: I shall recommend you in such a way as will insure a
- good reception for you.” With these words, the young lieutenant
- disappeared down the companion ladder, while the one who remained with
- Emanuel to show him over the ship, took him into the ‘tween decks.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the lieutenant had presumed, the crew of the frigate were at their
- supper. It was the first time that the young count had been present at
- such a repast; and however much he desired to speak immediately to the
- captain, he felt so curious to observe what was going on, that he examined
- everything with eager attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- Between every two guns, a table and benches were prepared, not standing on
- their feet, but slung by ropes from above. Four men were seated upon each
- of the benches, taking their portion of pieces of beef, which seemed to
- resist the action of their knives, but which had to do with hearty fellows
- who did not appear at all disposed to be daunted by its toughness. At
- every table there were two cans of wine, that is to say, about a pint for
- each man. As to the bread, it did not appear to be distributed by rations,
- but they could take as much as they wanted. The most profound silence
- reigned throughout the crew, which, was composed of of more than from one
- hundred and eighty to two hundred men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although none of those seated at the table, opened their mouths for any
- other purpose than to eat, Emanuel perceived, with some surprise, that
- they were composed of many different nations, which was easily discernible
- from the contour of their countenances. His <i>cicerone</i> remarked his
- astonishment, and replying to his thought before he had given utterance to
- it, said, with an American accent, which Emanuel had already observed, and
- which proved that he who spoke to him was born on the other side of the
- Atlantic: “Yes, yes, we have a tolerably pretty sample of every nation in
- the world, and if all at once a good deluge should carry off the children
- of Noah, as it formerly did those of Adam, our ark could furnish people
- who speak every language. Do you observe those three fellows who are
- exchanging a piece of roast beef for a clove of garlick, they are lads
- from Galicia, whom we picked up at Cape Ortegal, and who would not go into
- action without having said a prayer to St Jago, of Corapostello, but who,
- when once their prayer is over, would rather allow themselves to be cut in
- pieces, like martyrs, than retreat a single step. Those two who are
- polishing their table at the expense of their jacket-sleeves, are honest
- Dutchmen, who still complain: of the injury done to their commerce by the
- discovery of the Cape of Good Hope. You see them—at first sight they
- look like very beer-pots. Well, those brave fellows, the moment they hear
- the drum beat to quarters, become as active as monkeys; Go near them, and
- they will talk to you about their ancestors; they will tell you they
- descend from those famous sweepers of the sea, who when going into action,
- hoisted a broom instead of a flag; but they will take good care not to
- inform you that one fine morning the English took their broom, and made
- rods of it to whip them with. That whole table, where they are chattering
- together at such a rate, but in an under tone, is occupied by Frenchmen,
- who would talk louder if they dared. The seat of honor is occupied by a
- chief, elected by themselves; he is a Parisian by birth, a cosmopolite
- from taste, a great master at the small sword, singlestick, and a
- dancing-master to boot. Always gay and contented, he sings when he is on
- duty, sings when he is fighting, and will die singing, unless a hemp
- cravat should stop his voice, which may very likely happen to him should
- he have the misfortune to fall into the hands of John Bull. Turn your eyes
- to the other side now, and observe that row of square and idle heads.
- These are strange faces to you, are they not? but which every American
- born between Hudson’s Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, would recognize at once
- for bears born on: the borders of Lake Erie, or seals from Nova Scotia..
- There are three, or four of them who are one eyed—this arises from,
- their peculiar mode of fighting; they twist their fingers in the hair of
- their antagonist, and gouge out his eye with their thumbs. There are some
- of them who are very expert at this exercise, and who never miss their
- mark. So that when they are boarding a ship, they almost invariable throw
- away their boarding, pikes, or their cutlass, and seizing the first
- Englishman they can catch hold of, they uneye him with a dexterity and
- quickness quite delightful to behold. You will now comprehend that I did
- not deceive you in what I said, and that our collection is complete.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” asked Emanuel, who had listened to this long enumeration with a
- certain degree of interest, “how does your captain manage to make himself
- understood by men brought together from such distant nations?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “First of all our captain understands all languages—and although in
- battle and during stormy weather he speaks his mother tongue, he; gives
- such an accent to it that every one understands him and obeys: him. But
- see, the larboard cabin door is opening, and I doubt not he is ready
- to-receive you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And instantly a boy dressed in a midshipman’s uniform came up to the two
- officers, and asked Emanuel if he did not call himself the Count d’Auray;
- and on his receiving an affirmative reply, he requested him to follow him;
- and the officer who had so conscientiously sustained the part of a
- cicerone, immediately went on deck to resume his duties there. As to
- Emanuel, he advanced towards the cabin with a mixed feeling of anxiety and
- curiosity, He was at last about to be ushered in the presence of Captain
- Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a man who appeared to be between fifty and fifty-five years of age,
- and to whom the habit of walking between decks had given him a stoop
- rather than age. He wore the uniform of the French navy, accord-ing to its
- strictest regulations. It was a blue coat with scarlet facings, a red
- waistcoat, and breeches of the same color, grey stockings, with frilled
- shirt and’ ruffles. His hair, rolled up in large curls, and powdered quite
- white, was tied into a queue by a ribbon, the ends of which floated upon
- his shoulders. His cocked hat and his sword were lying upon a table beside
- him. At the moment Emanuel entered the door, he was sitting upon the
- carriage of a gun, but when he perceived him, he rose up to receive him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young count felt intimidated by the aspect of this man: there was in
- his eye a searching look which appeared to peer into the very soul of the
- person whom he gazed upon. Perhaps, also, this impression was the more
- powerful, that he presented himself before him with a conscience that
- reproached him with the act he was endeavouring to accomplish, and of
- which he was about to render the captain, if not an accomplice, at all
- events the executioner. These two men, as though they felt a secret
- repulsion, the one towards the other, saluted each other with politeness,
- but with cold reserve.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the Count d’Auray that I have the honor of addressing,” said the
- old officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I Captain Paul, I believe,” replied the young mousquetaire; they both
- bowed a second time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I know to what fortunate chance I owe the honor,” rejoined the
- captain, “of the visit which is now paid to me by the heir of one of the
- oldest and greatest families in Brittany?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel bowed again by way of thanks for this compliment, and then, after
- hesitating for a moment as if he found it difficult to open the
- conversation, he observed: “I am told, Captain Paul, that you are bound to
- the Gulf of Mexico?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have not been deceived, sir; I purpose sailing for New Orleans,
- calling on my way at Cayenne, and at the Havannah.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This falls out very fortunately, captain, and you will not have to alter
- your course, in case you should be willing to undertake the execution of
- the order of which I am the bearer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have an order to communicate to me, sir, and from whom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From the Minister of Marine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An order addressed to me personally?” reiterated the captain, doubtingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not personally to you, sir; but to any captain of the royal navy, who may
- be about to sail for South America.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what nature is it, count?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A state prisoner to be transported to Cayenne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have the order with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here it is,” replied Emanuel, taking it from his pocket, and presenting
- it to the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took the paper, and going near the cabin window, that he might avail
- himself of the last gleam of daylight, he read aloud:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Ministers of Marine and of the Colonies, orders any captain or
- lieutenant, commanding a government vessel, who may be about to sail for
- South America, or for the Gulf of Mexico, to take on board his ship and to
- land at Cayenne, the person named Lusignan, condemned to transportation
- for life. During the passage the convict shall take his meals in his own
- cabin, and shall not be allowed to have any communication with the ship’s
- company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the order in due form?” asked Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfectly, sir,” replied the captain. “And are you disposed to execute
- it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Am I not under the orders of the Minister of Marine?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The prisoner may then be sent to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whenever you will; but it had better be this evening, or as soon as
- possible, as I do not expect to be long in these roads.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will take care that due diligence shall be used.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this all that you have to say to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing further, excepting to add my thanks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not add anything, sir. The minister orders, and I obey, that’s all. It
- is a duty which I fulfil, and not a service that I am rendering.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon these words, the captain and the count bowed to each other and
- separated, more coldly even than they had met.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he reached the deck, Emanuel asked the officer of the watch for his
- friend who had accompanied him on board, but was informed he had been
- detained by Captain Paul to sup with him, and that being anxious to oblige
- the count, he had placed his boat as his disposal.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was waiting alongside the ship, and the sailors were in readiness to
- accompany him. Emanuel had scarcely got into her when they rowed him away
- with a rapidity equal to that with which they had conducted him on board.
- But this time she proceeded in sorrowful silence, for the young lieutenant
- was no longer there to animate the count with his practical philosophy.
- </p>
- <p>
- That same night the prisoner was conducted on board the <i>Indienne</i>,
- and the next morning at day-break the inquisitive inhabitants of the coast
- no longer discerned the frigate which had given rise to so many
- conjectures, and whose unexpected arrival, her remaining there without any
- apparent object, and her spontaneous departure, remained an inexplicable
- mystery to the inhabitants of Fort Louis.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- The gallant vessels side by side did lie,
- Yard-arm and yard-arm, and the murd’rous guns
- Belch’d forth their flame and shot, ‘till the white decks
- Ran like a sea with blood. Uncertain still
- The victory stood, ‘till Perry, waving
- His bright sword o’er his head, cried, “Follow me!”
- A hundred shouts responded to this call,
- Then with one spring he bounded on the deck
- Of his determined foe.—Oxd Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As the motives which had induced Captain Paul to visit the coast of
- Brittany had no relation with our history, excepting as far as regards the
- events which we have related, we shall leave our readers in the same state
- of uncertainty as were the inhabitants of Fort Louis; and although our’
- vocation and our sympathies naturally incline us to terra-firma, we must
- follow our hero for a few days in his adventurous course upon the ocean.
- The weather was as beautiful as it generally is on the western coast of
- France, at the commencement of autumn. The <i>Indienne</i> sailed gaily on
- with as fair a wind as could blow for her. The ship’s crew, excepting
- those actually employed in manoeuvring the vessel, were availing
- themselves of the fine weather and occupied in their own matters, as
- caprice directed them, or were idly lounging about the ship, when all at
- once a voice which appeared to descend from the sky, called out, “Below,
- there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hullo, there!” replied the quarter-master, who was standing near the
- helm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sail, ho!” cried the seaman who was on the lookout, at the head-mast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sail, ho!” repeated the quarter-master. “Officer of the deck, be so good
- as to inform the captain there is a sail in sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sail! a sail!” re-echoed the crew from different parts of the deck; for
- at that moment a wave, having raised the vessel which appeared upon the
- horizon, had for an instant rendered her visible to the eyes of the ship’s
- company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sail!” exclaimed a young man of five-and-twenty, springing upon the
- quarter deck from the cabin stairs; “ask Mr Arthur what he thinks of her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mast head, there!” cried the lieutenant, using his speaking trumpet; “the
- captain wants to know, Mr. Arthur, what you make of the strange sail.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Arthur, the young midshipman, had gone aloft immediately upon hearing a
- sail announced. He replied, “She looks like a large square-rigged vessel,
- close hauled, and steering for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said the young man, to whom Walter had given the title of
- captain, “she has as good eyes as we have, and she has seen us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, if she wishes for a little chat, she will find us ready to
- talk to her. Besides, our guns must be almost choked from having their
- mouths stopped so long.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After some little time, the midshipman again hailed the officer on deck,
- and told him that the strange ship had just set her mainsail, and had
- altered her course a little, so as to cross their bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the captain, addressing the lieutenant, “get ready to beat to
- quarters, we must prepare for this fellow; he looks rather suspicious.”
- And then calling out to the midshipman, “How does the ship seem to sail,
- Mr. Arthur? what do you think of her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She seems to be a fast sailer, and is a man-of-war, I should think, by
- the squareness of her yards; and although I cannot see her flag, I would
- wager that she bears King George’s commission.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should not wonder,” observed the captain to the first lieutenant, “and
- that she has orders to give chase to a certain frigate called the
- Indienne, and that her commander is promised good promotion should he
- succeed in capturing her. Ha! ha! now she is loosing her top gallant
- sails. The blood hound has scented us, and is decidedly about to give us
- chase. Set our top gallant sails, too, Mr. Walter, and let us keep our
- course without varying a point. We shall see whether they will dare to
- come athwart our hawse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain’s orders were instantly repeated by the lieutenant, and in a
- few minutes the ship which had been running under her top sails, felt the
- influence of her top gallant sails, heeled over under this new pressure
- and bounded along as if animated by the sight of an enemy, and dashing
- away the spray from either bow with eager impetuosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some time there was hardly a word uttered on board. Every one appeared
- to wait anxiously the termination of this state of suspense, and we shall
- profit by this momentary quiet, to call the attention of our readers to
- the person of the officer to whom the lieutenant had given the title of
- captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was no longer either the young and sceptical lieutenant whom we have
- seen accompanying the Count d’Auray on board the ship, nor the old
- sea-wolf with his stooping gait, and harsh and snappish answers, who had
- received him in the cabin. He was a handsome young man, from twenty to
- twenty-five years of age, as we have said before, who, having thrown off
- all disguise, appeared at length in his own person, and dressed in the
- fanciful uniform which he always wore when upon the wide ocean. It was a
- sort of great coat of black velvet, with gold shoulder knots and fastened
- with hooks and eyes of the same metal. Round his waist he wore a Turkish
- belt, in which was placed a pair of elegant duelling pistols, richly
- inlaid and ornamented, apparently more for show than defence. His
- pantaloons were of white kerseymere, with boots which reached nearly to
- his knees. Round his neck, a cravat of transparent India muslin,
- embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, was loosely tied; his
- hair, no longer disfigured by powder, and black as ebony, flowed about his
- cheeks, which were tanned by exposure to the sun; his eyes beamed with
- hope and animation. Near him, upon a gun, was placed a steel helmet which
- fastened by a curb chain under the chin. This was his battle dress, and
- the only defensive armour which he wore. Some deep indentations in his
- helmet proved that it had more than once-saved the head which it protected
- from those severe wounds inflicted by those terrible cutlasses used by
- seamen when boarding. As to the ship’s company, they wore the elegant
- though plain uniform of the French navy.
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time, the vessel which had been described by the man at the
- mast head, and which had then appeared like a white speck upon the
- horizon, had become, little by little, a pyramid of sails and rigging. All
- eyes were fixed upon her, and although no order had been actually given,
- every one of the crew had taken the position which individually belonged
- to him, as though it had been determined that a combat should take place.
- There reigned then on board the Indienne that solemn and profound silence,
- which in a ship of war always precedes the decisive orders of the captain.
- Finally, the hull of the strange sail appeared rising out of the water, as
- her sails had successively done before. It was then clearly discernible
- that she was a larger ship than the Indienne, and that she carried
- thirty-six guns. She, however, showed no colors, and as her crew were
- carefully and completely concealed behind her bulwarks, it was impossible
- to ascertain, unless by some particular indications, to what nation she
- belonged. These two observations were made almost at the same moment by
- Captain Paul; the last, however, seemed to strike him the most forcibly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears,” said he, addressing his lieutenant, “that we are going to
- have a scene of a masked ball. Order Arthur to bring us a few flags, and
- let us prove to this unknown, that the Indienne has several disguises at
- her disposal. And then, Mr. Walter, give orders that cutlasses and
- boarding pikes be distributed, for we can hardly expect, in these seas, to
- meet with any but enemy’s ships.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The two orders were executed; as soon as given. In an instant the young
- midshipman had brought on deck a dozen flags of different nations, and
- Lieutenant Walter, having had the arm chest opened, had boarding pikes
- piled in different positions throughout the ship, and had distributed
- cutlasses and axes to the ship’s company, he then returned to his place by
- the Captain’s side. Every man again resumed his post by instinct rather
- than by order, for they had not yet beat to quarters; so that the apparent
- confusion which had existed for a moment ceased at once, and the frigate
- became once more, as it were, silent and attentive.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the two ships following their converging directions, continued to
- approach each other. When they were about the distance of three gun shots,
- “Mr. Walter,” said the Captain, “I think it is time we should begin to
- mistify our good friend here. Let us show him the old Scotch flag.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant gave a sign to the quartermaster, and the red Lion of
- Scotland, on a blue field, rose like a flame to the peak of the <i>Indienne</i>;
- but nothing on board the enemy’s ship gave evidence of their paying the
- slightest attention to this manouvre.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” murmured the captain, “the three leopards of England have so
- well filed the teeth and pared the claws of the Scottish lion, that they
- pay no attention to him, believing that he is tamed because he is
- defenceless. Show him some other color, Mr. Walter, and perhaps we shall
- succeed in loosening his tongue.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What flag shall I hoist, captain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the first one that comes; chance may perhaps favor us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This order was scarcely given, when the Scotch flag was hauled down, and
- that of Sardinia took its place. The ship still remained mute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, well,” said the captain, jestingly, “it appears that His Majesty,
- King George, is on good terms with his brother of Cyprus and Jerusalem. Do
- not let us bring them to loggerheads by carrying our joke farther, Mr.
- Walter, let us show the American flag, and prove that it is really the
- right one, by firing an unshotted gun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The same manouvre was repeated. The Sardinian flag was hauled down, and
- the stars of the United States rose slowly towards the sky, and were
- certified by firing a gun.
- </p>
- <p>
- What the captain had foreseen then happened immediately on the display of
- this symbol of rebellion rising insolently in the air. The unknown ship
- immediately betrayed its incognita by hoisting the British flag. At the
- same moment a cloud of smoke was seen issuing from the side of the
- royalist ship, and before the report was heard, a cannon ball was seen
- tipping from wave to wave, and fell about a hundred yards short of the
- Indienne.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beat to quarters, Mr. Walter, for you see we have guessed rightly. Come,
- my boys,” cried he, to the crew, “hurrah for America! and death to
- England!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was answered by a general shout, and had not ceased, when they heard
- them beating to quarters on board the <i>Drake</i>, for that was the name
- of the English ship. The drums of the Indienne immediately replied, and
- every man ran to his post:—the gunners to their guns, the officers
- to their stations, and the sailors to their running rigging. As to the
- captain, he jumped upon the top of the companion, his speaking trumpet in
- his hand—the supreme symbol, the sceptre of nautical royalty, which
- the commander always wields in the hour of combat or during the raging of
- the tempest.
- </p>
- <p>
- They now seem to have made an exchange of parts, for the English appeared
- impatient, and the Americans affected calmness. The ships were hardly
- within gun shot, when a long line of smoke was seen issuing from the side
- of the English vessel, and a report similar to loud thunder was heard, and
- the iron messengers sent to deal death among the rebels, having in their
- impetuosity, miscalculated the distance, fell harmless before reaching the
- sides of the frigate. The latter, however, as if refusing to reply to so
- premature an attack, continued to haul to the wind, as if to spare the
- enemy too long a course.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this moment the captain turned, as if to give a last look round his
- ship, and his astonished gaze was attracted by the appearance of a new
- personage on the deck, who had selected this dangerous and exciting moment
- to make his entrance upon the scene.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a young man, somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three years of
- age. His face was pale and mild; he was plainly, but elegantly dressed,
- and whom the captain had not before seen on board. He was leaning against
- the mizen-mast, his arms folded over his chest, and looking with
- melancholy indifference at the English vessel which was approaching them
- under a heavy press of canvas. The calmness at such a moment, and in a man
- who appeared a stranger to nautical combats, forcibly struck the captain.
- He then remembered the prisoner, whom the Count d’Auray had announced to
- him, and who had been brought on board during the last night he had passed
- at the anchorage of Port Louis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who allowed you to come on deck, sir?” said he, softening as much as
- possible, the tone of his enquiry, so that it would have been difficult to
- ascertain whether this was addressed as a mere question, or as a reproach.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one, sir,” replied the prisoner, in a soft and sorrowful voice; “but I
- had hoped that under the present circumstances, you would less severely
- observe the orders by which I became your prisoner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you forgotten that you were forbidden to hold any communication with
- the ship’s company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not come here for the purpose of holding communication with the
- ship’s company, sir; I came to see whether some friendly cannon ball would
- do me a good’ turn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may, but too soon, have your desire accomplished, if you remain where
- you are now standing; therefore, believe me, you had better remain below.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this your advice; or an order, captain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have full liberty to construe it as you please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case,” replied the young man, “I thank you—I will remain
- here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At this instant, another loud report was heard; but the two ships had by
- this time neared each other so much, that they were within gun-shot, and
- the whole tempest of shot passed through the sails of the Indienne. Two
- splinters fell from the masts; and the groans and stifled cries of some of
- the ship’s company were heard. The captain, at that moment, had his eyes
- fixed upon the prisoner, above whose head, a cannon ball had passed within
- two feet, grazing the mizen mast, against which he was leaning; but
- notwithstanding this death warning, he remained calm and unmoved, in the
- same attitude as if he had not felt the wing of the exterminating angel
- waft above his head. The captain knew how to appreciate courage—this
- incident was sufficient to assure him of the undaunted bravery of the man
- who stood before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tis well, sir,” said he to him; “remain where you are, and when we come
- to boarding, if you should be tired of remaining with your arms crossed,
- take up a cutlass, or an axe, and give us a helping hand. You will excuse
- me not payings you more attention at this moment, for I have other things
- to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire!” cried he, in a voice of thunder, through his speaking trumpet,
- “now, give it her: fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire!” repeated the officers like an echo, at their different stations.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the instant, the Indienne trembled from her keel, to her royal mast
- head, as she poured her broadside into the enemy—a cloud of smoke
- spread itself like a veil, along the starboard-side, which was soon
- carried to leeward. The captain, standing upon the companion, impatiently
- awaited its clearing off, that he might ascertain the effect which the
- broadside had produced upon the enemy’s vessel. When his gaze could
- penetrate through the smoke, he perceived that the enemy’s main top mast
- had fallen, and had, with its sails, encumbered the after-part of the
- Drake’s deck, and that her other sails were cut to ribbons. Then putting
- his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he cried—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done! my lads. Now watch her closely. They will be too busy in
- clearing away the wreck of their mast, to think of raking us—fire—as
- you can—and this time shave close!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The crew hastened to obey this order—the frigate veered round, and
- as the guns were brought to bear upon the enemy, they were discharged with
- terrible effect; and, as the captain had imagined, without any hindrance
- from the Drake. The Indienne once more trembled like a volcano, and, as a
- volcano, vomited forth her flame and smoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- This time the gunners had followed the orders of their captain to the
- letter, (and the broadside had been fired point blank) striking the hull
- and the lower masts. Both her masts were still standing; but on all sides
- the sails were hanging in tatters. It appeared that some more considerable
- damage had been done, which it was impossible to ascertain at that
- distance; for some time, the broadside was not returned; at length it was,
- and instead of raking the <i>Indienne</i>, it struck her in a diagonal
- direction. It was not the less terrible, for it swept off many a brave
- fellow from the deck; but by a chance which appeared positively magical,
- touched neither of the masts. Some of the running rigging was cut, but
- nothing that prevented her manoeuvring as before. At one glance, Paul
- ascertained that he had only lost some men. His heart bounded with joy. He
- once more placed the speaking-trumpet to his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Larboard the helm,” cried he, “and board her on the larboard side!
- Boarders, to your stations—be ready! Give her one more broadside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the first movement of the <i>Indienne</i>, the enemy at once perceived
- the intention, and endeavoured to neutralize it by it similar movement,
- but at the instant of attempting to execute it, a dreadful crash was heard
- on board her, and the mainmast, which had been nearly cut through by the
- last discharge from the <i>Indienne</i>, trembled, for a few seconds like
- an uprooted tree, and fell forward, covering the deck with the mainsail
- and the rigging. Captain Paul at once comprehended what had delayed the
- return of the broadside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, she is ours, my lads!” cried he; “we have only to take her. One last
- broadside within pistol shot, and then we’ll board her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The <i>Indienne</i> obeyed her helm, as does a well trained horse the
- bridle, and unopposed, advanced towards her enemy, for the latter had no
- steerage-way upon her, and her guns were consequently useless. The Drake
- was therefore at the mercy of her adversary, who by remaining at a
- distance and playing at long bowls, might have riddled her and sunk her,
- but disdaining this too easy victory, sent in a last broadside; and then,
- before seeing the effect it had produced, the frigate ran in upon her
- larboard quarter, and threw her grappling-irons on board. On the instant,
- the tops and forecastle of the Indienne blazed as with fireworks on a
- holiday, and flaming grenades were showered upon the deck of the Drake
- with the rapidity of hailstones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage, my lads, courage, lash the bowsprit to her quarter rails. Well
- done! now, to your two forecastle carronades—fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- All these orders were executed with magical celerity: the two ships were
- as securely lashed together as if by iron chains—the two carronades
- which had not been fired during the combat, thundered in there turn, and
- swept the enemy’s deck with a cloud of grape shot, and then another cry
- was heard, uttered by the same stentorian voice—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, board her!!!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And, adding example to precept, the captain of the <i>Indienne</i> threw
- aside his speaking trumpet, now of no longer use, placed his helmet on his
- head, fastening the clasp beneath his chin; placed the sabre which he
- usually wore in his belt between his teeth, and rushed upon the bowsprit
- to jump thence upon the deck of the enemy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although this movement followed the order he had given with as great
- rapidity as the thunder succeeds the lightning, he was only the second
- upon the English deck: he was preceded by the young prisoner with whom he
- had conversed, who had thrown aside his coat, and armed only with a
- hatchet, was the first to encounter death or victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not conversant with the discipline of my ship,” said Paul,
- laughing; “it is my place to be the first to board a ship I am attacking.
- I forgive you this time, but take care it does not again happen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same instant, the seamen of the <i>Indienne</i> rushed from their
- own ship to the enemy’s, taking advantage of every point of contact, some
- from the bowsprit, others from the end of the yards, and nettings, and
- fell upon the deck like ripe fruit falling from a tree when shaken by the
- wind. Then the English, who had retreated to their forecastle, unmasked a
- carronade which they had had time to turn upon their enemy. A volley of
- fire and iron was vomited forth on the assailants. One fourth of the crew
- of the <i>Indienne</i> fell killed or mutilated on the enemy’s deck, in
- the midst of cries and maledictions. But above the cries and blasphemous
- oaths, a voice resounded, crying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forward—all of you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then ensued a scene of appalling confusion—a combat hand to hand—a
- general duel. To the roar of cannon, to the report of musketry, to the
- explosion of hand grenades, had succeeded the struggle with cold steel,
- less noisy but more sure, above all with seamen, who have retained for
- their sole use this inheritance from the giants, proscribed for more than
- two centuries on the field of battle. It was with hatchets that they
- cleaved each other’s sculls; it was with cutlasses they wounded each
- other’s breasts; it was with boarding-pikes that they nailed each other to
- the deck and masts. From time to time, in the midst of this mute carnage,
- a stray pistol shot was heard, but isolated, and as if ashamed of taking
- part in such a butchery. It lasted nearly a quarter of an hour, and amidst
- a confusion it would be impossible to describe. And then the British flag
- was lowered, and the crew of the Drake being driven below, there remained
- on deck only the conquerors, the wounded and the dead; in the midst of
- whom was the captain of the <i>Indienne</i>, surrounded by his crew, with
- his foot upon the breast of the captain of the enemy’s ship, having on his
- right his first lieutenant, Walter, and on his left his young prisoner,
- whose shirt, steeped in blood, witnessed the share he had in the victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, all is over,” said Paul, stretching out his hand; “and he who
- strikes another blow will have to deal with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then holding out his hand to his young prisoner, “Sir,” said he, “you will
- relate to me, to-night, how it was that you were made my prisoner, will
- you not! For there must be some cowardly machination in this affair. The
- infamous only are transported to Cayenne, and you are too brave to be
- infamous.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth,
- And of most royal presence—but sad thoughts
- Seemed to possess her wholly—her children, even,
- Seldom approached her, and when they did,
- No soft affection, motherly caress,
- Was e’er accorded to them—stern and cold,
- She looked a moving statue.—Old Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just related,
- and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise, whose wheels
- and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified that it had
- performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along, although two powerful
- horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between Vanness and Auray. The
- traveller it contained, and who was roughly jolted in traversing the
- cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count Emanuel, whom we saw open
- the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was coming from Paris with all
- haste, and proceeding to his ancient family mansion, with regard to which
- it is now necessary to give some more precise and circumstantial details.
- </p>
- <p>
- Count Emanuel d’Auray was descended from one of the oldest families in
- Brittany—one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy
- Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor, had
- been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in its
- victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d’Auray, Chevalier of the
- order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and Grand Cross
- of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of Louis XV., in
- which he filled the post of high steward, that high distinction to which
- his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit, truly entitled him. His
- influence there had been increased by his marriage with Mademoiselle de
- Sable, who was his equal in every thing that regarded family or credit at
- court: so that a brilliant future was opened to the ambition of the young
- people, when, after being married five years, a report was suddenly spread
- about the court, that the Marquis d’Auray had become insane during a
- journey he had made to his estates. This report was for a long time
- disbelieved. At length the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his
- wife made their appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him
- another year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason,
- refused to appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and
- even the marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In
- France people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which
- even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of
- indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old
- chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting
- or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of a
- son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d’Aurays, therefore,
- continued to figure among the names of the French nobility; but not having
- mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in court intrigues
- or in political affairs, not having sided either with a Pampadour or a Du
- Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the victories of the
- Maréchal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count Clermont—in
- short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been completely forgotten.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the ancient name of the lords of d’Auray had been twice
- pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first time
- on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel’s being admitted in 1769, as
- one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after having served
- his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires of the young
- King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted with the Baron
- de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who was favorably
- disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable degree of influence
- with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to his old courtier, who
- having been informed that the Count d’Auray had a sister, one day let fall
- a few words upon the possibility of an union between the two families.
- Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied with struggling beneath the
- veil which had obscured his family name, saw in this marriage a means of
- regaining the position which his father had occupied at court under the
- late king, and had eagerly caught at the first overtures for this
- alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under the pretext of uniting
- himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood, to his young friend, had
- urged his suit with an eagerness which was so much the more flattering to
- Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand of his sister had never seen
- her. The Marchioness d’Auray had listened the more readily to this
- proposal, as it opened to her son the road to royal favor, and the
- marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two young people, at all
- events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded M. de Lectoure three or
- four days only, had hastened into the country to inform his mother that
- everything had been arranged according to her desire. As to Marguerite,
- the intended wife, they contented themselves with informing her of the
- resolution they had taken without thinking it necessary to ask her consent
- to it, in about the same way that a criminal is informed of the sentence
- which condemns him to the scaffold.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of future
- exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated projects of
- ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy castle of his
- family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards, overgrown with
- grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden hopes that agitated
- him. The castle was a league and a half distant from any other dwelling.
- The principal facade overlooked that part of the ocean, which being so
- constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name of “the Wild Sea.” The
- other looked toward an immense park, which, being for twenty years
- abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete forest. As to the
- apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with the exception of
- those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had been renewed
- during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of a numerous
- household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which the more
- modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more elegant, was
- less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops of Boule, the
- appointed upholsterer of the court.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney
- pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was ushered
- on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to communicate to his
- mother the happy news of which he was the bearer, that without taking the
- time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his gloves, and travelling
- pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant to inform the marchioness
- of his arrival, and to ask her permission to present himself, saying that
- he would await it in that room; for such in this old family was the
- respect paid to parents, that the son, after an absence of five months,
- did not dare to present himself to his mother, without in the first place
- consulting her desires upon the subject. As to the Marquis d’Auray, his
- children could not remember having seen him more than two or three times,
- and then it was by stealth: for his insanity was of a nature, it was said,
- that certain objects irritated, and they had been always kept from him
- with the greatest precaution. The marchioness alone, a model of conjugal
- virtue, remained always with him, fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not
- only the duties of a wife, but also those of a servant. Consequently, her
- name was revered in the surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose
- devotedness on earth has gained a place in heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the
- marchioness d’Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that the
- count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost
- immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel’s
- mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age, tall
- and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy features
- had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command. She was in
- costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time that her husband
- had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her mourning garments. Her
- long black gown gave to her movements, cold and slow as those of a shadow,
- a solemn appearance, which shed around this extraordinary woman a feeling
- of awe, which even filial affection had never been able to surmount.
- Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started as at the sight of an unexpected
- apparition, and instantly rising, he advanced three steps toward her,
- respectfully went down upon one knee, and kissed the hand she presented to
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rise, sir,” said the marchioness. “I am happy to see you again.” And she
- pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who had been
- absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel obeyed,
- conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated herself,
- and he remained standing before her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I received your letter, count,” she said, “and I congratulate you on your
- skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than for
- military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain an
- embassy for you, rather than a regiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what is
- more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power with
- M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In love with a woman he has never seen?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of
- Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our fortune,
- has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your son and to
- call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that all the
- preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You have
- obtained the publication of the bans, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With the help of God, all will be ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But tell me,” continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her chair,
- and bending toward Emanuel, “has he not questioned you regarding that
- young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of
- deportation?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without
- entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit
- confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world, that
- they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he knows nothing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—but did he know all——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the discovery
- would not in any way influence his determination.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift,” replied the marchioness,
- with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if speaking to
- herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But supposing it should be so,” said Emanuel anxiously, “your resolution
- would be still unchanged, I hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our former
- influence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, there is only my sister——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my
- presence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our
- family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not
- conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having
- been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king
- at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your
- virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him,
- even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason; your
- virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses, but of
- which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in this old
- forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission, which you
- call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they forget you
- (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count six hundred
- years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at court, our name,
- the name of the family d’Auray, was hardly known to their majesties, but
- as an historical recollection.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories,” murmured the
- marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such a
- blasphemy, she rejoined, “I hope that the blessing of God may always
- attend their majesties and France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what can in any way affect their happiness?” replied Emanuel, with
- that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the
- distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility.
- “Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both of
- them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them, Heaven be
- praised, beyond the reach of every evil.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one, my son,” replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head,
- “believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty.
- No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master it,
- firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head, were it
- even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The people, you
- say, are brave and loyal.” The marchioness arose and slowly advanced to
- the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean. “Observe that
- sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this night, in an
- hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the cries of distress
- of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I am separated from the
- world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears, borne as it were by
- invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not exist a sect of
- philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the errors which it
- propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which is detaching itself
- from the mother country, whose children refuse to acknowledge their
- father? Is there not a people who style themselves a nation? Have I not
- heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the ocean, to offer to
- rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but at the call of their
- legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told, moreover, or is it but
- the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI. and the Queen, Marie
- Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are a family of brothers,
- have authorised these armed emigrations, and have given letters of marque
- to I know not what foreign pirate?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All this is true,” said Emanuel, much astonished.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of France!”
- rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room, leaving
- Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw her
- withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant
- character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change
- his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window
- which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence he
- could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between d’Auray
- and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he perceived two
- persons on horseback, following the same road he had just travelled over,
- and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they drew nearer he
- could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his servant. The first,
- dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of that day, that is to
- say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs, stocking-knit breeches,
- and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad brim, and his hair tied
- with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on an English horse of rare
- beauty and great value, which he managed with a grace that proved he had
- made equestrian exercises a profound study. He was followed at a short
- distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery was in perfect harmony
- with the lordly air of the person whom he served. Emanuel imagined for a
- moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards the castle, that it was
- the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his departure from Paris,
- intended to surprise him; but he soon found that he was mistaken; and
- although it appeared to him that it was not the first time he had seen the
- horseman, he could not recollect where or under what circumstances he had
- met him. While he was racking his memory to discover the event in his life
- with which this vague remembrance was connected, the strangers had
- disappeared behind an angle of the castle wall. Five minutes afterwards
- Emanuel heard the sound of their horses’ feet in the court yard, and,
- almost immediately the door was opened; a servant announced, “<i>Mr. Paul!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Woman’s love
- Once given, may break the heart that holds—but never
- Melts into air save with her latest sigh.
-
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain,
-</pre>
- <p>
- The name, as well as the appearance of the person thus announced, awakened
- in their turn in the mind of Emanuel a confused recollection of which he
- could not affix either date or event. The person, preceded by the servant,
- entered the room by a door opposite the one through which the marchioness
- had retired. Although the moment was ill-timed for a visit, and though the
- young count, pre-occupied by his projects for the future, would have
- preferred meditating upon and ripening them, he was compelled, by the
- rules of etiquette, so severe in those days between well-bred people, to
- receive the visitor with courtesy and politeness. The deportment of the
- latter bespoke the man of distinction. After the usual salutations,
- Emanuel, by a gesture, invited the stranger to be seated, who bowed and
- took a chair, and then the conversation commenced with some common-place
- polite observation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am delighted to meet you, count,” said the stranger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Chance has favored me, sir,” replied Emanuel; “an hour sooner you would
- not have found me here: I have just arrived from Paris.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am aware of that, count, for we have been travelling the same road. I
- set out an hour after you, and all along the road I heard of you, by means
- of the postillions who had the honor of driving you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I be bold enough to ask,” said Emanuel, in a tone which began to
- evince a certain degree of dissatisfaction, “to what circumstance I owe
- the interest you appear to evince concerning me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This interest is perfectly natural between old acquaintance, and perhaps.
- I might have reason to complain that it does not appear to be reciprocal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In fact, sir, it does appear to me,” replied Emanuel, “that I have met
- you somewhere; but my recollection serves me but confusedly; will you be
- kind enough to assist it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If what you say be the case, count, your memory must indeed be rather
- fugitive, for within the last six months, on three separate occasions, I
- have the honor of exchanging compliments with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even should I expose myself to further reproach, I am compelled to say
- that I still remain in the same state of uncertainty with regard to your
- person. Pray, therefore, have the goodness to fix my memory, by aid of
- more precise dates, on some event, and remind me under what circumstances
- I had the honor of meeting you for the first time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The first time, count? it was on the jetty of Port Louis. You desired to
- obtain some information with regard to a certain frigate, which I was so
- fortunate as to be able to furnish you. I believe, even, that I
- accompanied you on board. Upon that occasion I wore the uniform of a
- lieutenant in the royal navy, and you that of a mousquetaire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I now well recollect it, sir, and I was obliged to leave the vessel
- without offering the thanks I owed you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, count; I received those thanks during our second
- interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And where did that take place?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On board the very vessel to which I had conducted you—in the cabin.
- I then wore the uniform of the captain of the ship: blue coat, red
- waistcoat and breeches, with grey stockings, a three-cornered hat, and
- curled hair. Only the captain appeared to you some thirty years older than
- the lieutenant, and it was not without motive that I had made myself
- appear so much older, for you would perhaps, not have chosen to confide to
- a young man a secret of such importance as you then communicated to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What you now say is incredible, sir; and yet something tells me that it
- was really so. Yes, yes; I now remember that in the shade in which you
- remained half concealed, I saw eyes sparkling similar to yours. I have not
- forgotten them; but this was only the time before the last, you say, that
- I had the honor of seeing you. Continue, sir, I beg, to assist my memory,
- for I cannot recollect our third interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The last, count, was only a week since, at Paris—at a fencing
- match, at Saint-George’s, in the rue Chanterecin. You remember, do you
- not, an English gentleman, with his hair so red that his powder could
- scarcely conceal its brilliant color—a scarlet coat, and tightly
- fitting pantaloons. I even had the honor of trying a bout with you, and I
- was fortunate enough to hit you three times, while, on the contrary, you
- were not lucky enough to touch me once. On that occasion I called myself
- Jones.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is most singular—it was certainly the same look, but it could
- not be the same man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The will of God has directed that the look should be the only thing which
- cannot be disguised, and this is why he has thrown into the look a spark
- of his own light. Well, then, the lieutenant, the captain, the Englishman,
- were one and the same person.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the present moment, sir, what are you if you please? For, with a man
- who can so perfectly disguise himself, that question you must admit, is
- not altogether unnecessary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the present moment, count, as you see, I have no motive for
- concealment, and, therefore, I have come to you in the simple costume of
- the young nobility, when they visit each other as neighbors in the
- country. I am whatever you may please to consider me; French, English,
- Spanish, or even an American. In which of these languages would you wish
- our conversation to be continued?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Although some of these languages may be as familiar to me as they are to
- you, sir, I prefer the French language; it is that of a plain and concise
- explanations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be it so,” replied Paul, with an expression of profound melancholy; “the
- French is also the language I prefer; I first saw the day upon French
- ground, for the sun of France was that which gladdened my eyes; and
- although I have often seen more fertile climes, and a more brilliant sun,
- there has never been for me but one country and one sun, the sun and the
- country of Franco!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your national enthusiasm,” said Emanuel, interrupting him ironically,
- “causes you to forget the motive to which I am indebted for the honor of
- this visit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, and I will return to it. It was, then, about six
- months ago, while walking on the jetty of Port Louis, you saw in the outer
- roads a fine sharp frigate, with tall masts and square yards, and you said
- to yourself: ‘the captain of that ship must have some motive known only to
- himself, for carrying so much canvas, on masts so slight,’—and from
- that sprung to your mind that he must be some buccaneer, a pirate, a
- corsair”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “And was I mistaken?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I had already expressed to you, count,” replied Paul, with a
- slight tone of irony, “my admiration of the perspicacity with which, at
- the first glance, you sound the depths of men and circumstances”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “A truce to compliments, if you please, sir, and let us to facts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was under this persuasion that you caused yourself to be conducted on
- board the frigate, by a certain lieutenant, and that you found a certain
- captain in the cabin. You were the bearer of a letter from the Minister of
- Marine, ordering any officer, upon your requisition, and whose ship was
- under the French flag and bound for the Gulf of Mexico, to conduct to
- Cayenne a person named Lusignan, guilty of a crime against the state.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I obeyed that order, for I was then ignorant that this great culprit,
- thus transported, had committed no other crime than that of being the
- lover of your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” cried Emanuel, starting up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “These are very fine pistols, count,” carelessly continued Paul, playing
- with the weapons which the Count d’Auray had placed upon the table, on
- alighting from his carriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And they are ready loaded,” said Emanuel, in a tone which was not to be
- mistaken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are they so?” returned Paul, with affected indifference.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a matter of which you can assure yourself, if you will take a
- turn in the park with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is no necessity for going out to do that,” replied Paul, without
- pretending to understand Emanuel’s proposal in the sense which he meant to
- give to it; “here is a mark which is well placed, and at a proper
- distance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, the captain cocked the pistol, and pointed it through
- the open window towards the top of a small tree. A goldfinch was rocking
- himself on the highest branch, singing forth his shrill and joyful notes.
- Paul fired, and the poor bird, cut in two, fell at the foot of the tree.
- Paul coolly replaced the pistol on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were perfectly right, count,” said he, “they are excellent weapons,
- and I advise you not to part with them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have just given me an extraordinary proof of it,” replied Emanuel;
- “and I feel bound to acknowledge that you have a steady hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is nothing extraordinary in that,” rejoined Paul, in that
- melancholy tone which was peculiar to him. “During those long days, when
- not a breath passes over that mirror of the Supreme Being, which is called
- the ocean, we seamen are compelled to seek for amusements to which you
- landsmen are daily accustomed. Then we try our skill upon the sea-gulls,
- which hover over the crest of a wave; or the fish-hawks, which dart down
- upon the imprudent tenant of the deep that rise to its surface; or, again,
- upon the swallows which, fatigued with a long flight, alight upon the
- royal mast-head or on the yards or rigging. It is thus, count, that we
- acquire some dexterity in exercises which may appear so incompatible with
- our profession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go on, sir; and if it be possible, let us return to the subject of our
- conversation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a handsome, brave young man, this Lusignan; he related his whole
- history to me. That being the son of an old friend of your father’s, who
- had died poor, he had been adopted by him some two years before the
- unknown accident occurred which deprived him of his reason. That having
- been brought up with you, he had inspired you with hatred—your
- sister with affection. He told me that, during the long years they passed
- together in the same solitude, they never perceived the isolation from the
- world in which they lived, excepting when they were absent from each
- other. He recounted to me all the details of their youthful love, and how
- Marguerite had one day said to him, in the words of the tender maiden of
- Verona—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- “‘I will be thine, or else I’ll be the tomb’s.’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “She has but too truly kept her word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—has she not? And you virtuous people call that shame and
- dishonour, when a poor child, lost through her own innocence, is carried
- away by love. Your mother, whose duties estranged her from her daughter,
- and perpetually confined her to your father’s room—(for I know the
- virtues of your mother, sir, as well as I know your sister’s weakness: she
- is an austere woman, more severe than one of God’s creatures ought to be,
- whose only advantage over others is, that of never having fallen)—your
- mother, I say, one night heard some stifled cries; she entered your
- sister’s chamber, walked pale and silently up to her bed, and coldly
- snatched from her arms a child which had just been born, and left the room
- without addressing even a reproach to her daughter, but only paler and
- more silent than when she entered it. As to poor Marguerite, she did not
- utter even a cry—she made no complaint. She had fainted away
- immediately on perceiving her mother. Was it so, sir? Have I been rightly
- informed, and is the whole of this dreadful story true?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be acquainted with every detail of it!” exclaimed Emanuel,
- with amazement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is because the whole of these details are given in these letters
- signed by your sister,” replied Paul, opening a pocket-book, “and which
- Lusignan, at the time he was about to be thrown amid robbers and
- assassins, through your instrumentality, confided to me, that I might
- restore them to her who had written them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give them to me, then,” said Emanuel, stretching forth his hand towards
- the pocket-book, “and they shall be faithfully delivered to her who has
- had the imprudence”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “To complain to the only person who loved her in this world—is it
- not so?” said Paul, withdrawing the letters and the pocket-book.
- “Imprudent daughter, whose own mother snatched the child from her heart,
- and who poured her bitter tears into the bosom of the father of her child!
- Imprudent sister, who, not finding any protection from this tyranny in her
- brother, has compromised his noble name by signing with the name he bears,
- letters, which, in the stupid and prejudiced eye of the world, may—how
- is it you term this in your noble class—dishonour her family, is it
- not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” cried Emanuel, reddening with impatience, “since you are aware of
- the terrible tendency of these papers, fulfil the mission which you have
- been charged, by delivering them either to me, to my mother, or my
- sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This was my intention when I landed at Lorient; but about ten or twelve
- days ago, on entering a church—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A church!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And for what purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To pray there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Captain Paul believes in God, then!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did I not believe in him, whom should I invoke during the raging of the
- tempest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in this church, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that church, sir, I heard a priest announce the approaching marriage
- of the noble Marguerite d’Auray with the very high and very potent Baron
- de Lectoure. I immediately inquired for you, and was informed you were at
- Paris, where I was myself compelled to go, to give an account of my
- mission to the king.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To the king!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, to the king—Louis XVI.; to his majesty, in person. I
- immediately set out, intending to return here as soon as you did. I met
- you in Saint George’s rooms, and was informed of your approaching
- departure. I arranged mine in consequence, in order that we might arrive
- here at about the same time, and here I am, sir, with a very different
- resolution to that I had formed before landing in Brittany.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is this new determination? Let me hear it, for we must come to
- some conclusion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, I think that as all the world, and even his mother, seem to
- have forgotten the poor orphan, it is highly necessary that I should
- remember it. In the position in which you are placed, sir, and with the
- disposition you have evinced of becoming allied to the Baron de Lectoure
- (who in your view, is the only person who can assist the realization of
- your ambitious projects), these letters are well worth a hundred thousand
- francs, are they not? and will make but a very trifling breach in the
- income of two hundred thousand francs which your estates afford you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But who will prove to me that this hundred thousand francs—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, and therefore it will be in exchange for a contract
- for an annuity upon the young Hector de Lusignan, that I will deliver up
- these letters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that all, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will also ask, that the child be confided to me, and I will have him
- brought up, thanks to his little fortune, far from the mother who has
- forgotten him, and far from his father whom you caused to be banished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well, sir; had I known that it was for so small a sum, and so
- trifling an interest that you had come, I should not have experienced so
- much anxiety. You will, however, permit me to speak to my mother on the
- subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur le Comte,” said a servant, opening the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not at home to any one. Leave the room.” replied Emanuel,
- impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is your sister, sir, who wishes to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell her to come by and by.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She desires to speak to you this instant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not put yourself out of the way on my account,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But my sister must not see you, sir,—you comprehend it is important
- that she should not see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As you please; but as it is important, also, that I should not leave the
- castle before concluding the affair which brought me here, permit me to go
- into this side room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will do,” said Emanuel, himself opening the door; “but be quick, I
- beg of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul went into the small room, and Emanuel hastily closed the door upon
- him, which was hardly done when Marguerite appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Look kindly on them; I cannot bear
- Severity;
- My heart’s so tender, should you charge me rough,
- I should but weep and answer you with sobbing;
- But use me gently, like a loving brother,
- And search through all the secrets of my soul.—Otway.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Marguerite d’Auray, whose history the reader has become aquainted with,
- from the conversation between Captain Paul and Emanuel, was one of those
- delicate, pale beauties, who bear impressed upon their features the
- characteristic stamp of high birth. At the first glance, from the soft
- flexibility of her form, the whiteness of her skin, the shape of her hands
- and tapering fingers, with their thin, rosy and transparent nails, could
- be discerned that she was descended from an ancient race. It was evident
- that her feet, so small that both of them could have been placed in the
- foot-mark of most women, had never walked excepting on carpeted saloons or
- on the flowery turf of a park. There was in her movements, graceful as
- they were, a certain degree of haughtiness and pride, the attribute of all
- her family; in fine, she conveyed the impression that her soul, capable of
- making any sacrifice she had resolved upon, was very likely to rebel
- against tyranny; that devotedness was an instinctive virtue of her heart,
- while obedience, in her view, was only an educational duty, so that the
- tempest wind which blew upon her, might make her bend down before it as a
- lily, but not as a reed.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet, when she appeared at the door, her features depicted such
- complete discouragement, her eyes had retained the traces of such burning
- tears, her whole frame seemed weighed down by such an overwhelming
- despair, that Emanuel saw at once, that she must have summoned all her
- strength to assume an appearance of calmness. On seeing him, she made a
- violent effort, and it was with a certain degree of nervous firmness that
- she approached the arm chair on which he was sitting. And then, seeing
- that the features of her brother retained the expression of impatience,
- which they had assumed on being interrupted, she paused, and these two
- children of the same mother, looked at each other as strangers, the one
- with the eyes of ambition, the other with those of fear. By degrees,
- Marguerite resumed her courage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have come at last, Emanuel! I was awaiting your return as the blind
- await the light, and yet from the manner in which you look upon your
- sister, it is easy to perceive that she was wrong in placing her hopes in
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If my sifter has become, as she always ought to have been,” replied
- Emanuel, “that is to say, a submissive and respectful daughter, she will
- have understood what her rank and her position demand of her; she will
- have forgotten past events as things which never should have happened, and
- which consequently she ought not to remember, and she will have prepared
- herself for the new destiny which awaits her. If it is in this disposition
- that she now comes before me, my arms are open to receive her, and my
- sister is still my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen attentively to what I am about to say,” said Marguerite, “and
- above all, consider it as a justification of myself, and not intended as a
- reproach to others. If my mother—and God forbid that I should accuse
- her, for a holy duty keeps her apart from us—if my mother had been,
- I was about to say, toward me as other mothers are towards their
- daughters, I should constantly have opened my heart to her as a book; at
- the first word traced upon it by any stranger hand, she would have warned
- me of my danger and I should have avoided it. Had I been educated in the
- world instead of being brought up like a poor wild flower beneath the
- shade of this old castle, I should have learned from infancy the value of
- the rank and position which you speak of to-day, and I should, perhaps,
- not have infringed the decorum they prescribe, or the duties they impose.
- In short, had I been tutored amidst women of the world, with their
- sparkling wit and frivolous hearts, whom I have so often heard you praise,
- but whom I never knew, had I been guilty of some faults from levity, which
- love has caused me to commit—yes, I can well understand, I might
- then have forgotten the past, have sown upon the surface new recollections
- as flowers are planted upon tombs; and then, forgetting the place where
- they had grown, have formed of them a bouquet for a ball, or a bridal
- wreath. But unfortunately it is not so, Emanuel. I was told to beware,
- when it was too late to avoid the danger. They spoke to me of my rank and
- position in society, when I had already forfeited them, and I am now
- called upon to look forward to joy in the future, when my heart is drowned
- in the tears and misery of the past.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the conclusion of all this,” bitterly rejoined Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The conclusion depends on you alone, Emanuel; it is in your power to
- render it, if not happy, at all events becoming. I cannot have recourse to
- my father. Alas! I know not even if he could recognise his daughter. I
- have no hope in my mother; her glance freezes me, her words are death to
- me. You alone, Emanuel, were left to me, to whom I could say, brother: you
- are now the head of the family; it is to you alone that we are answerable
- for our honor. I have fallen from ignorance, and I have been punished for
- my fault as if it had been a wilful crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! well!”, murmured Emanuel impatiently, “what is it that you ask?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brother, I demand, since a union with the only being I could have loved,
- is said to be impossible, I demand that my punishment be regulated
- according to my strength to bear it. My mother—may heaven pardon
- her!—tore my child from me as if she had never herself been a
- mother, and my child will be brought up far from me, neglected, and in
- obscurity. You, Emanuel, removed the father, as my mother did the child,
- and you were more cruel to him than the case required; I will not say as
- man to man, but even as a judge towards a guilty person. As to myself, you
- have both united to impose upon me a martyrdom more painful still. Well,
- then, Emanuel, I demand in the name of our childhood spent in the same
- cradle, of our youth passed under the same roof, in the name of the tender
- appellations of brother and sister, which nature bestowed upon us—I
- demand that a convent be opened to me, and that its gates should close
- upon me for ever. And in that convent, I swear to you, Emanuel, that every
- day upon my knees, before God, my forehead bent down to the
- stone-pavement, weighed down by my fault, I will entreat the Lord as a
- recompense for all my sufferings, to restore my father to reason, my
- mother to happiness, and to pour on you, Emanuel, honor, and glory and
- fortune. I swear to you, I will do this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; and the world will say that I had a sister whom I sacrificed to my
- fortune, whose property I inherited while she still lived! Why this is
- sheer madness!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, Emanuel,” rejoined Marguerite, supporting herself on the
- back of a chair, near which she was standing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” replied Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When you have pledged your word, you keep it, do you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! look at this bracelet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see it—perfectly—what then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is fastened by a key—the key which opens it is attached to a
- ring, and with that ring, I pledged my word that I would not be released
- from a promise I had made, until the ring should be brought back and
- returned to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he who has the key of it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks to you, and to my mother, Emanuel, he is too far from us to ask it
- of him. He is at Cayenne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before you are married two months,” replied Emanuel, with an ironical
- smile, “that bracelet will be so irksome to you, that you will be the
- first to get rid of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that I had told you it is locked upon my arm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know what people do when they have lost the key and cannot get into
- their house—they send for a locksmith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! in my case, Emanuel,” replied Marguerite, rasing her voice, and
- extending her arm with a solemn gesture, “they must send for the
- executioner then, for this hand shall be cut off before I give it to
- another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! silence!” cried Emanuel, rising hastily, and looking anxiously
- towards the door of the inner room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now I have said all I had to say,” rejoined Marguerite: “my only hope
- was in you, Emanuel; for although you cannot comprehend any deep-seated
- feeling, you are not cruel. I came to you in tears, look at me and you
- will see that it is true—I came to you to say, ‘Brother, this
- marriage is the misfortune, is the misery of my life—I would prefer
- a convent—I would prefer death to it—and you have not listened
- to me, or if you have listened, you have not understood me. Well, then, I
- will address myself to this man—I will appeal to his honor, to his
- delicacy; if that should not be sufficient, I will tell him all; my love
- for another, my weakness, my fault, my crime! I will tell him that I have
- a child; that although he was torn from me, although I have never since
- seen him, although I am ignorant of his abode, still my child exists. A
- child cannot die, without his death striking some chord within its
- mother’s heart. In short I will tell him, should it be necessary, that I
- still love another, that I cannot love him, and that I never will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! tell him all this,” cried Emanuel, irritated by her persistence,
- “and that evening we will sign the contract, and the next day you will be
- Baroness de Lectoure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” replied Marguerite, “then, I shall be truly the most miserable
- woman in existence, for I should then have a brother whom I should no
- longer love, and a husband for whom I should have no esteem. Farewell,
- Emanuel; believe me this contract is not yet signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And after saying these words, Marguerite withdrew with that deep and
- settled despair upon her features, which could not for a moment be
- mistaken. And Emanuel, convinced that he had not, as he had anticipated,
- obtained a victory, but that the struggle was still to be continued, gazed
- after her with an anxiety which was not devoid of tenderness.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a few moments of silence, in which he sat pensive and motionless, he
- turned round and saw Captain Paul, whom he had completely forgotten,
- standing at the door of the study, and then considering the vital
- importance it was to him to get possession of the papers, which the
- captain had offered him, he hurriedly sat down at the table, took a pen
- and paper, and turning towards him, said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, sir, we are again alone, and there is nothing to prevent our at
- once concluding this affair. In what terms do you wish the promise to be
- drawn up? Dictate them, I am ready to write them down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is now useless,” coldly replied the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have changed my mind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is that?” said Emanuel, rising, alarmed at the consequences which he
- perceived might arise from words which he was far from expecting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will give,” replied Paul, with the calmness of a fixed determination,
- “the hundred thousand livres to the child, and I will find a husband for
- your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who are you, then,” said Emanuel, advancing a step towards him, “who are
- you, sir, who thus disposes of a young girl who is my sister, who has
- never seen you, and who does not even know that you exist?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who am I!” replied Paul, smiling; “upon my honor, I know no more upon
- that subject than you do, for my birth is a secret which is only to be
- revealed to me when I have attained my twenty-fifth year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you will attain that age?”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “This evening, sir. I place myself at your disposal from to-morrow
- morning, to give you all the information you may require of me,” and
- saying these words, Paul bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I allow you to depart, sir, but you will understand it is upon the
- condition that we meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was about to propose that condition, count, and I thank you for having
- anticipated me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He then bowed to Emanuel a second time, and left the room. At the castle
- gate, Paul found his horse and servant, and resumed the route to Port
- Louis. When he had got out of sight of the castle, he alighted from his
- horse, and directed his steps towards a fisherman’s hut, built upon the
- beach. At the door of this house, seated upon a bench, and in a sailor’s’
- dress, was a young man so deeply absorbed in thought, that he did not
- observe Paul’s approach. The captain placed his hand upon the young man’s
- shoulder, the other started, looked at him, and became frightfully pale,
- although the open and joyful countenance of Paul, indicated that he was
- far from being the bearer of bad news.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well!” said Paul to him, “I have seen her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who?” demanded the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite, by heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is charming.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not ask you that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She loves you still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed the young man, throwing himself into Paul’s
- arms, and bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- O good old man; how well in thee appears
- The constant service of the antique world
- When service sweat for duty, not for need!
-
- Thou art not for the fashion of these times
- Where none will sweat but for promotion;
- And having that, do choice their service up
- Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Although our readers must readily comprehend, after that which we have
- just related to them, all that had passed in the six months during which
- we had lost sight of our heroes, some details are, however, necessary, in
- order that they should fully understand the new events about to be
- accomplished.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the evening after the combat between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake,
- and which, notwithstanding our ignorance in naval matters, we have
- attempted to describe to our readers, Lusignan had related to Paul the
- history of his whole life. It was a very simple one, and contained but few
- incidents. Love had formed the principal event in it, and after having
- been its only joy, it had become its greatest grief. The adventurous and
- independent life of Paul, his station, which had placed him beyond the
- trammels of society, his caprice which was superior to all laws, his habit
- of supreme command on board his own ship, had inspired him with too just a
- sense of natural rights to obey the order he had received with regard to
- Lusignan. Moreover, although he had anchored under the French flag, Paul,
- as we have seen, belonged to the navy of America, whose cause he had
- enthusiastically espoused. He continued, therefore, his cruise along the
- shores of England; but finding there was nothing to be done on the sea he
- landed at Whitehaven, a small port in Cumberland, at the head of twenty
- men, among whom was Lusignan, took the fort, spiked the guns, and put to
- sea again, after having burnt the merchant vessels in the roads. Thence he
- sailed for the coast of Scotland, with the intention of carrying off the
- Earl of Selkirk and taking him as a hostage to the United States; but this
- project had miscarried from an unforeseen circumstance, that nobleman
- having unexpectedly gone to London. In this enterprise, as in the other,
- Lusignan had seconded him with the courage we have seen him exhibit in the
- battle between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake; so that Paul
- congratulated himself more than ever upon the chance which had enabled him
- to oppose an injustice. But it was not enough that he had saved Lusignan
- from transportation, it was necessary to restore his honor, and to our
- young adventurer, in whom our readers will doubtless have recognised the
- celebrated privateersman, Paul Jones, it was a more easy matter than to
- any other person; for having letters of marque from Louis XVI., against
- the English, he had to repair to Versailles to give an account of his
- cruize.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul determined upon running into Lorient, and for the second time cast
- anchor there, that he might be within a short distance of the Chateau
- d’Auray. The first answer which the young men received to their enquiries
- regarding that family, was that Marguerite d’Auray was about to be married
- to M. do Lectoure. Lusignan thought himself’ forgotten, and in the first
- paroxysm of his despair, insisted, even at the risk of falling into the
- hands of his former persecutors, on once more seeing Marguerite, if it
- were only to reproach her for infidelity; but Paul, more calm and less
- credulous, made him pledge his word that he would not land until he had
- heard from him; then, being assured that the marriage would not take place
- in less than fifteen days, he set out for Paris, and was received by the
- king, who presented him with a sword, the hilt of which was of gold, and
- decorated him with the order of military merit. Paul had availed himself
- of the kindness of the king towards him to relate to him Lusignan’s
- adventures, and had obtained not only his pardon, but also as a reward for
- his late services, the appointment of Governor of Guadaloupe. All these
- cares had not prevented him from keeping sight of Emanuel. Being informed
- of the count’s intended departure, he left Paris, and having written to
- Lusignan, appointing a place of meeting, he arrived at Auray an hour after
- the young count.
- </p>
- <p>
- After their joyful meeting, Paul and Lusignan remained together until
- nearly twilight. Then Paul, who, as he had told Emanuel, had a personal
- revelation to receive, left his friend and again took the road to Auray.
- But this time he was on foot, and did not enter the castle, but going
- along the park wall, he directed his steps toward an iron gate which
- opened into a wood belonging to the domains of Auray.
- </p>
- <p>
- About an hour before Paul left the fisherman’s hut, where he had found
- Lusignan, a person had preceded him on the road toward the cottage at
- which he was to ask the revelation of the secret of his birth; that person
- was the Marchioness d’Auray, the haughty heiress of the name of Sable. She
- was attired in her usual mourning garments with the addition of a long
- black veil, which enveloped her from head to foot. Moreover, the
- habitation which our young adventurer, with the hesitation of ignorance,
- was seeking for, was to her familiar. It was a sort of keeper’s house,
- situated at a few paces from the entrance to the park, and inhabited by an
- old man, in whose behalf the Marchioness d’Auray had for twenty years
- fulfilled one of those acts of sedulous benevolence which had gained for
- her in that part of Lower Brittany, the reputation of rigid holiness which
- she enjoyed. These attentions to age were given, it is true, with the same
- gloomy and solemn face which we have observed in her, and which the tender
- emotions of pity never softened; but they were nevertheless afforded, and
- all knew it, with careful punctuality.
- </p>
- <p>
- The face of the Marchioness d’Auray was even more grave than it was wont
- to be, while she crossed the park to repair to the dwelling of a man who
- was said to be an old servant of the family. The door was standing open as
- if to allow the last rays of the setting sun to penetrate into the house,
- so sweet and balmy to old people in the month of May. The house was
- however empty. The Marchioness d’Auray entered it, looked around her, and
- then as if certain that the person she was in search of would not be long
- absent, she resolved to await his return. She sat down. She had remained
- there about half an hour, motionless and absorbed in her reflections, when
- she saw, between her and the declining daylight, a shadow cast before the
- door. She slowly raised her eyes and recognised the person she had been
- expecting. They both started as though they had met by chance, and were
- not in the habit of seeing each other every day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is you, Achard,” said the marchioness, who was the first to speak. “I
- have been waiting for you half an hour. Where can you have been?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had your ladyship walked fifty paces farther, you would have found me
- under the large oak, on the edge of the forest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know I never walk that way,” said the marchioness, with a visible
- shudder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are wrong, madam; there is one in heaven who has a right to our
- joint prayers, and who, perhaps, is astonished to hear only those of old
- Achard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how know you that I do not also pray?” said the marchioness, with a
- certain degree of feverish agitation. “Do you believe that the dead
- require we should be constantly kneeling on their tombs?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the old man, with a feeling of profound sorrow; “no, I do
- not believe that the dead are so exacting, madam; but I believe if any
- part of us lives under ground, it would thrill at the noise caused by the
- steps of those whom we have loved during our life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, in a low and hollow tone, “if that love were
- a guilty passion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “However guilty it may have been, madam,” replied the old man, also
- lowering his voice, “do you not believe that blood and tears have
- expatiated it? God was then, believe me, too severe a judge, not to have
- now become an indulgent father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, God has perhaps pardoned it,” murmured the marchioness, “but did the
- world know that which God knows, would it pardon as God has done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The world!” exclaimed the old man; “the world! Yes, there is the great
- word which has again escaped your lips! The world! It is to it, to that
- phantom you have sacrificed everything, madam; your feelings as a lover,
- your feelings as a wife, your feelings as a mother! your own happiness,
- the happiness of others! The world! It is the fear of the world which has
- clothed you in perpetual mourning, beneath which you hope to conceal
- remorse! And in that you are right, for you have succeeded in deceiving
- it, for it has taken your remorse for virtue!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness raised her head with some degree of agitation, and putting
- aside her veil that she might look upon the person who addressed her in
- such extraordinary language; then, after a momentary silence, not being
- able to discover any sinister expression in the calm features of the old
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak to me,” she said to him, “with a bitterness which would lead me
- to believe you have some personal reason for reproaching me. Have I failed
- in any promise I have made? The persons who attend on you by my orders,
- are they wanting in that respect which I have desired them to observe? You
- know, if this should be the case, you have only to say a word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forgive me, madam, it is in sorrow that I speak, not bitterness; it is
- the effect of solitude and of age. You must well know what it is to have
- sorrows that you cannot speak of—tears which we dare not shed, and
- which fall back, drop by drop, upon the heart! No, I have not to complain
- of any one, madam, since first, from a feeling for which I am truly
- grateful, without seeking to know whence it emanated, you have been
- pleased to see personally that my wants were all supplied, and you have
- not for a single day forgotten your promise, but like the old prophet, I
- have sometimes seen an angel come as your messenger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied the marchioness, “I know that Marguerite often accompanies
- the servant who is charged to wait upon you; and I have seen with pleasure
- the attentions she has paid you, and the friendship she feels for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But in my turn, I have not failed either, I trust, in the promises I
- made. For twenty years I have lived far from the habitations of men, I
- have kept away every living being from this dwelling; so much did I fear
- on your account, the delirium of my waking hours, or the indiscretion of
- my dreams.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly! undoubtedly! and happily the secret has been well
- preserved,” said the marchioness, placing her hand upon Achard’s arm; “but
- this is a stronger incentive in my mind not to lose in a single day the
- fruit of twenty years, all more gloomy, more isolated, and more terrible
- than yours have been.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I understand you perfectly; and you have shuddered more than once
- upon suddenly remembering that there is roaming about the world, a man who
- may one day call upon me to reveal that secret, and that I have not the
- right to conceal it from that man. Ah! you tremble at the bare idea, do
- you not? But, tranquilise yourself; that man, when but a boy, fled from
- the school at which we had placed him in Scotland, and for ten years past
- nothing has been heard of him. In short, destined to obscurity, he himself
- rushed forward to meet his fate. He is now lost amid the millions that
- crowd this populous world, and not a soul knows where to find him; this
- poor unit, without a name, is lost for ever. He must have lost his
- father’s letter, have mislaid the token by which I was to recognise him;
- or, better still, perhaps he exists no longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is cruel of you, Achard,” replied the marchioness, “to utter such
- words to a mother. You cannot appreciate the strange feelings and singular
- contradictions contained in the heart of woman. For, in fine, can I not be
- tranquil unless my child be dead! Consider, my old friend; this secret, of
- which he has been ignorant five and twenty years, has it become at the age
- of twenty-five, so necessary to his existence that he cannot live, unless
- it be revealed to him? Believe me, Achard, for himself even it would be
- better he should still remain ignorant of it, as he has been to this day.
- I feel assured that to this day he has been happy—old man, do not
- mar this happiness—do not inspire his mind with thoughts which may
- induce him to commit an evil action. No—tell him, in lieu of the
- dreadful tale you were desired to communicate, that his mother has gone to
- rejoin his father in heaven; and, would to God that it were so! but that
- when dying (for I must see him whatever you may say to the contrary, I
- will even if it be but once, press him to my heart), when dying, as I
- said, his mother had bequeathed him to her friend the Marchioness d’Auray,
- in whom he will find a second mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand you, madam,” said Achard, smiling. “It is not the first time
- you have pointed out this path, in which you wish to lead me astray. Only
- to-day, you speak more openly, and if you dared to do so, or if you knew
- me less, you would offer me some reward to induce me to disobey the last
- injunctions of him who sleeps by us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness made a gesture as if about to interrupt him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, madam,” hastily said the old man, stretching forth his
- hand, “and let my words be considered by you as holy and irrevocable. As
- faithful as I have been to the promise which I made to the Marchioness
- d’Auray, so faithful will I be to that I made to the Count de Morlaix, on
- the day when his son, or your son, shall present himself before me with
- the token of recognition, and shall demand to know the secret. I shall
- reveal it to him, madam. As to the papers which attest it, you are aware
- that they are to be delivered to him only after the death of the Marquis
- d’Auray. The secret is here,” said the old man, placing his hand upon his
- heart; “no human power could have extracted it before the time; no human
- power, that time having arrived, can prevent me from revealing it. The
- papers are there in that closet, the key of which I always have about me,
- and it is only by robbery or by assassination that I can be deprived of
- them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, half rising and supporting herself on the arm
- of her chair, “you might die before my husband, old man; for although he
- is more dangerously ill than you are, you are older than he is, and then
- what would become of those papers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The priest who shall attend my last moments will receive them under the
- seal of confession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! it is that!” cried the marchioness, rising, “and thus this chain of
- fears will be prolonged until my death! and the last link of it will be to
- all eternity rivetted to my tomb. There is in this world a man, the only
- one perhaps, who is as immoveable as a rock; and God has placed him in my
- path, not only as a remorse,’ but as a vengeance also. My secret is in
- your hands, old man,—tis well!—do with it as you will!—you
- are the master, and I am your slave—farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- So saying, the marchioness left the cottage, and returned towards the
- chateau.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- More than ten years have passed since I beheld him,
- The noble boy; now time annuls my oath
- And cancels all his wrongs.
- I took a solemn oath to veil the secret,
- Conceal thy rights, while lived her lord,
- And thus allow’d thy youth to quit my roof.
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain.
-</pre>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the old man, gazing after the marchioness as she withdrew,
- “yes, I know you have a heart of adamant, madam, insensible to every sort
- of fear, with the exception of that which God has placed within your
- breast to supply the place of remorse. But that suffices; and it is dearly
- buying that reputation you have obtained for virtue, to pay the price of
- such eternal terrors. It is true that the virtue of the Marchioness
- d’Auray is so firmly established, that if truth herself were to rise from
- the earth or to descend from heaven to arraign her, she would be treated
- as a calumniator. But God orders all things according to His will, and
- what He does ordain, His wisdom has long before matured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rightly reasoned,” cried a youthful and sonorous voice, replying to the
- religious axiom which the resignation of the old man had led him to utter.
- “Upon my word, good father, you speak like Ecclesiastes.” Achard turned
- round and perceived Paul, who had arrived just as the marchioness left
- him, but who was so absorbed by the scene we have just described, that she
- had not observed the young captain. The latter, seeing the old man alone,
- approached him, and not hearing the last words he had uttered, had spoken
- with his usual good humor. Achard, who was surprised by his unexpected
- appearance, looked at him as if he wished him to repeat that which he had
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say,” resumed Paul, “that there is more grandeur in resignation that
- humbly bows itself, than in philosophy that doubts. That is a maxim of our
- quakers, which, for my eternal welfare, I wish I had less often on my
- tongue, and more frequently in my heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, sir,” said the old man on seeing our adventurer, who
- was fixedly gazing at him, while standing with one foot on the threshold
- of his door. “May I know who you are?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For the moment,” replied Paul, giving, as usual, free course to his
- poetical and heedless gaiety, “I am a child of the republic of Plato,
- having all human kind for brothers, the world for a country, and
- possessing upon this earth only the station I have worked out for myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what are you in search of?” continued the old man, smiling in spite
- of himself at the air of jovial good-nature which was spread over the
- features of the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am seeking,” replied Paul, “at three leagues distance from Lorient, at
- five hundred paces from resembles this one, and in which I am to find an
- old man, whom it is very likely is yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is the name of this old man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Louis Achard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is my name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then may the blessing of heaven descend on your white hairs,” said Paul,
- in a voice which at once changing its tone, assumed that of deep feeling
- and respect; “for here is a letter which I believe was written by my
- father, in which he says that you are an honest man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does not that letter enclose something?” cried d’Auray, and advancing a
- step nearer to the young captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It does,” replied the latter, opening the letter and taking out of it one
- half of a Venetian sequin, which had been broken in two; “it seems to be
- part of a gold coin, of which I have one half, and you ought to be in
- possession of the other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Achard mechanically held out his hand, while gazing with intense interest
- at the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said the old man, and eyes gradually became more and more
- suffused with tears: “yes, this is the true token, and more than that, the
- extraordinary resemblance,” and opening his arms, he cried, “child!—oh!
- my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?” cried Paul, extending his arms to support the old man, who
- was quite overcome by his emotions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! can you not comprehend?” replied the latter, “can you not comprehend
- that you are the living portrait of your father, and that I loved your
- father—loved him so much that I would have shed my blood, have given
- my life to serve him, as I would now for you, young man, were you to
- demand it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Embrace me, then, my old friend,” said Paul, throwing his arms around the
- old man, “for the chain of feeling, believe me, is not broken, which
- extended from the tomb of the father to the cradle of the son. Whatever my
- father may have been, if in order to resemble him it be only necessary to
- have a conscience without reproach, undaunted courage, and a memory which
- never forgets a benefit conferred, although it may sometimes forget an
- injury; if this be so, then am I, as you have said, my father’s living
- portrait, and more so in soul than in form.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he possessed all these,” replied the old man, with solemnity, and
- clasping Paul to his breast, looking at him with affectionate though
- tearful tenderness—“Yes, he had the same commanding voice, the same
- flashing eyes, the same nobleness of heart. But why was it that I have not
- seen you sooner, young man? I have, during my life, passed many gloomy
- hours, which your presence would have brightened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—because this letter told me to seek you out only when I should
- have attained the age of twenty-five, and because it is not long since I
- attained that age, not more than an hour ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man bowed down his head with a pensive air, and remained silent
- for some time, seemingly absorbed by recollections of the past.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be so?” at length ne said, raising his head, “can it be
- twenty-five years ago. Good heaven! it appears to me only yesterday that
- you were born in this house, that you first saw the light in that very
- room:” and the old man raised his head, and pointed to a door which led
- into another room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul, in his turn, appeared to reflect, and then, looking around him, to
- strengthen by the aid of objects which presented themselves to his view,
- the recollections which crowded on his memory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In this cottage, in that room,” he repeated, “and I lived here till I was
- five years old, did I not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” murmured the old man, as if fearful to disturb the feelings which
- were taking possession of the young man’s mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” continued Paul, leaning his head on both his hands, as if to
- concentrate his thoughts, “allow me for one moment to look back, in my
- turn, to the past, for I am recollecting a room which I had thought I had
- seen in a dream—it may be that one. Listen to me! Oh! how strange it
- is—remembrances now rush upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak, my child, speak!” said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It it be that room, there ought to be on the right, as you go in, at the
- end of the room, a bed with green hangings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A crucifix at the head of the bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A closet opposite, in which were books, among the rest a large Bible,
- with numerous engravings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There it is,” said the old man, pointing to the sacred book which was
- lying open on a desk for prayer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! it is that—it is that,” cried Paul, pressing his lips against
- the leaves.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! good and pious heart,” cried the old man, “I thank thee, oh! my God—I
- thank thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” said Paul, rising, “in that room there is a window, from which you
- can discern the sea, and on the sea, three islands?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Houat, Hoedic, and Belle-Ileen-mer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, it is really so,” said Paul, rushing towards the room, and then
- perceiving that the old man was about to follow him, he said: “No, no! I
- must be alone—let me enter it alone—I feel that I must be
- alone,” and he went into the room, closing the door after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then paused a moment, impressed with that holy respect which
- accompanies the remembrance of our infancy. The room was as he had
- described it, for the religious devotedness of the old servant had
- preserved it from any change. Paul, feeling doubtless that the eye of a
- stranger would have interrupted the expression of the feelings he
- experienced, and now certain of being alone, abandoned himself to them He
- slowly advanced, and with clasped hands, towards the ivory crucifix; and
- falling on his knees, which formerly he had the habit of doing, morning
- and evening, he endeavoured to remember one of those simple prayers, in
- which a child, still on the threshold of this life, prays to God for those
- who have opened its gates to him. “What events had succeeded each other in
- the lapse of time which had passed between these genuflexions! Paul
- remained for a considerable time absorbed in thought, and then slowly
- arose, and went to the window. The night was beautiful and calm, the moon
- was shining in the heavens, and tipped the ocean waves with silver. The
- three islands appeared on the horizon, like blue vapor floating on the
- ocean. He remembered how often in his infancy he had leaned against that
- window, gazing upon that same scene, following with his eyes some bark,
- with its snowy sails, which glided silently over the sea, like the wing of
- a night bird. Then his heart swelled with sweet and tender recollection;
- his head fell upon his chest, and silent tears ran down his cheeks. At
- that moment he felt that some one pressed his hands—it was the old
- man—he wished to conceal his emotions; but instantly repenting this
- vain feeling, he turned toward Achard, and frankly let him see his face,
- down which the tears were streaming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You weep, my child,” said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I weep,” replied Paul; “and why should I conceal it? Yea, look at
- me. And yet I have, during my life, witnessed dreadful scenes. I have seen
- the tempest bear my vessel to the summit of a mountain wave, and then sink
- her into an abyss, from which I thought she would never rise again; and I
- felt that she weighed no more upon the wings of the storm than does a
- dried leaf on the evening breeze. I have seen men fall around me like the
- ripe ears of corn before the sickle of the reaper. I have heard the cries
- of distress, and the dying groans of those whose meal I had shared but the
- day before. In order to receive their last sigh, I have walked amid a
- shower of bullets, and grape-shot, upon a plank slippery with blood. And
- yet, amid all this, my soul was calm—my eyes remained unmoistened.
- But this room, see you; this room, of which I had retained so holy a
- remembrance; this room, in which I had received the first caresses of a
- father whom I shall never see again, and the last kisses of a mother who
- perhaps desires no more to see me; this room is sacred as a cradle and as
- a tomb. I cannot thus revisit it without giving vent to my emotions; I
- must weep, or I shall suffocate.” The old man clasped him in his arms.
- Paul leaned his head upon his shoulder, and during some time nothing was
- heard but his sobs. At length the old servant rejoined:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are right; this room is at once a cradle and a tomb; it was
- there that you were born;” he pointed to one corner with his hand; “and it
- was there that you received the last blessing of your father,” continued
- he, pointing to the opposite side of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is then dead?” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must tell me how he died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell you all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Defer it for a moment,” added Paul, as he reached a chair and seated
- himself, “for I am now too weak to listen to you. Let me recover myself.”
- He placed his elbow on the window-sill, leaned his head upon his hand, and
- once more cast his eyes upon the sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a magnificent spectacle is the ocean when the moon shines upon it as
- brightly as it does now,” continued he, with that accent of soft
- melancholy which was habitual to him. “It is as calm as God himself, and
- vast as eternity. I do not believe that a man accustomed to study such a
- scene can be afraid of death. My father met death bravely, did he not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Assuredly!” proudly replied Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It could not be otherwise,” continued Paul, “for I remember my father,
- although I was only four years old when I last saw him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a handsome young man, as you yourself are,” said Achard, looking
- sorrowfully at Paul, “and just as old as you are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What was his name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Count de Moraix.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I also am of an old and noble family. I also have arms and an
- escutcheon as well as those young and insolent nobles who ask me for my
- parchments when I show them my wounds?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, young man, wait; do not allow pride to carry you thus away, for I
- have not yet told you the name of her who gave you being, and you are
- still ignorant of the dreadful secret of your birth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well: be it so. I shall not with the less respect and veneration hear the
- name of my mother. What was my mother’s name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Marchioness d’Auray,” slowly replied the old man, as if regretting
- that he was compelled to mention her name.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it that you tell me!” cried Paul, starting from his chair, and
- seizing the hands of the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The truth!” replied Achard, sorrowfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then Emanuel is my brother—Marguerite is my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you then already know them?” exclaimed the old servant, much
- astounded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you were right, old man,” said Paul, throwing himself into his chair.
- “God orders all things according to His will, and what He does ordain, His
- wisdom has long before matured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They both remained silent for a time, when at length Paul raised his head,
- and resolutely fixing his eyes on the old man’s face, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, I am ready to hear all you have to communicate—you may go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- I shall a tale unfold
- Will harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
- Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres;
- Thy knotted and combined locks to part.
- And each particular hair to stand on end,
- Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The old man seemed to be summoning up his recollections for a time, and
- then began:
- </p>
- <p>
- “They were affianced to each other. I know not what mortal hatred it was
- that arose between the families and separated them. The Count de Morlaix,
- broken hearted, could not remain in France. He sailed for Saint Domingo,
- where his father possessed a large estate; I accompanied him, for the
- Count de Morlaix reposed much confidence in me. I was the son of her who
- had nursed him; I had received the same education as himself; he used to
- call me his brother, and I alone remembered the distance which nature had
- placed between us. The Marquis de Morlaix confided to me the charge of
- watching over his son, for I loved him with all the love of a father. We
- remained two years under a tropical sun; during that two years, your
- father, lost amid the solitude of that magnificent island, a traveller
- without an object and without an aim, an ardent and indefatigable
- sportsman, endeavouring to cure the griefs of the mind, by the fatigues of
- the body; but so far from succeeding, one would have thought that his
- heart became still more inflamed under that ardent sun. At length, after
- two years of trial and incessant struggles, his love conquered. He must
- either see her again or die. I yielded and we set sail for France. Never
- was a voyage more beautiful, or more prosperous. The sea and sky seemed to
- smile upon us; so favourable were they that it would have induced one to
- believe in lucky omens. Six weeks after our departure from Port au Prince,
- we landed at Havre. Mademoiselle de Sablé was married. The Marquis d’Auray
- was at Versailles, fulfilling at the court of Louis XV. the duties of his
- charge, and his wife, who was too much indisposed to follow him, was at
- the old chateau d’Auray, the turrets of which you see from this place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said Paul, “I know it; pray go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to myself,” rejoined the old map, “during our voyage, one of my
- uncles, an old servant of the house of Auray, had died, and left me this
- small house, with a small quantity of land surrounding it. I took
- possession of it. Your father had left me at Vannes, telling me he was
- going to Paris, and for the whole of the first year that I inherited this
- house I did not see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One night,—it is exactly twenty-five years ago,—some one
- knocked at my door; I went to open it and found your father there,
- carrying in his arms a woman whose face was veiled. He brought her into
- this room, and laid her on that bed. And then returning to me in the
- adjoining room, where I was waiting mute and motionless with astonishment,
- he placed his hand upon my shoulder, and looking at me in a supplicating
- manner, although he had the right to command me, said, ‘Louis, you can do
- more than save my life and honor—you can save the life and honor of
- her I love—get on horseback, gallop to the next town, and return
- here in an hour with a doctor.’ He spoke to me in that short and hasty
- tone, which indicated that there was not a moment to be lost. I
- immediately obeyed. The day was beginning to break when we returned. The
- doctor was introduced by the Count de Morlaix into this room, the door of
- which was immediately closed: he remained there during the whole day;
- towards five in the afternoon, the doctor left the house, and at nightfall
- your father also left the house carrying in his arms the mysterious veiled
- lady whom he had brought the previous night. When they had gone, I came
- into this room and found you here—you had just been born.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how did you learn that this woman was the Marchioness d’Auray?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” exclaimed the old man, in a way which was as terrible as it was
- unexpected; “I had offered the Count de Morlaix to keep you here, and he
- accepted my proposal: from time to time he would come to spend an hour
- with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alone?” demanded Paul, with much anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, always; but as he had given me permission to walk with you in the
- park, it would sometimes happen that at the corner of one of the avenues I
- would meet the marchioness, whom chance appeared to have conducted in that
- direction. She would make you a sign to come to her, and she would kiss
- you as people kiss a strange child, because he is handsome. Four years
- passed on in this way, and then one night some one again knocked at this
- door, and it was again your father. He was more calm, but had, perhaps, a
- more gloomy look than on the first occasion. ‘Louis,’ said he, ‘to-morrow,
- at the break of day, I have to meet the Marquis d’Auray. It is a duel in
- which one of us must fall, and you are to be the only witness of it. The
- terms are agreed upon. You must, therefore, give me shelter for this
- night, and let me have materials for writing.’ He sat down at this table,
- on the very chair you are now seated.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul sprang up, but supported himself on the back of the chair, without
- again sitting down upon it. “He sat up all night. At day-break he came
- into my room and found me up—I had not gone to bed. As to you poor
- child, unconscious of the passions and miseries of this life, you were
- quietly sleeping.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,—pray go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your father bent slowly over you, supporting himself by the wall, and
- looking sorrowfully upon you: ‘Louis,’ said he to me, in a hollow voice,
- ‘should I be killed, and which may happen, wo to this child! You will
- deliver him with this letter to Field, my valet de chambre, whom I have
- charged to conduct him to Selkirk, in Scotland, there to leave him in sure
- hands. When he is twenty-five years old, he will bring you the other half
- of this gold coin, and will ask you to reveal to him the secret of his
- birth. You will communicate it; for then, perhaps, his mother will be
- alone and isolated. As to these papers which prove his birth, you will not
- deliver them to him, until after the death of the Marquis d’Auray. Now I
- have said all that is necessary, let us go, for it is the appointed hour.
- He then leaned over your bed, bent down toward you, and although he was a
- man of fortitude, as I have told you, I saw a tear fall upon your cheek.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed,” said Paul, in a voice choked by emotion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The rendezvous was in one of the avenues of the park, about a hundred
- paces from this house. When we reached the place, we found the marquis
- there, he had been waiting for us some minutes. Near him upon a bank were
- pistols ready loaded. The adversaries bowed to each other without
- exchanging a word. The marquis pointed to the weapons—they each took
- one, and then, according to the terms which had been agreed upon, as your
- father had told me, they placed themselves, mute and gloomily, at the
- distance of thirty paces, and then began to walk towards each other. Oh!
- it was a moment ef agony for me, I can assure you,” rejoined the old man,
- almost as much moved as if the scene were then actually passing before
- him, “when I saw the distance gradually diminishing between these two men.
- When they were only about ten paces, the marquis stopped and fired. I
- looked at your father; not a muscle of his face was moved, so that I
- thought him safe and unhurt. He continued to walk on till he came close to
- the marquis, and then placing the muzzle of the pistol to his heart—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He did not kill him, I trust,” cried Paul seizing the old man’s arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He said to him, Your life is in my hands, sir, and I might take it, but I
- wish you to live, that you may pardon me, as I do you. And uttering these
- words, he fell dead at the feet of the marquis, whose ball had passed
- through his chest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father! my father!” cried Paul, wringing his hands. “And the man
- who killed my father—he still lives, does he not? He is still young,
- and has strength enough to wield a sword or raise a pistol? We will go to
- him—to-day—instantly! You will tell him, that it is his son!
- that he must fight with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God has avenged your father,” replied Achard—“that man is mad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is true—I had forgotten that,” murmured Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in his madness that bloody scene is ever before his eyes, and he
- repeats ten times a day the dying words your father addressed to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that must be the reason why the marchioness will not leave him for a
- single moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that is also the reason, under the pretext that he will not see his
- children, that she keeps Emanuel and Marguerite from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor sister,” said Paul, with an accent of undefinable tenderness;
- “and now she wishes to sacrifice her by forcing her to marry that wretch
- Lectoure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but that wretch Lectoure will take Marguerite with him to Paris, and
- give a regiment of dragoons to her brother, so that the marchioness will
- no longer have cause to dread the presence of her children. Her secret,
- therefore, remains henceforward in the breasts of two old men, who
- to-morrow, this night even, may die. The grave is silent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, I—I!”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “You! Does she know that you still exist! Has anything been heard of you
- since you escaped from Selkirk? Could not some accident have prevented you
- from coming to the appointment, which fortunately you have done safely? It
- is certain that she has not forgotten you, but she hopes”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! can you believe that my mother”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, that is true. I do not believe it!” cried Achard, “I
- was wrong; forget what I have said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, let us speak of you, my friend; let us speak of my father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it necessary that I should tell you that his last wishes were
- fulfilled. Field came to fetch you during the day, and took you away with
- him. Twenty-one years have passed since then, and since then not a single
- day has passed without my putting up a prayer that I might see you at the
- appointed time. My prayers have been granted,” continued the old man; “and
- thanks be to God, you are here. Your father lives again in you—I
- once more see him—I am speaking to him. I weep no longer, I am now
- consoled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he died thus, instantly, without a struggle, without a sigh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—I brought him here. I placed him on the bed in which you were
- born—I closed the door that no one might enter the house, and I went
- alone and dug his grave. I passed the whole day in this painful duty; for,
- according to the request of your father, to no one was to be confided this
- dreadful secret. In the evening I returned for the body. The heart of man
- is singularly constituted, and hope which God has planted in it can with
- difficulty be eradicated. I had seen him fall—I had felt his hands
- grow cold—I had kissed his ice-like face—I had left him, to
- hollow out his grave, and that grave being made, that duty being
- accomplished, I returned with a beating heart, for it appeared to me,
- although a miracle would be required for such a change, that during my
- absence life had returned to him, and that he would rise from his bed and
- speak to me. I entered the house—alas! alas! the days of miracles
- had passed away. Lazarus remained lying on his couch—dead! dead!
- dead!” and the old man remained for some time overwhelmed with grief,
- silent and voiceless, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” cried Paul, also bursting into tears; “yes, and you then
- fulfilled your holy mission. Good old man, let me kiss those hands which
- deposited my father in his last home. And you have remained faithful to
- his tomb as you had been to him during life. Poor guardian of the
- sepulchre; you have remained near him that your tears might water the
- grass which grew about the unknown grave. Oh! how little are those who
- think themselves great because their name resounds amid the tempest, and
- the cry of war, louder than the storm or the din of battle, in comparison
- with you, old man, whose devotedness has been mute and noiseless. Oh! give
- me your blessings lay those hallowed hands upon my head, since my father
- is not here to bless me,” continued Paul, throwing himself on his knees
- before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rise to my arms—let me clasp you to my heart, my child, for you
- exaggerate these actions, in themselves so simple and so natural. And
- then, believe me, that which you term my piety has not been a useless
- lesson to me. I have seen how little space a man occupies beneath the
- ground, and how soon he is lost amid the world, should God turn his face
- from him. Your father was young, full of courage, with a brilliant career
- opening before him. Your father was the last descendant of an ancient
- line; he bore a noble name. His path seemed marked with honors and
- distinction; he had a family and powerful friends. Well, he suddenly
- disappeared, as if the earth had opened beneath his feet. I know not if
- some tearful eyes sought for him till they lost all trace of him; but this
- I know, that for one-and-twenty years no one has sought out his tomb—no
- one knows that he lies beneath that spot, where the grass is greener and
- grows more luxuriantly than elsewhere—and yet, vain, glorious, and
- miserable as he is, man considers himself of some value.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! and my mother, has she not visited his grave?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man did not answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! there will be two of us who henceforward will know the spot,
- where he reposes. Come, and show it to me; for I will return to it, I
- promise solemnly, every time my ship returns to the coast of France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying this, he drew Achard into the outer room, but as they opened the
- door they heard a slight noise in the park. It was a servant from the
- castle, who had accompanied Marguerite. Paul hurriedly returned into the
- bedroom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is my sister,” said he to Achard; “leave me alone with her a moment.
- It is necessary that I should speak to her. I have something to
- communicate which will make her pass a happy night. We must have
- compassion for those who watch and weep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reflect,” said Achard, “that the secret I have revealed to you is your
- mother’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fear not—I will speak to her but of that which concerns herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment Marguerite entered the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- This ring I gave him when he parted from me
- To bind him to remember my good will;
- The more shame for him that he sends it to me.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Marguerite had come, as she frequently did, to bring some provisions for
- the old man, and it was not without astonishment that she perceived in the
- outer room, where she usually found Achard, a young and handsome man, who
- looked at her with gladdened eyes, and with a kindly smile. She made a
- sign to the servant to put down the basket in a corner of the room; he
- obeyed, and then went out to wait for his mistress in the park. When he
- had withdrawn, she advanced towards Paul, saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, sir, but I expected to find my old friend, Achard,
- here, and I came, to bring him something from my mother”—
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul pointed to the inner room, to let her know that the person she was
- seeking was within, for he could not reply to her; he felt that the tone
- of his voice would betray the emotions he experienced. The young girl
- thanked him, with a bow, and went into the room to find Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul followed her with his eyes—his hand pressed upon his heart.
- That virgin soul into which love had never penetrated, now expanded with
- fraternal tenderness. Isolated as he had always been, having no friends
- but the rude children of the ocean, all that was soft or tender in his
- heart, he had turned towards God, and although in the eyes of rigid
- Christians, his religion might not have appeared as strictly orthodox, it
- is no less true, that the poetry which overflowed in every word he uttered
- was nothing more than one vast and eternal prayer. It was not, therefore,
- astonishing, that this first feeling which penetrated his heart, although
- purely fraternal, was as extravagant and transporting as the emotions of
- love.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” murmured he, “poor isolated being that I am! How shall I be able to
- restrain my feelings when she returns, and prevent myself from clasping
- her to my heart and saying to her: Marguerite! my sister, no woman has yet
- felt love for me; love me then with sisterly affection. Oh! mother!
- mother! by depriving me of your caresses, you have also deprived me of
- those of this dear angel. May God restore to you in eternity that
- happiness which you have driven from yourself and others.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell!” said Marguerite to the old man, opening the door, “farewell! I
- wished this evening to come myself, for I know not when I may see you
- again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And she went toward the outer door, pensive, and with her eyes cast down,
- without seeing Paul, without remembering that a stranger was in that room.
- Paul remained gazing at her with outstretched arms as if to prevent her
- leaving the house, with palpitating heart and moistened eyes. At length,
- when he saw her placing her hand upon the door-latch, he cried aloud—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned round amazed, but not being able to comprehend this strange
- familiarity, in one who was totally unknown to her, she half-opened the
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” reiterated Paul, advancing a step towards his sister,
- “Marguerite, do you not hear me call you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true that my name is Marguerite, sir,” she replied, with dignity;
- “but I could not imagine that word was addressed to me by a person whom I
- have the honor of knowing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I know you!” exclaimed Paul, going nearer to her, and then closing
- the door he brought her back into the room. “I know that you are unhappy,
- that you have not one friendly heart into which you can pour your sorrows,
- not one arm from which you can ask support.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You forget the one which is on high,” replied Marguerite, raising her
- eyes and hand toward heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Marguerite, I do not forget, for it is He who sends me to offer
- you that which you most need; to tell you when all lips and all hearts are
- closed toward you, ‘I am your friend, devotedly, eternally.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir!” replied Marguerite, “these are sacred and solemn words which
- you have uttered; words, unfortunately, to which it would be difficult for
- me to give credence without proofs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And should I give you one?” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Irrefragable!” continued Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then!” exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which
- doubt began to give place to hope—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! and then”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then—but no, no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know this ring?” said Paul, showing her the one with the key that
- opened the bracelet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed Marguerite, “have mercy upon me! he is dead!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He lives.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he no longer loves me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He loves you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he be living—if he still love me—oh! I shall go mad—what
- was it I was saying? If he be living—if he still love me, how comes
- it that this ring is in your possession?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He confided it to me as a token of recognition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And have I confided this bracelet to any one?” cried Marguerite, pushing
- back the sleeve of her gown—“Look!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but you, Marguerite, you are not proscribed—dishonored, in the
- eyes of the whole world—thrown amongst a condemned race!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what importance is that. Is he not innocent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then, he thought,” continued Paul, wishing to discover the extent of
- the devotedness and love of his sister, “he thought that delicacy
- required, banished as he is for ever from society, that he should offer
- you, if not restore to you, the liberty of disposing of your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When a woman has done for a man that which I have done for him,” replied
- Marguerite, “her only excuse is to love him eternally, and it is that I
- mean to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you are an angel!” exclaimed Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me!” rejoined Marguerite, seizing the young man’s hands, and looking
- at him with a supplicating air—
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you seen him, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am his friend, his brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak to me of him, then?” she exclaimed, giving herself up entirely to
- the recollection of her lover, and forgetting that it was the first time
- she had seen the person to whom she was addressing questions of so
- delicate a nature. “What is he doing? what hope has he? Poor, unhappy
- man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He loves you—and he hopes again to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, then,” stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,—“he
- has told you——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a sudden
- tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual
- paleness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a miracle of devotedness!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do not then despise me, sir?” said Marguerite, Venturing to raise her
- eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” cried Paul, “had I a sister I would pray to heaven that she
- might resemble you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister,” she replied,
- leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps,” said Paul, smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know not, then——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been informed of that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that, too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can I
- apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? My
- brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my
- feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman
- whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will
- inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe that
- others can forget it, and when she has once said, ‘It is my will,’ all
- that remains to do is to bow down one’s head, to weep, and to obey. My
- father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from which he
- has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My father! for
- any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove a resource: but
- you know not that he is insane—that he has lost his reason, and with
- it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, it is ten years since
- I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not pressed his trembling
- hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows not that he has still a
- daughter! he knows not even whether he has a heart, and will not be able
- even to recognize me. And were he but to know me, and took compassion on
- me, my mother would place a pen in his hand and would say, ‘Sign that, it
- is my will!’ and he would sign it—the poor feeble old man! and his
- daughter would be condemned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be
- pacified, that contract never will be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And who can prevent it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who will present you there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the means.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while
- striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother’s person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite.
- Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I believe you, sir, and I implicitly confide in you,” said
- Marguerite, as if overwhelmed by the contending feelings of confidence and
- mistrust which she had till then labored under. “For what advantage could
- you derive from endeavoring to deceive me? What interest could you have to
- betray me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None, undoubtedly; but let us talk of other matters. What line of conduct
- do you intend to pursue with regard to the Baron de Lectoure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell him all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Paul, bowing profoundly, “allow me to adore you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” murmured Marguerite, “sir!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As a sister! as a sister!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are indeed kind and good,” cried Marguerite, “and I believe it
- is God who sent you to my aid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe it,” replied Paul. “Then—to-morrow evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not be astonished, nor alarmed at anything that may occur, only
- contrive to let me know by letter, by a word, a sign, the result of your
- interview with Lectoure!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will endeavor to do so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is now late, and your servant may be surprised at the length of this
- interview. Return to the castle, and say not a word of me to any one.
- Farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell,” reiterated Marguerite; “you to whom I know not what name to
- give.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Call me your brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell, then, brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, my sister! my sister!” cried Paul, clasping her convulsively in his
- arms, “your lips are the first from which I have heard so sweet a word.
- God will reward you for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young girl drew back amazed; and then returning to Paul, she held out
- her hand to him. Paul again pressed it, and Marguerite left the cottage.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man then went to the door of the inner room, and opened it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, good old man,” said he, “conduct me to my father’s grave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hamlet.—Dost thou know this water-fly?
- Horatio.—No, my good lord.
- Hamlet.—Thy state is the more gracious; for ‘tis a vice to know him.
- SHAKESPEARE.
-
- Here on my knees by heaven’s blest nower I swear,
- If you persist, I ne’er henceforth will see you;
- But rather wander through the world a beggar,
- And live on sordid scraps at poor men’s doors.
- For, though to fortune lost, I’ll still inherit
- My mother’s virtues and my father’s honor.—Otway.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The day following that on which Paul had been made acquainted with the
- secret of his birth, the inhabitants of the castle of Auray awoke more
- than ever absorbed in the fears and hopes which their several interests
- had created, for that day must necessarily prove a decisive one to the
- whole of them. The marchioness, whom our readers have ere this discovered,
- was neither perverse or wicked, but a haughty and inflexible woman, saw in
- it the termination of those heart-rending apprehensions, which for so many
- years, had been her daily companions; for it was above all, in the eyes of
- her children, that she wished to preserve that unsullied reputation, the
- usurpation of which had been purchased at such cost. To her, Lectoure was
- not only a fitting son-in-law, being the bearer of a name as noble as her
- own, but more than this, a man, or rather a good genius, who at the same
- moment would bear away not only her daughter, whom he would take with him
- as his wife, but her son also, to whom the minister, thanks to this
- alliance, had promised to give a regiment. Both her children gone, her
- first-born might come, and the secret revealed to him, would find no echo.
- Moreover, there were a thousand methods by which to close his lips. The
- fortune of the marchioness was immense, and gold was one of those
- resources, which, in such a case, she deemed infallible. The more terrible
- her fears, the more ardently did she desire this union; so that she not
- only encouraged the anxiety of Lectoure, but she also excited that of
- Emanuel. As to the latter, tired of living unknown at Paris, or immured in
- Brittany, lost in the crowd of brilliant young men who formed the
- household of the King, or shut up in the antique castle of his ancestors,
- having their portraits as his sole companions, he knocked with impatient
- eagerness at the golden door which his intended brother-in-law was to open
- for him, at Versailles. The grief and tears of his sister had, certainly,
- for a time afflicted him; for he was ambitious, more from a dread of the
- <i>ennui</i>, which would consume him if compelled to live on his estate,
- and from the desire of parading at the head of his regiment, captivating
- the hearts of all the ladies by the richness and good taste of his
- uniform, than from either pride or hardness of heart. Being himself
- incapable of forming any serious attachment, and despite the fatal
- consequences of his sister’s love, he considered that love, merely as a
- childish fancy, which the tumult and pleasure of the world would soon
- efface from her memory, and he really believed that before a year had
- elapsed, she would be the first to thank him for having thus done violence
- to her feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to Marguerite, poor victim, so irrevocably condemned to be immolated to
- the fear of the one, and to the ambition of the other, the scene of the
- preceding day had made a profound impression on her mind. She could not at
- all account to herself for the extraordinary feelings which the young man
- who had transmitted to her the words of Lusignan, had awakened in her
- heart; who had tranquillized her as to the fate of the unhappy exile, and
- had concluded by pressing her to his heart, and calling her his sister. A
- vague and instinctive hope whispered to her heart, that this man, as he
- had told her, had received from heaven the mission to protect her. But as
- she was ignorant of the tie which bound him to her, of the secret which
- made him master of his mother’s will, of the influence he might exercise
- over her future life, she did not dare allow herself to dream of
- happiness, habituated as she had been for six months, to consider death as
- the only term to her misfortunes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis, alone, amid the various emotions which agitated all around
- him, had remained coldly and impassibly indifferent; for to him the world
- had ceased to move since the dreadful day on which reason had abandoned
- him; continually absorbed by one fixed idea, that of his mortal combat,
- without seconds. The only words he ever uttered, were those pronounced by
- the Count de Morlaix, when he forgave him his death. He was an old man,
- weak as an infant, and whom his wife could overawe by a gesture, and who
- received from her cold and continuous will, every impulsion, which, for
- twenty years, the vegetating instinct had received, and which, on him, had
- usurped the place of reason and free will. On this day, however, a great
- change had taken place in his monotonous mode of life. A valet de chambre
- had entered his apartment, and had succeeded to the marchioness in the
- cares of his toilette; he had dressed him in his uniform of steward of the
- household, had decorated his breast with the several orders that had been
- conferred upon him; and then the marchioness, placing a pen in his hand,
- had ordered him to try to sign his name, and he had obeyed, passively and
- negligently, without imagining that he was studying the part of an
- executioner.
- </p>
- <p>
- About three in the afternoon, a postchaise, the sound of whose wheels had
- very differently impressed the hearts of the three persons who were
- expecting it, entered the court-yard of the castle. Emanuel had eagerly
- run down to the vestibule to receive his future brother-in-law, for it was
- he who had arrived. Lectoure sprang lightly from his carriage. He had
- halted for some time at the last post-house, to attire himself in a
- presentable costume, so that he arrived in an elegant court dress of the
- latest fashion. Emanuel smiled at this evidence of his anxiety, for it was
- clearly to be perceived, that Lectoure was determined not to lose the
- advantage of a first favorable impression, by presenting himself in a
- dusty travelling dress. His intercourse with the fair sex had taught him,
- that they almost invariably judge from the first glance, and the effect
- which it produces upon their minds or hearts, let it be favorable or
- unfavorable, is with difficulty removed. Moreover, it is but rendering
- justice to the baron to acknowledge that his person was graceful and
- elegant, and might have been dangerous to any woman whose heart was not
- already occupied by another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Permit me, my dear baron,” said Emanuel, advancing toward him, “in the
- momentary absence of the ladies, to do the honors of the mansion of my
- ancestors. See,” continued he, when they had reached the top of the stone
- steps leading into the hall, and pointing to the turrets and the bastions,
- “these date from the time of Philip Augustus, as to architecture, and from
- Henry IV., in point of ornament.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Upon my honor,” replied the baron, in the affected tone which the young
- men of that day had adopted, “it is a most charming fortress, and throws
- around it, to a distance of at least three leagues, a baronial odour,
- which would perfume even an army contractor. If ever,” continued he, as
- they passed through the hall and entered a gallery ornamented on each side
- with long lines of family portraits, “I should take a fancy to enter into
- a rebellion against his most Christian Majesty, I shall entreat you to
- lend me this jewel of a place; and,” added he, casting his eyes on the
- long rows of ancestors which offered themselves to his view, “the garrison
- with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thirty-three quarters—I will not say in flesh and blood,” replied
- Emanuel, “for they are long since turned to dust—but in painting, as
- you see. They begin with a certain Chevalier Hugues d’Auray, who
- accompanied King Louis VII. to the crusades; that one, it is pretended, is
- my aunt Deborah, whom you see decked out as Judith; and all this
- eventually ends in the male line, in the last member of this illustrious
- family, your very humble and very obedient servant, Emanuel d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is perfectly respectable, and nothing can be more authentic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; but as I do not feel that I have, as yet, become sufficiently a
- patriarch,” rejoined Emanuel, passing before the baron to show him the way
- to the apartment which had been prepared for him, “to spend my days in
- such formidable society, I hope, baron, that you have thought of the means
- by which I can withdraw from it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly, my dear count,” said Lectoure, following him. “I wished even
- to have been myself the bearer of your commission, as my wedding gift to
- you. I knew of a vacancy in the queen’s dragoon’s, and called yesterday on
- M. de Maurepas to solicit it for you, when I heard that it had been
- granted, at the request of I know not what mysterious admiral, a sort of
- corsair, pirate, or fantastic being, whom the queen has made the fashion
- by giving him her hand to kiss, and whom the king has taken a great
- affection to because he beat the English, I know not where—so that
- his majesty has conferred upon him the order of military merit, and
- presented him a sword with a gold hilt, just as he would have done to one
- of the nobility. In short, the game is lost on that side, but do not be
- alarmed, we will turn round to another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” replied Emanuel, “I care not what regiment it may be in; what
- I desire is, that it should be a rank suitable to my name, and a position
- which would be becoming to our wealth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Precisely—you shall have them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how,” said Emanuel, wishing to change the subject of conversation,
- “how did you manage to get rid of the thousand engagements you must have
- had on your hands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” said the baron, with that perfectly free and easy air, which
- belonged only to that distinguished class, and stretching himself upon a
- couch, for they had at length reached the apartment destined for him,
- “why, by frankly stating the fact to them. I announced at the queen’s card
- table, I was going to be married.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! good heaven! Why, this was perfect heroism! Above all, if you
- acknowledged you were about to seek a wife in the depths of Lower
- Brittany.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did acknowledge it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” said Emanuel, smiling, “compassion stifled every angry
- feeling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gad! you will readily comprehend, my dear count,” said Lectoure, putting
- one knee over the other and, balancing his leg with a motion as regular as
- that of a pendulum, “our women of the court believe that the sun rises at
- Paris, and sets at Versailles—all the rest of France, is, in their
- idea, a Lapland, Greenland, Nova Zembla! So that they expect, as you have
- hinted, my dear count, to see me bring back with me from my voyage to the
- pole some large hands, and formidable feet! Fortunately, they are
- mistaken,” he added, with an accent half timorous, half interrogatory; “is
- it not so, Emanuel? for you told me that your sister”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will see her,” replied Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be a dreadful disappointment to that poor Madame de Chaulne—it
- cannot be helped—and she must console herself. What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- This question was induced by the entrance of Emanuel’s valet-de-chambre;
- who had half opened the door, and remained upon the threshold, waiting, as
- was then the custom of all servants in great houses, till his master
- should address him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it? repeated Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’ Auray requests that Monsieur, the Baron de
- Lectoure, will honor her with a private interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me!” said Lectoure, rising from the sofa, “certainly, with the greatest
- pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But no! it is a mistake!” exclaimed Emanuel; “you must be mistaken,
- Celestin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the honor to assure your lordship,” replied the valet de chambre,
- “that I have correctly and faithfully executed the order which was given
- to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” said Emanuel, uneasy to the highest degree, at the step his
- sister had ventured to take: “Baron, if you will be advised by me, you
- will send the little simpleton about her business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means! by no means,” replied Lectoure. “What does this bluebeard of
- a brother mean? Celestin! Did you not call this lad, Celestin?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel impatiently bowed his head in the affirmative. “Well then,
- Celestin, tell my lovely betrothed that I throw myself at her knees, at
- her feet, and that I await her orders either to go to her or to receive
- her here;—and there, take this for the charges of your embassy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw him his purse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you, count,” rejoined Lectoure, “I trust that you have confidence
- enough in me, to permit this <i> tête-à-tête?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is so perfectly absurd!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all,” replied Lectoure; “on the contrary, it is perfectly
- befitting. I am not a crowned head, that I should marry a woman upon her
- portrait, and by proxy. I wish to see her in person. Come, Emanuel,” he
- continued, pushing his friend toward a side door, that he might not meet
- his sister—“Come, now, tell me frankly—in confidence, between
- ourselves—is there any—deformity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, no, by heaven!” replied the young count, “no—on the contrary,
- she is as lovely as an angel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then!” said the baron, “what does all this opposition mean? Come,
- now, begone, or must I call my guards?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; but on my word, I am afraid that this little simpleton, who has not
- the slightest notion of the world, is coming to destroy all that has been
- arranged between us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! if that is all you fear,” replied Lectoure, opening the door, “you
- may be perfectly at ease. I like the brother too well not to look over
- some caprice—some extraordinary fantasies in the sister—and I
- pledge you my word as a gentleman, unless the devil should play us some
- strange trick, (whom, I trust, is at this moment fully occupied in some
- other corner of the world!) that Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, shall be
- Madame the Baroness de Lectoure, and that in a month you shall have your
- regiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This promise appeared in some degree to pacify Emanuel, who allowed
- himself to be pushed out of the door without making further difficulty.
- Lectoure immediately ran to a looking-glass to repair the slight traces of
- disorder, which the jolting over the three last leagues had occasioned in
- his dress. He had scarcely given to his, hair and garments the most
- becoming turn and folds, when the door again opened, and Celestin
- announced—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The baron turned round, and perceived his betrothed standing pale and
- trembling on the threshold of the door. Although the promises of Emanuel
- had inspired him with some degree of hope, a certain residue of doubt had
- still remained on his mind, if not as to the beauty, at all events, with
- regard to the deportment of the lady who was about to become his wife. His
- surprise was therefore unbounded, when he saw that delicate and graceful
- creature standing before him, and whom the most fastidious critic of
- female elegance could only have reproached with being in a slight degree
- too pallid. Marriages, such as the one about to be contracted by Lectoure,
- were by no means rare in an age in which questions as to rank and
- suitableness of fortune in general, decided alliances between noble
- houses; but that which was scarcely found once in a thousand times, was,
- that a man in the baron’s position should meet, immured in a distant
- province, a lady possessed of an immense fortune, and whom, at the first
- glance, he could discern, was worthy, by her demeanor, her elegance, and
- her beauty, to shine in the most brilliant circles of the court. He,
- therefore, advanced toward her, no longer with the feeling of superiority
- as a courtier, addressing a country girl, but with all the respectful ease
- which distinguished good society at that time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon me, mademoiselle,” said he, offering her his hand to conduct her
- to an arm chair, but which she did not accept; “it was to me to solicit
- the favor you have bestowed upon me; and believe me, it was the
- apprehension of being considered indiscreet, which alone has occasioned
- the apparent neglect of allowing myself to be forestalled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I truly appreciate this delicacy, sir,” replied Marguerite, in a
- trembling voice, and retreating one step, she remained standing. “It
- strengthens me still more in the confidence which, without having seen
- you, without knowing you, I had placed in your honor and good faith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whatever aim this confidence may have had, I am honored by it,
- mademoiselle, and I will endeavor to render myself worthy of it. But, good
- heaven, what can so affect you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing, sir, nothing,” replied Marguerite, endeavoring to overcome her
- emotion; “but it is—it is—that I have to tell you that—but—really—I
- am not sufficiently mistress of myself to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She staggered, and appeared as if about to fall; the baron sprang toward
- her to offer his support, but he had scarcely touched her when a flush of
- crimson suffused the cheeks of the young girl, and with a feeling, which
- might be attributed as well to modesty as to repugnance, she disengaged
- herself from his arms. Lectoure had taken her hand, and conducted her to a
- chair, against which she leaned, but would not seat herself in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good God!” exclaimed the baron, still retaining her hand, “it must then
- be something very difficult to utter, that has brought you hither! Or,
- without my at all suspecting it, has my being affianced to you already
- conferred upon me the imposing air of a husband?” Marguerite made another
- effort to withdraw her hand from the baron, and which induced the latter
- to observe it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How!” said he, “not satisfied with having the most adorable of faces, the
- elegant figure of a fairy, but you must have such lovely hands!—hands
- perfectly royal in their shape—why, ‘tis enough to make me expire at
- once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust M. le Baron,” rejoined Marguerite, and making a last effort, she
- withdrew her hand from his grasp, “that the words with which you are now
- addressing me, are merely words of gallantry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, by my soul! they are the sincere truth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, I hope, should it be, which I much doubt, that you really
- think that which you have been pleased to say—I trust, I say, that
- such motives will not lead you to attach a higher value to the union which
- has been projected?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They will, indeed, and that I swear to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet,” continued Marguerite, gasping for breath, so much was her heart
- oppressed, “and yet, sir, you consider marriage as a solemn matter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is as it may happen,” smilingly replied Lectoure; “for example, if I
- were about to marry an old dowager.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In short,” rejoined Marguerite, in a more determined tone, “I beg your
- pardon, sir, if I have been mistaken; I thought, perhaps, that with regard
- to the alliance proposed between us, you had formed some idea of
- reciprocity of feeling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never!” cried Lectoure, interrupting her, for he appeared as eager to
- avoid the frank explanation, which Marguerite desired, as she seemed to
- provoke it. “Never! and above all, since I have seen you, I could not hope
- to be worthy of your love. And yet my name, my position in society,
- notwithstanding I should fail to influence your heart, may yet give me a
- title to your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how, sir,” said Marguerite, timidly, “how can you separate the one
- from the other?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As do three-fourths of the people who get married, mademoiselle,” replied
- Lectoure, with a carelessness which would have at once deterred the
- confidence of a woman less candid than Marguerite. “A man marries in order
- to have a wife, the wife to have a husband; it is a social compact, an
- arrangement of convenience. What can love have to do in a matter of this
- nature?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your pardon, sir; perhaps I have not clearly expressed my meaning,”
- continued Marguerite, making an effort to control her feelings, and to
- conceal from the man upon whom her future fate depended, the impression
- his words had produced upon her mind. “But you must attribute my
- hesitation, sir, to the timidity of a young girl, compelled by imperious
- circumstances to speak on such a subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all, mademoiselle,” replied Lectoure, bowing and giving to his
- voice a tone which nearly approached raillery; “on the contrary, you speak
- like <i>Clarissa Harlowe</i>, and all you say is as clear as daylight. God
- has endowed me with a mind sufficiently quick-sighted perfectly to
- comprehend things which are but hinted at.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How, sir!” cried Marguerite, “you comprehend what I had the intention of
- saying, and you allow me to continue? How would it be if on looking deeply
- into my heart and interrogating all its feelings, I found it impossible to
- love—to love the person who had been presented to me as my future
- husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” replied Lectoure, in the same sarcastic tone in which he had before
- spoken, “in my opinion the best course to pursue would be not to tell him
- of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why not, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because—but—but—because it would really be too simple.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if that avowal were made, not from simplicity but from delicacy? If I
- added, and may the shame of such an avowal fall back on those who compel
- me to make it—if I added sir, that I have loved, that I still love?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! some little romance, is it not so?” said Lectoure, carelessly,
- crossing his leg and playing with the frill of his shirt; “upon my honor,
- the race of little cousins is an accursed race. But fortunately we know
- what these ephemeral attachments are; and there is not a school-girl, who,
- after the holidays, does not return to her convent but with a passion in
- her little heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Unfortunately for me,” replied Marguerite, with, a voice as sorrowful and
- grave as that of the baron was sarcastic and light, “unfortunately, I am
- no longer a school-girl, sir; and although still young, I have long ago
- passed the age of childish games and infantine attachments. When I speak
- to the man who does me the honor to solicit my hand and to offer me his
- name, of my love for another, he ought to understand that I am speaking of
- a serious, profound, and eternal love; of one of those passions, in fine,
- which leave their traces in the heart, and imprint them there for ever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The devil!” exclaimed Lectoure, as if beginning to attach some importance
- to Marguerite’s confession; “why, this is perfectly pastoral. But let us
- see! is it a young man whom one can receive at one’s house?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir,” cried Marguerite, catching at the hope which these words seemed
- to inspire: “oh! believe me, he is the most estimable being, the most
- devoted soul——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I am not asking you to tell me this—I was not speaking of the
- qualities of his heart—he has all these, of course, that’s perfectly
- understood. I ask you whether he is noble? if he is of good race? in
- short, whether a woman of quality could acknowledge him, and that without
- degrading her husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His father, whom he lost when very young, and who was my father’s friend
- from infancy, was a counsellor at the Court of Rennes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobility of the bar!” exclaimed Lectoure, dropping his nether lip with a
- contemptuous shrug; “I would rather it were otherwise—is he a knight
- of Malta, at least?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was educated for a military life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then, we must get a regiment for him, to give him rank and standing
- in society. Well, that’s all arranged, and it is well. Now, listen to me:
- he will absent himself for six months, merely for decency’s sake, will
- obtain leave of absence, no difficult matter now, as we are not at war—he
- will get himself presented to you for form’s sake, by some mutual friend,
- and then all will go on rightly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not understand you, sir,” replied Marguerite, looking at the baron
- with an expression of profound astonishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I have said to you is, notwithstanding, perfectly pellucid,”
- rejoined the latter, with some show of impatience; “you have engagements
- on your side—I have on mine—but that is no reason for
- preventing an union which is perfectly suitable in every respect; and once
- accomplished, why, I think, we are bound to render it as bearable as we
- can. Do you comprehend me now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! pardon me, sir, pardon me,” cried Marguerite, starting back, as
- though these words had outraged her; “I have been very imprudent, very
- culpable perhaps; but whatever I may have been, I did not dream I could
- have merited so gross an insult. Oh! sir, the blush of shame is now
- scorching my cheek, but more for you than for myself. Yes, I understand
- you—an apparent love and a concealed one; the face of vice and the
- mask of virtue; and it is to me—to me, the daughter of the Marquis
- d’Auray, that so shameful, so humiliating, so infamous a bargain is
- proposed. Oh!” continued she, falling into an arm-chair, and hiding her
- face with both her hands, “I must then be a most unfortunate, most
- contemptible lost creature! Oh! my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Emanuel! Emanuel!” cried the baron, opening the door, at which he rightly
- suspected Marguerite’s brother had remained; “come in, my dear friend;
- your sister is attacked with spasms; these things ought to be attended to,
- or they may become chronic; Madame do Moulan died of them. Here, take my
- scent bottle, and let her smell at it. As to myself, I am going down into
- the park. If you have nothing else to do, you can rejoin me there, and
- bring me, if you please, news of your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, the Baron de Lectoure left the room with miraculous
- calmness, leaving Marguerite and Emanuel together.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me,
- It shall not anger me—I tell thee Claudius,
- Thou art enshrined in a holy circle
- My foot can never pass—nor taunt, nor insult
- Can e’er induce this hand to rise against thee.
- Therefore be satisfied—
- Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee.
- —Old Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron de
- Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so diametrically
- opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl, on that day at
- four o’clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the castle. Emanuel
- did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could not leave her
- husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to come down stairs.
- The other guests were the notary, the relations of the family, and the
- witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding the imperturbable
- gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his joyous humor, so
- stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun his own feelings.
- From time to time, indeed, his boisterous liveliness failed all at once,
- like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly extinguished, and then it suddenly
- burst forth again, as doth the flame when it devours its last aliment. At
- seven o’clock they rose from table, and went into the drawing-room. It
- would be difficult to form an idea of the strange aspect which the old
- castle then presented; the vast apartments of which were hung with damask
- draperies, with gothic designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times
- of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the
- presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance
- of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the feeble
- and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to illuminate
- the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the arches of a
- cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to be joined during
- the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the neighbourhood,
- increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the emblazoned columns of
- the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons, the same one in which
- Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from Paris, had received Captain
- Paul, was placed a table prepared with much solemnity, on which was laid a
- closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a stranger ignorant of all that
- was preparing, might as well have enclosed a death warrant as a marriage
- contract. In the midst of these grave aspects and gloomy impressions, from
- time to time a shrill mocking laugh would reach the ears of a group of
- persons whispering to each other. It proceeded from Lectoure, who was
- amusing himself at the expense of some good country gentlemen, without any
- respect for the feelings of Emanuel, upon whom a portion of his raillery
- necessarily recoiled. He would, however, every now and then cast an
- anxious glance around the room, and then a gloomy cloud would pervade his
- features, for he saw not either his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or
- Marguerite enter the room. As we have already stated, that neither of them
- had been present at the dinner table, and his interview with the latter
- had not, however careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some
- uneasiness with regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take
- place during the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and
- he had just determined to go up to his sister’s apartment, when in passing
- through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw
- near.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count,” said he to
- him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country
- gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of
- perfect intimacy; “here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very
- curious things, upon my word! But do you know,” continued he, turning to
- the narrator, “this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also have
- marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to Paris, to
- tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild ducks in this
- way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An immense quantity,” replied the gentleman, and with the accent of
- perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of
- detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?” inquired Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only imagine, my dear friend,” replied Lectoure, with the most complete
- sang froid, “that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,—At
- what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the month of December and January.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying,
- then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool
- over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so
- completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and
- allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As near as I am to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! really?” exclaimed Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I kill them by dozens,” said he, proudly, being enchanted by the
- attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his
- exploits.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of
- ducks,” said Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She adores them,” said M. de Nozay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a
- person,” said Lectoure, bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly baron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear to you,” said Lectoure, “that instantly on my return to Paris, I
- will speak of this sport in the king’s dressing-room, and I am persuaded
- that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his large ponds
- of Versailles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, dear marquis,” said Emanuel, taking Lectoure’s arm,
- and whispering in his ear, “this is one of our country neighbors, whom we
- could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It requires no apology, my dear friend,” said Lectoure, using the same
- precaution not to be heard by the party in question: “you would have been
- decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He is an
- appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been greatly
- chagrined not to have made his acquaintance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur de la Jarry,” said a servant, opening the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sporting companion?” said Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied M. de Nozay; “he is a traveller.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the
- newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had
- hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room,
- muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! my dear La Jarry,” cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and holding
- out his hand to him, “but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, you look
- like the Czar Peter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is,” replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no means
- cold, “because, when one arrives from Naples—perrrrrou!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples,” said Lectoure, joining in the
- conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Direct, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then,”
- continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to the
- volcano, “Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen at
- Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when the wind is
- in the wrong quarter,—and besides Madame La Jarry was dreadfully
- alarmed at the idea of an eruption.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But of course you visited the <i>Grotto del Cane?</i>” continued
- Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To what purpose?” rejoined La Jarry; “to see an animal that has vapors—give
- a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as much. And then,
- Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it would have given her
- pain to witness so cruel an exhibition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself,” said Emanuel,
- bowing, “did not neglect the Solfatara.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who, I—I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine
- what three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which
- is a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the
- odour of sulphur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think of our new friend?” said Emanuel, leading Lectoure into
- the room in which the contract was to be signed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly
- prefer Nozay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, “Monsieur Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh!” exclaimed Emanuel, turning round.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is this?” inquired Lectoure, listlessly, “another country neighbour?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; this is quite another sort of person,” replied Emanuel, with
- agitation. “How does this man dare to present himself here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah! a plebeian—eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I
- suppose. No—a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you,
- Emanuel, that they are beginning to receive this sort of people—that
- accursed philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my
- dear fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it—we have
- come to that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches
- the corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises—they
- converse together on court matters—they jest, they joke, they
- squabble, it is <i>bon ton</i> though decidedly bad taste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, Lectoure,” replied Emanuel; “he is neither poet,
- painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead
- off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours by
- the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting and
- travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely closed
- upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into the room
- he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door—the one led
- to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up on his
- first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between Marguerite and
- Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained there for a moment,
- looking attentively at the two doors, as though he had expected to see one
- of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In a few moments, that of the
- library was opened, and he perceived a white form standing within it; he
- rushed towards it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it you, Marguerite?” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied a trembling voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told him all?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suspected as much—he is a miserable wretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s to be done?” cried the young girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take courage, Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage—oh! it now fails me entirely.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is that which will restore it,” said Paul, handing her a letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this letter contain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name of
- the woman in whose house he has been concealed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son! oh! you are my guardian angel,” cried Marguerite, endeavoring to
- kiss the hand which held the paper to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! someone is coming—whatever may happen, you will find one
- at Achards.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had
- heard: the sound of her brother’s footsteps. Paul turned round, and went
- to meet him, which he did, near the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company,” said
- Emanuel, who was the first to speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears to me that we are alone at this moment,” said Paul, glancing
- around the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an instant
- this room will be full.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But many things may be said in an instant, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more
- than an instant to comprehend them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am listening,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You spoke to me of letters,” rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him, and
- lowering his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true,” said Paul, with the same calmness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You fixed a price upon those letters?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is also true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum
- enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them
- up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, yes,” replied Paul, “the case stood thus, as long as I believed
- your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault she had
- committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was seconding
- your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a sufficiently
- bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without a name and
- without a family, not to allow him to enter it without a fortune also, and
- I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in exchange for the letters
- in my possession. But now the state of things is altered, sir. I saw your
- sister throw herself upon her knees before you, I heard her entreat you
- not to force her into this infamous marriage, and neither prayers, nor
- tears, nor supplications could make any impression on your heart. It is
- now for me, for me who hold your honor, and the honor of your family
- within my hands, it is for me to save the mother from despair, as I would
- have saved the child from penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be
- delivered to you, when you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the
- marriage contract of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of
- Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray with Anatole de Lusignan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, sir, never!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know not any,” coldly replied Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count,” replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under the
- circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, “count, listen to
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you return me those letters, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, or no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” said Paul, calmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or
- rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together,
- and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful
- from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I regret I cannot accept the offer, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side
- that sword, and you refuse a duel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against
- you, count—believe me, I entreat you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot fight with me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot, upon my honor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot fight with me, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At this moment a person who had entered the room without being perceived,
- burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul and Emanuel
- turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, “I can fight with him, for he is a
- miserable and infamous wretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A burning blush passed over Lectoure’s features, like the reflection of a
- flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is well, sir,” said he; “send your second to Emanuel and they can
- arrange this matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred,” said
- Emanuel, to Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence!” replied Paul, “they are announcing your mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure,” added Emanuel, “let
- us go to receive my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he entered
- the small room in which he had before been concealed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Listen to me and heed me!
- If this contract
- Thou holdst me to, abide thou the result!
- Answer to heaven for what I suffer! act!
- Prepare thyself for such calamity
- To fall on me, and those whose evil
- Have linked them with me, as no past mishap,
- However rare and marvellously Sad,
- Can parallel.
-
- Knowles—The Hunchback.
-</pre>
- <p>
- At the moment that Paul went into the study, the marchioness appeared at
- the door of the drawing-room, followed by the notary, and the several
- persons who had been invited to be present at the signing of the contract.
- Notwithstanding the nature of the meeting, the marchioness had not
- considered it proper to lay aside, even for one evening, her mourning
- garments, and dressed in complete black, as she had been always during
- twenty years, she came into the room a few moments before the marquis.
- None of the persons present, not even his son, had seen the marquis for
- many years. Such attention was in those days paid to ancient forms, that
- the marchioness would not allow the marriage contract of her daughter to
- be signed, without the head of the family, although deprived of reason,
- being present; at the ceremony. However little accustomed Lectoure was to
- feel intimidated, the marchioness produced upon him the effect which she
- did on every one that approached her, and on seeing her enter the room
- with so grave and dignified an aspect, he bowed to her with a feeling of
- profound respect.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am grateful to you, gentlemen,” said the marchioness, bowing to the
- persons who accompanied her, “for the honor you have been pleased to
- confer upon me, by being present at the betrothal of Mademoiselle
- Marguerite d’Auray, with the Baron de Lectoure. I, in consequence, was
- desirous that the marquis, although suffering from illness, should also be
- present at this meeting, to thank you at least by his presence, if he
- cannot do so verbally. You are all aware of his unfortunate malady, and
- you will, therefore, not be astonished, should some disjointed words—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, madam,” said Lectoure, interrupting her, “we know the misfortune
- which has befallen him, and we admire the devoted wife, who for twenty
- years has borne half the weight of this sad visitation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see, madam,” said Emanuel, addressing in his turn, and kissing the
- hand of his mother, “all the world bows down in admiration of your
- conjugal piety.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is Marguerite?” murmured the marchioness, in a hair whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was here not a moment ago,” said Emanuel. “Let her know that we are
- all assembled,” rejoined the marchioness, in the same tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- A servant then announced “the Marquis d’Auray.” All present drew to one
- side, so as to leave free passage from the door, and all eyes were
- directed to the spot at which this new personage was to appear. It was not
- long before their curiosity was satisfied; the marquis came in almost
- immediately, supported by two servants.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was an old man, whose countenance, notwithstanding that the traces of
- suffering had deeply furrowed it, still retained that noble and dignified
- appearance which had rendered him one of the most distinguished men of the
- court of Louis XV. His large, hollow, and feverish eyes, glanced around
- the assembly with a strange expression of astonishment. He was dressed in
- his costume of Steward of the Household, wore the order of the Holy Ghost
- suspended from his neck, and that of St. Louis, at his button hole. He
- advanced slowly, and without uttering a word. The two servants led him
- forward amid the most profound silence, to an arm-chair, in which he
- seated himself, and the servants left the room. The marchioness then
- placed herself at his right hand. The notary opened the portfolio, drew
- from it the marriage contract and read it aloud. The marquis and the
- marchioness made over the sum of five hundred thousand francs to Lectoure,
- and gave a like sum to Marguerite, as her dowry.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the whole of the time occupied by the reading of the contract, the
- marchioness, notwithstanding her great self command, had betrayed some
- symptoms of uneasiness. But just at the moment when the notary had placed
- the contract open on the table, Emanuel returned and approached his
- mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Marguerite?” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She will be here instantly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” murmured Marguerite, half opening the door, and clasping her
- hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness pretended not to hear her, and pointed with her finger at
- the pen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Baron, it is you who are first to sign.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lectoure immediately approached the table and signed the contract.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” cried Marguerite, in a tone of supplication, and advancing one
- step toward her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pass the pen to your betrothed, Baron,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Baron walked round the table, and drew near to Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” again cried the latter, with an accent so melancholy, that it
- struck to the heart of every person present, and even the marquis himself
- raised his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sign!” said the marchioness, pointing to the marriage contract.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father! my father!” exclaimed Marguerite throwing herself at the
- feet of the marquis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this mean?” said the marchioness, leaning upon the arm of the
- marquis’ chair, and bending over him, “are you mad, mademoiselle?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father! oh! my father!” again cried Marguerite, throwing her arms
- around him, “my father, have pity, save your daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” murmured the marchioness, in a threatening accent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” replied Marguerite, “I cannot address myself to you—permit
- me, then, to implore my father’s pity; unless,” she added, pointing to the
- notary with a firm and determined gesture, “you would prefer my invoking
- the protection of the law.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, come,” said the marchioness, rising, and in a tone of bitter irony,
- “this is a family scene, and which, although highly interesting to near
- relations, must be sufficiently tedious to strangers. Gentlemen, you will
- find refreshments in the adjoining rooms. My son, conduct these gentlemen,
- and do the honors. Baron, I must beg your pardon for a short time.”
- Emanuel and Lectoure bowed in silence and withdrew, followed by all the
- company. The marchioness remained motionless until the last of them had
- withdrawn, and then she closed all the doors leading into the room, when,
- returning to the marquis, whom Marguerite still held clasped in her arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” said she, “that there is no one present excepting those who
- have the right to lay their commands upon you, sign that paper,
- mademoiselle, or leave the room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For pity’s sake, madam, for pity’s sake, do not compel me to commit so
- infamous an act!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you not heard me?” said the marchioness, giving to her voice an
- imperative tone, which she thought impossible to be resisted, “or must I
- repeat my words? ‘Sign, or leave the room.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father!” cried Marguerite, “mercy! mercy! No, it shall not be
- said, that after having been banished from my father’s presence for ten
- years, I was torn from his arms the first time I again beheld him—and
- that, before he had recognized me, before he has embraced me. Oh! father!
- father!—it is I, it is your daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is that voice that is imploring me?” murmured the marquis. “Who is
- this child who calls me father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That voice,” said the marchioness, seizing the arm of her daughter, “is a
- voice that is raised against the rights of nature. That child is a
- rebellious daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father!” cried Marguerite imploringly, “look at me. Oh! my father,
- save me I defend me! I am Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite? Marguerite?” stammered the marquis, “I had formerly a child
- of that name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I! it is I!” rejoined Marguerite: “I am your child—I am your
- daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are no children but those who obey. Obey! and you will then have
- the right to call yourself our daughter,” rejoined the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To you, my father, yes,—to you I am ready to obey. But you do not
- command this sacrifice! you do not wish that I should be unhappy—unhappy
- even to despair—unhappy even to death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come! come!” said the marquis holding her in his turn, and pressing her
- to his heart. “Oh! this is a delicious and unknown feeling to me. And now—wait!
- wait!” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “It seems to me that I
- recollect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” cried the marchioness, “tell her that she ought to obey; that the
- malediction of God awaits rebellious children. Tell her that, rather than
- to encourage her in her impiety!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis slowly raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his
- wife, and then slowly pronounced the following words: “Take care! madam,
- take care. Have I not told you that I begin to remember!” and then again
- bending down his head to that of Marguerite, so that his grey hairs
- mingled with the dark tresses, of his daughter—“Speak—speak!”
- said he, “what is it that disturbs you, my child—tell me all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I am most unhappy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everybody, then, is unhappy here,” exclaimed the marquis, “whether their
- hair be grey or black—an old man or a child.. Oh! and I also—I
- am unhappy—be assured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, go up stairs into your room again: you must,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that I may again be face to face with you; shut up like a prisoner!
- That may be very well, when I am mad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, my father, you are right. My mother has devoted herself to you
- long enough; it is now time that your daughter should perform that duty.
- Take me with you, father. I will not leave you day or night. You will only
- have to make a sign, to utter a word, and I will serve you on my knees.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you would not have the strength to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, my father, I will—as truly as I am your daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness wrung her hands with impatience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you are my daughter, how is it that I have not seen you for ten
- years?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I was told that you would not see me, my father; because they
- told me that you did not love me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were told that I would not see you—not see that angel face!”
- said he, taking her head between his hands, and looking at her with
- intense auction; “they told you that—they told you that a poor
- condemned soul did not wish for heaven! Who was it, then, that told you a
- father would not see his child? Who has dared to say, child, your father
- loves you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I!——” said the marchioness, again endeavoring to take
- Marguerite from her father’s arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You!” exclaimed the marquis, interrupting her: “it was you? To you then,
- has been confided the fatal mission of deceiving me in all my affections.
- All my griefs, then, must find their source in you? You wish, then, now to
- break the father’s heart, as twenty years ago, you did that of the
- husband.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are delirious, sir,” said the marchioness, loosing the arm of her
- daughter; and going to the right of the marquis, she whispered—“be
- silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, madam, no, I am not now delirious,” replied the marquis, “No! no! Say
- rather, say that,—and it will be the truth,—say that I am now
- between an angel who would recall me to reason, and a demon who wishes me
- again to become insane. No! No! I am not mad. Do you wish that I should
- prove it to you?” He rose, supporting himself on the arms of his chair.
- “Must I speak to you of letters, of adultery, of a duel?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say,” said the marchioness, grasping his arm, “I tell you that you are
- more forsaken by heaven than ever, when you utter such things, without
- reflecting as to whose ears are listening. Cast down your eyes, sir—look
- who is standing yonder, and then dare assert that you are not mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right;” said the marquis, falling back in his chair. “Your mother
- is right,” continued he, addressing Marguerite—“I am mad, and you
- must not believe what I say, but what she says. Your mother is
- devotedness, virtue itself, and therefore, she has not sleepless nights,
- nor remorse, nor madness. What does your mother wish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My misery, father; my everlasting misery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how can I prevent this misery?” said the unhappy old man, with a most
- heart-rending anguish; “how can I, a poor, insane old man, prevent it? who
- thinks he always sees the blood issuing from a wound—who thinks he
- constantly hears a voice proceeding from a tomb!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh you can do all; say but one word and I am saved! They wish me to marry—”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis listlessly reclined his head on the back of his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me! they wish to marry me to a man whom I do not love—do
- you understand me?—to a wretch!—and you have been brought here—placed
- in that arm-chair, before the table—you, you my father! to sign this
- infamous contract—this contract which I now hand to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without consulting me,” said the marquis, taking the contract; “without
- asking me whether I will, or I will not! Do they believe me dead? And if
- they think me dead, do they fear me less than they would a spectre? This
- marriage would cause your misery, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My eternal misery!” exclaimed Marguerite. “The marriage, then, shall not
- take place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have pledged your word and mine,” said the marchioness, and with the
- more energy, that she felt her influence over her husband about to escape
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This marriage, I tell you, shall not take place!” replied the marquis, in
- a tone louder than that of his wife. “It is too dreadful a thing,”
- continued he, in a gloomy sepulchral tone, “to be permitted. A marriage in
- which a wife loves not her husband—why, it causes madness! As to
- myself, the marchioness has always loved me, and loved me faithfully—that
- which drove me mad—oh! that was a different matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A flash of diabolical joy shot from the eyes of the marchioness, for she
- at once saw from the violence of the expressions used by her husband, and
- the terror depicted on his features, that his insanity was about to
- return.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This contract,” said the marquis, and he raised it in his hands as if
- about to tear it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness eagerly caught his hand. Marguerite appeared to be hanging
- by a thread between heaven and hell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That which drives me mad!” reiterated the marquis, “is a tomb which
- widely opens, a spectre that issues from the earth, it is a phantom that
- speaks to me, and says—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your life is in my hands!” murmured the marchioness in his ear, repeating
- the last words of the dying Morlaix: “I could take it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you hear that?” cried the marquis, rising, and as if about to rush
- from the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father! oh! my father! recall your senses; there is no tomb, there is
- no spectre, there is no phantom; those words were uttered by the
- marchioness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I wish you to live,” continued the latter, concluding the sentence
- she had begun, “to forgive me as I forgive you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon, Morlaix, pardon!” cried the marquis, falling back in his
- arm-chair, his hair standing on end with terror, and the perspiration
- streaming from his forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! father! father!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see that your father is altogether deranged,” said the marchioness,
- triumphantly; “say no more to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Marguerite, “God will, I trust perform a miracle! My love, my
- caresses, my tears, will restore him to reason.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make the attempt,” replied the marchioness, coldly, abandoning to her
- care the marquis, who was powerless, speechless, and almost without
- consciousness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my poor father!” exclaimed Marguerite, in a tone of agony.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis remained perfectly impassible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” said the marchioness, in an imperative manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh! eh!” cried the marquis, shuddering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Save me! oh! save me, father!” cried Marguerite, wringing her hands, and
- throwing herself back in despair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take this pen and sign,” said the marchioness, “you must—it is my
- will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, I am lost indeed!” cried Marguerite, overwhelmed with terror, and
- feeling that she had no longer strength to continue the struggle.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at the moment that the marquis, overpowered, had written the first
- letters of his name; when the marchioness was congratulating herself on
- the victory she had obtained, and Marguerite was about to leave the room
- in despair, an unexpected incident suddenly changed the scene. The door of
- the study opened, and Paul, who had been anxiously watching, though
- invisibly, the whole of this terrible conflict, issued from it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said he, “one word before this contract is signed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is it calls me!” said the marchioness, endeavoring to distinguish in
- the distance that separated them, the person who had thus spoken, and who
- stood in a dark corner of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that voice!” exclaimed the marquis, shuddering, as if seared by a
- red-hot iron.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul advanced three paces, and the light from the lustre hanging in the
- centre of the room fell full upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it a spectre?” cried the marchioness, in her turn, struck with the
- resemblance of the youth who stood before her to her former lover.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that face!” cried the marquis, believing that he saw the man whom
- he had killed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God! protect me,” stammered Marguerite, raising her eyes and
- hands to heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Morlaix! Morlaix!” said the marquis, rising and advancing toward Paul,
- “Morlaix!—pardon! mercy!” and he fell at full length upon the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father!” cried Marguerite, rushing to his assistance.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment a servant entered the room, with terror in his looks, and
- addressing the marchioness said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, Achard has sent to request that the priest and the doctor of the
- castle, may instantly be ordered to attend him—he is dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell him,” replied the marchioness, pointing to her husband, whom
- Marguerite was vainly endeavoring to restore to consciousness, “that they
- are both obliged to remain here to attend upon the marquis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
- Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
- Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As has been seen by the end of the preceding chapter, God, by one of those
- extraordinary combinations, which short-sighted man almost always
- attributes to chance, had summoned to his presence, and almost at the same
- moment, the souls of the noble Marquis d’Auray, and the poor low-born
- Achard. We have seen that the former, struck by the sight of Paul, the
- living portrait of his father, as if by a thunderbolt, fell at the feet of
- the young man, who was himself terrified at the effect his appearance had
- produced.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to Achard, the circumstances which had hastened his death, although
- differing in their nature, and from very opposite feelings, had arisen
- from the same fatal causes, and had been brought about by the same
- individual. The sight of Paul had created direful emotions in the breasts
- both of the marquis and Achard. On the former from excess of terror, on
- the latter from excess of joy.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the day which had preceded the intended signing of the contract,
- Achard had felt himself more feeble than usual. Notwithstanding this, he
- had not neglected in the evening to crawl to his master’s grave, there to
- put up his accustomed prayer. Thence he had observed with a devotion more
- profound than ever, that ever new and splendid spectacle, the sun sinking
- into the ocean. He had followed the decline of its enpurpled light, and as
- though the vast torch of the world had drawn his soul toward it, he had
- felt his strength extinguished with its last rays; so that when the
- servant from the castle came in the evening at the accustomed hour to
- receive his orders, not finding him in his house, had sought for him
- without the park, and as it was well known that he generally walked in
- that direction, found him lying extended at the foot of the great oak
- tree, upon the grave of his master, and deprived of consciousness. Thus
- did he remain constant to the last in that religious devotedness he had
- vowed to his master’s tomb, and which had been the exclusive feeling of
- the last years of his life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; and
- then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the
- marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a
- physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the servant
- then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, under the
- pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as the old
- servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at the point of
- death, gave her husband the right of first employing.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the
- moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and
- varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we
- have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul.
- Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible
- from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to whisper
- to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would find him at
- Achard’s cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and winding his way
- amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill of a sear man, who
- reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon reached the house, entered
- it panting from his rapid course, and found Achard just as he was
- recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him in his arms. The delight
- of again seeing him renewed the strength of the old man, who now felt
- certain of having a friendly hand to close his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! it is you—it is you!” exclaimed the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not hope to see you again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of the
- state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your
- assistance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I knew not where to find you—where I could send to tell you
- that I wished once more to see you before I died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously
- ill, and I hastened hither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how was it that you were at the castle?” said the old man, with
- amazement.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul related to him all that had occurred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eternal Providence!” cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his
- recital, “how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after
- twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, and
- hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, thus it happens,” replied Paul, “and it is Providence, also,
- who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse to
- send you the physician and the priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “According to common justice,” rejoined Achard, “they might have made a
- fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the
- physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the
- priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can go on horseback,” said Paul, “and in less than an hour—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In an hour it would be too late,” said the dying man, in an enfeebled
- voice, “a priest! a priest only—I ask but for a priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Father,” replied Paul, “in his sacred functions, I know I cannot supply
- his place; but we can speak of God, of his greatness and his goodness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but let us first finish with the things of this earth, that we may
- then be able to turn our thoughts wholly to those of heaven. You say that,
- like myself, the marquis is dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I left him at the last agony.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know, that immediately after his death, the papers which are
- deposited in that closet, and which prove your birth, are yours by right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?” The old man sat
- up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. “You will take
- that key, you will open the closet—in it you will find a casket. You
- are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket until
- the marquis shall be dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear it,” said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the
- crucifix hanging at the head of the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well,” replied Achard; “now I shall die in peace.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the father
- stretches out his towards you from heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since
- his death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, “I was but too exact in
- following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have taken
- place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, Paul;
- it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is the only
- thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been moments of
- doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as an
- assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only been
- a witness, but an accomplice!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my second father,” replied Paul, “I know not whether the laws of
- earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether honor
- as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the Lord; I
- know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits that the
- injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs inflicted
- upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the judgment of
- heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword’s point. These are questions
- not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, then, my
- conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have done
- precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it also
- misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right than a
- priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, I pardon
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks! thanks!” cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; “thanks,
- for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying man. Remorse is
- a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that there exists no
- God. For without a judge there can be no judgment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me,” said Paul, in that poetic and solemn accent, which was
- peculiar to him: “I also have often doubted in the existence of a God:
- isolated and lost in the wide world, without family, and without a single
- friend, I sought for support in the Lord, and I asked of every thing that
- encircled me, some proof of his existence. Often have I arrested my steps
- at the foot of one of these crosses, erected by the road side, and with my
- eyes fixed upon the Saviour, I demanded, and with tears, to be assured of
- his existence, and divine mission; I prayed that his eyes would deign to
- look upon me: that one drop of blood might fall from his wound, or that a
- sigh might issue from his lips. The crucifix remained motionless, and I
- arose, my heart being overcome with despair, saying—‘did I but know
- where I could find my father’s tomb, I would question him as Hamlet did
- the ghost, and he would perhaps answer me!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then would I enter a church,” continued Paul, “one of those churches of
- the north, gloomy, religious, Christian! And I would feel myself borne
- down with sorrow; but sorrow is not faith! I approached the altar; I threw
- myself upon my knees before the tabernacle, in which God dwells; I bowed
- my head till it touched the marble of the steps; and when I had thus
- remained prostrated for hours and lost in doubt, I raised my head, hoping
- that the God I was seeking would at length manifest his presence to me by
- a ray of his glory, or by some dazzling proof of his power. But the church
- remained gloomy, as the cross had remained motionless. And I would then
- rush from its porches with insensate haste, crying, ‘Lord! Lord! didst
- thou exist, thou would reveal thyself to man. It is thy will, then, that
- men should doubt, since thou canst reveal thyself to them, but dost not.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beware of what you are saying, Paul,” cried the old man: “beware that the
- doubt thy heart contains do not attaint mine! Thou hast time left to thee
- to believe, whereas, I—I am about to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, father, wait!” continued Paul, with softened voice, and placid
- features. “I have not told you all. It was then, that I said to myself,
- ‘the crucifix by the road side, the churches of the cities are but the
- work of man. Let us seek God, in God’s own works.’ From that moment, my
- father, began that wandering life, which will remain an eternal mystery,
- known only to the heavens, the ocean, and myself—it led me into the
- solitary wilds of America, for I thought the newer a world was, the more
- freshly would it retain the impress of God’s hand. I did not deceive
- myself. There, often in those virgin forests, into which I was perhaps the
- first who had ever penetrated; with no shelter, but the heavens, no couch,
- but the earth, absorbed by one sole thought, I have listened to the
- thousand noises of a world about to sleep, and nature when awakening. For
- a long time, did I still remain without comprehending that unknown tongue,
- formed by the mingling of the murmur of rivers, the vapor of the lakes,
- the rustling of the forest, and the perfume of flowers. Finally, the veil
- which had obscured my eyes, and the weight which had oppressed my heart,
- was little by little removed; and from that time, I began to believe that
- these noises of evening, and of approaching day, were but one universal
- hymn, by which created things expressed their gratitude to the Creator.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Almighty God!” cried the dying man, clasping his hands, and raising his
- eyes to heaven, with an expression of holy faith, “I cried to you from the
- bottomless pit, and you heard me in my distress; oh! my God I I thank
- thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” continued Paul, with still increasing enthusiasm, “then, I sought
- upon the ocean, that full conviction which earth had refused to me. The
- earth is but a span—the ocean is immensity! The ocean is, after God
- himself, the grandest, the most powerful object in the universe. I have
- heard the ocean roar like a chafed lion, and then at the voice of its
- master, become tranquil as a submissive dog; I have seen it rise like a
- Titan, to scale the heavens; and then beneath the whip of the tempest,
- moan like a weeping infant. I have seen it dashing its waves to meet the
- lightning, and endeavoring to quench the thunder with its foam; and then
- become smooth as a mirror, and reflect even the smallest star in the
- heavens. Upon the land, I had become convinced of God’s existence, upon
- the ocean, I recognised his power. In the solitary wilds, as Moses, I had
- heard the voice of the Lord, but during the tempest, I saw him, as did
- Ezekiel, riding upon the wings of the storm. Thenceforward, my father,
- thenceforward, all doubt was driven from my mind, and from the evening on
- which I witnessed the first hurricane, I believed, and prayed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth,” said
- the dying man, with ardent faith; and he continued thus the symbol of the
- apostles to the last word.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul listened to him in silence, with his eyes raised to heaven, and when
- he had concluded, said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not thus, that a priest would have spoken to you, my father, for I
- have spoken to you as a seaman, and with a voice more accustomed to
- pronounce words of death than consolation. Forgive me, father, forgive me
- for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have made me pray, and believe as you do,” said the old man; “tell
- me, then, what more could a priest have done? What you have said is plain
- and grand—let me reflect on what you have said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen!” said Paul, shuddering, “What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you not hear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that a voice of some one in distress called to me—there
- again—do you not hear it?—now, again!—It is the voice of
- Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go to her instantly,” replied the old man; “I need to be alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul rushed into the adjoining room, and as he entered it he heard his
- name again repeated, and close to the door of the cottage. Then, running
- to the door he anxiously opened it, and found Marguerite upon the
- threshold, her strength having failed her, and she had fallen upon her
- knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Save me! save me!” she cried, with an expression of profound terror, on
- perceiving Paul, and clasped his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Mercy from him!
- And how can I expect it?
- By what right
- Can I demand he should withhold his claim,
- The proofs once in his power?—Anonymous.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Paul ran to Marguerite, and caught her in his arms; she was pale and icy
- cold. He carried her into the first room, placed her in an arm chair,
- returned to the door which had remained open, and closed it, and then
- hastened back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it that so terrifies you? who is pursuing you? and how does it
- happen that you come here at this unusual hour?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” exclaimed Marguerite, “at any hour, whether by day or night, I
- should have flown as long as the earth would have borne me! I should have
- flown till I had found some heart in which I could have poured forth my
- sorrows, an arm capable of defending me. Paul! Paul! my father is dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child!” said Paul, pressing Marguerite to his heart, “who flies from
- one house of death to fall into another; who leaves death in the castle,
- to find it in the cottage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes!” cried Marguerite rising, still trembling with terror, and
- convulsively pressing Paul’s arm. “Death is yonder, and I find death here!
- but yonder it is attended with despair and fear, while here it is met with
- tranquillity and hope. Oh! Paul! Paul! had you but seen that which I have
- seen!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me all that happened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saw the terrible effect produced by your appearance, and the mere
- sound of your voice?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I saw that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They carried him still fainting and speechless into his own room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was to your mother that I spoke,” said Paul, “and he heard me; I could
- not foresee it would so much have terrified him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You full well know all that had passed, for you must have heard from the
- room in which you were concealed, every word we uttered. My father, my
- poor father, had recognized me, and I, seeing him thus, could, not repress
- my uneasiness: notwithstanding the risk I ran of irritating my mother, I
- went up to his room—the door was locked; I knocked softly at it. He
- had recovered his senses, for I heard a faint voice asking ‘who was
- there?’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And your mother?” said Paul eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother,” replied Marguerite, “was no longer there, and she had locked
- him in as she would have done to a child; but when he had recognized my
- voice, when I had told him that it was his daughter Marguerite who wished
- to see him, he told me that I could get into the room by going down stairs
- again, and that in the study I should find a private staircase which led
- to it. A minute afterwards, I was kneeling by his bedside, and he gave me
- his blessing. Yes, Paul, I received his blessing before he died, his
- paternal benediction, which I trust will bring down the blessing of God
- upon my head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Paul, “God will pardon you; you may now feel tranquil. Weep
- for your father, Marguerite, but weep no longer for yourself, for you are
- saved.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have heard nothing yet, Paul!” exclaimed Marguerite. “Hear me still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the very moment when I was kneeling, kissing the hand of my father,
- and thanking him for the relief he had afforded my afflicted mind, I heard
- my mothers footstep on the staircase. I recognized her voice, and my
- father also recognized it, for he again embraced me, and made a sign to me
- to leave him. I obeyed him, but such was my terror and confusion, that I
- mistook the door, and instead of the staircase by which I had ascended, I
- found myself in a small cabinet which had no issue. I felt all around its
- walls, but could find no door. I was compelled to remain there. I then
- heard my mother, accompanied by the priest, entering my father’s room—I
- restrained my breathing, fearing that she should hear me. I saw then
- through the glass window of the door, and I assure you, Paul, that she was
- paler than my father who was about to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” murmured Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The priest seated himself by the bed-side,” continued Marguerite, so
- terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; “my mother remained
- standing at the foot of the bed—I was there, just opposite to them,
- compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without the
- means of retreat!—a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession
- of her father!—was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my
- eyes that I might not see—praying that I might not hear—and
- yet in spite of myself—and this I swear to you, Paul—I saw and
- I heard—Oh! what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my
- memory—I saw my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him
- with a feverish strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death
- imprinted on his face. I heard him—I heard him pronounce the words,
- a duel—adultery—assassination!—and at each word he
- uttered, I saw my mother turn pale—and paler even than before—and
- I heard her raise her voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying
- man, saying to the priest: ‘believe him not—believe him not,
- reverend father; what he says is false—or rather, he is mad, he
- knows not what he says—believe him not!’ Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful
- spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a cold perspiration stood upon my
- forehead, and I fainted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Justice of Heaven!” cried Paul. “I know not how long I remained without
- consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the
- tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were
- burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my eyes
- on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the sheet
- which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I divined
- that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between the funereal awe
- which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of raising the covering
- to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in his coffin, the
- venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, overcame every other
- feeling—an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror drove me from the
- room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but I believe without
- touching a single step,—I fled across the rooms and through the
- corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I had left the
- castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps were leading
- me, until I remembered you had told me I should find you here. A secret
- instinct—tell me what it was—for I cannot myself comprehend
- it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I was pursued by
- shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the avenues I thought—(had
- I then lost my senses?)—I thought I saw my mother, dressed all in
- black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. Oh! then, then! terror
- lent me wings—I at first fled without knowing whither; after this my
- strength failed me, and it was then you heard my cries. I dragged myself
- along a few more paces, and fell motionless at this door; had you not
- opened it, I should have expired upon the spot, for I was so much
- terrified, that it appeared to me,”—then suddenly pausing,
- Marguerite trembled, and whispered to Paul, “Silence! do you not hear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied Paul, instantly extinguishing the lamp, “yes, yes—footsteps—I
- hear them also.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look! look!” cried Marguerite, concealing herself behind the curtain of
- the window, and throwing them around Paul at the same moment—“look!
- I was not mistaken—it was my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door had been opened, and the marchioness, pale as a spectre, entered
- the room slowly, closed the door after her, and locked it, and then
- without observing Paul and Marguerite, went into the second room where
- Achard was lying. She then walked up to his bed, as she had only a short
- time before to that of the marquis, only that she was not now accompanied
- by a priest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is there?” said Achard, drawing back one of the curtains of his bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I,” replied the marchioness, drawing back the other curtain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You, madam,” cried the old man with terror; “for what purpose have you
- come to the bedside of a dying man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come to make a proposal to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One that will lose his soul! is it not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To save it, on the contrary. There is only one thing in this world,
- Achard, of which you stand in need,” rejoined the marchioness, bending
- down over the bed of the dying man, “and that is a priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You refused to allow the one who is attached to the castle to attend me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In five minutes, if you wish it, he shall be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let him be sent then,” said the old man, “and believe me there is not a
- moment to be lost. He must come quickly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But if I give you the peace of heaven, you will give me in exchange peace
- on earth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can I do for you?” murmured the dying man, closing his eyes, that he
- might not see a woman whose looks chilled him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You stand in need of a priest, that you may die in peace,” said the
- marchioness, “you know the gift I require, in order to exist in
- tranquillity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would close heaven to me by a perjury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would open it to you by a pardon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That pardon I have already received.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And from whom?—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From him who, perhaps, had alone the right to grant it to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has Morlaix then descended from heaven?” asked the marchioness, in a tone
- in which there was almost as much terror as irony.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, madam,” replied he, “but have you forgotten that he left a son upon
- this earth?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you have also seen him,” exclaimed the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have told him all——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the papers which prove his birth?” asked the marchioness, with
- trembling anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The marquis was not dead—the papers are still there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Achard!” cried the marchioness, falling upon her knees, by the bedside.
- “Achard! you will take pity on me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You, on your knees, before me, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, old man,” replied the marchioness, in a supplicating tone, “yes, I
- am on my knees before you—and I beg, I implore you, for you hold in
- your hands the honor of one of the most ancient families in France—my
- past, my future life! Those papers are my heart, my soul—they are
- more than this—they are my name—the name of my forefathers—of
- my children—and you well know all that I have suffered to preserve
- that name unsullied. Do you believe that I had not a heart as other women
- have? the feelings of a lover, of a wife, and of a mother? Well! I have
- overcome them all, one by one, and the struggle has been long. I am twenty
- years younger than you are, old man, I am still in the prime of life, and
- you are on the verge of the grave. Look, then, upon these hairs; they are
- even whiter than your own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What says she?” whispered Marguerite, who had softly crept to the door,
- and could see all that was passing in the inner room. “Gracious heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen, listen, dear child,” said Paul, “it is the Lord who permits that
- all shall be thus revealed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” murmured Achard, who was becoming weaker every moment. “Yes,
- you doubted the goodness of the Lord, you had forgotten that he had
- forgiven the adulterous woman—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but when she met with Christ, men were about to cast stones at her—men,
- who for twenty generations have been accustomed to revere our name, to
- honor our family—did they but learn, that which, thank heaven! has
- heretofore been hidden from them—would hear it uttered with shame
- and with contempt. I have so much suffered, that God will pardon me—but
- man! men are so implacable, that they will not pardon—moreover, am I
- alone exposed to their insults—on either side, the cross I bear,
- have I not a child?—and is not the other that we speak of, the
- first-born? In the eyes of the law, is he not the son of the Marquis
- d’Auray? do you forget that he is the first-born, the head of the family?
- Do you not know, that in order to possess himself of the title, the
- estates, the fortune of the family of Auray, he has only to invoke the
- law? and then what would remain to Emanuel? The cross of the order of
- Malta—and to Marguerite?—a convent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! yes, yes,” whispered Marguerite, and stretching out her arms, toward
- the marchioness, “yes, a convent, in which I would pray for you, my
- mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! silence!” whispered Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you know him not,” said Achard, whose voice was scarcely audible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No! but I know human nature,” replied the marchioness, “he may recover a
- name, he! who has no name—a fortune, he! who has no fortune. And do
- you believe he would renounce that fortune and that name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should you ask it of him, he would.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And by what right could I demand it?” said the marchioness; “by what
- right could I ask him to spare me, to spare Emanuel, to spare Marguerite?
- He would say, ‘I do not know you, madam—I have never seen you—you
- are my mother, and that is all I know.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In his name,” stammered Achard, whose tongue death was beginning to
- benumb, “in his name, madam, I engage, I swear—oh! my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness arose, observing attentively by the old man’s features,
- the approach of death.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You engage, you swear!” she said, “is he here to ratify this engagement—you
- engage! you swear! and on your word, you would, that I should stake the
- years I have yet to live, against the moments which yet remain between you
- and death! I have entreated, I have implored, and again, I entreat and
- implore you to give up those papers to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Those papers now are his.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must have them! I repeat, I must have them,” continued the marchioness,
- gaining strength, as the dying man became more feeble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God! have mercy upon me!” murmured Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one can now come,” rejoined the marchioness “you told me that you wore
- the key of that closet always about you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you wrest it from the hands of a dying man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the marchioness, “I will wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me die in peace,” exclaimed Achard tearing the crucifix from the head
- of his bed, and raising it between, himself and the marchioness, he cried:
- “leave me! leave me; in the name of Jesus Christ!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness fell upon her knees, bowing her head to the ground. The
- old man, for a moment, remained in the same awful attitude; then, by
- degrees, his strength forsook him, and he fell back on his bed, crossed
- his arms, and pressed the image of the Saviour to his breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness seized the lower part of the two curtains, and without
- raising her head, she crossed them in such a manner as to conceal the last
- struggles of the dying man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Horror! horror!” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us kneel, and pray,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- A moment of solemn and dreadful silence then ensued, which was only
- interrupted by the last gasps of the dying man; these gasps became fainter
- by degrees, and then ceased altogether. All was over; the old man was
- dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness slowly raised her head, listened with intense anxiety for
- some minutes, and then, without opening the curtains, passed her hand
- between them, and after some effort, withdrew her hand again—she had
- obtained the key. She then silently arose, and with her face still turned
- toward the bed, walked to the closet. But at the moment she was about to
- unlock it, Paul, who was observing all her movements, rushed into the
- room, and seizing her by the arm, said—?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give me that key, my mother! for the marquis is dead, and those papers
- now belong to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Justice of heaven!” exclaimed the marchioness, starting back with terror,
- and falling into a chair, “justice of heaven! it is my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Merciful heaven!” murmured Marguerite, throwing herself upon her knees in
- the outer room: “merciful heaven! he is my brother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul opened the closet, and took the casket which contained the papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Thou canst save me,
- Thou ought’st! thou must!
- I tell thee at his feet
- I’ll fall a corse, ere mount his bridal bed!
- Go choose betwixt my rescue and my grave.
-
- Knowles.—The hunchbach
-</pre>
- <p>
- Notwithstanding the dreadful nature of the events which had occurred
- during that fatal night, Paul had not forgotten the mortal defiance which
- had been exchanged between himself and Lectoure. As that young gentleman
- would probably not know where to find him, he thought it only decorous to
- save Lectoure the trouble of seeking for him, and about seven in the
- morning, Lieutenant Walter presented himself at the castle, being charged
- on behalf of Paul to arrange the terms of the combat. He found Emanuel in
- Lectoure’s apartment. The latter, on perceiving the officer, withdrew, and
- went down into the park, that the two young men might more freely discuss
- the matter. Walter had received from his commander directions to accede to
- every thing that might be proposed. The preliminary terms were, therefore,
- very speedily arranged; and it was agreed between them, that the meeting
- should take place in the afternoon, at four o’clock. The place of
- rendezvous the sea-side, near the fisherman’s hut, which was about
- half-way between Port Louis and Auray castle. As to the weapons, they were
- to bring their pistols and their swords; it would be decided on the spot
- which they were to use, it being clearly understood that Lectoure, having
- been the party insulted, should have the right to make his choice.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to the marchioness, although in the first instance petrified by the
- unexpected appearance of Paul, she soon recovered all her natural
- firmness, and drawing her veil over her face, she withdrew from the
- chamber, and walked across the outer room which had remained in darkness.
- She did not, therefore, perceive Marguerite, who was kneeling in one
- corner of it, mute from astonishment and terror. She after that crossed
- the park, entered the castle, and repaired to the room in which the scene
- of the contract had taken place. There, by the dying light of the wax
- tapers, with both her elbows resting on the table, her head supported on
- her hands, her eyes riveted to the paper to which Lectoure had already
- affixed his name, and the marquis had signed the half of his, she passed
- the remainder of the night reflecting upon a new determination. Thus she
- awaited the coming day without even thinking of taking the least repose,
- so powerfully did her soul of adamant support the body in which it was
- enclosed. This resolution was to get Emanuel and Marguerite away from the
- castle as speedily as possible, for it was from her children, most
- especially, that she desired to conceal that which was about to take place
- between Paul and herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite, who had been thus most unexpectedly present at the death-bed
- of the marquis and of Achard, through which she had so providentially
- discovered her mother’s secret, rushed into Paul’s arms immediately after
- her mother’s departure from the cottage, exclaiming:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! now you are really my brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her tears choked further utterance, and it was some minutes before Paul
- could tranquillize her agitated spirit, torn by so many and such
- conflicting emotions. Paul then fearing that the marchioness might enquire
- for her daughter, on her arrival at the castle, urged Marguerite to hasten
- thither; and seeing she was still trembling at the recollection of the
- many horrors she had witnessed, led her out of the cottage, of which he
- locked the door, and accompanied her to within a few paces of the castle.
- During this walk, Marguerite had in a certain degree, recovered her
- composure. Paul stood gazing at her till he saw that she had safely
- entered the court yard, and then returned to watch and pray beside the
- body of his father’s faithful servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- At seven o’clock, the marchioness hearing the noise occasioned by
- Lieutenant Walter’s arrival at the castle, reached a bell which was
- standing on the table and rang it. A servant presented himself at the door
- in the grand livery he had worn the previous evening—it was easy to
- perceive that he also had not been in bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Inform Mademoiselle d’Auray, that her mother is waiting for her in the
- drawing room,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant obeyed, and the marchioness resumed, gloomy and motionless,
- her previous attitude. In a few minutes afterward, she heard a slight
- noise behind her, and turned round. It was Marguerite. The young girl,
- with more respect, perhaps, than she had ever before evinced, held out her
- hand toward her mother, that she might give her her hand to kiss. But the
- marchioness remained motionless, as if she had not understood the
- intention of her daughter. Marguerite let fall her hand, and silently
- awaited her mother’s pleasure. She also wore the same dress as the night
- before. Sleep had hovered over the whole world, but had forgotten the
- inhabitants of Auray castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come nearer,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite advanced one step.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why is it that you are thus pale and trembling,” continued the
- marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The death of my father—so sudden—so unexpected,” stammered
- Marguerite; “indeed I have suffered so much this night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on her
- daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: “yes, the
- young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves. The old
- oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, Marguerite,
- and suffered much. I have passed a dreadful night, and yet you see me calm
- and firm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you
- should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others.
- You would destroy them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And therefore is it,” replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall upon
- the table, “that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is dead,
- Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must
- immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I!” exclaimed Marguerite, “I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same
- moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession of
- the father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother!” replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish,
- “it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between
- two ceremonies of so opposite a nature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “True piety,” rejoined the marchioness, “should lead us to fulfil the last
- wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the first
- letters of your father’s name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! madam!” cried Marguerite, “allow me to ask you whether my father,
- when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing,
- was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own free
- will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle,” replied the marchioness, with that
- imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all that
- approached her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made him
- thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as long as
- they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the authority of
- God. Now, God has ordained me to effect things terrible in themselves, and
- I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed
- motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother was
- so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; “madam! it is only
- three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the feet
- of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to
- receive as my husband, and then at my father’s. Neither of them would or
- could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened
- their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, my
- mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are best
- capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I am about
- to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, I would
- make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I must also
- sacrifice my son.—You are a mother, and I also, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A mother!—a mother!” cried the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a
- mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam,
- tell me—for you should better comprehend these things than I—tell
- me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice
- which speaks to our hearts—have not those to whom we have given
- birth a voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each
- other, to which ought we to obey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will never hear the voice of your child.” said the marchioness; “for
- you will never again see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall never again see my son!” exclaimed Marguerite, “and who, madam,
- can assert that positively?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And should he some day discover it?” replied Marguerite; whose respect as
- a daughter was giving way before her mother’s harshness; “if he should
- then come to me and demand an account of his birth—and this may
- happen, madam,”—she took up the pen—“and, with such an
- alternative awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sign it,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers
- upon the contract, “should my husband some day discover the existence of
- this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong
- committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and
- without seconds—a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he
- should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued by
- a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of
- reason—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent!” cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror,
- but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery
- which dictated the words her daughter had employed: “be silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, who had now said too much
- to pause, “you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, and that
- of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure myself with
- a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my sight, and from
- his, every living being, and that I should render my heart iron, that I
- may no longer feel—that my eyes should never shed a tear! You would
- have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, before my husband’s
- death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty years before the
- accustomed time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent! say not another word!” cried the marchioness, in a tone which
- proved that menaces were giving way to fear: “be silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, carried away by the
- bitterness of her grief; “you would have me, then, in order that the
- dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that I
- should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician—you
- would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that I
- might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!” again cried the
- marchioness, wringing her hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” continued Marguerite, “tell me again, my mother, to sign
- this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord will
- be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited upon the
- children, even to the third and fourth generations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! my God! my God!” exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, “am
- I not sufficiently humbled—am I not sufficiently punished?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon! pardon! madam,” cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling by
- the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; “I implore you to
- forgive me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter,” said the
- marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, “you who have wrenched the
- scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied the
- lash even on your mother’s forehead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mercy! mercy!” reiterated Marguerite; “pardon me, my mother. I knew not
- what I said. You had deprived me of reason—-I was mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my God! my God,” said the marchioness, raising both her hands above
- her daughter’s head, “Thou hast heard the words which have issued from my
- daughter’s lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will forget
- them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I have not
- cursed her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, but
- the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance so
- fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite
- dropped the skirt of her mother’s dress, and remained with arms
- outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness had
- disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon the
- ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed that the
- heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Be angry as
- You will, it shall have scope;
- Ah, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
- That carries anger, as the flint bears fire—
- Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
- And straight is cold again.
- And from henceforth
- When you are over earnest with your brother,
- He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
- —Shakespeare
-</pre>
- <p>
- Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent
- manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had
- not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who
- had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together
- with Count d’Auray, had received from his commander directions to make
- every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not
- meet Lectoure until the afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the time
- arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, having
- in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last found himself
- in the position of the head of the family, his life belonged not to
- himself, and that he had not the right to risk it. Moreover, as we have
- seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; and Lectoure, who was
- ignorant of the reason which could have induced his adversary to require
- it, had acceded to it without much difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as soon
- as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present himself to
- the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned
- so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without
- meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the
- apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on
- going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of
- consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must have taken
- place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to Marguerite,
- raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to give her air. The
- state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more from a complete
- prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; and therefore, as
- soon as she felt that assistance was being rendered her, and with a
- kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the person who had
- thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and recognized her
- brother, that living Providence, whom God had sent to sustain her every
- time she felt she was about to succumb.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her
- to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her
- brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away by
- the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her mother
- to perceive that she knew all.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart of
- the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and
- anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had been
- brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to one of
- the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. Therefore,
- compassionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to terminate
- them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview he had come to
- seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to the intentions of that
- son, whose existence she was so unwilling to acknowledge, Marguerite, on
- her side, wished to obtain her mother’s forgiveness; she, therefore,
- undertook to inform the marchioness that the young captain waited her
- orders.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece,
- above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose
- himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of the
- last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the sovereign
- arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly opened, and
- Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On hearing the door
- open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately perceiving the
- young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal expression, which
- reflected in his features the serenity of his soul.
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as
- politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence of
- the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had awakened
- to flush his features, and they instantly assumed a look of fierce
- defiance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir,” said Emanuel,
- placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from
- Paul; “and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you;
- for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have the
- gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me that he
- had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved me the
- trouble I was about to take, in thus anticipating my desire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am happy,” replied Paul, “that my desire in this instance, although
- probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously
- chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here—what do you ask of me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cannot you divine even that, sir?” replied Emanuel, with increasing
- agitation. “In that case—and you will allow me to express my
- astonishment that it should be so—you are but ill-informed as to the
- duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that you
- put upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe me, Emanuel,” rejoined Paul, in a calm tone—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I yesterday called myself the count; to-day I call myself the Marquis
- d’Auray,” said Emanuel, interrupting him with a gesture of haughtiness and
- contempt; “and I beg, sir, that you will not forget it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- An almost imperceptible smile passed over the lips of Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was saying, then,” continued Emanuel, “that you but imperfectly
- comprehend the feelings of a gentleman, if you believed that I would
- permit another to take up, on my behalf, a quarrel which you came here to
- seek. Yes, sir, for it is you who have thrown yourself across my path, and
- not I who have sought you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His lordship, the Marquis d’Auray,” said Paul, smiling, “forgets his
- visit on board the <i>Indienne</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A truce to your cavils, sir, and let us at once proceed to facts.
- Yesterday, I know not from what strange and inexplicable feeling, when I
- proposed to you that, which I will not say every gentleman, every officer,
- but simply, any man of courage would instantly, and without hesitation,
- have acceded to, you refused, sir, and evading my provocation, you went,
- as it were, behind my back to seek an adversary, who, although not
- precisely a stranger to the quarrel, yet good taste should have dictated
- that he ought not to have been drawn into it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe me, that in this, sir,” replied Paul, with the calmness and the
- same candor of manner which had accompanied all he said; I was compelled
- to yield to the exigency of the case, which did not leave me the choice of
- an adversary. You had proposed a duel, which I could not accept, you being
- my adversary, but which was perfectly indifferent to me with any other
- person. I am too much habituated to encounters of this description, and to
- encounters of a far more murderous and mortal nature, to consider an event
- of this kind, but as one of the usual accidents of my adventurous life.
- You will, however, please to remember that it was not I who sought this
- duel; you, yesterday, proposed it to me; but, as I could not, I again
- repeat it, appear as your antagonist, I selected M. de Lectoure, as I
- would have done M. de Nozay or M. la Jarry, because he happened to be
- there, within my reach—and because, if it were absolutely necessary
- that I should kill some one, I preferred killing an useless and insolent
- fop, rather than a good and honest country gentleman, who would consider
- himself dishonored, did he but dream that he had entered into a bargain of
- so vile and despicable a nature as that which the Baron de Lectoure has,
- in reality, proposed to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well, sir,” said Emanuel, jeeringly; “continue to constitute
- yourself as the redresser of wrongs, to dub yourself the knight-errant of
- oppressed princesses, and to shield yourself under the buckler of your
- mysterious replies! As long as this antiquated quixotism does not come in
- collision with my views, my interests, and my engagements, I will fully
- permit it to wander over the whole earth, and ocean also, even from pole
- to pole, and I shall merely smile at it as it passes by me; but whenever
- this madness breaks out against me, as yours has done, sir; whenever, in
- the intimate concerns of a family of which I am the head, I meet a
- stranger, who orders as a master where I alone have the right to raise my
- voice, I shall present myself before him, as I now do before you, should I
- have the happiness to meet him alone as I do you, and then feeling
- assured, that no one will come to interrupt us before I had obtained the
- necessary explanation, I would say to him: ‘You have, if not insulted me,
- at all events wounded my feelings, sir, by coming to my house, and
- injuring me in my in-terests, and my family affections. It is then with
- me, and not with another, that you ought to fight, and you shall fight
- with me.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, Emanuel,” replied Paul; “I will not fight, at all
- events, with you; the thing is impossible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir, the time of enigmas is gone by,” cried Emanuel, impatiently; “we
- live in the midst of a world, in which at every moment we elbow a reality.
- Let us, therefore, leave the poetical and the mysterious, to the authors
- of romances and tragedies. Your presence in this castle has been marked by
- circumstances too fatal to render it necessary to add that which is not,
- to that which is. Lusignan returned, notwithstanding the order which
- condemned him to transportation; my sister, who, for the first time, has
- shown herself rebellious against the orders of her mother; my father,
- killed by your mere presence: these are the disasters by which you have
- been accompanied, which have heralded you from another hemisphere, and
- have formed your funereal escort: for all this, you have to account to me;
- therefore, speak, sir; speak as a man should to a man, in the broad
- daylight, face to face, and not as a phantom gliding in the darkness,
- which escapes under the cloud of night, letting fall some few solemn and
- prophetic words, as if from the other world. Such things are well
- calculated to terrify nurses and children! Speak, sir, speak! Look at me,
- you will see that I am calm. If you have anything to reveal to me I will
- listen to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The secret which you ask of me is not my own,” replied Paul, whose
- perfect calmness strongly contrasted with the feverish excitement of
- Emanuel; “believe what I have said, and do not insist farther. Farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- After pronouncing these words, Paul moved toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Emanuel, rushing between him and the door, to prevent his
- passage; “you shall not leave me thus, sir! I have you now, we are alone
- in this room, without fear of any interruption, into which, it was not I
- that enticed you, but you have come here of your own free will. Therefore,
- hearken to that which I am about to say. The person you have insulted is
- myself! the person to whom you owe satisfaction is myself!
- </p>
- <p>
- “The person with whom you have to fight is——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mad, sir,” tranquilly replied Paul; “I have already told you it
- is impossible. Therefore, allow me to withdraw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take care, sir,” cried Emanuel, stretching out his hand to the box, and
- taking out the pistols; “take care, sir. After having done every thing in
- my power to compel you to act as a gentleman, I may treat you as a
- brigand.—You are here in a house, in which you are a total stranger;
- you have entered it, I know not how, nor for what purpose; if you have not
- come into it to despoil us of our gold and jewels, you have entered it to
- steal the obedience of a daughter to her mother, and to cancel the sacred
- promise given by a friend to a friend. In one case or the other, you are a
- violator, whom I have met at the moment that his hands were about to seize
- a treasure; that treasure, is honor, the most precious of all riches!
- Come, sir, believe me, you will do better to accept this weapon”—Emanuel
- endeavored to thrust one of the pistols into Paul’s hand—“and defend
- yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may kill me, sir,” replied Paul, again placing his elbow on the
- chimney-piece, as if he were continuing an ordinary conversation;
- “although I do not believe that God would permit so great a crime: but you
- shall not force me to fight with you. I have before told you so, and I
- repeat it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the pistol, sir!” cried Emanuel, “take it, sir, I tell you! you
- believe that the threat I am making is but a vain menace; undeceive
- yourself! for three days have you fatigued my patience! for three days
- have you filled my soul with gall and hatred! for three days have I
- familiarised my mind with the idea of ridding myself of you; whether it be
- by a duel or by murder! Do not imagine, that the dread of punishment
- withholds my hand; this castle is isolated, mute, and deaf. The sea is
- there; and before you could be even laid in the tomb, I should be in
- England. Therefore, sir, for the last time, I say to you, take this pistol
- and defend yourself.” Paul, without uttering a word, gently put the pistol
- aside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then!” cried Emanuel, exasperated to the highest degree, by the
- sangfroid of his adversary; “as you will not defend yourself like a man,
- die like a dog!” And so saying, he raised the muzzle of the pistol to the
- level of the captain’s breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment a dreadful shriek was heard; it was Marguerite, who had
- returned from her mother, and who had, at a glance, comprehended all that
- had happened. She rushed upon Emanuel, and at that instant he fired the
- pistol, but the direction of the ball having been changed by the young
- girl’s striking up his arm, it passed two or three inches above Paul’s
- head, and shattered the glass above the chimney-piece.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother!” cried Marguerite, with one bound, springing to were Paul
- stood, and throwing her arms around him: “my brother, are you not
- wounded?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother!” exclaimed Emanuel, letting fall the pistol which was still
- smoking; “your brother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Emanuel!” said Paul, with the same calmness which he had evinced
- during the whole of this painful scene; “do you now comprehend why it was
- I could not fight with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment, the marchioness appeared at the door, pale as a spectre,
- for she had heard the report of the pistol; then looking around her with
- an expression of infinite terror, and seeing that no one was wounded, she
- silently raised her eyes to heaven, as if to ask if its anger was at
- length appeased. She remained thus for some time in an attitude of mental
- thanksgiving. When she again cast down her eyes, Emanuel and Marguerite
- were on their knees before her, each holding one of her hands, and
- covering it with tears and kisses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thank you, my children,” said the marchioness, after a short silence;
- “and now leave me with this young man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite and Emanuel bowed with an expression of the most profound
- respect, and obeyed the command of their mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Oh! my mother!
- You do not know the heart that you have pierced!
- I—I—thy son—thine Arthur—I avenge?
- Never on thee.
-
- Live happy—love my brother—
- Forget that I was born.
- Here, here—these proofs—
- These—these!
-
- Oh! see you where the words are blistered
- With my hot tears?
- I wept—it was for joy—
- I did not think of lands, of name, of birthright—
- I did but think these arms should clasp a’ mother.
-
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The marchioness closed the door as soon as they had withdrawn, advanced
- into the middle of the room, and went without looking at Paul, and leaning
- upon the arm-chair in which the marquis had the night before been seated
- to sign the contract. There she remained standing, with her eyes cast upon
- the ground. Paul for a moment experienced the desire to throw himself upon
- his knees before her, but there was upon the features of the marchioness
- such an expression of severity, that he repressed the yearnings of his
- heart, and stood motionless awaiting her commands. After a few moments of
- ice-like silence, the marchioness addressed him. “You desired to see me,
- sir, and I have come to know your will—you wished to speak to me—I
- am listening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These words were uttered without the marchioness making the least movement—her
- lips trembled, rather than opened—it seemed a marble statue that was
- speaking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, madam,” replied Paul, in a tone of intense feeling, “yes, yes, I
- desired to speak with you; it is long since first this desire was
- cherished in my heart, and it has never left me. Recollections of infancy
- preyed upon the mind of the grown man. I remembered a woman who would
- formerly glide to my cradle, and in my youthful dreams, I thought her the
- guardian angel of my infancy. Since that time, still so fresh in my
- memory, although so distant, more than once, believe me, I have awakened
- with a start, imagining that I had felt upon my forehead the impression of
- a maternal kiss: and then seeing that there was no one near me, I would
- call that person, hoping she would, perhaps, return. It is now twenty
- years since first I thus had called, and this is the first time she has
- replied to me. Can it have been as I have often fearfully imagined, that
- you would have trembled at again beholding me? Can it be true, as I at
- this moment fear, that you have naught to say to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And had I feared your return,” said the marchioness, in a hollow tone,
- “should I have been to blame? You appeared before me only yesterday, sir,
- and now the mystery which ought to have been concealed to all but God and
- myself, is known to both my children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it my fault that God has been pleased to reveal the secret to them?
- Was it I that conducted Marguerite, despairing and in tears, to the
- bedside of her dying father, whose protection she had gone to ask, and
- whose confession she was compelled to hear? Was it I that led her to
- Achard, and was it not you, madam, that followed her thither? As to
- Emanuel, the report you heard, and that shattered glass, attest, that I
- would have preferred death rather than to have saved my life at the
- expense of your secret. No, no, believe me, madam, I am the instrument,
- and not the hand; the effect, and not the cause. No, madam, it is God who
- has brought about all this, that you might see at your feet, as you have
- just now seen them, your two children whom you have so long banished from
- your arms!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there is a third,” said the marchioness, in a voice in which emotion
- began to evince itself, “and I know not what I have to expect from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me accomplish a last duty, madam, and that once fulfilled, he will on
- his knees await your orders.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And of what nature is this duty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is to restore his brother to the rank to which he is entitled, his
- sister to that happiness which she has lost—to his mother that
- tranquillity of mind, which she has so long sought in vain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet, thanks to you,” replied the marchioness, “M. de Maurepas refused
- to M. de Lectoure the regiment he had solicited for my son.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because,” replied Paul, taking the commission from his pocket and laying
- it on the table, “because the king had already granted it to me, for the
- brother of Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness cast her eyes upon the commission, and saw that it was
- made out in the name of Emanuel d’Auray.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet you would give the hand of Marguerite to a man without name,
- without fortune—and what is more, to a man who is banished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, madam; I would give Marguerite to the man she loves. I
- would give Marguerite not to the banished Lusignan, but to the Baron
- Anatole de Lusignan, his majesty’s governor of the Island of Gaudaloupe—there
- is his commission also.” The marchioness looked at the parchment, and saw
- that in this instance, as in the former one, Paul had uttered but the
- truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I acknowledge it,” she replied, “these will satisfy the ambition of
- Emanuel, and confer happiness on Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And at the same time, secures your tranquillity madam; for Emanuel will
- join his regiment, and Marguerite will follow her husband. You will then
- remain here alone, as you have, alas! so frequently desired.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is not this all you desire, or have I deceived myself,” continued Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, “how can I recall the promise given to the
- Baron de Lectoure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The marquis is dead, madam,” replied Paul; “is not the death of a husband
- and a father a sufficient cause for the adjournment of a marriage?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness, without replying, seated herself in the arm-chair, took a
- pen and paper, wrote a few lines, folded the letter, and putting on the
- address the name of the Baron de Lectoure, she rang the bell for the
- servant. After waiting a few moments, during which time, both Paul and
- herself remained silent, a servant came into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In two hours from this time, you will deliver this to the Baron de
- Lectoure,” said the Marchioness. The servant took the letter and withdrew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” continued the marchioness, looking at Paul, “now sir, that you
- have done justice to the innocent, it remains to you to pardon the guilty.
- You have papers which prove your birth, you are the elder—at all
- events, in the eyes of the law. The fortunes of Emanuel and Marguerite are
- yours by right. What do you require in exchange for these papers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul took them from his pocket, and showing them to the marchioness, said,
- “Here are the documents, look at them—they are the letters you wrote
- to my poor father—look here, they are moistened by my tears, for I
- read them last night, while watching by Achard’s corpse.” Then approaching
- the fire-place, he held them over the flaming wood, saying, “permit me
- even but once to call you mother! call me but once your son, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be possible!” exclaimed the marchioness, rising.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak of name, of fortune,” continued Paul, with an expression of
- profound melancholy; “what need have I of them. I have by my own sword
- gained a rank which few men of my age have ever attained—I have
- acquired a name which is pronounced with blessings by one nation, andi
- with terror by another. I could, did it so please me, amass a fortune,
- worthy of being bequeathed to a king. What, then, are your name your
- fortune, and your rank, to me, if you have nothing else to offer me—if
- you do not give me that which I have incessantly, and in every position of
- my life most yearned for—that which I have not the power to create—which
- God had granted to me, but which misfortune wrested from me—that
- which you alone can restore to me—a mother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son!” exclaimed the marchioness, overcome at length, by his tears, and
- supplicating accent, “my son! my son! my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” exclaimed Paul, letting the papers fall into the flames, which
- speedily consumed them, “ah! that missed appellation has at length escaped
- your lips—that tender name so long desired, and which I have so
- unceasingly prayed to hear addressed to me. Merciful heaven! I thank
- thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness had fallen back into her chair, and Paul had thrown
- himself upon his knees, his head leaning upon her bosom. At length the
- marchioness gently raised him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look at me!” she said; “for twenty years, this is the first tear that has
- ever escaped my eyelids, give me your hand!”—she placed it upon her
- heart—“for twenty years this is the first feeling of happiness with
- which my heart has palpitated. Come to my arms! For twenty years this is
- the first caress I have either given or received. These twenty years have
- doubtless been my expiation, since God now pardons me, for he has restored
- to me the power of weeping, of feeling joy, and has permitted me to
- embrace my son. Thanks to G-od! and thanks to thee, my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother!” cried Paul, “my beloved mother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I trembled at the thoughts of seeing you again—I trembled when
- I did see you—I knew not—I could not have imagined that such
- feelings still existed in my heart. Oh! I bless thee! I bless thee!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment, the tolling of the chapel bell was heard: the marchioness
- shuddered. The funeral hour had arrived. The bodies of the noble Marquis
- d’Auray and that of the poor man Achard, were about to be returned to
- earth at the same moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This hour must be consecrated to prayer,” said the marchioness: “I must
- now leave you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must sail to-morrow, my mother,” said Paul; “shall I not once more see
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! yes, yes,” replied the marchioness, “we must meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, my mother, this evening I shall be at the park gate. There is
- a spot which is sacred to me, and to which I must pay a last visit. I
- shall expect to meet you there. It is on that spot, my mother, that we
- should say farewell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will be there,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, my mother, here,” said Paul, “take these commissions: the one for
- Emanuel, and the other for the husband of Marguerite. Let the happiness of
- your children be conferred by yourself. Believe me, mother, you have
- bestowed more on me than I on them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness retired to shut herself up in her oratory. Paul left the
- castle, and proceeded toward the hut of the fisherman.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hark! she has bless’d her son—I bid ye witness,
- Ye listening heavens—thou circumambient air;
- The ocean sighs it back—and with the murmur
- Bustle the happy leaves.
-
- All nature breathes
- Aloud—-aloft—to the Great Parent’s ear,
- The blessing of the mother on her child.
-</pre>
- <p>
- ON approaching the fisherman’s hut, the place appointed with Lectoure,
- Paul perceived Lusignan and Walter, who were waiting for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Precisely at the hour agreed, Lectoure appeared on horseback; he had been
- obliged to find his way as he best could, for he had no guide, and his own
- servant was as much a stranger as himself in that part of the country. On
- seeing him at a distance the young men came out of the hut. The baron
- instantly put his horse into a gallop, to hasten to them. When within a
- few paces of them he alighted from his horse, and threw the rein to his
- servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust you will pardon me, gentlemen,” said he, “that I should have
- approached you thus alone, like a forsaken orphan; but the hour selected
- by that gentleman,” he added, raising his hat to Paul, who returned the
- salutation, “was precisely that fixed upon for the funeral obsequies of
- the marquis; I have therefore left Emanuel to fulfil the duties of a son,
- and have come here without a second, trusting that I had to deal with an
- adversary generous enough to procure some friend of his own to aid me in
- this dilemma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We are entirely at your service, baron,” replied Paul; “here are two
- friends of mine. Select which you please, and he who shall be honored by
- your choice, will instantly become yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no preference, I swear to you,” said Lectoure; “please to
- designate which of these two gentlemen you may desire should reader me
- this service.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Walter,” said Paul, “be so good as to officiate as second to the baron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant assented; the two adversaries again bowed to each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, sir,” continued Paul, “permit me, before our respective seconds,
- to address a few words to you, not of apology, but explanation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your own pleasure, sir, replied Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I uttered the words which have been the cause of your coming hither,
- the events which have since occurred at the castle were hidden in the womb
- of time, and these events might have entailed the misery of a whole
- family. You, sir, had on your side Madame d’Auray, Emanuel, and the
- Marquis—Marguerite had but me alone. Every chance was, therefore, in
- your favor. It was for this reason that I addressed myself directly to
- you, for had I fallen by your hand from circumstances which must for ever
- remain hidden to you, Marguerite could not have married you. If I had
- killed you, the case would have been still more simplified, and requires
- no commentary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This exordium is really most logical, sir,” replied the baron, smiling,
- and tapping his boots with his riding-whip; “let us proceed, if you
- please, to the main body of the discourse.” |
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” continued Paul, bowing in sign of acquiescence, “every circumstance
- has changed; the marquis is dead, Emanuel has received his commission, the
- marchioness renounces your alliance, honorable as it may be, and
- Marguerite marries the Baron Anatole de Lusignan, who, for that reason, I
- did not name your second.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, “then that is the true meaning of the note
- which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave the
- castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an adjournment.
- It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. ‘Tis well, sir, and now to
- the peroration.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know
- you—I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each
- other, and with opposing interests—hence our collision. Then, as I
- have before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make
- sure of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my
- death or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed
- to the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank
- it would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed so
- long a journey,” replied Lectoure: “Not having the honor to espouse
- Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, I should desire, at least, to have the
- honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have
- travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at your
- orders, sir,” continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it saluting
- his adversary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your good pleasure, sir,” replied Paul, and replying to the salutation
- in the same manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two young men then advanced towards each other—their swords
- crossed—at the third parry Lectoure’s sword was twisted from his
- hand, and flew to a distance of twenty yards.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before taking sword in hand,” said Paul, “I had offered an explanation,
- and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this time I will accept it, sir,” said Lectoure, in the same careless
- and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. “Pick up my sword,
- Dick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very tranquilly
- put it into the scabbard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” continued he, “if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for
- Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell the king, sir,” replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing his
- sword, “that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed against
- the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my own
- countrymen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the two young men again bowed to each other. Lectoure remounted
- his horse, and at about a hundred paces from the sea shore, got into the
- high road leading to Vannes, and galloped off; while his servant went to
- the castle to get his travelling carriage, with which Lectoure had ordered
- him to rejoin him speedily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, Mr. Walter,” said Paul, “you must send the long-boat to the
- nearest creek to Auray castle, and have every thing in readiness to set
- sail tonight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant immediately set out for Port Louis, and Paul and Lusignan
- returned into the fisherman’s hut.
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time Emanuel and Marguerite had fulfilled the mournful duty to
- which they had been summoned by the chapel bell. The body of the marquis
- had been deposited in the emblazoned tomb of his ancestors, and Achard’s
- in the humble cemetery outside the chapel, and then the brother and sister
- repaired to their mother’s apartment. The marchioness delivered to Emanuel
- the commission which he so anxiously coveted, and gave to Marguerite her
- unexpected consent to her marriage with Lusignan. She then handed to
- Marguerite the king’s sign manual appointing Lusignan governor of
- Guadaloupe. And then, in order that the emotions which they experienced
- should not be renewed, and which were the more poignant, because they were
- concealed within their own breasts, for neither of them made any allusion
- to past events, the mother and the children embraced each other for the
- last time, each feeling the innate conviction that they should never meet
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The remainder of the day was occupied in the necessary preparations for
- departure. Toward the evening the marchioness left the castle, to meet
- Paul at the place which he had appointed. When passing through the
- court-yard she perceived a carriage, with horses already attached to it,
- standing on one side of it, and the young midshipman, Arthur, with four
- sailors, on the other. Her heart was oppressed by the sight of this
- two-fold preparation. She, however, passed on, and went into the park,
- without giving way to her emotions, so much had her long-continued
- restraint upon natural feelings given her the power of self-command.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, when she had reached a small clearing, from which she could see
- Achard’s house, she paused, for her knees trembled beneath her, and she
- was obliged to lean for support against a tree, while she pressed her hand
- to her breast to restrain the violent beatings of her heart. For there are
- souls which present danger, however imminent, cannot cause to quail, but
- which tremble at the remembrance of perils past; and the marchioness
- recalled to mind the agonizing fears and emotions to which she had been
- for twenty years a prey, and during which time she had daily visited that
- house, now closed never again to be opened. She, however, soon overcame
- this weakness, and reached the park gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- There she again paused. Above all the trees rose the summit of a gigantic
- oak, whose wide spreading branches could be discerned from many places in
- the park. Often had the eyes of the marchioness remained riveted for hours
- upon its verdant dome: but never had she dared to seek repose beneath its
- shade. It was there, however, that she had promised to meet Paul, and
- there Paul was awaiting her. At length she made a last effort, and entered
- the forest.
- </p>
- <p>
- From a distance she perceived a man kneeling upon the ground in the
- attitude of prayer. She slowly approached him, and kneeling down by his
- side, prayed also. When the prayer was concluded, they both rose, and
- without uttering a word, the marchioness placed her arm around Paul’s
- neck, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. After some moments’ silence,
- they heard the noise of the wheels of a carriage at a distance. The
- marchioness shuddered, and made a sign to Paul to listen; it was Emanuel
- setting out to join his regiment. Shortly afterwards Paul pointed in a
- direction opposite to that in which they had heard the noise, and showed
- the marchioness a boat gliding rapidly and silently upon the surface of
- the ocean; it was Marguerite going on board the frigate.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness listened to the noise of the receding wheels as long as
- she could hear it, and followed with anxious eyes the movements of the
- boat, as long as she could distinguish it; then she turned toward Paul,
- and raising her eyes to heaven, for she felt that the moment was
- approaching, when he, whom she was leaning upon, would, in his turn, leave
- her, she exclaimed—
- </p>
- <p>
- “May God bless, as I now bless, the duteous son, who was the last to leave
- his mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, she threw her arms around his neck, pressed him
- convulsively to her heart, and kissed him; then gazing at him intently,
- she seemed to be scanning every outline of his face, and then, again,
- rapturously embraced him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she cried, “in every feature he is the living resemblance of my
- poor lost Morlaix,” then for some moments she seemed to be absorbed in
- thought; at last after a seemingly violent struggle, she continued, “Paul,
- you have refused to accept any portion of that fortune to which you are
- legally entitled, although you know the wealth of the Auray family is
- unbounded—and that the fortune which I inherit in my own right, from
- the family of Sablé, is very large.” Paul shook his head. “Well, then,
- there is one thing that you must receive from your mother, as her parting
- gift. It is twenty years since I have dared to look upon it, and yet I
- have clung to its possession—it is your father’s portrait, presented
- to me when I was authorized to receive it—when, by the assent of
- both our families, he was to have become my husband—take it, my dear
- son, for although it tears my heart to part with it, yet I feel that I
- shall be more tranquil when it is in your possession—to no one but
- yourself would I have given it. You will sometimes look upon it, and you
- will think of your mother, who must now remain for ever isolated from the
- world. But it is better that it should be so—henceforward all my
- moments shall be spent in making my peace with Heaven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While saying these words, she had drawn from her pocket a case, which she
- put into Paul’s hands, and which he had eagerly opened, and gazed with
- intense interest at the features of his father. The miniature was richly
- set in diamonds of great value.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then summoning all her fortitude, the marchioness for the last time kissed
- her son, who was kneeling before her, and tearing herself from his arms,
- she returned alone to the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning the inhabitants of Port Louis vainly sought the frigate
- they had seen only the evening before, and which for fifteen days had
- remained at anchor in the outer roads of Lorient. As on the former
- occasion, she had disappeared without their being able to comprehend the
- cause of her arrival, or the motive of her so sudden departure.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- EPILOGUE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Last scene of all
- That ends this strange, eventful history.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Five years had elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have related.
- The independence of the United States had been recognized; New York, the
- last strong-hold of the English, had been evacuated. The roar of
- cannon,-which had resounded in the Indian seas, as well as in the Gulf of
- Mexico, had ceased to thunder. Washington, in the solemn meeting of
- Congress of the 28th December, 1783, had resigned his commission as
- general-in-chief, and had retired to Mount Vernon, his parental estate,
- without any other recompence than that of being allowed to receive and
- send letters free of charge; and the tranquillity which America had begun
- to enjoy, had extended to the French colonies in the West Indies; for the
- mother country having espoused the American cause, they had been several
- times exposed to the hostile attempts of Great Britain. Among these
- islands, Guadaloupe had been more particularly threatened, in consequence
- of its military and commercial importance; but, thanks to the vigilance of
- its new governor, the attempts of the enemy to land there had always
- failed, and France had not to mourn over any serious discomfiture in this
- important position, so that at the commencement of the year 1784, the
- island, without being altogether denuded of warlike appearance, which was
- maintained in it more from custom than from necessity, the inhabitants
- generally had applied themselves anew to the cultivation of the numerous
- products which form its riches.
- </p>
- <p>
- If our readers will be pleased by a last effort of their complaisance, to
- accompany us to the other side of the Atlantic, and land with us at the
- port of Basseterre, we will conduct them amidst fountains which jet on
- every side, through the street which leads to the promenade, called Champ
- d’Arbaud; then, after having availed ourselves of the cool shade of the
- tamarind trees, planted on each side of it, till we have proceeded about
- two-thirds of its length, we will turn upon the left up a small beaten
- road, which conducts to the gate of a garden, the upper part of which
- commands a view of the whole town.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we have arrived there, we will allow them for a few moments to inhale
- the evening breeze, so refreshingly sweet after the mid-day heat of the
- month of May, and they can cast a glance with us over the luxuriant
- vegetation of the tropics.
- </p>
- <p>
- With our backs turned to the woody and volcanic mountains, which divide
- the western part of the island, and amid which arise, crowned with their
- plumes of smoke and sparks, the two calcined pinnacles of the sulphur
- mountain, we have at our feet, sheltered by the hills, which have been
- named Bellevue, Mont-Désir, Beau Soliel, Espérance and Saint Charles, the
- city gracefully descending towards the sea, the waves of which sparkling
- with the last rays of the setting sun, laves its white walls. The horizon,
- formed by the ocean, lying like a vast and limpid mirror, and to the right
- and left, the most beautiful and richest plantation of the island; large
- square fields of coffee trees, transplanted originally from Arabia, with
- their knotty and flexible branches, covered with dark green glossy leaves,
- of an oblong and pointed form, and bearing clusters of flowers as white as
- snow; long rows of cotton plants, covering with a rich carpet of verdure,
- the dry and stony soil, on which they thrive best, and among which we see,
- like so many colossal ants, negroes occupied in reducing to two or three,
- the thousand shoots which sprout out from each stalk. And then again, but
- in more level and well sheltered spots, in which the soil is richer and
- more argillaceous, we see plantations of cocoa trees, first introduced
- into the West Indies by the Jew, Benjamin Dacosta, with their lofty trunks
- and porous branches, covered with fawn colored bark, from which large
- oblong leaves are pending, among which we see fresh shoots of a soft rose
- color, which contrast strongly with the long, curved and yellow fruit,
- which bends the branches with its weight. And further off, whole fields of
- the plant, discovered at Tabaco, first brought to France by the Ambassador
- of Francis II., who presented it to Catherine de Medicis, from which
- circumstance it derived its name of <i>Herbe-a-là-reine</i>.* This did
- not, however, prevent it from being, like every popular thing, in the
- first instance, excommunicated and proscribed, in Europe and Asia, by the
- two powers who then divided the world, proscribed by the Grand Duke of
- Muscovy, Michael Fedorowich, by the Turkish Sultan Amurath IV., by the
- Emperor of Persia, and excommunicated by Pope Urban VIII. Here and there,
- we see springing up to a height of forty or fifty feet above all the
- shrubs and plants, by which it is surrounded, the banana tree of Paradise,
- of which, according to tradition, the oval leaves, seven or eight feet in
- length, served to form the first garment of the first created woman. And
- finally, elevated above all the rest, and standing forth pre-eminent,
- whether hacked by the azure of the Heavens, or by the dark green tea, the
- cocoa-nut and the palm-tree, those two giants of the Western Archipelago
- graceful and prodigal, as is everything that is powerful. Figure to
- yourselves, then these beautiful hills, intersected by seventy rivers,
- eased in beds, ninety feet in depth; these mountains illuminated during
- the day by a tropical sun, at night, by the volcano of the sulphur
- mountain; that vegetation, which never is arrested, the new leaves of
- which succeed the leaves which fall; this soil so salubrious, and air so
- pure, that notwithstanding the insensate experiments that man, the real
- enemy of himself, has made by transporting serpents from Martinique, and
- Saint Lucie, it was found that they could neither live nor reproduce
- there, and then judge after the sufferings they had endured in Europe, of
- the happiness which Antole de Lusignan and Marguerite d’Auray must have
- enjoyed there.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- * Queen’s Grass.
-</pre>
- <p>
- To a life agitated by the passions, to that struggle of natural rights
- against legal power, to that succession of scenes in which all earthly
- pains, from childbirth even to death, had played their part, had succeeded
- a life of pure delights, each day of which had passed on calmly and
- tranquilly; the only clouds that darkened it, arose from that vague
- uneasiness for distant friends, which as if borne upon the air, and which
- contracts the heart like a painful presentiment. However, from time to
- time, whether by newspapers, or by vessels, touching at the island,
- Anatole and Marguerite had obtained some intelligence of the generous
- being who had so powerfully served them as a protector; they had heard of
- his victories; that after he had left them, he had been appointed to the
- command of a small squadron, and had destroyed the English establishments
- on the coast of Acadia, which had gained for him the title of commodore;
- that, in an engagement with the <i>Serapis</i> and the <i>Countess of
- Scarborough</i>, after a combat yard-arm to yard-arm, which lasted four
- hours, he had obliged the two frigates to strike to him, and that finally,
- as a reward for the services he had rendered to the cause of American
- Independence, he had received the public thanks of Congress, who had voted
- him a gold medal, and had selected him to command the frigate <i>America</i>,
- to which that name had been given as being the finest in the service, and
- the command of which had been conferred on him as the bravest of its
- officers; but this splendid ship had been presented by Congress to the
- King of France, to replace the <i>Magnifique</i>, which had been lost at
- Boston. Paul Jones, after conducting this frigate to Havre, had joined the
- fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil, who had projected an attack upon Jamaica.
- This last intelligence had overjoyed the hearts of Lusignan and
- Marguerite, for this enterprize would bring Paul into their latitude, and
- they hoped at last they should soon see their brother and their friend;
- but peace, as we have before said, had intervened, and from that time,
- they had heard no more of the adventurous seaman.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the evening of the day on which we have transported our readers from
- the wild shores of Brittany to the fertile coast of Guadaloupe, the young
- family were assembled in the very garden which we have entered, and which
- commands a view of the immense panorama we have described; the foreground
- of which is formed by the city, at its feet the ocean, studded with
- islands in the distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite had promptly habituated herself to the soft listlessness of
- Creole life; and her mind now tranquil and full of happiness, she gave
- herself up to the <i>dolce far niente</i>, which renders the sensual
- existence of the colonies a half sleep, the incidents of which appear as
- dreams.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was lying with her daughter in a Peruvian hammock, netted with the
- silken fibres of the aloe, and ornamented with the most brilliant colored
- plumes of the rarest tropical birds; her son was swinging her with a soft
- and regular motion, and Lusignan was holding one of her hands between both
- his. She was still pale, but delicate and graceful as a wild lily. Her
- looks were vacantly wandering over the immense extent of ocean lying
- before her, and she felt her soul and senses enraptured by all the bliss
- which heaven can promise, and all the enjoyments which this earth can
- offer. At that moment, and as if everything concurred to complete the
- magic spectacle which every evening she came there to contemplate, and
- which every succeeding evening she found still more marvellously
- beautiful, there suddenly appeared, doubling the cape <i>Trois Pointes</i>,
- and looking like an ocean king, a large vessel, gliding along the surface
- of the sea without more apparent effort than a swan playing upon the
- tranquil bosom of a lake. Marguerite was the first to perceive it, and
- without speaking, for every action is a fatigue under that burning clime,
- she made a sign with her head to Lusignan, who directed his looks to the
- spot she had indicated, and then, like her, silently followed with his
- eyes the rapid and graceful movements of the vessel. By degrees as she
- approached, and as the elegant and delicate proportions of her masts
- amidst the mass of sails which they sustained, could be discerned, which,
- in the first instance, had seemed a cloud floating upon the horizon—they
- began to discover in one corner of her flag the stars of America, equal in
- number to the States they represent. One same idea shot instantly through
- their minds, and they exchanged a glance, radiant with hope that they
- were, perhaps, about to receive some news of Paul. Lusignan immediately
- ordered a negro to bring a telescope: but before he had returned, a hope
- still more delightful pervaded both their hearts. It appeared to Lusignan
- and Marguerite that they recognized an old friend in the frigate that was
- approaching. To persons, however, unaccustomed, it is so difficult to
- distinguish, at a great distance, signs which speak at once to the eye of
- an experienced seaman, that they did not yet dare to have faith in this
- hope, and which, indeed, was more an instinctive presentiment than
- positive reality. At last the negro brought the so much longed for
- telescope. Lusignan uttered a cry of joy, and then handed it to
- Marguerite: he had recognized the sculpture of Guillaume Costou, upon the
- prow of the vessel, and it was really the <i>Indienne</i> which was
- advancing towards Basseterre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lusignan raised Marguerite from the hammock and placed her on her feet,
- for their first impulse was to hasten to the harbour; but then they
- reflected that Paul had left the <i>Indienne</i> nearly five years, at the
- time that his promotion entitled him to the command of a larger vessel,
- and that she might now be under the orders of another captain, and they
- paused with palpitating hearts and trembling limbs. During this time,
- their son Hector had taken up the telescope, and placing it to his eye,
- looked through it, and soon after exclaimed,—“Father, see there,—upon
- the deck stands an officer, dressed in a black coat, embroidered with
- gold, just like the one in the picture of my dear friend, Paul!” Lusignan
- hastily snatched the glass from his son’s hands, looked through it for a
- few moments, then again passed it to Marguerite, who, after directing it
- toward the vessel, let it fall, and then they threw themselves into each
- other’s arms; they had recognized their friend, who, as he was about to
- visit them, had put on the dress which we have before said he had
- generally worn. At this instant the frigate passed the fort, which it
- saluted with three guns, and the fort returned the salute with an equal
- number.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the moment that Lusignan and Marguerite had acquired the certitude
- that their friend and brother was actually on board the <i>Indienne</i>,
- they had hastened down the mountain, followed by young Hector, towards the
- port, leaving their little Blanche in the hammock. The captain had also
- recognized them, so that at the moment they left the garden he had ordered
- a boat to be lowered, and, thanks to the united strength of ten vigorous
- oarsmen, he had rapidly glided over the distance between the anchorage
- ground and the port, and had sprung upon the jetty at the instant that his
- friends arrived there. Such sensations as then filled their breasts cannot
- be expressed in words; tears are their only interpreter. And thus their
- joy more closely resembled grief, for they all wept, even to the child,
- who wept because he saw them weep.
- </p>
- <p>
- After giving some orders relating to the vessel, the young commodore, with
- his delighted friends, slowly ascended the hill down which they had rushed
- so rapidly to meet him. Paul told them that the expedition of Admiral
- Vaudreuil having failed, he had returned to Philadelphia, and peace having
- been signed, as we have before mentioned, with England, the Congress, as a
- token of gratitude, had presented him with the first ship he had commanded
- as captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon hearing this, Lusignan and Marguerite experienced the most lively
- joy, for they hoped that their brother had come with the intention of
- taking up his abode with them; but the character of the young seaman was
- too adventurous, and stood too much in need of excitement, to sink quietly
- down into the monotonous and unvaried dulness of a life on shore. He
- informed his friends that he had but eight days to remain with them, after
- which he should seek in another quarter of the globe, to follow the
- profession he had adopted.
- </p>
- <p>
- These eight days passed by as rapidly as a dream, and notwithstanding the
- reiterated entreaties of both Lusignan and Marguerite, Paul would not
- consent to delay his departure even for twenty-four hours. He was still
- the same ardent determined being, considering the execution of a
- resolution he had once formed as a positive duty, and more austere with
- regard to himself than toward others.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hour of separation had arrived. Marguerite and Lusignan wished to
- accompany the young commodore on board his ship; but Paul wished not to
- prolong the grief of this leave-taking. When they reached the jetty he
- embraced them for the last time, then jumped into his boat, which was
- rowed away as swiftly as an arrow. Marguerite and Lusignan followed him
- with their eyes until his boat had disappeared on the leeward side of the
- frigate, and they sorrowfully reascended the hill to watch the ship’s
- departure, from the same terrace from which they had before discerned its
- arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the moment they reached it, they observed that activity and bustle on
- board the frigate which always precede the departure of a vessel. The
- sailors had surrounded the capstan, and were employed in getting up the
- anchor, and thanks to the pureness of the atmosphere, the sonorous and
- lively cries of the seamen reached the ears of Lusignan and Marguerite;
- the anchor was soon apeak, and they saw it rising slowly under the ship’s
- bows; then the sails dropped successively from the yards, from the royals
- to the courses, and the ship, seemingly endowed with an instinctive and
- animated feeling, gracefully turned her prow toward the harbour’s mouth,
- and beginning to move, cut through the waves with an easy motion, as if
- merely gliding upon their surface. Then, as if the frigate might be
- abandoned to her own will, they saw the young commodore spring upon the
- stern rails, and devote all his attention to the land he was thus leaving.
- Lusignan took out his handkerchief and made a signal, to which Paul
- replied. And then, when they could no longer perceive each other with the
- naked eye, they had recourse to their telescopes, and, thanks to this
- ingenious invention, they retarded the separation for another hour. They
- all felt a presentiment that this separation would be eternal.
- </p>
- <p>
- The vessel gradually diminished upon the horizon, and darkness was about
- to cover the heavens, when Lusignan ordered a quantity of wood to be
- brought upon the terrace, to form a beacon fire, which was instantly
- ignited, in order that Paul, whose vessel was nearly enshrouded in the
- darkness, might continue to fix his eyes upon that spot until he had
- doubled Cape Trois Pointes. Lusignan and Marguerite had for an hour lost
- sight of the ship, while Paul, thanks to their large brilliant fire, might
- still perceive them, when a bright flame, like to a flash of lightning,
- appeared on the horizon, and in a few seconds the report of a gun, similar
- to the prolonged sound of distant thunder, reached their ears, and all
- again was silent. Lusignan and Marguerite had received Paul’s last
- farewell.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, although the domestic drama which we had undertook to relate,
- has, in fact, terminated here, some of our readers may, perhaps, have felt
- sufficient interest in the young adventurer, of whom we have made the hero
- of this story, to follow him in the second part of his career; to these
- then, after thanking them for the kind attention they have been pleased to
- grant to us, we are about to recount truly and plainly, facts which a most
- minute research have enabled us to lay before them.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the period we have reached, that is to say, in the month of May, 1784,
- the whole of Europe had fallen into that state of torpor, which unthinking
- men imagined to be tranquillity, but which minds more profound, regarded
- as the dull and momentary calm that precedes the tempest. America, by
- obtaining her independence, had prepared France for her revolution. Kings
- and people, mistrustful of each other, were upon their guard. Peter III.,
- who had become odious to the Russians, in consequence of his ignoble
- character, the narrowness of his political views, and above all, for his
- excessive leaning to Prussian manners, and Prussian discipline, had been
- deposed without opposition, and strangled without a struggle. Catherine
- had thus found herself, at the age of thirty-two, mistress of an empire
- which extended over one-seventh part of the globe; her first care was to
- compel the neighbouring powers to accept her as a mediatrix in their
- quarrel, and thus become do-pendent upon her. Thus, had she obliged the
- people of Courland to drive from them their new Duke, Charles of Saxony,
- and to recall Biren; she had sent her ambassadors and her armies to
- Warsaw, there to have crowned by the name of Stanislaus Augustus, her
- former lover, Poniatowski; she had formed an alliance with England; she
- had associated to her policy the Courts of Vienna and Berlin; and
- notwithstanding all these great projects of foreign policy, she had not
- neglected the internal government of her own country, and in the interval
- of her amours, so fickle and so various, she still found time to reward
- industry, to encourage agriculture, to reform the laws, to raise a navy,
- to send Pallas into provinces the productions of which were till then
- unknown—Blumager into the northern Archipelago, and Bel-lings into
- the Indian ocean; in fine, jealous of the literary reputation of her
- brother, the King of Prussia, she wrote with the same hand that had
- ordered the erection of a new city, signed the order for the execution of
- young Ivan, and the dismemberment of Poland, <i>The Refutation of the
- Journey into Siberia</i>, by the Abbé Chappe, a romance of the Czarowich
- Chlose, several plays, among which was a translation into French of Oleg,
- a drama, written by the Russian poet, Dersehawin, so that Voltaire
- proclaimed her the Semiraris of the North, and the King of Prussia, in his
- letters, classed her between Solon and Lycurgus.
- </p>
- <p>
- The effect produced amid this voluptuous and chivalric court by the
- arrival of such a man, as our adventurous seaman, can readily be imagined.
- The reputation for courage, which had rendered him the terror of the
- enemies of France and America, had preceded him to the court of Russia,
- and in exchange for his frigate, which he presented to Catherine, he
- received the rank of Rear-Admiral. Then the flag of Russia, after having
- navigated round one-half the old world, appeared in the Grecian seas, and
- beneath the ruins of Lacedemon and the Parthenon, he, who had assisted in
- establishing the independence of America, dreamt of the re-establishment
- of the Republics of Sparta and of Athens. The old Ottoman empire was
- shaken to its foundations, the defeated Turks signed a treaty of peace at
- Kainardji. Catherine retained Azof, Taganrog, and Kenburr, and Kenburn,
- compelled the Turks to grant to her the free navigation of the Black Sea,
- and the independence of the Crimea; she then desired to visit her new
- possessions. Paul, recalled to St. Petersburgh, accompanied her on this
- journey, the route of which had been drawn up by Potemkin. During the
- whole of it, all the attributes of triumph were offered to the conquering
- Empress and her suite; bonfires were lighted all along the road, cities
- were illuminated with the most fairy-like brilliancy, magnificent palaces
- erected, as if by magic, for one day, amid desert countries, and which the
- next morning disappeared; villages, rising as if beneath the wand of an
- enchanter, in solitudes, in which eight days before the Tartars fed their
- flocks; towns appearing on the horizon of which there existed but the
- exterior walls; in every direction, homage, and songs of welcome, and
- dances of the people: during the day, a numerous population crowded the
- road, and at night, while the Empress was sleeping, they would run to
- station themselves in the way she was to proceed on waking the following
- morning: a king and emperor rode by her side, calling themselves not her
- brothers, not her equals, but her courtiers; finally, a triumphal arch was
- erected at the last halt she was to make on her journey southward, bearing
- the inscription—“<i>This is the road to Byzantium,</i>” which if it
- did not reveal the ambition of Catherine, demonstrated at least, the
- policy of Potemkin. Then Russia became strengthened in her tyranny, as
- America had in her independence. Catherine offered to her Admiral places
- which would have more than satisfied the rapacity of a courtier, honors
- which would have overwhelmed the ambitious, estates which would have
- consoled a deposed king for the loss of his dominions; but it was the deck
- of his ship, it was the sea with its combats and its tempests, it was the
- boundless immensity of ocean for which yearned the heart of our
- adventurous and poetic seaman. He, therefore, left the brilliant court of
- Catherine, as he had left the austere Congress of America, and returned to
- France to seek that, which he could not find elsewhere, that is to say, a
- life of excitement, enemies to combat, a people to defend. Paul arrived in
- Paris in the midst of our European wars and civil struggles; while, with
- one hand, we were seizing a foreign enemy by the throat, with the other,
- we were tearing our own entrails. That king, whom he had seen ten years
- before, beloved, honored, powerful, was then a captive, despised and
- strengthless. All that had been exalted was abased, and great names fell
- as did high-born heads.—It was the reign of equality, and the
- guillotine was the levelling instrument. Paul inquired after Emanuel, and
- was told that he was proscribed. He asked what had become of his mother,
- and was informed that she was dead. Then he felt an irresistible longing
- to revisit once again, before he himself might die, the spot on which,
- twelve years before, he had experienced emotions at once so sweet and
- terrible. He set out for Brittany, left his carriage at Vannes, and
- mounted on horseback, as he had done on the first day he had seen
- Marguerite; but he was no longer the young and enthusiastic seaman, whose
- desires and hopes had no horizon; he was a man bereft of all those,
- brilliant illusions, for he had tasted of all, whether weet or bitter, had
- learnt to appreciate all, both men and things; had known all, glory and
- oblivion. Therefore, did he not come to search a family, but to visit
- tombs.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he came within sight of the castle, he turned his eyes toward
- Achard’s house, and not being able to discover it, he thought he would go
- into the forest, but the forest seemed to have vanished as by enchantment.
- It had been sold as national property to twenty-five or thirty farmers of
- the neighbourhood, who had cleared off the timber, and transformed it into
- a large plain. The gigantic oak had disappeared, and the plough had passed
- over the unknown grave of the Count de Morlaix, and the eyes of his son
- even, could no longer recognize the spot.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he returned through the park toward the castle, now become even more
- gloomy and desolate than when he had last seen it. In it he found only an
- old man, a living ruin amidst these ruins of the past; it was at first
- intended to have pulled down the mansion, but the reputation for holiness
- which the marchioness had left behind her, was regarded with such
- religious veneration throughout the country, that the old walls, which for
- four centuries had been the abode of her ancestors, remained undesecrated.
- Paul went through the apartments, which for three years had remained
- closed, and which were now open for him. He walked through the portrait
- gallery; it was in the same state as he had formerly seen it; no pious
- hand had added to the portrait either of the marquis or the marchioness.
- He went into the study in which he had been concealed—found a book
- lying in it which he had opened and placed upon the very spot on which he
- found it, and read the same passages which he had read so many years
- before. He then pushed open the door which communicated with the contract
- chamber, where had passed the chief scenes of that drama in which he was
- the principal actor. The table was still in the same place and the
- Venetian looking-glass over the chimney-piece was there, shattered as it
- had been by the ball of Emanuels pistol.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul advanced to the fire-place, and placing his elbow on the marble
- mantle-piece, questioned the servant as to the last years of the
- Marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The account he received shewed that she had remained austere and
- melancholy, as was her wont. Remaining secluded and alone at the castle,
- her hours were uniformly spent in three different places: her oratory, the
- vault in which the body of her husband had been buried, and the spot
- sheltered by the oak tree, at the foot of which her lover had been
- interred. For eight years after the evening on which Paul had taken leave
- of her, she had been seen to wander amid the old corridors of the castle,
- and in the gloomy avenues of the Park, slow and pale as a spectre; then a
- disease of the heart, engendered by the agonies she had suffered, declared
- itself, and she daily became weaker. At length, one evening, when her
- failing strength no longer permitted her to walk, she had ordered the
- servants to carry her to the foot of the oak tree, her favorite walk, that
- she might once more see, she said, the sun setting in the ocean. When they
- had reached the spot, she desired the servants to withdraw, and to come
- back to her in half an hour. On their return they found her lying fainting
- on the ground. They immediately bore her to the castle, but having
- recovered her senses on the way, she ordered them, instead of conducting
- her to her own room, which they usually did, to take her down into the
- family vault. There she had still strength enough to kneel upon the tomb
- of her husband, and made a sign that she desired to be left alone. However
- imprudent their doing so might be, the servants elbow on the marble
- withdrew, for she had accustomed them to obey her in every thing at the
- first intimation of her will. They, however, remained at a short distance,
- concealed behind the corner of a tomb, that they might be ready to render
- her assistance, should it be necessary. In a few minutes they saw her fall
- down upon the stone on which she had been praying; they rushed forward,
- imagining that she had again fainted. She was dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul requested the old servant to conduct him into the vault, and slowly
- entered it with uncovered head; and when he had reached the stone which
- covered the grave of his mother, he knelt down and prayed. On the
- monumental stone were inscribed the following words, and which may still
- be seen in one of the chapels of the church of the small town of Auray, to
- which it has since been removed. The inscription had been written by the
- marchioness herself, and she had desired that it should be placed upon her
- tomb.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here lies the very noble and very puissant lady Marguerite Blanche de
- Sablé, Marchioness of Auray; born the 2nd of August 1729—died the
- 3rd September, 1788.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray for her and for her children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul raised his eyes to heaven, with an expression of infinite gratitude,
- His mother, who during her life, had for so long a time forgotten him, had
- remembered him in her funeral inscription.
- </p>
- <p>
- Six months after this visit, the National Convention decreed, in solemn
- sitting, that they would attend in a body the funeral procession of Paul
- Jones, formerly a commodore in the American navy, and whose burial was to
- take place in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had come to this decision, said the decree, in order to consecrate
- the establishment of <i>religious freedom throughout France</i>.
- </p>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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diff --git a/old/41222-h.zip b/old/41222-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 31438b7..0000000 --- a/old/41222-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/41222-h/41222-h.htm b/old/41222-h/41222-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index fd36f36..0000000 --- a/old/41222-h/41222-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8400 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, pere - </title> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Captain Paul - -Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -Release Date: October 29, 2012 [EBook #41222] -Last Updated: November 21, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - CAPTAIN PAUL - </h1> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h2> - By Alexandre Dumas, pere - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> CAPTAIN PAUL. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - INTRODUCTION. - </h2> - <p> - The admirers of “The Pilot,” one of the most magnificent of Cooper’s - novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves - have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether lose - sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such intense - interest, through the narrows of the Devil’s Grip, and the Cloisters of - St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and in the actions - of this person, introduced in the first place by the name of John, and - afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a grief so - bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every reader - desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so brave - and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have more than - once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of it, it might - have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for information - regarding the early career and closing years of this adventurous seaman—information - which we have vainly searched for in his narrative. I thought that such a - request would be readily forgiven by him to whom it was addressed, for it - would have been accompanied by the expression of the most sincere and - ardent admiration of his work; but I was restrained by the reflection that - the author himself, perhaps, knew no more of that career, of which, he had - given us but an episode, than that portion of it which had been - illuminated by the sun of American Independence: for, in fact, this - brilliant meteor had passed from the clouds which environed his birth to - the obscurity of his death in such a manner, that it was quite possible - the “poet historian,” being far distant from the place where his hero was - born, and from the country in which he died, knew no more of him than what - he has transmitted to us. The very mystery which surrounded him, may have - been the cause of his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals. - Urged by these considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own - research, those details which I had so often desired to receive from - others. I searched through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was - a copy of the letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined - the annals of the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at - the time of his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that - he was buried in the cemetery of Père la Chaise. This was all the - information I could gather from my first attempts. - </p> - <p> - I then consulted our living library—Nodier, the learned—Nodier, - the philosopher—Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few - moments, he mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself, - containing memoirs of his life, bearing this motto, “Munera sunt Laudi.” I - started off to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched - through libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls—all that I could - find was an infamous libel, entitled, “<i>Paul Jones, ou Prophétie sur - l’Amérique, l’Angleterre, la France, l’Espagne et la Hollande</i>” which I - threw from me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page, - marvelling that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved, - whilst we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food—I - therefore renounced all hope in this quarter. - </p> - <p> - Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having - started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l’Orient. Upon my - arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography of - Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that port. - This circumstance had struck me—I had noted down the dates, and had - only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval - archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which the - two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of - thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming - there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept the - register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office without - further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk who was - sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in the - country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me that in - 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office at Havre, - had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore in the fleet of - the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this officer, and his - extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression upon him, that upon - his, the clerk’s, return to Brittany, he spoke of him to his father, who - then had charge of the Chateau d’Auray. Upon hearing the name of Paul - Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to him to be silent—the - young man obeyed, though not without astonishment. He frequently - afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he always refused - to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death of the - Marchioness d’Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and the - dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt himself - permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious history, - in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly blended. - Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father had related - that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression upon him that he - repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for word. - </p> - <p> - I have treasured up this history in the recesses of my memory for nearly - seven years: and it would have still remained buried there, with a mass of - other recollections, destined never to see the light, had I not about six - months ago read “The Pilot” for the second time, and even with much - greater interest than before; for, thanks to the researches I had made, - the hero was no longer to me an unknown being, appearing only for an - instant, his face but partially visible, and with merely the portion of a - name; he had now become a friend, almost a brother, to me—for new - sympathies had been awakened in my heart besides those which had formerly - been inspired by the recital of the expedition to Whitehaven. These led me - to reflect that whatever of interest and disappointment I had experienced - on reading’ Cooper’s novel, they must have been entertained alike by - others, and that the anxious desire I had felt to know more of the former - lover of Alice Dunscombe was not a feeling peculiar to myself, but would - be participated by all those, and their number must be great, who have - followed this skilful seaman from the moment of his first meeting - Lieutenant Barnstaple on the English cliffs, until that in which he - quitted the Alert to land on the shores of Holland. - </p> - <p> - I have, therefore, gathered up my recollections, and have written this - history. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - CAPTAIN PAUL. - </h1> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Hoarse o’er her side the rustling cable rings- - The sails are furled—and anchoring, round she swings; - And gathering loiterers on the land discern - Her boat descending from the latticed stern. - ‘Tis mann’d—the oars keep concert to the strand, - Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.—Byron. -</pre> - <p> - Toward the close of a fine evening in the month of October, 1779, the most - inquisitive among the inhabitants of the small town of Fort Louis, had - assembled on the point of land immediately opposite to that on which - stands the city of Lorient. The object which attracted their attention, - and which was the subject of their inquiries, was a noble beautiful - frigate, carrying 32 guns, which had been anchored for about a week, not - in the port, but in a small cove in the roadstead, and which had been - perceived for the first time early one morning, like an ocean flower which - had suddenly blossomed during the night. From the elegant and coquettish - appearance of this frigate, it was imagined that this was the first time - of her putting to sea; she bore the French flag, for the three golden <i>fleur-de-lis</i> - were seen glittering in the last rays of the setting sun. - </p> - <p> - That which, above all, appeared to excite the curiosity of the admirers of - this spectacle, so frequent, and notwithstanding, always so interesting in - a seaport, was the uncertainty as to the country in which this vessel had - been built; for, having all her sails clewed up and snugly stowed around - her yards, showed in the setting sun the graceful outline of her hull, and - a minute elegance as to her running rigging. Some thought they could - discern in her the bold and taunt masts used by the Americans, but the - perfection exemplified in the finish which distinguished the rest of her - construction, was in perfect contrast with the barbarous rudeness of those - rebellious children of England. Others, deceived by the flag she had - hoisted, were endeavouring to divine in what port of France she had been - launched, but their national pride soon gave way to the conviction that - she was not built in France, for they sought in vain for those heavy - galleries, ornamented with sculpture, which is the compulsory decoration - of the stern of every daughter of the ocean, or of the Mediterranean, born - on the stocks of Brest or of Toulon; others, again, knowing that the flags - were frequently used as a mask to hide the real face, maintained that the - lion and the towers of Spain would have more properly been placed upon the - ensign waving from her peak, than the three <i>fleur-de-lis</i> of France: - but the latter were asked whether the straight and elegant sides and - quarters of the frigate all resembled the bulging build of Spanish - galleons. In short, there were some among them who would have sworn that - this beautiful fairy of the waters had been brought to life among the - frogs of Holland, had not the dangerous boldness of her masts and rigging - fully contradicted the suggestion that she could have been built by those - old but prudent sweepers of the seas. But, as we have said, for eight - whole days, and ever since the first appearance of this splendid vision - upon the coast of Brittany, she had been the constant theme of wonder and - of conversation, for nothing had happened to give them any positive - information, as not an individual from the crew had landed from the ship, - under any pretext whatever. They might, indeed, have doubted whether she - had a crew or not, had not they now and then seen the head of a sentinel, - or of the officer of the watch, peering above the bulwarks. It appeared, - however, that this vessel, although she had not communicated with the - shore, could not have any hostile intention; her arrival had not seemed to - give the least uneasiness to the public authorities of Lorient, for she - had run under the guns of a small fort, which the recent declaration of - war between England and France had caused to be put in order, and which - displayed a battery of long guns of heavy calibre. - </p> - <p> - Among this crowd of idlers, however, there was a young man, who was - remarked for the anxious eagerness of his inquiries:—without any one - being able to devise the cause, it was easily perceived that he felt some - direct interest in this mysterious vessel. His brilliant uniform was that - of the <i>mousquetaires</i>, and as these royal guards rarely left the - capital, he had, at first, directed a portion of the public curiosity to - himself, but it was soon discovered that this person, whom they thought a - stranger, was the young Count d’Auray, the last scion of one of the most - ancient families of Brittany. The castle inhabited by his family rose - above the shores of the Golf of Morbihan, at six or seven leagues, - distance from Fort Louis. The family consisted of the Marquis d’Auray, a - poor insane old man, who for twenty years had never been seen beyond the - boundaries of his estates; of the Marchioness d’Auray, whose rigid - morality, and whose ancient nobility, could alone excuse her haughty and - aristocratic bearing; of the young Marquerite, a sweet girl of seventeen - or eighteen years of age, delicate and pale as the flower whose name she - bore; and of Count Emanuel, whom we have mentioned above, and around whom - the crowd had gathered, carried away, as it always is, by a sounding - title, a brilliant uniform, and noble and lordly manners. - </p> - <p> - However eager might have been the desire of those he addressed to satisfy - his curiosity, they could only answer his questions in a vague and - undecided manner; all they knew of the frigate being mere conjecture. The - count was about retiring from the jetty, when he perceived a six-oared - boat approaching it. At a moment when curiosity had been so much excited, - this incident could not fail to attract all eyes. In the stern of the boat - sat a young man, who appeared to be from twenty to twenty-two years of - age, and who was dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the royal navy—he - was sitting, or rather lying, upon a bearskin, one hand reclining - carelessly on the tiller of the small boat, while the coxswain, who, - thanks to the caprice of his officer, had nothing to do, was sitting in - the bow. From the moment that it first made its appearance, every eye was - directed towards it, as if it contained the means of solving the mystery - which had so much puzzled them. The boat, urged on by the last efforts of - its oarsmen, took the ground at eight or ten feet distance from the beach, - there being too little water in that place to allow it to come nearer. Two - of the sailors jumped into the sea up to their knees. The young lieutenant - then rose up in a careless way, walked to the bow of the boat, and allowed - the two sailors to carry him in their arms to the beach, so that not a - drop of salt water should soil his elegant uniform. He then ordered his - men to double the point of land which advanced about three hundred feet - into the sea, and to go and wait for him on the opposite side of the - battery. As for himself, he stopped a moment on the beach to arrange his - dress, which had been a little disordered by the rough mode of transport - he had been compelled to adopt, and then he advanced, humming a French - air, towards the gate of a small fort, which he passed, after having - slightly returned the military salute of the sentinel on duty. - </p> - <p> - Although nothing could, in a seaport, be more natural than that a naval - officer should cross the roads and walk into a fort, the minds of the - lookers-on had been so much occupied with the foreign vessel, that there - was hardly one among the crowd who did not imagine that this visit to the - commandant of the fort had some relation to her, so that when the young - officer issued from it, he found himself surrounded so closely by the - crowd, that for a moment he appeared half inclined to use the rattan which - he carried in his hand, to make way through it. However after having - flourished it with impertinent affectation above the heads of those who - were nearest him, he appeared all at once to change his mind, and - perceiving Count Emanuel, whose distinguished appearance, and elegant - uniform, contrasted strikingly with the vulgar air and habiliments of the - persons who surrounded him, he made a few steps towards him at the same - moment that the count had advanced to meet him. The two officers merely - exchanged a rapid glance, but that look at once assured both that they - were persons of rank and station. They immediately saluted each other with - that easy grace and affable politeness which characterized the young - nobility of that period. - </p> - <p> - “By Heaven!” exclaimed the young midshipman; “my dear countryman, for I - suppose that like myself you are a Frenchman, although I meet you in a - seemingly hyperborean land, and in regions which, if not absolutely - savage, appear sufficiently barbarous—will you have the goodness to - tell me what there is so extraordinary about me, that I seem to cause - quite a revolution in the country? Or is the appearance of an officer of - the navy an event so rare and so extraordinary at Lorient, that his mere - presence excites, in so singular a degree, the curiosity of the natives of - Lower Brittany? By solving this mystery, you will render me a service - which I shall be happy to reciprocate, should any opportunity present - itself in which I can be useful to you.” - </p> - <p> - “This will be so much the more easy,” replied Count Emanuel, “as this - curiosity is not founded in any feeling which you would consider offensive - to your uniform or hostile to your person—and the proof of this is, - my dear comrade—for I see by your epaulettes that we are of equal - rank in the service of his majesty—that I participate with these - honest Britons in the curiosity which they evince, although, perhaps, my - motives are more weighty than theirs, in endeavouring to obtain a solution - of the problem which has occupied us.” - </p> - <p> - “If I can be of any assistance to you, in the inquiries which you have - undertaken, I place all the algebra I possess at your disposal. Only the - position we are in is not a comfortable one to carry out mathematical - demonstrations. Will it please you to remove to a small distance from - these honest people, whose presence would only tend to confuse our - calculations.” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly,” replied the mousquetaire, “and the more readily, as, if I do - not deceive myself, by walking this way I shall lead you nearer to your - boat and your sailors.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! that is not of the slightest consequence; should this path not be - convenient to you we can take another. I have plenty of time; and my men - are less eager to, return on board than I am. Therefore, we will about - ship, if such is your good pleasure.” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all; on the contrary, let us go on, the nearer we are to the beach - the better we can discuss the matter in question. Let us, therefore, walk - upon this strip of land as far as we can.” - </p> - <p> - The young seamen, without replying a word, conti-nued to walk on, like a - man to whom the direction he was to take was perfectly indifferent, and - these two young men, who had thus met for the first time, walked arm in - arm, as though they had been friends from infancy, towards the end of the - promontory. When they had reached the extreme point, Count Emanuel paused, - and pointed towards the frigate, saying, “Do you know what ship that is?” - </p> - <p> - The young seaman threw a rapid and scrutinizing glance upon the - mousquetaire, and then looked towards the ship: “Yes,” replied he, - negligently, “it is a pretty frigate carrying two and thirty guns, with - her sails bent and her starboard anchor atrip, ready to sail at the first - signal given.” - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me,” replied Emanuel, smiling; “that is not what I ask of you. It - signifies little to me how many guns she carries, or by what anchor she is - holding—is not that your technical mode of speaking?” - </p> - <p> - The lieutenant smiled: in turn. “But,” continued Emanuel, “what I wish to - know is, to what nation she actually belongs, the port, that she is bound - to, and the name of her captain.” - </p> - <p> - “As to the nation she belongs to,” replied the lieutenant, - </p> - <p> - “She has taken care to give us that information herself, or she is, an - outrageous liar; Do you not see her flag flying from her peak? It is the - flag without a stain, rather worn out from being too much used that’s all. - As to the place she is bound to, it is as the commandant of the fort told - you, when, you asked him,—Mexico.” Emanuel looked with astonishment - at the young lieutenant. “And finally, as to her captain, that is a much - more difficult matter.. There are some people who would swear he is a - young man about my own age or yours, for; I, believe we left the cradle - pretty closely the one after, the other, although the professions we - follow may place a long interval between our graves. There are others who - pretend he is of the same age with my uncle the Count d’Estaing, who as - you doubtless know, has just been made an admiral, and who is at: this - moment affording every assistance to the rebels of America, as some - people, even in France, still call them. But, in short, as to his name, - that is quite another thing; it is said he does not know it himself; and - until some fortunate occurrence shall apprise him of it, he calls himself - Paul.” - </p> - <p> - “Paul?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Captain Paul.” - </p> - <p> - “Paul, what?” - </p> - <p> - “Paul, of the <i>Providence</i>, of the <i>Banger</i>, of the <i>Alliance</i>, - according to the name of the ship he commands. Are there not also in - France some of our young nobles, who, finding their family name too short, - lengthen it out by the name of an estate, and surmount the whole with a - knight’s casque, or a baron’s coronet: so that their seals or their - carriages bear the evidence of belonging to some ancient family, quite - delightful to reflect upon? Well! so it is with him. At this moment he - calls himself, I believe, Paul, of the <i>Indienne</i>, and he is proud of - the appellation; if I may judge front my naval sympathies, I do not think - he would exchange his frigate for the finest estate to be found between - the Port of Brest and the mouth of the Rhone.” - </p> - <p> - “But, tell me,” rejoined Emanuel, after reflecting for a moment on the - singular mixture of simplicity and sarcasm which pervaded the answers of - his companion; “what is the character of this man?” - </p> - <p> - “His character—but, my dear baron—count—marquis”— - </p> - <p> - “Count,” replied Emanuel, bowing. - </p> - <p> - “Well, my dear count, then, I was about to say that you pursued me from - one abstraction to another, and that when I placed at you disposal all my - knowledge in algebra, I did not intend that we should enter into a - research of the unknown. His character! good heaven, my dear count, who - can speak knowingly of the character of a man, unless it be himself—and - even then—but hold—I, myself, as you now see me, have ploughed - for twenty years, at one time with the keel of a brig, at another with - that of a frigate, this vast expanse, which now extends itself before us. - My eyes, for so I may express myself, discerned the ocean almost at the - same moment that they saw the sky above it; since my tongue was able to - join two words together, or my comprehension could combine two ideas, I - have interrogated and studied the caprices of the ocean, and yet I do not, - even to this time, know its character—and there are only four - principal winds and thirty-two breezes which agitate it—that’s all. - How, then, can you expect that I should judge of man, torn as he is by his - thousand passions.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor did I ask you, my dear—duke—marquis—count?”— - </p> - <p> - “Lieutenant,” replied the young sailor, bowing, as Emanuel had done - before. - </p> - <p> - “I was about to say, then, my dear lieutenant, I do not ask a - physiological lecture on the passions of Captain Paul. I only wish to - inform myself upon two points. Firstly, whether you consider him a man of - honor?” - </p> - <p> - “We must first of all understand each other as to the meaning of words, my - dear count—what is your precise definition of the word honor?” - </p> - <p> - “Permit me to remark, my dear lieutenant, that this question is a most - singular one. Honor! Why, honor—is—honor.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s it precisely—a word without a definition, like the word God! - God—is God! and every one creates a God after his own fashion. The - Egyptians adored him under the form of a scorpion—the Israelites, - under that of a golden calf. So it is with honor. There is the honor of - Camillus, and that of Coriolanus—that of the Cid, and that of Count - Julian. Define your question better if you wish me to reply to it.” - </p> - <p> - “I ask, then, whether his word may be relied upon?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not believe he ever failed in that regard. His enemies—and no - one can arrive to his station without having them—even his enemies, - I say, have never doubted that he would keep, even unto death, an oath - which he had sworn to. This point is, therefore, believe me, fully - settled. In this respect, he is a man of <i>honor</i>. Let us pass, - therefore, to your second question, for if I do not deceive myself, you - wish to know something farther.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I wish to know whether he would faithfully obey an order given by - his Majesty?” - </p> - <p> - “What Majesty?” - </p> - <p> - “Really, my dear lieutenant, you affect a difficulty of comprehension - which would better suit the gown of a sophist, than a naval uniform.” - </p> - <p> - “Why so? You accuse me of cavilling, because, before replying, I wish to - know precisely what I have to answer. We have, at this? present time, - eight or ten majesties, seated securely or otherwise, upon the different - thrones of Europe. We have his Catholic Majesty—a feeble majesty, - who allows the inheritance, left him by Charles, the Fifth, to be torn - from him piece by piece;—we have his Britannic Majesty—a - headstrong majesty, who clings to his America, as Cyingetus to the Persian - ship, and whose hands we shall cut off, if he does not loose his hold;—we - have his Christian Majesty, whom I venerate and honor”— - </p> - <p> - “Well—it is of him I wish to speak,” said Emanuel, - </p> - <p> - “Do you believe that Captain Paul would feel disposed to obey an order - which I should deliver from him?” - </p> - <p> - “Captain Paul,” replied the lieutenant, “would, as every captain ought to - do, obey every order emanating from a power which has the right of - commanding him—unless indeed he be an accursed pirate, or some - damned privateersman, some buccaneer, who owes no allegiance, and which I - should doubt from the appearance of the frigate he commands, and from the - way she is fitted. He must have then in some drawer of his cabin, a - commission signed by some power or other. Well! should this commission - bear the name of Louis, and be sealed with the fleur-de-lis of France, - there can be no doubt that he would obey any order sealed, and signed by - the same name.” - </p> - <p> - “This is all then that I wish to be informed of,” replied the young - mousquetaire, who began to grow impatient at the strange and evasive - answers given by his companion. “I will only ask you one more question.” - “I am ready to obey your wishes in that, as I have in the rest, count,” - returned the lieutenant. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know any way of getting on board of that ship?” - </p> - <p> - “There is one,” replied the lieutenant, pointing towards his own boat, - which lay rocked, by the waves, in a small creek close to them. - </p> - <p> - “That boat! why, is it yours?” - </p> - <p> - “Well! I will take you on board.” - </p> - <p> - “You know this Captain Paul, then?” - </p> - <p> - “I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally - acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the - hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides which, - we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic language, by - which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of the ocean we may - meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the same frankness in - which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at your disposal.” - </p> - <p> - “Do me this service, then,” said Emanuel, “and”— - </p> - <p> - “You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations, - will you not?” said the lieutenant. “You cannot be surprised at it,” - continued he smiling, “my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman’s life - has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During a - calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and - during the night we address ourselves to God.” - </p> - <p> - Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with - that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread over - his features every time he had become the object of investigation, to the - mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of contempt for - human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of God. But finding - that this singular man was disposed to render him, although in a strange - manner, the service he had asked of him, he accepted his proffered - assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two young men were advancing - towards the unknown vessel with as much rapidity as the vigor of six stout - rowers could give to the light bark in which they were seated. Their oars - rose and fell with so regular a movement, that it appeared rather impelled - by some powerful machine, than by the combination of human strength. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - And oh! the little warlike world within! - The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy; - The hoarse command, the busy humming din- - When, at a word, the tops are mann’d on high, - Hark to the boatswain’s call, the cheering cry; - While through the seaman’s hands the tackle glides: - Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by, - Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides, - And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.—Byron. -</pre> - <p> - As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more - clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him - to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck by - the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of her - masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood out - against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be composed - of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. There was not, - however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, which seemed, - either from inattention or contempt, to care but little for the visit she - was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, however, at one - moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping out of one of the - port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was pointed towards the - boat; but the ship being gently moved round by the quiet heaving of the - waves, presented her prow toward them, his attention was attracted by the - figure-head which generally bears some allusion to the name of the vessel - that it decorates: it was a representation of one of the daughters of - America, discovered by Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a - head-dress of many colored feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with - a coral necklace. As to the remainder of the figure, it was a curious - combination, half syren, half serpent, attached to the fore part of the - ship in a graceful though fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached - the ship, the more did the attention of the count appear attracted by this - figure. It was, in fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but - very remarkable from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to - perceive, that it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by - a superior artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a - seaman, the increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the - soldier; and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the - figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that the - latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did not - give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its beauties, - he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question his young - companion. - </p> - <p> - “Well, count,” said he, concealing the interest which he took in his reply - under an apparent gaiety, “what do you think of this master-piece?” - </p> - <p> - “I think,” replied Emanuel, “that comparing it with works of the same - description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have - given it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the lieutenant, carelessly, “it is the last work of William - Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of - his pupils, named Duprè, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is - obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of - ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See,” said he, - giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, “it is - a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls that are - hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond worth a - hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, besides the - honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to offer to his - bride.” - </p> - <p> - “What an odd caprice,” exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the singularity - of the object he was gazing at, “to ornament a ship in the same way that - one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable sums to the chances - of a battle, or the dangers of a storm.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should this astonish you?” said the lieutenant with an accent of - indescribable melancholy; “we seamen have no other family than our - sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the - tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to - something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, who - are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an imaginary - love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady island, and - every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the ocean like a - flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a bird, when - returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star from out the - firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the Atlantic, every - time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it approaches nearer to - him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There are others, and they - are the greater number, who attach themselves to their frigate as to a - well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the tempest tears away any part - of her, at every wound given by the shot that strikes her, and when she is - at length sunk by the tempest or the combat, prefer to perish with her, - rather than to save themselves without her, giving to landsmen a holy - example of fidelity. Captain Paul is one of the latter class, that’s all, - and he has given to his frigate the wedding present which he had intended - for his bride. Ah? I see they are waking up.” - </p> - <p> - “Boat ahoy?” cried some one from on board the frigate, “what boat’s that?” - </p> - <p> - “We want to come on board,” replied Emanuel; “throw us a rope that we may - catch hold of.” - </p> - <p> - “Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder.” - </p> - <p> - The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were - going up the ship’s side. The officer of the watch came forward with an - eagerness which appeared in Emanuel’s mind to promise well. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same - uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, “this is my - friend, the Count —— By the by, I forgot to ask your name?” - </p> - <p> - “Count Emanuel d’Auray.” - </p> - <p> - “I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d’Auray, who - anxiously desires to speak to Captain Paul. Is he on board?” - </p> - <p> - “He has just this moment arrived,” replied the officer. - </p> - <p> - “In that case I will go below and prepare him to receive you, my dear - count. In the meantime, this is Mr. Walter, who will have the pleasure of - showing you through the ship. It is an interesting sight for a land - officer, and the more so, as I doubt whether you would find many ships - kept in such order as this is. The people are at supper just now, I - believe?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “In that case it will be the more curious sight.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” observed the officer, hesitating a little, “it is my watch on - deck.” - </p> - <p> - “Bah! you can easily find one of your brother officers who will relieve - you for a short time. I will endeavour to manage so that the captain shall - not make you kick your heels too long in the ante-room. Adieu, till I meet - you again, count: I shall recommend you in such a way as will insure a - good reception for you.” With these words, the young lieutenant - disappeared down the companion ladder, while the one who remained with - Emanuel to show him over the ship, took him into the ‘tween decks. - </p> - <p> - As the lieutenant had presumed, the crew of the frigate were at their - supper. It was the first time that the young count had been present at - such a repast; and however much he desired to speak immediately to the - captain, he felt so curious to observe what was going on, that he examined - everything with eager attention. - </p> - <p> - Between every two guns, a table and benches were prepared, not standing on - their feet, but slung by ropes from above. Four men were seated upon each - of the benches, taking their portion of pieces of beef, which seemed to - resist the action of their knives, but which had to do with hearty fellows - who did not appear at all disposed to be daunted by its toughness. At - every table there were two cans of wine, that is to say, about a pint for - each man. As to the bread, it did not appear to be distributed by rations, - but they could take as much as they wanted. The most profound silence - reigned throughout the crew, which, was composed of of more than from one - hundred and eighty to two hundred men. - </p> - <p> - Although none of those seated at the table, opened their mouths for any - other purpose than to eat, Emanuel perceived, with some surprise, that - they were composed of many different nations, which was easily discernible - from the contour of their countenances. His <i>cicerone</i> remarked his - astonishment, and replying to his thought before he had given utterance to - it, said, with an American accent, which Emanuel had already observed, and - which proved that he who spoke to him was born on the other side of the - Atlantic: “Yes, yes, we have a tolerably pretty sample of every nation in - the world, and if all at once a good deluge should carry off the children - of Noah, as it formerly did those of Adam, our ark could furnish people - who speak every language. Do you observe those three fellows who are - exchanging a piece of roast beef for a clove of garlick, they are lads - from Galicia, whom we picked up at Cape Ortegal, and who would not go into - action without having said a prayer to St Jago, of Corapostello, but who, - when once their prayer is over, would rather allow themselves to be cut in - pieces, like martyrs, than retreat a single step. Those two who are - polishing their table at the expense of their jacket-sleeves, are honest - Dutchmen, who still complain: of the injury done to their commerce by the - discovery of the Cape of Good Hope. You see them—at first sight they - look like very beer-pots. Well, those brave fellows, the moment they hear - the drum beat to quarters, become as active as monkeys; Go near them, and - they will talk to you about their ancestors; they will tell you they - descend from those famous sweepers of the sea, who when going into action, - hoisted a broom instead of a flag; but they will take good care not to - inform you that one fine morning the English took their broom, and made - rods of it to whip them with. That whole table, where they are chattering - together at such a rate, but in an under tone, is occupied by Frenchmen, - who would talk louder if they dared. The seat of honor is occupied by a - chief, elected by themselves; he is a Parisian by birth, a cosmopolite - from taste, a great master at the small sword, singlestick, and a - dancing-master to boot. Always gay and contented, he sings when he is on - duty, sings when he is fighting, and will die singing, unless a hemp - cravat should stop his voice, which may very likely happen to him should - he have the misfortune to fall into the hands of John Bull. Turn your eyes - to the other side now, and observe that row of square and idle heads. - These are strange faces to you, are they not? but which every American - born between Hudson’s Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, would recognize at once - for bears born on: the borders of Lake Erie, or seals from Nova Scotia.. - There are three, or four of them who are one eyed—this arises from, - their peculiar mode of fighting; they twist their fingers in the hair of - their antagonist, and gouge out his eye with their thumbs. There are some - of them who are very expert at this exercise, and who never miss their - mark. So that when they are boarding a ship, they almost invariable throw - away their boarding, pikes, or their cutlass, and seizing the first - Englishman they can catch hold of, they uneye him with a dexterity and - quickness quite delightful to behold. You will now comprehend that I did - not deceive you in what I said, and that our collection is complete.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” asked Emanuel, who had listened to this long enumeration with a - certain degree of interest, “how does your captain manage to make himself - understood by men brought together from such distant nations?” - </p> - <p> - “First of all our captain understands all languages—and although in - battle and during stormy weather he speaks his mother tongue, he; gives - such an accent to it that every one understands him and obeys: him. But - see, the larboard cabin door is opening, and I doubt not he is ready - to-receive you.” - </p> - <p> - And instantly a boy dressed in a midshipman’s uniform came up to the two - officers, and asked Emanuel if he did not call himself the Count d’Auray; - and on his receiving an affirmative reply, he requested him to follow him; - and the officer who had so conscientiously sustained the part of a - cicerone, immediately went on deck to resume his duties there. As to - Emanuel, he advanced towards the cabin with a mixed feeling of anxiety and - curiosity, He was at last about to be ushered in the presence of Captain - Paul. - </p> - <p> - He was a man who appeared to be between fifty and fifty-five years of age, - and to whom the habit of walking between decks had given him a stoop - rather than age. He wore the uniform of the French navy, accord-ing to its - strictest regulations. It was a blue coat with scarlet facings, a red - waistcoat, and breeches of the same color, grey stockings, with frilled - shirt and’ ruffles. His hair, rolled up in large curls, and powdered quite - white, was tied into a queue by a ribbon, the ends of which floated upon - his shoulders. His cocked hat and his sword were lying upon a table beside - him. At the moment Emanuel entered the door, he was sitting upon the - carriage of a gun, but when he perceived him, he rose up to receive him. - </p> - <p> - The young count felt intimidated by the aspect of this man: there was in - his eye a searching look which appeared to peer into the very soul of the - person whom he gazed upon. Perhaps, also, this impression was the more - powerful, that he presented himself before him with a conscience that - reproached him with the act he was endeavouring to accomplish, and of - which he was about to render the captain, if not an accomplice, at all - events the executioner. These two men, as though they felt a secret - repulsion, the one towards the other, saluted each other with politeness, - but with cold reserve. - </p> - <p> - “It is the Count d’Auray that I have the honor of addressing,” said the - old officer. - </p> - <p> - “And I Captain Paul, I believe,” replied the young mousquetaire; they both - bowed a second time. - </p> - <p> - “May I know to what fortunate chance I owe the honor,” rejoined the - captain, “of the visit which is now paid to me by the heir of one of the - oldest and greatest families in Brittany?” - </p> - <p> - Emanuel bowed again by way of thanks for this compliment, and then, after - hesitating for a moment as if he found it difficult to open the - conversation, he observed: “I am told, Captain Paul, that you are bound to - the Gulf of Mexico?” - </p> - <p> - “And you have not been deceived, sir; I purpose sailing for New Orleans, - calling on my way at Cayenne, and at the Havannah.” - </p> - <p> - “This falls out very fortunately, captain, and you will not have to alter - your course, in case you should be willing to undertake the execution of - the order of which I am the bearer.” - </p> - <p> - “You have an order to communicate to me, sir, and from whom?” - </p> - <p> - “From the Minister of Marine.” - </p> - <p> - “An order addressed to me personally?” reiterated the captain, doubtingly. - </p> - <p> - “Not personally to you, sir; but to any captain of the royal navy, who may - be about to sail for South America.” - </p> - <p> - “Of what nature is it, count?” - </p> - <p> - “A state prisoner to be transported to Cayenne.” - </p> - <p> - “And you have the order with you?” - </p> - <p> - “Here it is,” replied Emanuel, taking it from his pocket, and presenting - it to the captain. - </p> - <p> - He took the paper, and going near the cabin window, that he might avail - himself of the last gleam of daylight, he read aloud: - </p> - <p> - “The Ministers of Marine and of the Colonies, orders any captain or - lieutenant, commanding a government vessel, who may be about to sail for - South America, or for the Gulf of Mexico, to take on board his ship and to - land at Cayenne, the person named Lusignan, condemned to transportation - for life. During the passage the convict shall take his meals in his own - cabin, and shall not be allowed to have any communication with the ship’s - company.” - </p> - <p> - “Is the order in due form?” asked Emanuel. - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly, sir,” replied the captain. “And are you disposed to execute - it?” - </p> - <p> - “Am I not under the orders of the Minister of Marine?” - </p> - <p> - “The prisoner may then be sent to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Whenever you will; but it had better be this evening, or as soon as - possible, as I do not expect to be long in these roads.” - </p> - <p> - “I will take care that due diligence shall be used.” - </p> - <p> - “Is this all that you have to say to me?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing further, excepting to add my thanks.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not add anything, sir. The minister orders, and I obey, that’s all. It - is a duty which I fulfil, and not a service that I am rendering.” - </p> - <p> - Upon these words, the captain and the count bowed to each other and - separated, more coldly even than they had met. - </p> - <p> - When he reached the deck, Emanuel asked the officer of the watch for his - friend who had accompanied him on board, but was informed he had been - detained by Captain Paul to sup with him, and that being anxious to oblige - the count, he had placed his boat as his disposal. - </p> - <p> - She was waiting alongside the ship, and the sailors were in readiness to - accompany him. Emanuel had scarcely got into her when they rowed him away - with a rapidity equal to that with which they had conducted him on board. - But this time she proceeded in sorrowful silence, for the young lieutenant - was no longer there to animate the count with his practical philosophy. - </p> - <p> - That same night the prisoner was conducted on board the <i>Indienne</i>, - and the next morning at day-break the inquisitive inhabitants of the coast - no longer discerned the frigate which had given rise to so many - conjectures, and whose unexpected arrival, her remaining there without any - apparent object, and her spontaneous departure, remained an inexplicable - mystery to the inhabitants of Fort Louis. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - The gallant vessels side by side did lie, - Yard-arm and yard-arm, and the murd’rous guns - Belch’d forth their flame and shot, ‘till the white decks - Ran like a sea with blood. Uncertain still - The victory stood, ‘till Perry, waving - His bright sword o’er his head, cried, “Follow me!” - A hundred shouts responded to this call, - Then with one spring he bounded on the deck - Of his determined foe.—Oxd Play. -</pre> - <p> - As the motives which had induced Captain Paul to visit the coast of - Brittany had no relation with our history, excepting as far as regards the - events which we have related, we shall leave our readers in the same state - of uncertainty as were the inhabitants of Fort Louis; and although our’ - vocation and our sympathies naturally incline us to terra-firma, we must - follow our hero for a few days in his adventurous course upon the ocean. - The weather was as beautiful as it generally is on the western coast of - France, at the commencement of autumn. The <i>Indienne</i> sailed gaily on - with as fair a wind as could blow for her. The ship’s crew, excepting - those actually employed in manoeuvring the vessel, were availing - themselves of the fine weather and occupied in their own matters, as - caprice directed them, or were idly lounging about the ship, when all at - once a voice which appeared to descend from the sky, called out, “Below, - there!” - </p> - <p> - “Hullo, there!” replied the quarter-master, who was standing near the - helm. - </p> - <p> - “Sail, ho!” cried the seaman who was on the lookout, at the head-mast. - </p> - <p> - “Sail, ho!” repeated the quarter-master. “Officer of the deck, be so good - as to inform the captain there is a sail in sight.” - </p> - <p> - “A sail! a sail!” re-echoed the crew from different parts of the deck; for - at that moment a wave, having raised the vessel which appeared upon the - horizon, had for an instant rendered her visible to the eyes of the ship’s - company. - </p> - <p> - “A sail!” exclaimed a young man of five-and-twenty, springing upon the - quarter deck from the cabin stairs; “ask Mr Arthur what he thinks of her.” - </p> - <p> - “Mast head, there!” cried the lieutenant, using his speaking trumpet; “the - captain wants to know, Mr. Arthur, what you make of the strange sail.” - </p> - <p> - Arthur, the young midshipman, had gone aloft immediately upon hearing a - sail announced. He replied, “She looks like a large square-rigged vessel, - close hauled, and steering for us.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” said the young man, to whom Walter had given the title of - captain, “she has as good eyes as we have, and she has seen us.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well, if she wishes for a little chat, she will find us ready to - talk to her. Besides, our guns must be almost choked from having their - mouths stopped so long.” - </p> - <p> - After some little time, the midshipman again hailed the officer on deck, - and told him that the strange ship had just set her mainsail, and had - altered her course a little, so as to cross their bow. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said the captain, addressing the lieutenant, “get ready to beat to - quarters, we must prepare for this fellow; he looks rather suspicious.” - And then calling out to the midshipman, “How does the ship seem to sail, - Mr. Arthur? what do you think of her?” - </p> - <p> - “She seems to be a fast sailer, and is a man-of-war, I should think, by - the squareness of her yards; and although I cannot see her flag, I would - wager that she bears King George’s commission.” - </p> - <p> - “I should not wonder,” observed the captain to the first lieutenant, “and - that she has orders to give chase to a certain frigate called the - Indienne, and that her commander is promised good promotion should he - succeed in capturing her. Ha! ha! now she is loosing her top gallant - sails. The blood hound has scented us, and is decidedly about to give us - chase. Set our top gallant sails, too, Mr. Walter, and let us keep our - course without varying a point. We shall see whether they will dare to - come athwart our hawse.” - </p> - <p> - The captain’s orders were instantly repeated by the lieutenant, and in a - few minutes the ship which had been running under her top sails, felt the - influence of her top gallant sails, heeled over under this new pressure - and bounded along as if animated by the sight of an enemy, and dashing - away the spray from either bow with eager impetuosity. - </p> - <p> - For some time there was hardly a word uttered on board. Every one appeared - to wait anxiously the termination of this state of suspense, and we shall - profit by this momentary quiet, to call the attention of our readers to - the person of the officer to whom the lieutenant had given the title of - captain. - </p> - <p> - It was no longer either the young and sceptical lieutenant whom we have - seen accompanying the Count d’Auray on board the ship, nor the old - sea-wolf with his stooping gait, and harsh and snappish answers, who had - received him in the cabin. He was a handsome young man, from twenty to - twenty-five years of age, as we have said before, who, having thrown off - all disguise, appeared at length in his own person, and dressed in the - fanciful uniform which he always wore when upon the wide ocean. It was a - sort of great coat of black velvet, with gold shoulder knots and fastened - with hooks and eyes of the same metal. Round his waist he wore a Turkish - belt, in which was placed a pair of elegant duelling pistols, richly - inlaid and ornamented, apparently more for show than defence. His - pantaloons were of white kerseymere, with boots which reached nearly to - his knees. Round his neck, a cravat of transparent India muslin, - embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, was loosely tied; his - hair, no longer disfigured by powder, and black as ebony, flowed about his - cheeks, which were tanned by exposure to the sun; his eyes beamed with - hope and animation. Near him, upon a gun, was placed a steel helmet which - fastened by a curb chain under the chin. This was his battle dress, and - the only defensive armour which he wore. Some deep indentations in his - helmet proved that it had more than once-saved the head which it protected - from those severe wounds inflicted by those terrible cutlasses used by - seamen when boarding. As to the ship’s company, they wore the elegant - though plain uniform of the French navy. - </p> - <p> - During this time, the vessel which had been described by the man at the - mast head, and which had then appeared like a white speck upon the - horizon, had become, little by little, a pyramid of sails and rigging. All - eyes were fixed upon her, and although no order had been actually given, - every one of the crew had taken the position which individually belonged - to him, as though it had been determined that a combat should take place. - There reigned then on board the Indienne that solemn and profound silence, - which in a ship of war always precedes the decisive orders of the captain. - Finally, the hull of the strange sail appeared rising out of the water, as - her sails had successively done before. It was then clearly discernible - that she was a larger ship than the Indienne, and that she carried - thirty-six guns. She, however, showed no colors, and as her crew were - carefully and completely concealed behind her bulwarks, it was impossible - to ascertain, unless by some particular indications, to what nation she - belonged. These two observations were made almost at the same moment by - Captain Paul; the last, however, seemed to strike him the most forcibly. - </p> - <p> - “It appears,” said he, addressing his lieutenant, “that we are going to - have a scene of a masked ball. Order Arthur to bring us a few flags, and - let us prove to this unknown, that the Indienne has several disguises at - her disposal. And then, Mr. Walter, give orders that cutlasses and - boarding pikes be distributed, for we can hardly expect, in these seas, to - meet with any but enemy’s ships.” - </p> - <p> - The two orders were executed; as soon as given. In an instant the young - midshipman had brought on deck a dozen flags of different nations, and - Lieutenant Walter, having had the arm chest opened, had boarding pikes - piled in different positions throughout the ship, and had distributed - cutlasses and axes to the ship’s company, he then returned to his place by - the Captain’s side. Every man again resumed his post by instinct rather - than by order, for they had not yet beat to quarters; so that the apparent - confusion which had existed for a moment ceased at once, and the frigate - became once more, as it were, silent and attentive. - </p> - <p> - However, the two ships following their converging directions, continued to - approach each other. When they were about the distance of three gun shots, - “Mr. Walter,” said the Captain, “I think it is time we should begin to - mistify our good friend here. Let us show him the old Scotch flag.” - </p> - <p> - The lieutenant gave a sign to the quartermaster, and the red Lion of - Scotland, on a blue field, rose like a flame to the peak of the <i>Indienne</i>; - but nothing on board the enemy’s ship gave evidence of their paying the - slightest attention to this manouvre. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” murmured the captain, “the three leopards of England have so - well filed the teeth and pared the claws of the Scottish lion, that they - pay no attention to him, believing that he is tamed because he is - defenceless. Show him some other color, Mr. Walter, and perhaps we shall - succeed in loosening his tongue.” - </p> - <p> - “What flag shall I hoist, captain?” - </p> - <p> - “Take the first one that comes; chance may perhaps favor us.” - </p> - <p> - This order was scarcely given, when the Scotch flag was hauled down, and - that of Sardinia took its place. The ship still remained mute. - </p> - <p> - “Well, well,” said the captain, jestingly, “it appears that His Majesty, - King George, is on good terms with his brother of Cyprus and Jerusalem. Do - not let us bring them to loggerheads by carrying our joke farther, Mr. - Walter, let us show the American flag, and prove that it is really the - right one, by firing an unshotted gun.” - </p> - <p> - The same manouvre was repeated. The Sardinian flag was hauled down, and - the stars of the United States rose slowly towards the sky, and were - certified by firing a gun. - </p> - <p> - What the captain had foreseen then happened immediately on the display of - this symbol of rebellion rising insolently in the air. The unknown ship - immediately betrayed its incognita by hoisting the British flag. At the - same moment a cloud of smoke was seen issuing from the side of the - royalist ship, and before the report was heard, a cannon ball was seen - tipping from wave to wave, and fell about a hundred yards short of the - Indienne. - </p> - <p> - “Beat to quarters, Mr. Walter, for you see we have guessed rightly. Come, - my boys,” cried he, to the crew, “hurrah for America! and death to - England!” - </p> - <p> - This was answered by a general shout, and had not ceased, when they heard - them beating to quarters on board the <i>Drake</i>, for that was the name - of the English ship. The drums of the Indienne immediately replied, and - every man ran to his post:—the gunners to their guns, the officers - to their stations, and the sailors to their running rigging. As to the - captain, he jumped upon the top of the companion, his speaking trumpet in - his hand—the supreme symbol, the sceptre of nautical royalty, which - the commander always wields in the hour of combat or during the raging of - the tempest. - </p> - <p> - They now seem to have made an exchange of parts, for the English appeared - impatient, and the Americans affected calmness. The ships were hardly - within gun shot, when a long line of smoke was seen issuing from the side - of the English vessel, and a report similar to loud thunder was heard, and - the iron messengers sent to deal death among the rebels, having in their - impetuosity, miscalculated the distance, fell harmless before reaching the - sides of the frigate. The latter, however, as if refusing to reply to so - premature an attack, continued to haul to the wind, as if to spare the - enemy too long a course. - </p> - <p> - At this moment the captain turned, as if to give a last look round his - ship, and his astonished gaze was attracted by the appearance of a new - personage on the deck, who had selected this dangerous and exciting moment - to make his entrance upon the scene. - </p> - <p> - It was a young man, somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three years of - age. His face was pale and mild; he was plainly, but elegantly dressed, - and whom the captain had not before seen on board. He was leaning against - the mizen-mast, his arms folded over his chest, and looking with - melancholy indifference at the English vessel which was approaching them - under a heavy press of canvas. The calmness at such a moment, and in a man - who appeared a stranger to nautical combats, forcibly struck the captain. - He then remembered the prisoner, whom the Count d’Auray had announced to - him, and who had been brought on board during the last night he had passed - at the anchorage of Port Louis. - </p> - <p> - “Who allowed you to come on deck, sir?” said he, softening as much as - possible, the tone of his enquiry, so that it would have been difficult to - ascertain whether this was addressed as a mere question, or as a reproach. - </p> - <p> - “No one, sir,” replied the prisoner, in a soft and sorrowful voice; “but I - had hoped that under the present circumstances, you would less severely - observe the orders by which I became your prisoner.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you forgotten that you were forbidden to hold any communication with - the ship’s company.” - </p> - <p> - “I did not come here for the purpose of holding communication with the - ship’s company, sir; I came to see whether some friendly cannon ball would - do me a good’ turn.” - </p> - <p> - “You may, but too soon, have your desire accomplished, if you remain where - you are now standing; therefore, believe me, you had better remain below.” - </p> - <p> - “Is this your advice; or an order, captain?” - </p> - <p> - “You have full liberty to construe it as you please.” - </p> - <p> - “In that case,” replied the young man, “I thank you—I will remain - here.” - </p> - <p> - At this instant, another loud report was heard; but the two ships had by - this time neared each other so much, that they were within gun-shot, and - the whole tempest of shot passed through the sails of the Indienne. Two - splinters fell from the masts; and the groans and stifled cries of some of - the ship’s company were heard. The captain, at that moment, had his eyes - fixed upon the prisoner, above whose head, a cannon ball had passed within - two feet, grazing the mizen mast, against which he was leaning; but - notwithstanding this death warning, he remained calm and unmoved, in the - same attitude as if he had not felt the wing of the exterminating angel - waft above his head. The captain knew how to appreciate courage—this - incident was sufficient to assure him of the undaunted bravery of the man - who stood before him. - </p> - <p> - “Tis well, sir,” said he to him; “remain where you are, and when we come - to boarding, if you should be tired of remaining with your arms crossed, - take up a cutlass, or an axe, and give us a helping hand. You will excuse - me not payings you more attention at this moment, for I have other things - to do.” - </p> - <p> - “Fire!” cried he, in a voice of thunder, through his speaking trumpet, - “now, give it her: fire!” - </p> - <p> - “Fire!” repeated the officers like an echo, at their different stations. - </p> - <p> - At the instant, the Indienne trembled from her keel, to her royal mast - head, as she poured her broadside into the enemy—a cloud of smoke - spread itself like a veil, along the starboard-side, which was soon - carried to leeward. The captain, standing upon the companion, impatiently - awaited its clearing off, that he might ascertain the effect which the - broadside had produced upon the enemy’s vessel. When his gaze could - penetrate through the smoke, he perceived that the enemy’s main top mast - had fallen, and had, with its sails, encumbered the after-part of the - Drake’s deck, and that her other sails were cut to ribbons. Then putting - his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he cried— - </p> - <p> - “Well done! my lads. Now watch her closely. They will be too busy in - clearing away the wreck of their mast, to think of raking us—fire—as - you can—and this time shave close!” - </p> - <p> - The crew hastened to obey this order—the frigate veered round, and - as the guns were brought to bear upon the enemy, they were discharged with - terrible effect; and, as the captain had imagined, without any hindrance - from the Drake. The Indienne once more trembled like a volcano, and, as a - volcano, vomited forth her flame and smoke. - </p> - <p> - This time the gunners had followed the orders of their captain to the - letter, (and the broadside had been fired point blank) striking the hull - and the lower masts. Both her masts were still standing; but on all sides - the sails were hanging in tatters. It appeared that some more considerable - damage had been done, which it was impossible to ascertain at that - distance; for some time, the broadside was not returned; at length it was, - and instead of raking the <i>Indienne</i>, it struck her in a diagonal - direction. It was not the less terrible, for it swept off many a brave - fellow from the deck; but by a chance which appeared positively magical, - touched neither of the masts. Some of the running rigging was cut, but - nothing that prevented her manoeuvring as before. At one glance, Paul - ascertained that he had only lost some men. His heart bounded with joy. He - once more placed the speaking-trumpet to his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “Larboard the helm,” cried he, “and board her on the larboard side! - Boarders, to your stations—be ready! Give her one more broadside.” - </p> - <p> - At the first movement of the <i>Indienne</i>, the enemy at once perceived - the intention, and endeavoured to neutralize it by it similar movement, - but at the instant of attempting to execute it, a dreadful crash was heard - on board her, and the mainmast, which had been nearly cut through by the - last discharge from the <i>Indienne</i>, trembled, for a few seconds like - an uprooted tree, and fell forward, covering the deck with the mainsail - and the rigging. Captain Paul at once comprehended what had delayed the - return of the broadside. - </p> - <p> - “Now, she is ours, my lads!” cried he; “we have only to take her. One last - broadside within pistol shot, and then we’ll board her!” - </p> - <p> - The <i>Indienne</i> obeyed her helm, as does a well trained horse the - bridle, and unopposed, advanced towards her enemy, for the latter had no - steerage-way upon her, and her guns were consequently useless. The Drake - was therefore at the mercy of her adversary, who by remaining at a - distance and playing at long bowls, might have riddled her and sunk her, - but disdaining this too easy victory, sent in a last broadside; and then, - before seeing the effect it had produced, the frigate ran in upon her - larboard quarter, and threw her grappling-irons on board. On the instant, - the tops and forecastle of the Indienne blazed as with fireworks on a - holiday, and flaming grenades were showered upon the deck of the Drake - with the rapidity of hailstones. - </p> - <p> - “Courage, my lads, courage, lash the bowsprit to her quarter rails. Well - done! now, to your two forecastle carronades—fire!” - </p> - <p> - All these orders were executed with magical celerity: the two ships were - as securely lashed together as if by iron chains—the two carronades - which had not been fired during the combat, thundered in there turn, and - swept the enemy’s deck with a cloud of grape shot, and then another cry - was heard, uttered by the same stentorian voice— - </p> - <p> - “Now, board her!!!” - </p> - <p> - And, adding example to precept, the captain of the <i>Indienne</i> threw - aside his speaking trumpet, now of no longer use, placed his helmet on his - head, fastening the clasp beneath his chin; placed the sabre which he - usually wore in his belt between his teeth, and rushed upon the bowsprit - to jump thence upon the deck of the enemy. - </p> - <p> - Although this movement followed the order he had given with as great - rapidity as the thunder succeeds the lightning, he was only the second - upon the English deck: he was preceded by the young prisoner with whom he - had conversed, who had thrown aside his coat, and armed only with a - hatchet, was the first to encounter death or victory. - </p> - <p> - “You are not conversant with the discipline of my ship,” said Paul, - laughing; “it is my place to be the first to board a ship I am attacking. - I forgive you this time, but take care it does not again happen.” - </p> - <p> - At the same instant, the seamen of the <i>Indienne</i> rushed from their - own ship to the enemy’s, taking advantage of every point of contact, some - from the bowsprit, others from the end of the yards, and nettings, and - fell upon the deck like ripe fruit falling from a tree when shaken by the - wind. Then the English, who had retreated to their forecastle, unmasked a - carronade which they had had time to turn upon their enemy. A volley of - fire and iron was vomited forth on the assailants. One fourth of the crew - of the <i>Indienne</i> fell killed or mutilated on the enemy’s deck, in - the midst of cries and maledictions. But above the cries and blasphemous - oaths, a voice resounded, crying: - </p> - <p> - “Forward—all of you!” - </p> - <p> - Then ensued a scene of appalling confusion—a combat hand to hand—a - general duel. To the roar of cannon, to the report of musketry, to the - explosion of hand grenades, had succeeded the struggle with cold steel, - less noisy but more sure, above all with seamen, who have retained for - their sole use this inheritance from the giants, proscribed for more than - two centuries on the field of battle. It was with hatchets that they - cleaved each other’s sculls; it was with cutlasses they wounded each - other’s breasts; it was with boarding-pikes that they nailed each other to - the deck and masts. From time to time, in the midst of this mute carnage, - a stray pistol shot was heard, but isolated, and as if ashamed of taking - part in such a butchery. It lasted nearly a quarter of an hour, and amidst - a confusion it would be impossible to describe. And then the British flag - was lowered, and the crew of the Drake being driven below, there remained - on deck only the conquerors, the wounded and the dead; in the midst of - whom was the captain of the <i>Indienne</i>, surrounded by his crew, with - his foot upon the breast of the captain of the enemy’s ship, having on his - right his first lieutenant, Walter, and on his left his young prisoner, - whose shirt, steeped in blood, witnessed the share he had in the victory. - </p> - <p> - “Now, all is over,” said Paul, stretching out his hand; “and he who - strikes another blow will have to deal with me.” - </p> - <p> - Then holding out his hand to his young prisoner, “Sir,” said he, “you will - relate to me, to-night, how it was that you were made my prisoner, will - you not! For there must be some cowardly machination in this affair. The - infamous only are transported to Cayenne, and you are too brave to be - infamous.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth, - And of most royal presence—but sad thoughts - Seemed to possess her wholly—her children, even, - Seldom approached her, and when they did, - No soft affection, motherly caress, - Was e’er accorded to them—stern and cold, - She looked a moving statue.—Old Play. -</pre> - <p> - About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just related, - and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise, whose wheels - and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified that it had - performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along, although two powerful - horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between Vanness and Auray. The - traveller it contained, and who was roughly jolted in traversing the - cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count Emanuel, whom we saw open - the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was coming from Paris with all - haste, and proceeding to his ancient family mansion, with regard to which - it is now necessary to give some more precise and circumstantial details. - </p> - <p> - Count Emanuel d’Auray was descended from one of the oldest families in - Brittany—one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy - Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor, had - been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in its - victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d’Auray, Chevalier of the - order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and Grand Cross - of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of Louis XV., in - which he filled the post of high steward, that high distinction to which - his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit, truly entitled him. His - influence there had been increased by his marriage with Mademoiselle de - Sable, who was his equal in every thing that regarded family or credit at - court: so that a brilliant future was opened to the ambition of the young - people, when, after being married five years, a report was suddenly spread - about the court, that the Marquis d’Auray had become insane during a - journey he had made to his estates. This report was for a long time - disbelieved. At length the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his - wife made their appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him - another year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason, - refused to appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and - even the marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In - France people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which - even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of - indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old - chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting - or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of a - son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d’Aurays, therefore, - continued to figure among the names of the French nobility; but not having - mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in court intrigues - or in political affairs, not having sided either with a Pampadour or a Du - Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the victories of the - Maréchal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count Clermont—in - short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been completely forgotten. - </p> - <p> - However, the ancient name of the lords of d’Auray had been twice - pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first time - on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel’s being admitted in 1769, as - one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after having served - his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires of the young - King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted with the Baron - de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who was favorably - disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable degree of influence - with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to his old courtier, who - having been informed that the Count d’Auray had a sister, one day let fall - a few words upon the possibility of an union between the two families. - Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied with struggling beneath the - veil which had obscured his family name, saw in this marriage a means of - regaining the position which his father had occupied at court under the - late king, and had eagerly caught at the first overtures for this - alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under the pretext of uniting - himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood, to his young friend, had - urged his suit with an eagerness which was so much the more flattering to - Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand of his sister had never seen - her. The Marchioness d’Auray had listened the more readily to this - proposal, as it opened to her son the road to royal favor, and the - marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two young people, at all - events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded M. de Lectoure three or - four days only, had hastened into the country to inform his mother that - everything had been arranged according to her desire. As to Marguerite, - the intended wife, they contented themselves with informing her of the - resolution they had taken without thinking it necessary to ask her consent - to it, in about the same way that a criminal is informed of the sentence - which condemns him to the scaffold. - </p> - <p> - It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of future - exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated projects of - ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy castle of his - family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards, overgrown with - grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden hopes that agitated - him. The castle was a league and a half distant from any other dwelling. - The principal facade overlooked that part of the ocean, which being so - constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name of “the Wild Sea.” The - other looked toward an immense park, which, being for twenty years - abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete forest. As to the - apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with the exception of - those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had been renewed - during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of a numerous - household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which the more - modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more elegant, was - less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops of Boule, the - appointed upholsterer of the court. - </p> - <p> - It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney - pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was ushered - on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to communicate to his - mother the happy news of which he was the bearer, that without taking the - time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his gloves, and travelling - pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant to inform the marchioness - of his arrival, and to ask her permission to present himself, saying that - he would await it in that room; for such in this old family was the - respect paid to parents, that the son, after an absence of five months, - did not dare to present himself to his mother, without in the first place - consulting her desires upon the subject. As to the Marquis d’Auray, his - children could not remember having seen him more than two or three times, - and then it was by stealth: for his insanity was of a nature, it was said, - that certain objects irritated, and they had been always kept from him - with the greatest precaution. The marchioness alone, a model of conjugal - virtue, remained always with him, fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not - only the duties of a wife, but also those of a servant. Consequently, her - name was revered in the surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose - devotedness on earth has gained a place in heaven. - </p> - <p> - In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the - marchioness d’Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that the - count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost - immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel’s - mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age, tall - and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy features - had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command. She was in - costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time that her husband - had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her mourning garments. Her - long black gown gave to her movements, cold and slow as those of a shadow, - a solemn appearance, which shed around this extraordinary woman a feeling - of awe, which even filial affection had never been able to surmount. - Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started as at the sight of an unexpected - apparition, and instantly rising, he advanced three steps toward her, - respectfully went down upon one knee, and kissed the hand she presented to - him. - </p> - <p> - “Rise, sir,” said the marchioness. “I am happy to see you again.” And she - pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who had been - absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel obeyed, - conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated herself, - and he remained standing before her. - </p> - <p> - “I received your letter, count,” she said, “and I congratulate you on your - skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than for - military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain an - embassy for you, rather than a regiment.” - </p> - <p> - “Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what is - more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power with - M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister.” - </p> - <p> - “In love with a woman he has never seen?” - </p> - <p> - “Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of - Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our fortune, - has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your son and to - call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that all the - preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You have - obtained the publication of the bans, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed.” - </p> - <p> - “With the help of God, all will be ready.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks, madam.” - </p> - <p> - “But tell me,” continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her chair, - and bending toward Emanuel, “has he not questioned you regarding that - young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of - deportation?” - </p> - <p> - “By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without - entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit - confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world, that - they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he knows nothing?” - </p> - <p> - “No—but did he know all——” - </p> - <p> - “Well?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the discovery - would not in any way influence his determination.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift,” replied the marchioness, - with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if speaking to - herself. - </p> - <p> - “But supposing it should be so,” said Emanuel anxiously, “your resolution - would be still unchanged, I hope.” - </p> - <p> - “Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our former - influence?” - </p> - <p> - “Then, there is only my sister——” - </p> - <p> - “Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?” - </p> - <p> - “Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?” - </p> - <p> - “For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my - presence.” - </p> - <p> - “Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our - family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not - conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having - been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king - at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your - virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him, - even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason; your - virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses, but of - which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in this old - forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission, which you - call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they forget you - (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count six hundred - years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at court, our name, - the name of the family d’Auray, was hardly known to their majesties, but - as an historical recollection.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories,” murmured the - marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such a - blasphemy, she rejoined, “I hope that the blessing of God may always - attend their majesties and France.” - </p> - <p> - “And what can in any way affect their happiness?” replied Emanuel, with - that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the - distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility. - “Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both of - them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them, Heaven be - praised, beyond the reach of every evil.” - </p> - <p> - “No one, my son,” replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head, - “believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty. - No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master it, - firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head, were it - even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The people, you - say, are brave and loyal.” The marchioness arose and slowly advanced to - the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean. “Observe that - sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this night, in an - hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the cries of distress - of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I am separated from the - world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears, borne as it were by - invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not exist a sect of - philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the errors which it - propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which is detaching itself - from the mother country, whose children refuse to acknowledge their - father? Is there not a people who style themselves a nation? Have I not - heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the ocean, to offer to - rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but at the call of their - legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told, moreover, or is it but - the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI. and the Queen, Marie - Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are a family of brothers, - have authorised these armed emigrations, and have given letters of marque - to I know not what foreign pirate?” - </p> - <p> - “All this is true,” said Emanuel, much astonished. - </p> - <p> - “May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of France!” - rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room, leaving - Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw her - withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain her. - </p> - <p> - Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant - character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change - his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window - which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence he - could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between d’Auray - and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he perceived two - persons on horseback, following the same road he had just travelled over, - and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they drew nearer he - could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his servant. The first, - dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of that day, that is to - say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs, stocking-knit breeches, - and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad brim, and his hair tied - with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on an English horse of rare - beauty and great value, which he managed with a grace that proved he had - made equestrian exercises a profound study. He was followed at a short - distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery was in perfect harmony - with the lordly air of the person whom he served. Emanuel imagined for a - moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards the castle, that it was - the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his departure from Paris, - intended to surprise him; but he soon found that he was mistaken; and - although it appeared to him that it was not the first time he had seen the - horseman, he could not recollect where or under what circumstances he had - met him. While he was racking his memory to discover the event in his life - with which this vague remembrance was connected, the strangers had - disappeared behind an angle of the castle wall. Five minutes afterwards - Emanuel heard the sound of their horses’ feet in the court yard, and, - almost immediately the door was opened; a servant announced, “<i>Mr. Paul!</i>” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Woman’s love - Once given, may break the heart that holds—but never - Melts into air save with her latest sigh. - - Bulwer.—The Sea Captain, -</pre> - <p> - The name, as well as the appearance of the person thus announced, awakened - in their turn in the mind of Emanuel a confused recollection of which he - could not affix either date or event. The person, preceded by the servant, - entered the room by a door opposite the one through which the marchioness - had retired. Although the moment was ill-timed for a visit, and though the - young count, pre-occupied by his projects for the future, would have - preferred meditating upon and ripening them, he was compelled, by the - rules of etiquette, so severe in those days between well-bred people, to - receive the visitor with courtesy and politeness. The deportment of the - latter bespoke the man of distinction. After the usual salutations, - Emanuel, by a gesture, invited the stranger to be seated, who bowed and - took a chair, and then the conversation commenced with some common-place - polite observation. - </p> - <p> - “I am delighted to meet you, count,” said the stranger. - </p> - <p> - “Chance has favored me, sir,” replied Emanuel; “an hour sooner you would - not have found me here: I have just arrived from Paris.” - </p> - <p> - “I am aware of that, count, for we have been travelling the same road. I - set out an hour after you, and all along the road I heard of you, by means - of the postillions who had the honor of driving you.” - </p> - <p> - “May I be bold enough to ask,” said Emanuel, in a tone which began to - evince a certain degree of dissatisfaction, “to what circumstance I owe - the interest you appear to evince concerning me.” - </p> - <p> - “This interest is perfectly natural between old acquaintance, and perhaps. - I might have reason to complain that it does not appear to be reciprocal.” - </p> - <p> - “In fact, sir, it does appear to me,” replied Emanuel, “that I have met - you somewhere; but my recollection serves me but confusedly; will you be - kind enough to assist it?” - </p> - <p> - “If what you say be the case, count, your memory must indeed be rather - fugitive, for within the last six months, on three separate occasions, I - have the honor of exchanging compliments with you.” - </p> - <p> - “Even should I expose myself to further reproach, I am compelled to say - that I still remain in the same state of uncertainty with regard to your - person. Pray, therefore, have the goodness to fix my memory, by aid of - more precise dates, on some event, and remind me under what circumstances - I had the honor of meeting you for the first time.” - </p> - <p> - “The first time, count? it was on the jetty of Port Louis. You desired to - obtain some information with regard to a certain frigate, which I was so - fortunate as to be able to furnish you. I believe, even, that I - accompanied you on board. Upon that occasion I wore the uniform of a - lieutenant in the royal navy, and you that of a mousquetaire.” - </p> - <p> - “I now well recollect it, sir, and I was obliged to leave the vessel - without offering the thanks I owed you.” - </p> - <p> - “You are mistaken, count; I received those thanks during our second - interview.” - </p> - <p> - “And where did that take place?” - </p> - <p> - “On board the very vessel to which I had conducted you—in the cabin. - I then wore the uniform of the captain of the ship: blue coat, red - waistcoat and breeches, with grey stockings, a three-cornered hat, and - curled hair. Only the captain appeared to you some thirty years older than - the lieutenant, and it was not without motive that I had made myself - appear so much older, for you would perhaps, not have chosen to confide to - a young man a secret of such importance as you then communicated to me.” - </p> - <p> - “What you now say is incredible, sir; and yet something tells me that it - was really so. Yes, yes; I now remember that in the shade in which you - remained half concealed, I saw eyes sparkling similar to yours. I have not - forgotten them; but this was only the time before the last, you say, that - I had the honor of seeing you. Continue, sir, I beg, to assist my memory, - for I cannot recollect our third interview.” - </p> - <p> - “The last, count, was only a week since, at Paris—at a fencing - match, at Saint-George’s, in the rue Chanterecin. You remember, do you - not, an English gentleman, with his hair so red that his powder could - scarcely conceal its brilliant color—a scarlet coat, and tightly - fitting pantaloons. I even had the honor of trying a bout with you, and I - was fortunate enough to hit you three times, while, on the contrary, you - were not lucky enough to touch me once. On that occasion I called myself - Jones.” - </p> - <p> - “It is most singular—it was certainly the same look, but it could - not be the same man.” - </p> - <p> - “The will of God has directed that the look should be the only thing which - cannot be disguised, and this is why he has thrown into the look a spark - of his own light. Well, then, the lieutenant, the captain, the Englishman, - were one and the same person.” - </p> - <p> - “At the present moment, sir, what are you if you please? For, with a man - who can so perfectly disguise himself, that question you must admit, is - not altogether unnecessary.” - </p> - <p> - “At the present moment, count, as you see, I have no motive for - concealment, and, therefore, I have come to you in the simple costume of - the young nobility, when they visit each other as neighbors in the - country. I am whatever you may please to consider me; French, English, - Spanish, or even an American. In which of these languages would you wish - our conversation to be continued?” - </p> - <p> - “Although some of these languages may be as familiar to me as they are to - you, sir, I prefer the French language; it is that of a plain and concise - explanations.” - </p> - <p> - “Be it so,” replied Paul, with an expression of profound melancholy; “the - French is also the language I prefer; I first saw the day upon French - ground, for the sun of France was that which gladdened my eyes; and - although I have often seen more fertile climes, and a more brilliant sun, - there has never been for me but one country and one sun, the sun and the - country of Franco!” - </p> - <p> - “Your national enthusiasm,” said Emanuel, interrupting him ironically, - “causes you to forget the motive to which I am indebted for the honor of - this visit.” - </p> - <p> - “You are right, sir, and I will return to it. It was, then, about six - months ago, while walking on the jetty of Port Louis, you saw in the outer - roads a fine sharp frigate, with tall masts and square yards, and you said - to yourself: ‘the captain of that ship must have some motive known only to - himself, for carrying so much canvas, on masts so slight,’—and from - that sprung to your mind that he must be some buccaneer, a pirate, a - corsair”—— - </p> - <p> - “And was I mistaken?” - </p> - <p> - “I thought I had already expressed to you, count,” replied Paul, with a - slight tone of irony, “my admiration of the perspicacity with which, at - the first glance, you sound the depths of men and circumstances”—— - </p> - <p> - “A truce to compliments, if you please, sir, and let us to facts.” - </p> - <p> - “It was under this persuasion that you caused yourself to be conducted on - board the frigate, by a certain lieutenant, and that you found a certain - captain in the cabin. You were the bearer of a letter from the Minister of - Marine, ordering any officer, upon your requisition, and whose ship was - under the French flag and bound for the Gulf of Mexico, to conduct to - Cayenne a person named Lusignan, guilty of a crime against the state.” - </p> - <p> - “That is true.” - </p> - <p> - “I obeyed that order, for I was then ignorant that this great culprit, - thus transported, had committed no other crime than that of being the - lover of your sister.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” cried Emanuel, starting up. - </p> - <p> - “These are very fine pistols, count,” carelessly continued Paul, playing - with the weapons which the Count d’Auray had placed upon the table, on - alighting from his carriage. - </p> - <p> - “And they are ready loaded,” said Emanuel, in a tone which was not to be - mistaken. - </p> - <p> - “Are they so?” returned Paul, with affected indifference. - </p> - <p> - “That is a matter of which you can assure yourself, if you will take a - turn in the park with me.” - </p> - <p> - “There is no necessity for going out to do that,” replied Paul, without - pretending to understand Emanuel’s proposal in the sense which he meant to - give to it; “here is a mark which is well placed, and at a proper - distance.” - </p> - <p> - Saying these words, the captain cocked the pistol, and pointed it through - the open window towards the top of a small tree. A goldfinch was rocking - himself on the highest branch, singing forth his shrill and joyful notes. - Paul fired, and the poor bird, cut in two, fell at the foot of the tree. - Paul coolly replaced the pistol on the table. - </p> - <p> - “You were perfectly right, count,” said he, “they are excellent weapons, - and I advise you not to part with them.” - </p> - <p> - “You have just given me an extraordinary proof of it,” replied Emanuel; - “and I feel bound to acknowledge that you have a steady hand.” - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing extraordinary in that,” rejoined Paul, in that - melancholy tone which was peculiar to him. “During those long days, when - not a breath passes over that mirror of the Supreme Being, which is called - the ocean, we seamen are compelled to seek for amusements to which you - landsmen are daily accustomed. Then we try our skill upon the sea-gulls, - which hover over the crest of a wave; or the fish-hawks, which dart down - upon the imprudent tenant of the deep that rise to its surface; or, again, - upon the swallows which, fatigued with a long flight, alight upon the - royal mast-head or on the yards or rigging. It is thus, count, that we - acquire some dexterity in exercises which may appear so incompatible with - our profession.” - </p> - <p> - “Go on, sir; and if it be possible, let us return to the subject of our - conversation.” - </p> - <p> - “He was a handsome, brave young man, this Lusignan; he related his whole - history to me. That being the son of an old friend of your father’s, who - had died poor, he had been adopted by him some two years before the - unknown accident occurred which deprived him of his reason. That having - been brought up with you, he had inspired you with hatred—your - sister with affection. He told me that, during the long years they passed - together in the same solitude, they never perceived the isolation from the - world in which they lived, excepting when they were absent from each - other. He recounted to me all the details of their youthful love, and how - Marguerite had one day said to him, in the words of the tender maiden of - Verona— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “‘I will be thine, or else I’ll be the tomb’s.’” - </pre> - <p> - “She has but too truly kept her word.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—has she not? And you virtuous people call that shame and - dishonour, when a poor child, lost through her own innocence, is carried - away by love. Your mother, whose duties estranged her from her daughter, - and perpetually confined her to your father’s room—(for I know the - virtues of your mother, sir, as well as I know your sister’s weakness: she - is an austere woman, more severe than one of God’s creatures ought to be, - whose only advantage over others is, that of never having fallen)—your - mother, I say, one night heard some stifled cries; she entered your - sister’s chamber, walked pale and silently up to her bed, and coldly - snatched from her arms a child which had just been born, and left the room - without addressing even a reproach to her daughter, but only paler and - more silent than when she entered it. As to poor Marguerite, she did not - utter even a cry—she made no complaint. She had fainted away - immediately on perceiving her mother. Was it so, sir? Have I been rightly - informed, and is the whole of this dreadful story true?” - </p> - <p> - “You seem to be acquainted with every detail of it!” exclaimed Emanuel, - with amazement. - </p> - <p> - “It is because the whole of these details are given in these letters - signed by your sister,” replied Paul, opening a pocket-book, “and which - Lusignan, at the time he was about to be thrown amid robbers and - assassins, through your instrumentality, confided to me, that I might - restore them to her who had written them.” - </p> - <p> - “Give them to me, then,” said Emanuel, stretching forth his hand towards - the pocket-book, “and they shall be faithfully delivered to her who has - had the imprudence”— - </p> - <p> - “To complain to the only person who loved her in this world—is it - not so?” said Paul, withdrawing the letters and the pocket-book. - “Imprudent daughter, whose own mother snatched the child from her heart, - and who poured her bitter tears into the bosom of the father of her child! - Imprudent sister, who, not finding any protection from this tyranny in her - brother, has compromised his noble name by signing with the name he bears, - letters, which, in the stupid and prejudiced eye of the world, may—how - is it you term this in your noble class—dishonour her family, is it - not?” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” cried Emanuel, reddening with impatience, “since you are aware of - the terrible tendency of these papers, fulfil the mission which you have - been charged, by delivering them either to me, to my mother, or my - sister.” - </p> - <p> - “This was my intention when I landed at Lorient; but about ten or twelve - days ago, on entering a church—” - </p> - <p> - “A church!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And for what purpose?” - </p> - <p> - “To pray there.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Captain Paul believes in God, then!” - </p> - <p> - “Did I not believe in him, whom should I invoke during the raging of the - tempest?” - </p> - <p> - “And in this church, then?” - </p> - <p> - “In that church, sir, I heard a priest announce the approaching marriage - of the noble Marguerite d’Auray with the very high and very potent Baron - de Lectoure. I immediately inquired for you, and was informed you were at - Paris, where I was myself compelled to go, to give an account of my - mission to the king.” - </p> - <p> - “To the king!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, to the king—Louis XVI.; to his majesty, in person. I - immediately set out, intending to return here as soon as you did. I met - you in Saint George’s rooms, and was informed of your approaching - departure. I arranged mine in consequence, in order that we might arrive - here at about the same time, and here I am, sir, with a very different - resolution to that I had formed before landing in Brittany.” - </p> - <p> - “And what is this new determination? Let me hear it, for we must come to - some conclusion.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, I think that as all the world, and even his mother, seem to - have forgotten the poor orphan, it is highly necessary that I should - remember it. In the position in which you are placed, sir, and with the - disposition you have evinced of becoming allied to the Baron de Lectoure - (who in your view, is the only person who can assist the realization of - your ambitious projects), these letters are well worth a hundred thousand - francs, are they not? and will make but a very trifling breach in the - income of two hundred thousand francs which your estates afford you.” - </p> - <p> - “But who will prove to me that this hundred thousand francs—” - </p> - <p> - “You are right, sir, and therefore it will be in exchange for a contract - for an annuity upon the young Hector de Lusignan, that I will deliver up - these letters.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that all, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “I will also ask, that the child be confided to me, and I will have him - brought up, thanks to his little fortune, far from the mother who has - forgotten him, and far from his father whom you caused to be banished.” - </p> - <p> - “‘Tis well, sir; had I known that it was for so small a sum, and so - trifling an interest that you had come, I should not have experienced so - much anxiety. You will, however, permit me to speak to my mother on the - subject.” - </p> - <p> - “Monsieur le Comte,” said a servant, opening the door. - </p> - <p> - “I am not at home to any one. Leave the room.” replied Emanuel, - impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “It is your sister, sir, who wishes to see you.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell her to come by and by.” - </p> - <p> - “She desires to speak to you this instant.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not put yourself out of the way on my account,” said Paul. - </p> - <p> - “But my sister must not see you, sir,—you comprehend it is important - that she should not see you.” - </p> - <p> - “As you please; but as it is important, also, that I should not leave the - castle before concluding the affair which brought me here, permit me to go - into this side room.” - </p> - <p> - “That will do,” said Emanuel, himself opening the door; “but be quick, I - beg of you.” - </p> - <p> - Paul went into the small room, and Emanuel hastily closed the door upon - him, which was hardly done when Marguerite appeared. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Look kindly on them; I cannot bear - Severity; - My heart’s so tender, should you charge me rough, - I should but weep and answer you with sobbing; - But use me gently, like a loving brother, - And search through all the secrets of my soul.—Otway. -</pre> - <p> - Marguerite d’Auray, whose history the reader has become aquainted with, - from the conversation between Captain Paul and Emanuel, was one of those - delicate, pale beauties, who bear impressed upon their features the - characteristic stamp of high birth. At the first glance, from the soft - flexibility of her form, the whiteness of her skin, the shape of her hands - and tapering fingers, with their thin, rosy and transparent nails, could - be discerned that she was descended from an ancient race. It was evident - that her feet, so small that both of them could have been placed in the - foot-mark of most women, had never walked excepting on carpeted saloons or - on the flowery turf of a park. There was in her movements, graceful as - they were, a certain degree of haughtiness and pride, the attribute of all - her family; in fine, she conveyed the impression that her soul, capable of - making any sacrifice she had resolved upon, was very likely to rebel - against tyranny; that devotedness was an instinctive virtue of her heart, - while obedience, in her view, was only an educational duty, so that the - tempest wind which blew upon her, might make her bend down before it as a - lily, but not as a reed. - </p> - <p> - And yet, when she appeared at the door, her features depicted such - complete discouragement, her eyes had retained the traces of such burning - tears, her whole frame seemed weighed down by such an overwhelming - despair, that Emanuel saw at once, that she must have summoned all her - strength to assume an appearance of calmness. On seeing him, she made a - violent effort, and it was with a certain degree of nervous firmness that - she approached the arm chair on which he was sitting. And then, seeing - that the features of her brother retained the expression of impatience, - which they had assumed on being interrupted, she paused, and these two - children of the same mother, looked at each other as strangers, the one - with the eyes of ambition, the other with those of fear. By degrees, - Marguerite resumed her courage. - </p> - <p> - “You have come at last, Emanuel! I was awaiting your return as the blind - await the light, and yet from the manner in which you look upon your - sister, it is easy to perceive that she was wrong in placing her hopes in - you.” - </p> - <p> - “If my sifter has become, as she always ought to have been,” replied - Emanuel, “that is to say, a submissive and respectful daughter, she will - have understood what her rank and her position demand of her; she will - have forgotten past events as things which never should have happened, and - which consequently she ought not to remember, and she will have prepared - herself for the new destiny which awaits her. If it is in this disposition - that she now comes before me, my arms are open to receive her, and my - sister is still my sister.” - </p> - <p> - “Listen attentively to what I am about to say,” said Marguerite, “and - above all, consider it as a justification of myself, and not intended as a - reproach to others. If my mother—and God forbid that I should accuse - her, for a holy duty keeps her apart from us—if my mother had been, - I was about to say, toward me as other mothers are towards their - daughters, I should constantly have opened my heart to her as a book; at - the first word traced upon it by any stranger hand, she would have warned - me of my danger and I should have avoided it. Had I been educated in the - world instead of being brought up like a poor wild flower beneath the - shade of this old castle, I should have learned from infancy the value of - the rank and position which you speak of to-day, and I should, perhaps, - not have infringed the decorum they prescribe, or the duties they impose. - In short, had I been tutored amidst women of the world, with their - sparkling wit and frivolous hearts, whom I have so often heard you praise, - but whom I never knew, had I been guilty of some faults from levity, which - love has caused me to commit—yes, I can well understand, I might - then have forgotten the past, have sown upon the surface new recollections - as flowers are planted upon tombs; and then, forgetting the place where - they had grown, have formed of them a bouquet for a ball, or a bridal - wreath. But unfortunately it is not so, Emanuel. I was told to beware, - when it was too late to avoid the danger. They spoke to me of my rank and - position in society, when I had already forfeited them, and I am now - called upon to look forward to joy in the future, when my heart is drowned - in the tears and misery of the past.” - </p> - <p> - “And the conclusion of all this,” bitterly rejoined Emanuel. - </p> - <p> - “The conclusion depends on you alone, Emanuel; it is in your power to - render it, if not happy, at all events becoming. I cannot have recourse to - my father. Alas! I know not even if he could recognise his daughter. I - have no hope in my mother; her glance freezes me, her words are death to - me. You alone, Emanuel, were left to me, to whom I could say, brother: you - are now the head of the family; it is to you alone that we are answerable - for our honor. I have fallen from ignorance, and I have been punished for - my fault as if it had been a wilful crime.” - </p> - <p> - “Well! well!”, murmured Emanuel impatiently, “what is it that you ask?” - </p> - <p> - “Brother, I demand, since a union with the only being I could have loved, - is said to be impossible, I demand that my punishment be regulated - according to my strength to bear it. My mother—may heaven pardon - her!—tore my child from me as if she had never herself been a - mother, and my child will be brought up far from me, neglected, and in - obscurity. You, Emanuel, removed the father, as my mother did the child, - and you were more cruel to him than the case required; I will not say as - man to man, but even as a judge towards a guilty person. As to myself, you - have both united to impose upon me a martyrdom more painful still. Well, - then, Emanuel, I demand in the name of our childhood spent in the same - cradle, of our youth passed under the same roof, in the name of the tender - appellations of brother and sister, which nature bestowed upon us—I - demand that a convent be opened to me, and that its gates should close - upon me for ever. And in that convent, I swear to you, Emanuel, that every - day upon my knees, before God, my forehead bent down to the - stone-pavement, weighed down by my fault, I will entreat the Lord as a - recompense for all my sufferings, to restore my father to reason, my - mother to happiness, and to pour on you, Emanuel, honor, and glory and - fortune. I swear to you, I will do this.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; and the world will say that I had a sister whom I sacrificed to my - fortune, whose property I inherited while she still lived! Why this is - sheer madness!” - </p> - <p> - “Listen to me, Emanuel,” rejoined Marguerite, supporting herself on the - back of a chair, near which she was standing. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” replied Emanuel. - </p> - <p> - “When you have pledged your word, you keep it, do you not?” - </p> - <p> - “I am a gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then! look at this bracelet.” - </p> - <p> - “I see it—perfectly—what then?” - </p> - <p> - “It is fastened by a key—the key which opens it is attached to a - ring, and with that ring, I pledged my word that I would not be released - from a promise I had made, until the ring should be brought back and - returned to me.” - </p> - <p> - “And he who has the key of it?” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks to you, and to my mother, Emanuel, he is too far from us to ask it - of him. He is at Cayenne.” - </p> - <p> - “Before you are married two months,” replied Emanuel, with an ironical - smile, “that bracelet will be so irksome to you, that you will be the - first to get rid of it.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought that I had told you it is locked upon my arm.” - </p> - <p> - “You know what people do when they have lost the key and cannot get into - their house—they send for a locksmith.” - </p> - <p> - “Well! in my case, Emanuel,” replied Marguerite, rasing her voice, and - extending her arm with a solemn gesture, “they must send for the - executioner then, for this hand shall be cut off before I give it to - another.” - </p> - <p> - “Silence! silence!” cried Emanuel, rising hastily, and looking anxiously - towards the door of the inner room. - </p> - <p> - “And now I have said all I had to say,” rejoined Marguerite: “my only hope - was in you, Emanuel; for although you cannot comprehend any deep-seated - feeling, you are not cruel. I came to you in tears, look at me and you - will see that it is true—I came to you to say, ‘Brother, this - marriage is the misfortune, is the misery of my life—I would prefer - a convent—I would prefer death to it—and you have not listened - to me, or if you have listened, you have not understood me. Well, then, I - will address myself to this man—I will appeal to his honor, to his - delicacy; if that should not be sufficient, I will tell him all; my love - for another, my weakness, my fault, my crime! I will tell him that I have - a child; that although he was torn from me, although I have never since - seen him, although I am ignorant of his abode, still my child exists. A - child cannot die, without his death striking some chord within its - mother’s heart. In short I will tell him, should it be necessary, that I - still love another, that I cannot love him, and that I never will.” - </p> - <p> - “Well! tell him all this,” cried Emanuel, irritated by her persistence, - “and that evening we will sign the contract, and the next day you will be - Baroness de Lectoure.” - </p> - <p> - “And then,” replied Marguerite, “then, I shall be truly the most miserable - woman in existence, for I should then have a brother whom I should no - longer love, and a husband for whom I should have no esteem. Farewell, - Emanuel; believe me this contract is not yet signed.” - </p> - <p> - And after saying these words, Marguerite withdrew with that deep and - settled despair upon her features, which could not for a moment be - mistaken. And Emanuel, convinced that he had not, as he had anticipated, - obtained a victory, but that the struggle was still to be continued, gazed - after her with an anxiety which was not devoid of tenderness. - </p> - <p> - After a few moments of silence, in which he sat pensive and motionless, he - turned round and saw Captain Paul, whom he had completely forgotten, - standing at the door of the study, and then considering the vital - importance it was to him to get possession of the papers, which the - captain had offered him, he hurriedly sat down at the table, took a pen - and paper, and turning towards him, said— - </p> - <p> - “And now, sir, we are again alone, and there is nothing to prevent our at - once concluding this affair. In what terms do you wish the promise to be - drawn up? Dictate them, I am ready to write them down.” - </p> - <p> - “It is now useless,” coldly replied the captain. - </p> - <p> - “And why so?” - </p> - <p> - “I have changed my mind.” - </p> - <p> - “How is that?” said Emanuel, rising, alarmed at the consequences which he - perceived might arise from words which he was far from expecting. - </p> - <p> - “I will give,” replied Paul, with the calmness of a fixed determination, - “the hundred thousand livres to the child, and I will find a husband for - your sister.” - </p> - <p> - “Who are you, then,” said Emanuel, advancing a step towards him, “who are - you, sir, who thus disposes of a young girl who is my sister, who has - never seen you, and who does not even know that you exist?” - </p> - <p> - “Who am I!” replied Paul, smiling; “upon my honor, I know no more upon - that subject than you do, for my birth is a secret which is only to be - revealed to me when I have attained my twenty-fifth year.” - </p> - <p> - “And you will attain that age?”—— - </p> - <p> - “This evening, sir. I place myself at your disposal from to-morrow - morning, to give you all the information you may require of me,” and - saying these words, Paul bowed. - </p> - <p> - “I allow you to depart, sir, but you will understand it is upon the - condition that we meet again.” - </p> - <p> - “I was about to propose that condition, count, and I thank you for having - anticipated me.” - </p> - <p> - He then bowed to Emanuel a second time, and left the room. At the castle - gate, Paul found his horse and servant, and resumed the route to Port - Louis. When he had got out of sight of the castle, he alighted from his - horse, and directed his steps towards a fisherman’s hut, built upon the - beach. At the door of this house, seated upon a bench, and in a sailor’s’ - dress, was a young man so deeply absorbed in thought, that he did not - observe Paul’s approach. The captain placed his hand upon the young man’s - shoulder, the other started, looked at him, and became frightfully pale, - although the open and joyful countenance of Paul, indicated that he was - far from being the bearer of bad news. - </p> - <p> - “Well!” said Paul to him, “I have seen her.” - </p> - <p> - “Who?” demanded the young man. - </p> - <p> - “Marguerite, by heaven!” - </p> - <p> - “And——” - </p> - <p> - “She is charming.” - </p> - <p> - “I did not ask you that.” - </p> - <p> - “She loves you still.” - </p> - <p> - “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed the young man, throwing himself into Paul’s - arms, and bursting into tears. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - O good old man; how well in thee appears - The constant service of the antique world - When service sweat for duty, not for need! - - Thou art not for the fashion of these times - Where none will sweat but for promotion; - And having that, do choice their service up - Even with the having: it is not so with thee. - - Shakespeare. -</pre> - <p> - Although our readers must readily comprehend, after that which we have - just related to them, all that had passed in the six months during which - we had lost sight of our heroes, some details are, however, necessary, in - order that they should fully understand the new events about to be - accomplished. - </p> - <p> - On the evening after the combat between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake, - and which, notwithstanding our ignorance in naval matters, we have - attempted to describe to our readers, Lusignan had related to Paul the - history of his whole life. It was a very simple one, and contained but few - incidents. Love had formed the principal event in it, and after having - been its only joy, it had become its greatest grief. The adventurous and - independent life of Paul, his station, which had placed him beyond the - trammels of society, his caprice which was superior to all laws, his habit - of supreme command on board his own ship, had inspired him with too just a - sense of natural rights to obey the order he had received with regard to - Lusignan. Moreover, although he had anchored under the French flag, Paul, - as we have seen, belonged to the navy of America, whose cause he had - enthusiastically espoused. He continued, therefore, his cruise along the - shores of England; but finding there was nothing to be done on the sea he - landed at Whitehaven, a small port in Cumberland, at the head of twenty - men, among whom was Lusignan, took the fort, spiked the guns, and put to - sea again, after having burnt the merchant vessels in the roads. Thence he - sailed for the coast of Scotland, with the intention of carrying off the - Earl of Selkirk and taking him as a hostage to the United States; but this - project had miscarried from an unforeseen circumstance, that nobleman - having unexpectedly gone to London. In this enterprise, as in the other, - Lusignan had seconded him with the courage we have seen him exhibit in the - battle between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake; so that Paul - congratulated himself more than ever upon the chance which had enabled him - to oppose an injustice. But it was not enough that he had saved Lusignan - from transportation, it was necessary to restore his honor, and to our - young adventurer, in whom our readers will doubtless have recognised the - celebrated privateersman, Paul Jones, it was a more easy matter than to - any other person; for having letters of marque from Louis XVI., against - the English, he had to repair to Versailles to give an account of his - cruize. - </p> - <p> - Paul determined upon running into Lorient, and for the second time cast - anchor there, that he might be within a short distance of the Chateau - d’Auray. The first answer which the young men received to their enquiries - regarding that family, was that Marguerite d’Auray was about to be married - to M. do Lectoure. Lusignan thought himself’ forgotten, and in the first - paroxysm of his despair, insisted, even at the risk of falling into the - hands of his former persecutors, on once more seeing Marguerite, if it - were only to reproach her for infidelity; but Paul, more calm and less - credulous, made him pledge his word that he would not land until he had - heard from him; then, being assured that the marriage would not take place - in less than fifteen days, he set out for Paris, and was received by the - king, who presented him with a sword, the hilt of which was of gold, and - decorated him with the order of military merit. Paul had availed himself - of the kindness of the king towards him to relate to him Lusignan’s - adventures, and had obtained not only his pardon, but also as a reward for - his late services, the appointment of Governor of Guadaloupe. All these - cares had not prevented him from keeping sight of Emanuel. Being informed - of the count’s intended departure, he left Paris, and having written to - Lusignan, appointing a place of meeting, he arrived at Auray an hour after - the young count. - </p> - <p> - After their joyful meeting, Paul and Lusignan remained together until - nearly twilight. Then Paul, who, as he had told Emanuel, had a personal - revelation to receive, left his friend and again took the road to Auray. - But this time he was on foot, and did not enter the castle, but going - along the park wall, he directed his steps toward an iron gate which - opened into a wood belonging to the domains of Auray. - </p> - <p> - About an hour before Paul left the fisherman’s hut, where he had found - Lusignan, a person had preceded him on the road toward the cottage at - which he was to ask the revelation of the secret of his birth; that person - was the Marchioness d’Auray, the haughty heiress of the name of Sable. She - was attired in her usual mourning garments with the addition of a long - black veil, which enveloped her from head to foot. Moreover, the - habitation which our young adventurer, with the hesitation of ignorance, - was seeking for, was to her familiar. It was a sort of keeper’s house, - situated at a few paces from the entrance to the park, and inhabited by an - old man, in whose behalf the Marchioness d’Auray had for twenty years - fulfilled one of those acts of sedulous benevolence which had gained for - her in that part of Lower Brittany, the reputation of rigid holiness which - she enjoyed. These attentions to age were given, it is true, with the same - gloomy and solemn face which we have observed in her, and which the tender - emotions of pity never softened; but they were nevertheless afforded, and - all knew it, with careful punctuality. - </p> - <p> - The face of the Marchioness d’Auray was even more grave than it was wont - to be, while she crossed the park to repair to the dwelling of a man who - was said to be an old servant of the family. The door was standing open as - if to allow the last rays of the setting sun to penetrate into the house, - so sweet and balmy to old people in the month of May. The house was - however empty. The Marchioness d’Auray entered it, looked around her, and - then as if certain that the person she was in search of would not be long - absent, she resolved to await his return. She sat down. She had remained - there about half an hour, motionless and absorbed in her reflections, when - she saw, between her and the declining daylight, a shadow cast before the - door. She slowly raised her eyes and recognised the person she had been - expecting. They both started as though they had met by chance, and were - not in the habit of seeing each other every day. - </p> - <p> - “It is you, Achard,” said the marchioness, who was the first to speak. “I - have been waiting for you half an hour. Where can you have been?” - </p> - <p> - “Had your ladyship walked fifty paces farther, you would have found me - under the large oak, on the edge of the forest.” - </p> - <p> - “You know I never walk that way,” said the marchioness, with a visible - shudder. - </p> - <p> - “And you are wrong, madam; there is one in heaven who has a right to our - joint prayers, and who, perhaps, is astonished to hear only those of old - Achard.” - </p> - <p> - “And how know you that I do not also pray?” said the marchioness, with a - certain degree of feverish agitation. “Do you believe that the dead - require we should be constantly kneeling on their tombs?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” replied the old man, with a feeling of profound sorrow; “no, I do - not believe that the dead are so exacting, madam; but I believe if any - part of us lives under ground, it would thrill at the noise caused by the - steps of those whom we have loved during our life.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” said the marchioness, in a low and hollow tone, “if that love were - a guilty passion?” - </p> - <p> - “However guilty it may have been, madam,” replied the old man, also - lowering his voice, “do you not believe that blood and tears have - expatiated it? God was then, believe me, too severe a judge, not to have - now become an indulgent father.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, God has perhaps pardoned it,” murmured the marchioness, “but did the - world know that which God knows, would it pardon as God has done?” - </p> - <p> - “The world!” exclaimed the old man; “the world! Yes, there is the great - word which has again escaped your lips! The world! It is to it, to that - phantom you have sacrificed everything, madam; your feelings as a lover, - your feelings as a wife, your feelings as a mother! your own happiness, - the happiness of others! The world! It is the fear of the world which has - clothed you in perpetual mourning, beneath which you hope to conceal - remorse! And in that you are right, for you have succeeded in deceiving - it, for it has taken your remorse for virtue!” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness raised her head with some degree of agitation, and putting - aside her veil that she might look upon the person who addressed her in - such extraordinary language; then, after a momentary silence, not being - able to discover any sinister expression in the calm features of the old - man. - </p> - <p> - “You speak to me,” she said to him, “with a bitterness which would lead me - to believe you have some personal reason for reproaching me. Have I failed - in any promise I have made? The persons who attend on you by my orders, - are they wanting in that respect which I have desired them to observe? You - know, if this should be the case, you have only to say a word.” - </p> - <p> - “Forgive me, madam, it is in sorrow that I speak, not bitterness; it is - the effect of solitude and of age. You must well know what it is to have - sorrows that you cannot speak of—tears which we dare not shed, and - which fall back, drop by drop, upon the heart! No, I have not to complain - of any one, madam, since first, from a feeling for which I am truly - grateful, without seeking to know whence it emanated, you have been - pleased to see personally that my wants were all supplied, and you have - not for a single day forgotten your promise, but like the old prophet, I - have sometimes seen an angel come as your messenger.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” replied the marchioness, “I know that Marguerite often accompanies - the servant who is charged to wait upon you; and I have seen with pleasure - the attentions she has paid you, and the friendship she feels for you.” - </p> - <p> - “But in my turn, I have not failed either, I trust, in the promises I - made. For twenty years I have lived far from the habitations of men, I - have kept away every living being from this dwelling; so much did I fear - on your account, the delirium of my waking hours, or the indiscretion of - my dreams.” - </p> - <p> - “Undoubtedly! undoubtedly! and happily the secret has been well - preserved,” said the marchioness, placing her hand upon Achard’s arm; “but - this is a stronger incentive in my mind not to lose in a single day the - fruit of twenty years, all more gloomy, more isolated, and more terrible - than yours have been.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I understand you perfectly; and you have shuddered more than once - upon suddenly remembering that there is roaming about the world, a man who - may one day call upon me to reveal that secret, and that I have not the - right to conceal it from that man. Ah! you tremble at the bare idea, do - you not? But, tranquilise yourself; that man, when but a boy, fled from - the school at which we had placed him in Scotland, and for ten years past - nothing has been heard of him. In short, destined to obscurity, he himself - rushed forward to meet his fate. He is now lost amid the millions that - crowd this populous world, and not a soul knows where to find him; this - poor unit, without a name, is lost for ever. He must have lost his - father’s letter, have mislaid the token by which I was to recognise him; - or, better still, perhaps he exists no longer.” - </p> - <p> - “It is cruel of you, Achard,” replied the marchioness, “to utter such - words to a mother. You cannot appreciate the strange feelings and singular - contradictions contained in the heart of woman. For, in fine, can I not be - tranquil unless my child be dead! Consider, my old friend; this secret, of - which he has been ignorant five and twenty years, has it become at the age - of twenty-five, so necessary to his existence that he cannot live, unless - it be revealed to him? Believe me, Achard, for himself even it would be - better he should still remain ignorant of it, as he has been to this day. - I feel assured that to this day he has been happy—old man, do not - mar this happiness—do not inspire his mind with thoughts which may - induce him to commit an evil action. No—tell him, in lieu of the - dreadful tale you were desired to communicate, that his mother has gone to - rejoin his father in heaven; and, would to God that it were so! but that - when dying (for I must see him whatever you may say to the contrary, I - will even if it be but once, press him to my heart), when dying, as I - said, his mother had bequeathed him to her friend the Marchioness d’Auray, - in whom he will find a second mother.” - </p> - <p> - “I understand you, madam,” said Achard, smiling. “It is not the first time - you have pointed out this path, in which you wish to lead me astray. Only - to-day, you speak more openly, and if you dared to do so, or if you knew - me less, you would offer me some reward to induce me to disobey the last - injunctions of him who sleeps by us.” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness made a gesture as if about to interrupt him. - </p> - <p> - “Listen to me, madam,” hastily said the old man, stretching forth his - hand, “and let my words be considered by you as holy and irrevocable. As - faithful as I have been to the promise which I made to the Marchioness - d’Auray, so faithful will I be to that I made to the Count de Morlaix, on - the day when his son, or your son, shall present himself before me with - the token of recognition, and shall demand to know the secret. I shall - reveal it to him, madam. As to the papers which attest it, you are aware - that they are to be delivered to him only after the death of the Marquis - d’Auray. The secret is here,” said the old man, placing his hand upon his - heart; “no human power could have extracted it before the time; no human - power, that time having arrived, can prevent me from revealing it. The - papers are there in that closet, the key of which I always have about me, - and it is only by robbery or by assassination that I can be deprived of - them.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” said the marchioness, half rising and supporting herself on the arm - of her chair, “you might die before my husband, old man; for although he - is more dangerously ill than you are, you are older than he is, and then - what would become of those papers?” - </p> - <p> - “The priest who shall attend my last moments will receive them under the - seal of confession.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! it is that!” cried the marchioness, rising, “and thus this chain of - fears will be prolonged until my death! and the last link of it will be to - all eternity rivetted to my tomb. There is in this world a man, the only - one perhaps, who is as immoveable as a rock; and God has placed him in my - path, not only as a remorse,’ but as a vengeance also. My secret is in - your hands, old man,—tis well!—do with it as you will!—you - are the master, and I am your slave—farewell!” - </p> - <p> - So saying, the marchioness left the cottage, and returned towards the - chateau. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - More than ten years have passed since I beheld him, - The noble boy; now time annuls my oath - And cancels all his wrongs. - I took a solemn oath to veil the secret, - Conceal thy rights, while lived her lord, - And thus allow’d thy youth to quit my roof. - Bulwer.—The Sea Captain. -</pre> - <p> - “Yes,” said the old man, gazing after the marchioness as she withdrew, - “yes, I know you have a heart of adamant, madam, insensible to every sort - of fear, with the exception of that which God has placed within your - breast to supply the place of remorse. But that suffices; and it is dearly - buying that reputation you have obtained for virtue, to pay the price of - such eternal terrors. It is true that the virtue of the Marchioness - d’Auray is so firmly established, that if truth herself were to rise from - the earth or to descend from heaven to arraign her, she would be treated - as a calumniator. But God orders all things according to His will, and - what He does ordain, His wisdom has long before matured.” - </p> - <p> - “Rightly reasoned,” cried a youthful and sonorous voice, replying to the - religious axiom which the resignation of the old man had led him to utter. - “Upon my word, good father, you speak like Ecclesiastes.” Achard turned - round and perceived Paul, who had arrived just as the marchioness left - him, but who was so absorbed by the scene we have just described, that she - had not observed the young captain. The latter, seeing the old man alone, - approached him, and not hearing the last words he had uttered, had spoken - with his usual good humor. Achard, who was surprised by his unexpected - appearance, looked at him as if he wished him to repeat that which he had - said. - </p> - <p> - “I say,” resumed Paul, “that there is more grandeur in resignation that - humbly bows itself, than in philosophy that doubts. That is a maxim of our - quakers, which, for my eternal welfare, I wish I had less often on my - tongue, and more frequently in my heart.” - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon, sir,” said the old man on seeing our adventurer, who - was fixedly gazing at him, while standing with one foot on the threshold - of his door. “May I know who you are?” - </p> - <p> - “For the moment,” replied Paul, giving, as usual, free course to his - poetical and heedless gaiety, “I am a child of the republic of Plato, - having all human kind for brothers, the world for a country, and - possessing upon this earth only the station I have worked out for myself.” - </p> - <p> - “And what are you in search of?” continued the old man, smiling in spite - of himself at the air of jovial good-nature which was spread over the - features of the young man. - </p> - <p> - “I am seeking,” replied Paul, “at three leagues distance from Lorient, at - five hundred paces from resembles this one, and in which I am to find an - old man, whom it is very likely is yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “And what is the name of this old man?” - </p> - <p> - “Louis Achard.” - </p> - <p> - “That is my name.” - </p> - <p> - “Then may the blessing of heaven descend on your white hairs,” said Paul, - in a voice which at once changing its tone, assumed that of deep feeling - and respect; “for here is a letter which I believe was written by my - father, in which he says that you are an honest man.” - </p> - <p> - “Does not that letter enclose something?” cried d’Auray, and advancing a - step nearer to the young captain. - </p> - <p> - “It does,” replied the latter, opening the letter and taking out of it one - half of a Venetian sequin, which had been broken in two; “it seems to be - part of a gold coin, of which I have one half, and you ought to be in - possession of the other.” - </p> - <p> - Achard mechanically held out his hand, while gazing with intense interest - at the young man. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” said the old man, and eyes gradually became more and more - suffused with tears: “yes, this is the true token, and more than that, the - extraordinary resemblance,” and opening his arms, he cried, “child!—oh! - my God! my God!” - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” cried Paul, extending his arms to support the old man, who - was quite overcome by his emotions. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! can you not comprehend?” replied the latter, “can you not comprehend - that you are the living portrait of your father, and that I loved your - father—loved him so much that I would have shed my blood, have given - my life to serve him, as I would now for you, young man, were you to - demand it.” - </p> - <p> - “Embrace me, then, my old friend,” said Paul, throwing his arms around the - old man, “for the chain of feeling, believe me, is not broken, which - extended from the tomb of the father to the cradle of the son. Whatever my - father may have been, if in order to resemble him it be only necessary to - have a conscience without reproach, undaunted courage, and a memory which - never forgets a benefit conferred, although it may sometimes forget an - injury; if this be so, then am I, as you have said, my father’s living - portrait, and more so in soul than in form.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he possessed all these,” replied the old man, with solemnity, and - clasping Paul to his breast, looking at him with affectionate though - tearful tenderness—“Yes, he had the same commanding voice, the same - flashing eyes, the same nobleness of heart. But why was it that I have not - seen you sooner, young man? I have, during my life, passed many gloomy - hours, which your presence would have brightened.” - </p> - <p> - “Why—because this letter told me to seek you out only when I should - have attained the age of twenty-five, and because it is not long since I - attained that age, not more than an hour ago.” - </p> - <p> - The old man bowed down his head with a pensive air, and remained silent - for some time, seemingly absorbed by recollections of the past. - </p> - <p> - “Can it be so?” at length ne said, raising his head, “can it be - twenty-five years ago. Good heaven! it appears to me only yesterday that - you were born in this house, that you first saw the light in that very - room:” and the old man raised his head, and pointed to a door which led - into another room. - </p> - <p> - Paul, in his turn, appeared to reflect, and then, looking around him, to - strengthen by the aid of objects which presented themselves to his view, - the recollections which crowded on his memory. - </p> - <p> - “In this cottage, in that room,” he repeated, “and I lived here till I was - five years old, did I not?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” murmured the old man, as if fearful to disturb the feelings which - were taking possession of the young man’s mind. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” continued Paul, leaning his head on both his hands, as if to - concentrate his thoughts, “allow me for one moment to look back, in my - turn, to the past, for I am recollecting a room which I had thought I had - seen in a dream—it may be that one. Listen to me! Oh! how strange it - is—remembrances now rush upon me.” - </p> - <p> - “Speak, my child, speak!” said the old man. - </p> - <p> - “It it be that room, there ought to be on the right, as you go in, at the - end of the room, a bed with green hangings.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “A crucifix at the head of the bed.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “A closet opposite, in which were books, among the rest a large Bible, - with numerous engravings.” - </p> - <p> - “There it is,” said the old man, pointing to the sacred book which was - lying open on a desk for prayer. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! it is that—it is that,” cried Paul, pressing his lips against - the leaves. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! good and pious heart,” cried the old man, “I thank thee, oh! my God—I - thank thee.” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” said Paul, rising, “in that room there is a window, from which you - can discern the sea, and on the sea, three islands?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Houat, Hoedic, and Belle-Ileen-mer. - </p> - <p> - “Then, it is really so,” said Paul, rushing towards the room, and then - perceiving that the old man was about to follow him, he said: “No, no! I - must be alone—let me enter it alone—I feel that I must be - alone,” and he went into the room, closing the door after him. - </p> - <p> - He then paused a moment, impressed with that holy respect which - accompanies the remembrance of our infancy. The room was as he had - described it, for the religious devotedness of the old servant had - preserved it from any change. Paul, feeling doubtless that the eye of a - stranger would have interrupted the expression of the feelings he - experienced, and now certain of being alone, abandoned himself to them He - slowly advanced, and with clasped hands, towards the ivory crucifix; and - falling on his knees, which formerly he had the habit of doing, morning - and evening, he endeavoured to remember one of those simple prayers, in - which a child, still on the threshold of this life, prays to God for those - who have opened its gates to him. “What events had succeeded each other in - the lapse of time which had passed between these genuflexions! Paul - remained for a considerable time absorbed in thought, and then slowly - arose, and went to the window. The night was beautiful and calm, the moon - was shining in the heavens, and tipped the ocean waves with silver. The - three islands appeared on the horizon, like blue vapor floating on the - ocean. He remembered how often in his infancy he had leaned against that - window, gazing upon that same scene, following with his eyes some bark, - with its snowy sails, which glided silently over the sea, like the wing of - a night bird. Then his heart swelled with sweet and tender recollection; - his head fell upon his chest, and silent tears ran down his cheeks. At - that moment he felt that some one pressed his hands—it was the old - man—he wished to conceal his emotions; but instantly repenting this - vain feeling, he turned toward Achard, and frankly let him see his face, - down which the tears were streaming. - </p> - <p> - “You weep, my child,” said the old man. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I weep,” replied Paul; “and why should I conceal it? Yea, look at - me. And yet I have, during my life, witnessed dreadful scenes. I have seen - the tempest bear my vessel to the summit of a mountain wave, and then sink - her into an abyss, from which I thought she would never rise again; and I - felt that she weighed no more upon the wings of the storm than does a - dried leaf on the evening breeze. I have seen men fall around me like the - ripe ears of corn before the sickle of the reaper. I have heard the cries - of distress, and the dying groans of those whose meal I had shared but the - day before. In order to receive their last sigh, I have walked amid a - shower of bullets, and grape-shot, upon a plank slippery with blood. And - yet, amid all this, my soul was calm—my eyes remained unmoistened. - But this room, see you; this room, of which I had retained so holy a - remembrance; this room, in which I had received the first caresses of a - father whom I shall never see again, and the last kisses of a mother who - perhaps desires no more to see me; this room is sacred as a cradle and as - a tomb. I cannot thus revisit it without giving vent to my emotions; I - must weep, or I shall suffocate.” The old man clasped him in his arms. - Paul leaned his head upon his shoulder, and during some time nothing was - heard but his sobs. At length the old servant rejoined: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you are right; this room is at once a cradle and a tomb; it was - there that you were born;” he pointed to one corner with his hand; “and it - was there that you received the last blessing of your father,” continued - he, pointing to the opposite side of the room. - </p> - <p> - “He is then dead?” said Paul. - </p> - <p> - “He is dead.” - </p> - <p> - “You must tell me how he died.” - </p> - <p> - “I will tell you all.” - </p> - <p> - “Defer it for a moment,” added Paul, as he reached a chair and seated - himself, “for I am now too weak to listen to you. Let me recover myself.” - He placed his elbow on the window-sill, leaned his head upon his hand, and - once more cast his eyes upon the sea. - </p> - <p> - “What a magnificent spectacle is the ocean when the moon shines upon it as - brightly as it does now,” continued he, with that accent of soft - melancholy which was habitual to him. “It is as calm as God himself, and - vast as eternity. I do not believe that a man accustomed to study such a - scene can be afraid of death. My father met death bravely, did he not?” - </p> - <p> - “Assuredly!” proudly replied Achard. - </p> - <p> - “It could not be otherwise,” continued Paul, “for I remember my father, - although I was only four years old when I last saw him.” - </p> - <p> - “He was a handsome young man, as you yourself are,” said Achard, looking - sorrowfully at Paul, “and just as old as you are.” - </p> - <p> - “What was his name?” - </p> - <p> - “The Count de Moraix.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I also am of an old and noble family. I also have arms and an - escutcheon as well as those young and insolent nobles who ask me for my - parchments when I show them my wounds?” - </p> - <p> - “Wait, young man, wait; do not allow pride to carry you thus away, for I - have not yet told you the name of her who gave you being, and you are - still ignorant of the dreadful secret of your birth.” - </p> - <p> - “Well: be it so. I shall not with the less respect and veneration hear the - name of my mother. What was my mother’s name?” - </p> - <p> - “The Marchioness d’Auray,” slowly replied the old man, as if regretting - that he was compelled to mention her name. - </p> - <p> - “What is it that you tell me!” cried Paul, starting from his chair, and - seizing the hands of the old man. - </p> - <p> - “The truth!” replied Achard, sorrowfully. - </p> - <p> - “Then Emanuel is my brother—Marguerite is my sister.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you then already know them?” exclaimed the old servant, much - astounded. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! you were right, old man,” said Paul, throwing himself into his chair. - “God orders all things according to His will, and what He does ordain, His - wisdom has long before matured.” - </p> - <p> - They both remained silent for a time, when at length Paul raised his head, - and resolutely fixing his eyes on the old man’s face, said: - </p> - <p> - “Now, I am ready to hear all you have to communicate—you may go on.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - I shall a tale unfold - Will harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; - Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres; - Thy knotted and combined locks to part. - And each particular hair to stand on end, - Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. - - Shakespeare. -</pre> - <p> - The old man seemed to be summoning up his recollections for a time, and - then began: - </p> - <p> - “They were affianced to each other. I know not what mortal hatred it was - that arose between the families and separated them. The Count de Morlaix, - broken hearted, could not remain in France. He sailed for Saint Domingo, - where his father possessed a large estate; I accompanied him, for the - Count de Morlaix reposed much confidence in me. I was the son of her who - had nursed him; I had received the same education as himself; he used to - call me his brother, and I alone remembered the distance which nature had - placed between us. The Marquis de Morlaix confided to me the charge of - watching over his son, for I loved him with all the love of a father. We - remained two years under a tropical sun; during that two years, your - father, lost amid the solitude of that magnificent island, a traveller - without an object and without an aim, an ardent and indefatigable - sportsman, endeavouring to cure the griefs of the mind, by the fatigues of - the body; but so far from succeeding, one would have thought that his - heart became still more inflamed under that ardent sun. At length, after - two years of trial and incessant struggles, his love conquered. He must - either see her again or die. I yielded and we set sail for France. Never - was a voyage more beautiful, or more prosperous. The sea and sky seemed to - smile upon us; so favourable were they that it would have induced one to - believe in lucky omens. Six weeks after our departure from Port au Prince, - we landed at Havre. Mademoiselle de Sablé was married. The Marquis d’Auray - was at Versailles, fulfilling at the court of Louis XV. the duties of his - charge, and his wife, who was too much indisposed to follow him, was at - the old chateau d’Auray, the turrets of which you see from this place.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” said Paul, “I know it; pray go on.” - </p> - <p> - “As to myself,” rejoined the old map, “during our voyage, one of my - uncles, an old servant of the house of Auray, had died, and left me this - small house, with a small quantity of land surrounding it. I took - possession of it. Your father had left me at Vannes, telling me he was - going to Paris, and for the whole of the first year that I inherited this - house I did not see him.” - </p> - <p> - “One night,—it is exactly twenty-five years ago,—some one - knocked at my door; I went to open it and found your father there, - carrying in his arms a woman whose face was veiled. He brought her into - this room, and laid her on that bed. And then returning to me in the - adjoining room, where I was waiting mute and motionless with astonishment, - he placed his hand upon my shoulder, and looking at me in a supplicating - manner, although he had the right to command me, said, ‘Louis, you can do - more than save my life and honor—you can save the life and honor of - her I love—get on horseback, gallop to the next town, and return - here in an hour with a doctor.’ He spoke to me in that short and hasty - tone, which indicated that there was not a moment to be lost. I - immediately obeyed. The day was beginning to break when we returned. The - doctor was introduced by the Count de Morlaix into this room, the door of - which was immediately closed: he remained there during the whole day; - towards five in the afternoon, the doctor left the house, and at nightfall - your father also left the house carrying in his arms the mysterious veiled - lady whom he had brought the previous night. When they had gone, I came - into this room and found you here—you had just been born.” - </p> - <p> - “And how did you learn that this woman was the Marchioness d’Auray?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” exclaimed the old man, in a way which was as terrible as it was - unexpected; “I had offered the Count de Morlaix to keep you here, and he - accepted my proposal: from time to time he would come to spend an hour - with you.” - </p> - <p> - “Alone?” demanded Paul, with much anxiety. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, always; but as he had given me permission to walk with you in the - park, it would sometimes happen that at the corner of one of the avenues I - would meet the marchioness, whom chance appeared to have conducted in that - direction. She would make you a sign to come to her, and she would kiss - you as people kiss a strange child, because he is handsome. Four years - passed on in this way, and then one night some one again knocked at this - door, and it was again your father. He was more calm, but had, perhaps, a - more gloomy look than on the first occasion. ‘Louis,’ said he, ‘to-morrow, - at the break of day, I have to meet the Marquis d’Auray. It is a duel in - which one of us must fall, and you are to be the only witness of it. The - terms are agreed upon. You must, therefore, give me shelter for this - night, and let me have materials for writing.’ He sat down at this table, - on the very chair you are now seated.” - </p> - <p> - Paul sprang up, but supported himself on the back of the chair, without - again sitting down upon it. “He sat up all night. At day-break he came - into my room and found me up—I had not gone to bed. As to you poor - child, unconscious of the passions and miseries of this life, you were - quietly sleeping.” - </p> - <p> - “And then,—pray go on.” - </p> - <p> - “Your father bent slowly over you, supporting himself by the wall, and - looking sorrowfully upon you: ‘Louis,’ said he to me, in a hollow voice, - ‘should I be killed, and which may happen, wo to this child! You will - deliver him with this letter to Field, my valet de chambre, whom I have - charged to conduct him to Selkirk, in Scotland, there to leave him in sure - hands. When he is twenty-five years old, he will bring you the other half - of this gold coin, and will ask you to reveal to him the secret of his - birth. You will communicate it; for then, perhaps, his mother will be - alone and isolated. As to these papers which prove his birth, you will not - deliver them to him, until after the death of the Marquis d’Auray. Now I - have said all that is necessary, let us go, for it is the appointed hour. - He then leaned over your bed, bent down toward you, and although he was a - man of fortitude, as I have told you, I saw a tear fall upon your cheek.” - </p> - <p> - “Proceed,” said Paul, in a voice choked by emotion. - </p> - <p> - “The rendezvous was in one of the avenues of the park, about a hundred - paces from this house. When we reached the place, we found the marquis - there, he had been waiting for us some minutes. Near him upon a bank were - pistols ready loaded. The adversaries bowed to each other without - exchanging a word. The marquis pointed to the weapons—they each took - one, and then, according to the terms which had been agreed upon, as your - father had told me, they placed themselves, mute and gloomily, at the - distance of thirty paces, and then began to walk towards each other. Oh! - it was a moment ef agony for me, I can assure you,” rejoined the old man, - almost as much moved as if the scene were then actually passing before - him, “when I saw the distance gradually diminishing between these two men. - When they were only about ten paces, the marquis stopped and fired. I - looked at your father; not a muscle of his face was moved, so that I - thought him safe and unhurt. He continued to walk on till he came close to - the marquis, and then placing the muzzle of the pistol to his heart—” - </p> - <p> - “He did not kill him, I trust,” cried Paul seizing the old man’s arm. - </p> - <p> - “He said to him, Your life is in my hands, sir, and I might take it, but I - wish you to live, that you may pardon me, as I do you. And uttering these - words, he fell dead at the feet of the marquis, whose ball had passed - through his chest.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! my father! my father!” cried Paul, wringing his hands. “And the man - who killed my father—he still lives, does he not? He is still young, - and has strength enough to wield a sword or raise a pistol? We will go to - him—to-day—instantly! You will tell him, that it is his son! - that he must fight with him.” - </p> - <p> - “God has avenged your father,” replied Achard—“that man is mad.” - </p> - <p> - “That is true—I had forgotten that,” murmured Paul. - </p> - <p> - “And in his madness that bloody scene is ever before his eyes, and he - repeats ten times a day the dying words your father addressed to him.” - </p> - <p> - “And that must be the reason why the marchioness will not leave him for a - single moment.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is also the reason, under the pretext that he will not see his - children, that she keeps Emanuel and Marguerite from him.” - </p> - <p> - “My poor sister,” said Paul, with an accent of undefinable tenderness; - “and now she wishes to sacrifice her by forcing her to marry that wretch - Lectoure.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but that wretch Lectoure will take Marguerite with him to Paris, and - give a regiment of dragoons to her brother, so that the marchioness will - no longer have cause to dread the presence of her children. Her secret, - therefore, remains henceforward in the breasts of two old men, who - to-morrow, this night even, may die. The grave is silent.” - </p> - <p> - “But, I—I!”—— - </p> - <p> - “You! Does she know that you still exist! Has anything been heard of you - since you escaped from Selkirk? Could not some accident have prevented you - from coming to the appointment, which fortunately you have done safely? It - is certain that she has not forgotten you, but she hopes”—— - </p> - <p> - “Oh! can you believe that my mother”—— - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon, that is true. I do not believe it!” cried Achard, “I - was wrong; forget what I have said.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, let us speak of you, my friend; let us speak of my father.” - </p> - <p> - “Is it necessary that I should tell you that his last wishes were - fulfilled. Field came to fetch you during the day, and took you away with - him. Twenty-one years have passed since then, and since then not a single - day has passed without my putting up a prayer that I might see you at the - appointed time. My prayers have been granted,” continued the old man; “and - thanks be to God, you are here. Your father lives again in you—I - once more see him—I am speaking to him. I weep no longer, I am now - consoled.” - </p> - <p> - “And he died thus, instantly, without a struggle, without a sigh?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—I brought him here. I placed him on the bed in which you were - born—I closed the door that no one might enter the house, and I went - alone and dug his grave. I passed the whole day in this painful duty; for, - according to the request of your father, to no one was to be confided this - dreadful secret. In the evening I returned for the body. The heart of man - is singularly constituted, and hope which God has planted in it can with - difficulty be eradicated. I had seen him fall—I had felt his hands - grow cold—I had kissed his ice-like face—I had left him, to - hollow out his grave, and that grave being made, that duty being - accomplished, I returned with a beating heart, for it appeared to me, - although a miracle would be required for such a change, that during my - absence life had returned to him, and that he would rise from his bed and - speak to me. I entered the house—alas! alas! the days of miracles - had passed away. Lazarus remained lying on his couch—dead! dead! - dead!” and the old man remained for some time overwhelmed with grief, - silent and voiceless, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” cried Paul, also bursting into tears; “yes, and you then - fulfilled your holy mission. Good old man, let me kiss those hands which - deposited my father in his last home. And you have remained faithful to - his tomb as you had been to him during life. Poor guardian of the - sepulchre; you have remained near him that your tears might water the - grass which grew about the unknown grave. Oh! how little are those who - think themselves great because their name resounds amid the tempest, and - the cry of war, louder than the storm or the din of battle, in comparison - with you, old man, whose devotedness has been mute and noiseless. Oh! give - me your blessings lay those hallowed hands upon my head, since my father - is not here to bless me,” continued Paul, throwing himself on his knees - before him. - </p> - <p> - “Rise to my arms—let me clasp you to my heart, my child, for you - exaggerate these actions, in themselves so simple and so natural. And - then, believe me, that which you term my piety has not been a useless - lesson to me. I have seen how little space a man occupies beneath the - ground, and how soon he is lost amid the world, should God turn his face - from him. Your father was young, full of courage, with a brilliant career - opening before him. Your father was the last descendant of an ancient - line; he bore a noble name. His path seemed marked with honors and - distinction; he had a family and powerful friends. Well, he suddenly - disappeared, as if the earth had opened beneath his feet. I know not if - some tearful eyes sought for him till they lost all trace of him; but this - I know, that for one-and-twenty years no one has sought out his tomb—no - one knows that he lies beneath that spot, where the grass is greener and - grows more luxuriantly than elsewhere—and yet, vain, glorious, and - miserable as he is, man considers himself of some value.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! and my mother, has she not visited his grave?” - </p> - <p> - The old man did not answer. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then! there will be two of us who henceforward will know the spot, - where he reposes. Come, and show it to me; for I will return to it, I - promise solemnly, every time my ship returns to the coast of France.” - </p> - <p> - Saying this, he drew Achard into the outer room, but as they opened the - door they heard a slight noise in the park. It was a servant from the - castle, who had accompanied Marguerite. Paul hurriedly returned into the - bedroom. - </p> - <p> - “It is my sister,” said he to Achard; “leave me alone with her a moment. - It is necessary that I should speak to her. I have something to - communicate which will make her pass a happy night. We must have - compassion for those who watch and weep.” - </p> - <p> - “Reflect,” said Achard, “that the secret I have revealed to you is your - mother’s.” - </p> - <p> - “Fear not—I will speak to her but of that which concerns herself.” - </p> - <p> - At that moment Marguerite entered the room. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - This ring I gave him when he parted from me - To bind him to remember my good will; - The more shame for him that he sends it to me. - - Shakespeare. -</pre> - <p> - Marguerite had come, as she frequently did, to bring some provisions for - the old man, and it was not without astonishment that she perceived in the - outer room, where she usually found Achard, a young and handsome man, who - looked at her with gladdened eyes, and with a kindly smile. She made a - sign to the servant to put down the basket in a corner of the room; he - obeyed, and then went out to wait for his mistress in the park. When he - had withdrawn, she advanced towards Paul, saying,— - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon, sir, but I expected to find my old friend, Achard, - here, and I came, to bring him something from my mother”— - </p> - <p> - Paul pointed to the inner room, to let her know that the person she was - seeking was within, for he could not reply to her; he felt that the tone - of his voice would betray the emotions he experienced. The young girl - thanked him, with a bow, and went into the room to find Achard. - </p> - <p> - Paul followed her with his eyes—his hand pressed upon his heart. - That virgin soul into which love had never penetrated, now expanded with - fraternal tenderness. Isolated as he had always been, having no friends - but the rude children of the ocean, all that was soft or tender in his - heart, he had turned towards God, and although in the eyes of rigid - Christians, his religion might not have appeared as strictly orthodox, it - is no less true, that the poetry which overflowed in every word he uttered - was nothing more than one vast and eternal prayer. It was not, therefore, - astonishing, that this first feeling which penetrated his heart, although - purely fraternal, was as extravagant and transporting as the emotions of - love. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” murmured he, “poor isolated being that I am! How shall I be able to - restrain my feelings when she returns, and prevent myself from clasping - her to my heart and saying to her: Marguerite! my sister, no woman has yet - felt love for me; love me then with sisterly affection. Oh! mother! - mother! by depriving me of your caresses, you have also deprived me of - those of this dear angel. May God restore to you in eternity that - happiness which you have driven from yourself and others.” - </p> - <p> - “Farewell!” said Marguerite to the old man, opening the door, “farewell! I - wished this evening to come myself, for I know not when I may see you - again.” - </p> - <p> - And she went toward the outer door, pensive, and with her eyes cast down, - without seeing Paul, without remembering that a stranger was in that room. - Paul remained gazing at her with outstretched arms as if to prevent her - leaving the house, with palpitating heart and moistened eyes. At length, - when he saw her placing her hand upon the door-latch, he cried aloud— - </p> - <p> - “Marguerite!” - </p> - <p> - She turned round amazed, but not being able to comprehend this strange - familiarity, in one who was totally unknown to her, she half-opened the - door. - </p> - <p> - “Marguerite!” reiterated Paul, advancing a step towards his sister, - “Marguerite, do you not hear me call you?” - </p> - <p> - “It is true that my name is Marguerite, sir,” she replied, with dignity; - “but I could not imagine that word was addressed to me by a person whom I - have the honor of knowing.” - </p> - <p> - “But I know you!” exclaimed Paul, going nearer to her, and then closing - the door he brought her back into the room. “I know that you are unhappy, - that you have not one friendly heart into which you can pour your sorrows, - not one arm from which you can ask support.” - </p> - <p> - “You forget the one which is on high,” replied Marguerite, raising her - eyes and hand toward heaven. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, Marguerite, I do not forget, for it is He who sends me to offer - you that which you most need; to tell you when all lips and all hearts are - closed toward you, ‘I am your friend, devotedly, eternally.’” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! sir!” replied Marguerite, “these are sacred and solemn words which - you have uttered; words, unfortunately, to which it would be difficult for - me to give credence without proofs.” - </p> - <p> - “And should I give you one?” said Paul. - </p> - <p> - “Impossible!” murmured Marguerite. - </p> - <p> - “Irrefragable!” continued Paul. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! then!” exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which - doubt began to give place to hope— - </p> - <p> - “Well! and then”— - </p> - <p> - “Oh! then—but no, no!” - </p> - <p> - “Do you know this ring?” said Paul, showing her the one with the key that - opened the bracelet. - </p> - <p> - “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed Marguerite, “have mercy upon me! he is dead!” - </p> - <p> - “He lives.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he no longer loves me.” - </p> - <p> - “He loves you!” - </p> - <p> - “If he be living—if he still love me—oh! I shall go mad—what - was it I was saying? If he be living—if he still love me, how comes - it that this ring is in your possession?” - </p> - <p> - “He confided it to me as a token of recognition.” - </p> - <p> - “And have I confided this bracelet to any one?” cried Marguerite, pushing - back the sleeve of her gown—“Look!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but you, Marguerite, you are not proscribed—dishonored, in the - eyes of the whole world—thrown amongst a condemned race!” - </p> - <p> - “Of what importance is that. Is he not innocent?” - </p> - <p> - “And then, he thought,” continued Paul, wishing to discover the extent of - the devotedness and love of his sister, “he thought that delicacy - required, banished as he is for ever from society, that he should offer - you, if not restore to you, the liberty of disposing of your hand.” - </p> - <p> - “When a woman has done for a man that which I have done for him,” replied - Marguerite, “her only excuse is to love him eternally, and it is that I - mean to do.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! you are an angel!” exclaimed Paul. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me!” rejoined Marguerite, seizing the young man’s hands, and looking - at him with a supplicating air— - </p> - <p> - “What?” - </p> - <p> - “Have you seen him, then?” - </p> - <p> - “I am his friend, his brother.” - </p> - <p> - “Speak to me of him, then?” she exclaimed, giving herself up entirely to - the recollection of her lover, and forgetting that it was the first time - she had seen the person to whom she was addressing questions of so - delicate a nature. “What is he doing? what hope has he? Poor, unhappy - man!” - </p> - <p> - “He loves you—and he hopes again to see you.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, then,” stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,—“he - has told you——?” - </p> - <p> - “All!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a sudden - tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual - paleness. - </p> - <p> - Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming— - </p> - <p> - “You are a miracle of devotedness!” - </p> - <p> - “You do not then despise me, sir?” said Marguerite, Venturing to raise her - eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Marguerite!” cried Paul, “had I a sister I would pray to heaven that she - might resemble you.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister,” she replied, - leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps,” said Paul, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “You know not, then——?” - </p> - <p> - “Proceed.” - </p> - <p> - “That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning.” - </p> - <p> - “I have been informed of that.” - </p> - <p> - “And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed.” - </p> - <p> - “I know that, too.” - </p> - <p> - “Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can I - apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? My - brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my - feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman - whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will - inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe that - others can forget it, and when she has once said, ‘It is my will,’ all - that remains to do is to bow down one’s head, to weep, and to obey. My - father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from which he - has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My father! for - any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove a resource: but - you know not that he is insane—that he has lost his reason, and with - it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, it is ten years since - I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not pressed his trembling - hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows not that he has still a - daughter! he knows not even whether he has a heart, and will not be able - even to recognize me. And were he but to know me, and took compassion on - me, my mother would place a pen in his hand and would say, ‘Sign that, it - is my will!’ and he would sign it—the poor feeble old man! and his - daughter would be condemned.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be - pacified, that contract never will be signed.” - </p> - <p> - “And who can prevent it?” - </p> - <p> - “I will!” - </p> - <p> - “You?” - </p> - <p> - “Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council.” - </p> - <p> - “Who will present you there?” - </p> - <p> - “I have the means.” - </p> - <p> - “My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while - striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?” - </p> - <p> - “Your brother’s person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite. - Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! I believe you, sir, and I implicitly confide in you,” said - Marguerite, as if overwhelmed by the contending feelings of confidence and - mistrust which she had till then labored under. “For what advantage could - you derive from endeavoring to deceive me? What interest could you have to - betray me?” - </p> - <p> - “None, undoubtedly; but let us talk of other matters. What line of conduct - do you intend to pursue with regard to the Baron de Lectoure?” - </p> - <p> - “I will tell him all!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried Paul, bowing profoundly, “allow me to adore you.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir!” murmured Marguerite, “sir!” - </p> - <p> - “As a sister! as a sister!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you are indeed kind and good,” cried Marguerite, “and I believe it - is God who sent you to my aid.” - </p> - <p> - “Believe it,” replied Paul. “Then—to-morrow evening.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not be astonished, nor alarmed at anything that may occur, only - contrive to let me know by letter, by a word, a sign, the result of your - interview with Lectoure!” - </p> - <p> - “I will endeavor to do so.” - </p> - <p> - “It is now late, and your servant may be surprised at the length of this - interview. Return to the castle, and say not a word of me to any one. - Farewell!” - </p> - <p> - “Farewell,” reiterated Marguerite; “you to whom I know not what name to - give.” - </p> - <p> - “Call me your brother.” - </p> - <p> - “Farewell, then, brother.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my sister! my sister!” cried Paul, clasping her convulsively in his - arms, “your lips are the first from which I have heard so sweet a word. - God will reward you for it.” - </p> - <p> - The young girl drew back amazed; and then returning to Paul, she held out - her hand to him. Paul again pressed it, and Marguerite left the cottage. - </p> - <p> - The young man then went to the door of the inner room, and opened it. - </p> - <p> - “And now, good old man,” said he, “conduct me to my father’s grave.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Hamlet.—Dost thou know this water-fly? - Horatio.—No, my good lord. - Hamlet.—Thy state is the more gracious; for ‘tis a vice to know him. - SHAKESPEARE. - - Here on my knees by heaven’s blest nower I swear, - If you persist, I ne’er henceforth will see you; - But rather wander through the world a beggar, - And live on sordid scraps at poor men’s doors. - For, though to fortune lost, I’ll still inherit - My mother’s virtues and my father’s honor.—Otway. -</pre> - <p> - The day following that on which Paul had been made acquainted with the - secret of his birth, the inhabitants of the castle of Auray awoke more - than ever absorbed in the fears and hopes which their several interests - had created, for that day must necessarily prove a decisive one to the - whole of them. The marchioness, whom our readers have ere this discovered, - was neither perverse or wicked, but a haughty and inflexible woman, saw in - it the termination of those heart-rending apprehensions, which for so many - years, had been her daily companions; for it was above all, in the eyes of - her children, that she wished to preserve that unsullied reputation, the - usurpation of which had been purchased at such cost. To her, Lectoure was - not only a fitting son-in-law, being the bearer of a name as noble as her - own, but more than this, a man, or rather a good genius, who at the same - moment would bear away not only her daughter, whom he would take with him - as his wife, but her son also, to whom the minister, thanks to this - alliance, had promised to give a regiment. Both her children gone, her - first-born might come, and the secret revealed to him, would find no echo. - Moreover, there were a thousand methods by which to close his lips. The - fortune of the marchioness was immense, and gold was one of those - resources, which, in such a case, she deemed infallible. The more terrible - her fears, the more ardently did she desire this union; so that she not - only encouraged the anxiety of Lectoure, but she also excited that of - Emanuel. As to the latter, tired of living unknown at Paris, or immured in - Brittany, lost in the crowd of brilliant young men who formed the - household of the King, or shut up in the antique castle of his ancestors, - having their portraits as his sole companions, he knocked with impatient - eagerness at the golden door which his intended brother-in-law was to open - for him, at Versailles. The grief and tears of his sister had, certainly, - for a time afflicted him; for he was ambitious, more from a dread of the - <i>ennui</i>, which would consume him if compelled to live on his estate, - and from the desire of parading at the head of his regiment, captivating - the hearts of all the ladies by the richness and good taste of his - uniform, than from either pride or hardness of heart. Being himself - incapable of forming any serious attachment, and despite the fatal - consequences of his sister’s love, he considered that love, merely as a - childish fancy, which the tumult and pleasure of the world would soon - efface from her memory, and he really believed that before a year had - elapsed, she would be the first to thank him for having thus done violence - to her feelings. - </p> - <p> - As to Marguerite, poor victim, so irrevocably condemned to be immolated to - the fear of the one, and to the ambition of the other, the scene of the - preceding day had made a profound impression on her mind. She could not at - all account to herself for the extraordinary feelings which the young man - who had transmitted to her the words of Lusignan, had awakened in her - heart; who had tranquillized her as to the fate of the unhappy exile, and - had concluded by pressing her to his heart, and calling her his sister. A - vague and instinctive hope whispered to her heart, that this man, as he - had told her, had received from heaven the mission to protect her. But as - she was ignorant of the tie which bound him to her, of the secret which - made him master of his mother’s will, of the influence he might exercise - over her future life, she did not dare allow herself to dream of - happiness, habituated as she had been for six months, to consider death as - the only term to her misfortunes. - </p> - <p> - The marquis, alone, amid the various emotions which agitated all around - him, had remained coldly and impassibly indifferent; for to him the world - had ceased to move since the dreadful day on which reason had abandoned - him; continually absorbed by one fixed idea, that of his mortal combat, - without seconds. The only words he ever uttered, were those pronounced by - the Count de Morlaix, when he forgave him his death. He was an old man, - weak as an infant, and whom his wife could overawe by a gesture, and who - received from her cold and continuous will, every impulsion, which, for - twenty years, the vegetating instinct had received, and which, on him, had - usurped the place of reason and free will. On this day, however, a great - change had taken place in his monotonous mode of life. A valet de chambre - had entered his apartment, and had succeeded to the marchioness in the - cares of his toilette; he had dressed him in his uniform of steward of the - household, had decorated his breast with the several orders that had been - conferred upon him; and then the marchioness, placing a pen in his hand, - had ordered him to try to sign his name, and he had obeyed, passively and - negligently, without imagining that he was studying the part of an - executioner. - </p> - <p> - About three in the afternoon, a postchaise, the sound of whose wheels had - very differently impressed the hearts of the three persons who were - expecting it, entered the court-yard of the castle. Emanuel had eagerly - run down to the vestibule to receive his future brother-in-law, for it was - he who had arrived. Lectoure sprang lightly from his carriage. He had - halted for some time at the last post-house, to attire himself in a - presentable costume, so that he arrived in an elegant court dress of the - latest fashion. Emanuel smiled at this evidence of his anxiety, for it was - clearly to be perceived, that Lectoure was determined not to lose the - advantage of a first favorable impression, by presenting himself in a - dusty travelling dress. His intercourse with the fair sex had taught him, - that they almost invariably judge from the first glance, and the effect - which it produces upon their minds or hearts, let it be favorable or - unfavorable, is with difficulty removed. Moreover, it is but rendering - justice to the baron to acknowledge that his person was graceful and - elegant, and might have been dangerous to any woman whose heart was not - already occupied by another. - </p> - <p> - “Permit me, my dear baron,” said Emanuel, advancing toward him, “in the - momentary absence of the ladies, to do the honors of the mansion of my - ancestors. See,” continued he, when they had reached the top of the stone - steps leading into the hall, and pointing to the turrets and the bastions, - “these date from the time of Philip Augustus, as to architecture, and from - Henry IV., in point of ornament.” - </p> - <p> - “Upon my honor,” replied the baron, in the affected tone which the young - men of that day had adopted, “it is a most charming fortress, and throws - around it, to a distance of at least three leagues, a baronial odour, - which would perfume even an army contractor. If ever,” continued he, as - they passed through the hall and entered a gallery ornamented on each side - with long lines of family portraits, “I should take a fancy to enter into - a rebellion against his most Christian Majesty, I shall entreat you to - lend me this jewel of a place; and,” added he, casting his eyes on the - long rows of ancestors which offered themselves to his view, “the garrison - with it.” - </p> - <p> - “Thirty-three quarters—I will not say in flesh and blood,” replied - Emanuel, “for they are long since turned to dust—but in painting, as - you see. They begin with a certain Chevalier Hugues d’Auray, who - accompanied King Louis VII. to the crusades; that one, it is pretended, is - my aunt Deborah, whom you see decked out as Judith; and all this - eventually ends in the male line, in the last member of this illustrious - family, your very humble and very obedient servant, Emanuel d’Auray.” - </p> - <p> - “It is perfectly respectable, and nothing can be more authentic.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; but as I do not feel that I have, as yet, become sufficiently a - patriarch,” rejoined Emanuel, passing before the baron to show him the way - to the apartment which had been prepared for him, “to spend my days in - such formidable society, I hope, baron, that you have thought of the means - by which I can withdraw from it?” - </p> - <p> - “Undoubtedly, my dear count,” said Lectoure, following him. “I wished even - to have been myself the bearer of your commission, as my wedding gift to - you. I knew of a vacancy in the queen’s dragoon’s, and called yesterday on - M. de Maurepas to solicit it for you, when I heard that it had been - granted, at the request of I know not what mysterious admiral, a sort of - corsair, pirate, or fantastic being, whom the queen has made the fashion - by giving him her hand to kiss, and whom the king has taken a great - affection to because he beat the English, I know not where—so that - his majesty has conferred upon him the order of military merit, and - presented him a sword with a gold hilt, just as he would have done to one - of the nobility. In short, the game is lost on that side, but do not be - alarmed, we will turn round to another.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” replied Emanuel, “I care not what regiment it may be in; what - I desire is, that it should be a rank suitable to my name, and a position - which would be becoming to our wealth.” - </p> - <p> - “Precisely—you shall have them.” - </p> - <p> - “But how,” said Emanuel, wishing to change the subject of conversation, - “how did you manage to get rid of the thousand engagements you must have - had on your hands.” - </p> - <p> - “Why,” said the baron, with that perfectly free and easy air, which - belonged only to that distinguished class, and stretching himself upon a - couch, for they had at length reached the apartment destined for him, - “why, by frankly stating the fact to them. I announced at the queen’s card - table, I was going to be married.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! good heaven! Why, this was perfect heroism! Above all, if you - acknowledged you were about to seek a wife in the depths of Lower - Brittany.” - </p> - <p> - “I did acknowledge it.” - </p> - <p> - “And then,” said Emanuel, smiling, “compassion stifled every angry - feeling.” - </p> - <p> - “Gad! you will readily comprehend, my dear count,” said Lectoure, putting - one knee over the other and, balancing his leg with a motion as regular as - that of a pendulum, “our women of the court believe that the sun rises at - Paris, and sets at Versailles—all the rest of France, is, in their - idea, a Lapland, Greenland, Nova Zembla! So that they expect, as you have - hinted, my dear count, to see me bring back with me from my voyage to the - pole some large hands, and formidable feet! Fortunately, they are - mistaken,” he added, with an accent half timorous, half interrogatory; “is - it not so, Emanuel? for you told me that your sister”—— - </p> - <p> - “You will see her,” replied Emanuel. - </p> - <p> - “It will be a dreadful disappointment to that poor Madame de Chaulne—it - cannot be helped—and she must console herself. What is it?” - </p> - <p> - This question was induced by the entrance of Emanuel’s valet-de-chambre; - who had half opened the door, and remained upon the threshold, waiting, as - was then the custom of all servants in great houses, till his master - should address him. - </p> - <p> - “What is it? repeated Emanuel. - </p> - <p> - “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’ Auray requests that Monsieur, the Baron de - Lectoure, will honor her with a private interview.” - </p> - <p> - “Me!” said Lectoure, rising from the sofa, “certainly, with the greatest - pleasure.” - </p> - <p> - “But no! it is a mistake!” exclaimed Emanuel; “you must be mistaken, - Celestin.” - </p> - <p> - “I have the honor to assure your lordship,” replied the valet de chambre, - “that I have correctly and faithfully executed the order which was given - to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Impossible!” said Emanuel, uneasy to the highest degree, at the step his - sister had ventured to take: “Baron, if you will be advised by me, you - will send the little simpleton about her business.” - </p> - <p> - “By no means! by no means,” replied Lectoure. “What does this bluebeard of - a brother mean? Celestin! Did you not call this lad, Celestin?” - </p> - <p> - Emanuel impatiently bowed his head in the affirmative. “Well then, - Celestin, tell my lovely betrothed that I throw myself at her knees, at - her feet, and that I await her orders either to go to her or to receive - her here;—and there, take this for the charges of your embassy.” - </p> - <p> - He threw him his purse. - </p> - <p> - “And you, count,” rejoined Lectoure, “I trust that you have confidence - enough in me, to permit this <i> tête-à-tête?</i>” - </p> - <p> - “But it is so perfectly absurd!” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all,” replied Lectoure; “on the contrary, it is perfectly - befitting. I am not a crowned head, that I should marry a woman upon her - portrait, and by proxy. I wish to see her in person. Come, Emanuel,” he - continued, pushing his friend toward a side door, that he might not meet - his sister—“Come, now, tell me frankly—in confidence, between - ourselves—is there any—deformity?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, no, by heaven!” replied the young count, “no—on the contrary, - she is as lovely as an angel.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then!” said the baron, “what does all this opposition mean? Come, - now, begone, or must I call my guards?” - </p> - <p> - “No; but on my word, I am afraid that this little simpleton, who has not - the slightest notion of the world, is coming to destroy all that has been - arranged between us.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! if that is all you fear,” replied Lectoure, opening the door, “you - may be perfectly at ease. I like the brother too well not to look over - some caprice—some extraordinary fantasies in the sister—and I - pledge you my word as a gentleman, unless the devil should play us some - strange trick, (whom, I trust, is at this moment fully occupied in some - other corner of the world!) that Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, shall be - Madame the Baroness de Lectoure, and that in a month you shall have your - regiment.” - </p> - <p> - This promise appeared in some degree to pacify Emanuel, who allowed - himself to be pushed out of the door without making further difficulty. - Lectoure immediately ran to a looking-glass to repair the slight traces of - disorder, which the jolting over the three last leagues had occasioned in - his dress. He had scarcely given to his, hair and garments the most - becoming turn and folds, when the door again opened, and Celestin - announced— - </p> - <p> - “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray.” - </p> - <p> - The baron turned round, and perceived his betrothed standing pale and - trembling on the threshold of the door. Although the promises of Emanuel - had inspired him with some degree of hope, a certain residue of doubt had - still remained on his mind, if not as to the beauty, at all events, with - regard to the deportment of the lady who was about to become his wife. His - surprise was therefore unbounded, when he saw that delicate and graceful - creature standing before him, and whom the most fastidious critic of - female elegance could only have reproached with being in a slight degree - too pallid. Marriages, such as the one about to be contracted by Lectoure, - were by no means rare in an age in which questions as to rank and - suitableness of fortune in general, decided alliances between noble - houses; but that which was scarcely found once in a thousand times, was, - that a man in the baron’s position should meet, immured in a distant - province, a lady possessed of an immense fortune, and whom, at the first - glance, he could discern, was worthy, by her demeanor, her elegance, and - her beauty, to shine in the most brilliant circles of the court. He, - therefore, advanced toward her, no longer with the feeling of superiority - as a courtier, addressing a country girl, but with all the respectful ease - which distinguished good society at that time. - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me, mademoiselle,” said he, offering her his hand to conduct her - to an arm chair, but which she did not accept; “it was to me to solicit - the favor you have bestowed upon me; and believe me, it was the - apprehension of being considered indiscreet, which alone has occasioned - the apparent neglect of allowing myself to be forestalled.” - </p> - <p> - “I truly appreciate this delicacy, sir,” replied Marguerite, in a - trembling voice, and retreating one step, she remained standing. “It - strengthens me still more in the confidence which, without having seen - you, without knowing you, I had placed in your honor and good faith.” - </p> - <p> - “Whatever aim this confidence may have had, I am honored by it, - mademoiselle, and I will endeavor to render myself worthy of it. But, good - heaven, what can so affect you?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, sir, nothing,” replied Marguerite, endeavoring to overcome her - emotion; “but it is—it is—that I have to tell you that—but—really—I - am not sufficiently mistress of myself to—” - </p> - <p> - She staggered, and appeared as if about to fall; the baron sprang toward - her to offer his support, but he had scarcely touched her when a flush of - crimson suffused the cheeks of the young girl, and with a feeling, which - might be attributed as well to modesty as to repugnance, she disengaged - herself from his arms. Lectoure had taken her hand, and conducted her to a - chair, against which she leaned, but would not seat herself in it. - </p> - <p> - “Good God!” exclaimed the baron, still retaining her hand, “it must then - be something very difficult to utter, that has brought you hither! Or, - without my at all suspecting it, has my being affianced to you already - conferred upon me the imposing air of a husband?” Marguerite made another - effort to withdraw her hand from the baron, and which induced the latter - to observe it. - </p> - <p> - “How!” said he, “not satisfied with having the most adorable of faces, the - elegant figure of a fairy, but you must have such lovely hands!—hands - perfectly royal in their shape—why, ‘tis enough to make me expire at - once.” - </p> - <p> - “I trust M. le Baron,” rejoined Marguerite, and making a last effort, she - withdrew her hand from his grasp, “that the words with which you are now - addressing me, are merely words of gallantry.” - </p> - <p> - “No, by my soul! they are the sincere truth.” - </p> - <p> - “Well then, I hope, should it be, which I much doubt, that you really - think that which you have been pleased to say—I trust, I say, that - such motives will not lead you to attach a higher value to the union which - has been projected?” - </p> - <p> - “They will, indeed, and that I swear to you.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet,” continued Marguerite, gasping for breath, so much was her heart - oppressed, “and yet, sir, you consider marriage as a solemn matter?” - </p> - <p> - “That is as it may happen,” smilingly replied Lectoure; “for example, if I - were about to marry an old dowager.” - </p> - <p> - “In short,” rejoined Marguerite, in a more determined tone, “I beg your - pardon, sir, if I have been mistaken; I thought, perhaps, that with regard - to the alliance proposed between us, you had formed some idea of - reciprocity of feeling.” - </p> - <p> - “Never!” cried Lectoure, interrupting her, for he appeared as eager to - avoid the frank explanation, which Marguerite desired, as she seemed to - provoke it. “Never! and above all, since I have seen you, I could not hope - to be worthy of your love. And yet my name, my position in society, - notwithstanding I should fail to influence your heart, may yet give me a - title to your hand.” - </p> - <p> - “But how, sir,” said Marguerite, timidly, “how can you separate the one - from the other?” - </p> - <p> - “As do three-fourths of the people who get married, mademoiselle,” replied - Lectoure, with a carelessness which would have at once deterred the - confidence of a woman less candid than Marguerite. “A man marries in order - to have a wife, the wife to have a husband; it is a social compact, an - arrangement of convenience. What can love have to do in a matter of this - nature?” - </p> - <p> - “Your pardon, sir; perhaps I have not clearly expressed my meaning,” - continued Marguerite, making an effort to control her feelings, and to - conceal from the man upon whom her future fate depended, the impression - his words had produced upon her mind. “But you must attribute my - hesitation, sir, to the timidity of a young girl, compelled by imperious - circumstances to speak on such a subject.” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all, mademoiselle,” replied Lectoure, bowing and giving to his - voice a tone which nearly approached raillery; “on the contrary, you speak - like <i>Clarissa Harlowe</i>, and all you say is as clear as daylight. God - has endowed me with a mind sufficiently quick-sighted perfectly to - comprehend things which are but hinted at.” - </p> - <p> - “How, sir!” cried Marguerite, “you comprehend what I had the intention of - saying, and you allow me to continue? How would it be if on looking deeply - into my heart and interrogating all its feelings, I found it impossible to - love—to love the person who had been presented to me as my future - husband?” - </p> - <p> - “Why,” replied Lectoure, in the same sarcastic tone in which he had before - spoken, “in my opinion the best course to pursue would be not to tell him - of it.” - </p> - <p> - “And why not, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Because—but—but—because it would really be too simple.” - </p> - <p> - “And if that avowal were made, not from simplicity but from delicacy? If I - added, and may the shame of such an avowal fall back on those who compel - me to make it—if I added sir, that I have loved, that I still love?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! some little romance, is it not so?” said Lectoure, carelessly, - crossing his leg and playing with the frill of his shirt; “upon my honor, - the race of little cousins is an accursed race. But fortunately we know - what these ephemeral attachments are; and there is not a school-girl, who, - after the holidays, does not return to her convent but with a passion in - her little heart.” - </p> - <p> - “Unfortunately for me,” replied Marguerite, with, a voice as sorrowful and - grave as that of the baron was sarcastic and light, “unfortunately, I am - no longer a school-girl, sir; and although still young, I have long ago - passed the age of childish games and infantine attachments. When I speak - to the man who does me the honor to solicit my hand and to offer me his - name, of my love for another, he ought to understand that I am speaking of - a serious, profound, and eternal love; of one of those passions, in fine, - which leave their traces in the heart, and imprint them there for ever.” - </p> - <p> - “The devil!” exclaimed Lectoure, as if beginning to attach some importance - to Marguerite’s confession; “why, this is perfectly pastoral. But let us - see! is it a young man whom one can receive at one’s house?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! sir,” cried Marguerite, catching at the hope which these words seemed - to inspire: “oh! believe me, he is the most estimable being, the most - devoted soul——” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I am not asking you to tell me this—I was not speaking of the - qualities of his heart—he has all these, of course, that’s perfectly - understood. I ask you whether he is noble? if he is of good race? in - short, whether a woman of quality could acknowledge him, and that without - degrading her husband?” - </p> - <p> - “His father, whom he lost when very young, and who was my father’s friend - from infancy, was a counsellor at the Court of Rennes.” - </p> - <p> - “Nobility of the bar!” exclaimed Lectoure, dropping his nether lip with a - contemptuous shrug; “I would rather it were otherwise—is he a knight - of Malta, at least?” - </p> - <p> - “He was educated for a military life.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! then, we must get a regiment for him, to give him rank and standing - in society. Well, that’s all arranged, and it is well. Now, listen to me: - he will absent himself for six months, merely for decency’s sake, will - obtain leave of absence, no difficult matter now, as we are not at war—he - will get himself presented to you for form’s sake, by some mutual friend, - and then all will go on rightly.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not understand you, sir,” replied Marguerite, looking at the baron - with an expression of profound astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “What I have said to you is, notwithstanding, perfectly pellucid,” - rejoined the latter, with some show of impatience; “you have engagements - on your side—I have on mine—but that is no reason for - preventing an union which is perfectly suitable in every respect; and once - accomplished, why, I think, we are bound to render it as bearable as we - can. Do you comprehend me now?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! pardon me, sir, pardon me,” cried Marguerite, starting back, as - though these words had outraged her; “I have been very imprudent, very - culpable perhaps; but whatever I may have been, I did not dream I could - have merited so gross an insult. Oh! sir, the blush of shame is now - scorching my cheek, but more for you than for myself. Yes, I understand - you—an apparent love and a concealed one; the face of vice and the - mask of virtue; and it is to me—to me, the daughter of the Marquis - d’Auray, that so shameful, so humiliating, so infamous a bargain is - proposed. Oh!” continued she, falling into an arm-chair, and hiding her - face with both her hands, “I must then be a most unfortunate, most - contemptible lost creature! Oh! my God! my God!” - </p> - <p> - “Emanuel! Emanuel!” cried the baron, opening the door, at which he rightly - suspected Marguerite’s brother had remained; “come in, my dear friend; - your sister is attacked with spasms; these things ought to be attended to, - or they may become chronic; Madame do Moulan died of them. Here, take my - scent bottle, and let her smell at it. As to myself, I am going down into - the park. If you have nothing else to do, you can rejoin me there, and - bring me, if you please, news of your sister.” - </p> - <p> - Saying these words, the Baron de Lectoure left the room with miraculous - calmness, leaving Marguerite and Emanuel together. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me, - It shall not anger me—I tell thee Claudius, - Thou art enshrined in a holy circle - My foot can never pass—nor taunt, nor insult - Can e’er induce this hand to rise against thee. - Therefore be satisfied— - Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee. - —Old Play. -</pre> - <p> - On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron de - Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so diametrically - opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl, on that day at - four o’clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the castle. Emanuel - did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could not leave her - husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to come down stairs. - The other guests were the notary, the relations of the family, and the - witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding the imperturbable - gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his joyous humor, so - stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun his own feelings. - From time to time, indeed, his boisterous liveliness failed all at once, - like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly extinguished, and then it suddenly - burst forth again, as doth the flame when it devours its last aliment. At - seven o’clock they rose from table, and went into the drawing-room. It - would be difficult to form an idea of the strange aspect which the old - castle then presented; the vast apartments of which were hung with damask - draperies, with gothic designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times - of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV. - </p> - <p> - They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the - presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance - of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the feeble - and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to illuminate - the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the arches of a - cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to be joined during - the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the neighbourhood, - increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the emblazoned columns of - the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons, the same one in which - Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from Paris, had received Captain - Paul, was placed a table prepared with much solemnity, on which was laid a - closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a stranger ignorant of all that - was preparing, might as well have enclosed a death warrant as a marriage - contract. In the midst of these grave aspects and gloomy impressions, from - time to time a shrill mocking laugh would reach the ears of a group of - persons whispering to each other. It proceeded from Lectoure, who was - amusing himself at the expense of some good country gentlemen, without any - respect for the feelings of Emanuel, upon whom a portion of his raillery - necessarily recoiled. He would, however, every now and then cast an - anxious glance around the room, and then a gloomy cloud would pervade his - features, for he saw not either his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or - Marguerite enter the room. As we have already stated, that neither of them - had been present at the dinner table, and his interview with the latter - had not, however careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some - uneasiness with regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take - place during the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and - he had just determined to go up to his sister’s apartment, when in passing - through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw - near. - </p> - <p> - “By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count,” said he to - him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country - gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of - perfect intimacy; “here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very - curious things, upon my word! But do you know,” continued he, turning to - the narrator, “this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also have - marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to Paris, to - tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild ducks in this - way.” - </p> - <p> - “An immense quantity,” replied the gentleman, and with the accent of - perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of - detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same tone. - </p> - <p> - “What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?” inquired Emanuel. - </p> - <p> - “Only imagine, my dear friend,” replied Lectoure, with the most complete - sang froid, “that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,—At - what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?” - </p> - <p> - “In the month of December and January.” - </p> - <p> - “It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying, - then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool - over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so - completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and - allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?” - </p> - <p> - “As near as I am to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Bah! really?” exclaimed Emanuel. - </p> - <p> - “And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases.” - </p> - <p> - “I kill them by dozens,” said he, proudly, being enchanted by the - attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his - exploits. - </p> - <p> - “It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of - ducks,” said Emanuel. - </p> - <p> - “She adores them,” said M. de Nozay. - </p> - <p> - “I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a - person,” said Lectoure, bowing. - </p> - <p> - “Undoubtedly baron.” - </p> - <p> - “I swear to you,” said Lectoure, “that instantly on my return to Paris, I - will speak of this sport in the king’s dressing-room, and I am persuaded - that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his large ponds - of Versailles.” - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon, dear marquis,” said Emanuel, taking Lectoure’s arm, - and whispering in his ear, “this is one of our country neighbors, whom we - could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion.” - </p> - <p> - “It requires no apology, my dear friend,” said Lectoure, using the same - precaution not to be heard by the party in question: “you would have been - decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He is an - appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been greatly - chagrined not to have made his acquaintance.” - </p> - <p> - “Monsieur de la Jarry,” said a servant, opening the door. - </p> - <p> - “A sporting companion?” said Lectoure. - </p> - <p> - “No,” replied M. de Nozay; “he is a traveller.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the - newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had - hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room, - muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! my dear La Jarry,” cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and holding - out his hand to him, “but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, you look - like the Czar Peter.” - </p> - <p> - “It is,” replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no means - cold, “because, when one arrives from Naples—perrrrrou!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples,” said Lectoure, joining in the - conversation. - </p> - <p> - “Direct, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then,” - continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to the - volcano, “Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen at - Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when the wind is - in the wrong quarter,—and besides Madame La Jarry was dreadfully - alarmed at the idea of an eruption.” - </p> - <p> - “But of course you visited the <i>Grotto del Cane?</i>” continued - Lectoure. - </p> - <p> - “To what purpose?” rejoined La Jarry; “to see an animal that has vapors—give - a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as much. And then, - Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it would have given her - pain to witness so cruel an exhibition.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself,” said Emanuel, - bowing, “did not neglect the Solfatara.” - </p> - <p> - “Who, I—I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine - what three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which - is a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the - odour of sulphur.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you think of our new friend?” said Emanuel, leading Lectoure into - the room in which the contract was to be signed. - </p> - <p> - “I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly - prefer Nozay.” - </p> - <p> - The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, “Monsieur Paul.” - </p> - <p> - “Eh!” exclaimed Emanuel, turning round. - </p> - <p> - “Who is this?” inquired Lectoure, listlessly, “another country neighbour?” - </p> - <p> - “No; this is quite another sort of person,” replied Emanuel, with - agitation. “How does this man dare to present himself here?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! ah! a plebeian—eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I - suppose. No—a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you, - Emanuel, that they are beginning to receive this sort of people—that - accursed philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my - dear fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it—we have - come to that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches - the corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises—they - converse together on court matters—they jest, they joke, they - squabble, it is <i>bon ton</i> though decidedly bad taste.” - </p> - <p> - “You are mistaken, Lectoure,” replied Emanuel; “he is neither poet, - painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead - off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry.” - </p> - <p> - Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours by - the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting and - travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely closed - upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into the room - he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door—the one led - to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up on his - first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between Marguerite and - Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained there for a moment, - looking attentively at the two doors, as though he had expected to see one - of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In a few moments, that of the - library was opened, and he perceived a white form standing within it; he - rushed towards it. - </p> - <p> - “Is it you, Marguerite?” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” replied a trembling voice. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” - </p> - <p> - “I told him all?” - </p> - <p> - “And—” - </p> - <p> - “And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed.” - </p> - <p> - “I suspected as much—he is a miserable wretch.” - </p> - <p> - “What’s to be done?” cried the young girl. - </p> - <p> - “Take courage, Marguerite.” - </p> - <p> - “Courage—oh! it now fails me entirely.” - </p> - <p> - “There is that which will restore it,” said Paul, handing her a letter. - </p> - <p> - “What does this letter contain?” - </p> - <p> - “The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name of - the woman in whose house he has been concealed.” - </p> - <p> - “My son! oh! you are my guardian angel,” cried Marguerite, endeavoring to - kiss the hand which held the paper to her. - </p> - <p> - “Silence! someone is coming—whatever may happen, you will find one - at Achards.” - </p> - <p> - Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had - heard: the sound of her brother’s footsteps. Paul turned round, and went - to meet him, which he did, near the table. - </p> - <p> - “I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company,” said - Emanuel, who was the first to speak. - </p> - <p> - “It appears to me that we are alone at this moment,” said Paul, glancing - around the room. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an instant - this room will be full.” - </p> - <p> - “But many things may be said in an instant, count.” - </p> - <p> - “You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more - than an instant to comprehend them.” - </p> - <p> - “I am listening,” said Paul. - </p> - <p> - “You spoke to me of letters,” rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him, and - lowering his voice. - </p> - <p> - “It is true,” said Paul, with the same calmness. - </p> - <p> - “You fixed a price upon those letters?” - </p> - <p> - “That is also true.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum - enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them - up.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, yes,” replied Paul, “the case stood thus, as long as I believed - your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault she had - committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was seconding - your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a sufficiently - bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without a name and - without a family, not to allow him to enter it without a fortune also, and - I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in exchange for the letters - in my possession. But now the state of things is altered, sir. I saw your - sister throw herself upon her knees before you, I heard her entreat you - not to force her into this infamous marriage, and neither prayers, nor - tears, nor supplications could make any impression on your heart. It is - now for me, for me who hold your honor, and the honor of your family - within my hands, it is for me to save the mother from despair, as I would - have saved the child from penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be - delivered to you, when you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the - marriage contract of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of - Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray with Anatole de Lusignan.” - </p> - <p> - “Never, sir, never!” - </p> - <p> - “You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them.” - </p> - <p> - “I know not any,” coldly replied Paul. - </p> - <p> - “Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!” - </p> - <p> - “Count,” replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under the - circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, “count, listen to - me?” - </p> - <p> - “Will you return me those letters, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Count—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, or no!” - </p> - <p> - “No!” said Paul, calmly. - </p> - <p> - “Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or - rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together, - and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful - from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases.” - </p> - <p> - “I regret I cannot accept the offer, count.” - </p> - <p> - “How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side - that sword, and you refuse a duel.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against - you, count—believe me, I entreat you.” - </p> - <p> - “You cannot fight with me!” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot, upon my honor.” - </p> - <p> - “You cannot fight with me, you say?” - </p> - <p> - “At this moment a person who had entered the room without being perceived, - burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul and Emanuel - turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them. - </p> - <p> - “But,” said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, “I can fight with him, for he is a - miserable and infamous wretch.” - </p> - <p> - A burning blush passed over Lectoure’s features, like the reflection of a - flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped. - </p> - <p> - “It is well, sir,” said he; “send your second to Emanuel and they can - arrange this matter.” - </p> - <p> - “You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred,” said - Emanuel, to Paul. - </p> - <p> - “Silence!” replied Paul, “they are announcing your mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure,” added Emanuel, “let - us go to receive my mother.” - </p> - <p> - Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he entered - the small room in which he had before been concealed. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Listen to me and heed me! - If this contract - Thou holdst me to, abide thou the result! - Answer to heaven for what I suffer! act! - Prepare thyself for such calamity - To fall on me, and those whose evil - Have linked them with me, as no past mishap, - However rare and marvellously Sad, - Can parallel. - - Knowles—The Hunchback. -</pre> - <p> - At the moment that Paul went into the study, the marchioness appeared at - the door of the drawing-room, followed by the notary, and the several - persons who had been invited to be present at the signing of the contract. - Notwithstanding the nature of the meeting, the marchioness had not - considered it proper to lay aside, even for one evening, her mourning - garments, and dressed in complete black, as she had been always during - twenty years, she came into the room a few moments before the marquis. - None of the persons present, not even his son, had seen the marquis for - many years. Such attention was in those days paid to ancient forms, that - the marchioness would not allow the marriage contract of her daughter to - be signed, without the head of the family, although deprived of reason, - being present; at the ceremony. However little accustomed Lectoure was to - feel intimidated, the marchioness produced upon him the effect which she - did on every one that approached her, and on seeing her enter the room - with so grave and dignified an aspect, he bowed to her with a feeling of - profound respect. - </p> - <p> - “I am grateful to you, gentlemen,” said the marchioness, bowing to the - persons who accompanied her, “for the honor you have been pleased to - confer upon me, by being present at the betrothal of Mademoiselle - Marguerite d’Auray, with the Baron de Lectoure. I, in consequence, was - desirous that the marquis, although suffering from illness, should also be - present at this meeting, to thank you at least by his presence, if he - cannot do so verbally. You are all aware of his unfortunate malady, and - you will, therefore, not be astonished, should some disjointed words—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, madam,” said Lectoure, interrupting her, “we know the misfortune - which has befallen him, and we admire the devoted wife, who for twenty - years has borne half the weight of this sad visitation.” - </p> - <p> - “You see, madam,” said Emanuel, addressing in his turn, and kissing the - hand of his mother, “all the world bows down in admiration of your - conjugal piety.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is Marguerite?” murmured the marchioness, in a hair whisper. - </p> - <p> - “She was here not a moment ago,” said Emanuel. “Let her know that we are - all assembled,” rejoined the marchioness, in the same tone. - </p> - <p> - A servant then announced “the Marquis d’Auray.” All present drew to one - side, so as to leave free passage from the door, and all eyes were - directed to the spot at which this new personage was to appear. It was not - long before their curiosity was satisfied; the marquis came in almost - immediately, supported by two servants. - </p> - <p> - He was an old man, whose countenance, notwithstanding that the traces of - suffering had deeply furrowed it, still retained that noble and dignified - appearance which had rendered him one of the most distinguished men of the - court of Louis XV. His large, hollow, and feverish eyes, glanced around - the assembly with a strange expression of astonishment. He was dressed in - his costume of Steward of the Household, wore the order of the Holy Ghost - suspended from his neck, and that of St. Louis, at his button hole. He - advanced slowly, and without uttering a word. The two servants led him - forward amid the most profound silence, to an arm-chair, in which he - seated himself, and the servants left the room. The marchioness then - placed herself at his right hand. The notary opened the portfolio, drew - from it the marriage contract and read it aloud. The marquis and the - marchioness made over the sum of five hundred thousand francs to Lectoure, - and gave a like sum to Marguerite, as her dowry. - </p> - <p> - During the whole of the time occupied by the reading of the contract, the - marchioness, notwithstanding her great self command, had betrayed some - symptoms of uneasiness. But just at the moment when the notary had placed - the contract open on the table, Emanuel returned and approached his - mother. - </p> - <p> - “And Marguerite?” said the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “She will be here instantly.” - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” murmured Marguerite, half opening the door, and clasping her - hands. - </p> - <p> - The marchioness pretended not to hear her, and pointed with her finger at - the pen. - </p> - <p> - “Baron, it is you who are first to sign.” - </p> - <p> - Lectoure immediately approached the table and signed the contract. - </p> - <p> - “Madam!” cried Marguerite, in a tone of supplication, and advancing one - step toward her mother. - </p> - <p> - “Pass the pen to your betrothed, Baron,” said the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - The Baron walked round the table, and drew near to Marguerite. - </p> - <p> - “Madam!” again cried the latter, with an accent so melancholy, that it - struck to the heart of every person present, and even the marquis himself - raised his head. - </p> - <p> - “Sign!” said the marchioness, pointing to the marriage contract. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! my father! my father!” exclaimed Marguerite throwing herself at the - feet of the marquis. - </p> - <p> - “What does this mean?” said the marchioness, leaning upon the arm of the - marquis’ chair, and bending over him, “are you mad, mademoiselle?” - </p> - <p> - “My father! oh! my father!” again cried Marguerite, throwing her arms - around him, “my father, have pity, save your daughter!” - </p> - <p> - “Marguerite!” murmured the marchioness, in a threatening accent. - </p> - <p> - “Madam!” replied Marguerite, “I cannot address myself to you—permit - me, then, to implore my father’s pity; unless,” she added, pointing to the - notary with a firm and determined gesture, “you would prefer my invoking - the protection of the law.” - </p> - <p> - “Come, come,” said the marchioness, rising, and in a tone of bitter irony, - “this is a family scene, and which, although highly interesting to near - relations, must be sufficiently tedious to strangers. Gentlemen, you will - find refreshments in the adjoining rooms. My son, conduct these gentlemen, - and do the honors. Baron, I must beg your pardon for a short time.” - Emanuel and Lectoure bowed in silence and withdrew, followed by all the - company. The marchioness remained motionless until the last of them had - withdrawn, and then she closed all the doors leading into the room, when, - returning to the marquis, whom Marguerite still held clasped in her arms. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” said she, “that there is no one present excepting those who - have the right to lay their commands upon you, sign that paper, - mademoiselle, or leave the room.” - </p> - <p> - “For pity’s sake, madam, for pity’s sake, do not compel me to commit so - infamous an act!” - </p> - <p> - “Have you not heard me?” said the marchioness, giving to her voice an - imperative tone, which she thought impossible to be resisted, “or must I - repeat my words? ‘Sign, or leave the room.’” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! my father!” cried Marguerite, “mercy! mercy! No, it shall not be - said, that after having been banished from my father’s presence for ten - years, I was torn from his arms the first time I again beheld him—and - that, before he had recognized me, before he has embraced me. Oh! father! - father!—it is I, it is your daughter!” - </p> - <p> - “What is that voice that is imploring me?” murmured the marquis. “Who is - this child who calls me father?” - </p> - <p> - “That voice,” said the marchioness, seizing the arm of her daughter, “is a - voice that is raised against the rights of nature. That child is a - rebellious daughter.” - </p> - <p> - “My father!” cried Marguerite imploringly, “look at me. Oh! my father, - save me I defend me! I am Marguerite.” - </p> - <p> - “Marguerite? Marguerite?” stammered the marquis, “I had formerly a child - of that name.” - </p> - <p> - “It is I! it is I!” rejoined Marguerite: “I am your child—I am your - daughter.” - </p> - <p> - “There are no children but those who obey. Obey! and you will then have - the right to call yourself our daughter,” rejoined the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “To you, my father, yes,—to you I am ready to obey. But you do not - command this sacrifice! you do not wish that I should be unhappy—unhappy - even to despair—unhappy even to death.” - </p> - <p> - “Come! come!” said the marquis holding her in his turn, and pressing her - to his heart. “Oh! this is a delicious and unknown feeling to me. And now—wait! - wait!” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “It seems to me that I - recollect.” - </p> - <p> - “Sir!” cried the marchioness, “tell her that she ought to obey; that the - malediction of God awaits rebellious children. Tell her that, rather than - to encourage her in her impiety!” - </p> - <p> - The marquis slowly raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his - wife, and then slowly pronounced the following words: “Take care! madam, - take care. Have I not told you that I begin to remember!” and then again - bending down his head to that of Marguerite, so that his grey hairs - mingled with the dark tresses, of his daughter—“Speak—speak!” - said he, “what is it that disturbs you, my child—tell me all.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! I am most unhappy!” - </p> - <p> - “Everybody, then, is unhappy here,” exclaimed the marquis, “whether their - hair be grey or black—an old man or a child.. Oh! and I also—I - am unhappy—be assured. - </p> - <p> - “Sir, go up stairs into your room again: you must,” said the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that I may again be face to face with you; shut up like a prisoner! - That may be very well, when I am mad.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, my father, you are right. My mother has devoted herself to you - long enough; it is now time that your daughter should perform that duty. - Take me with you, father. I will not leave you day or night. You will only - have to make a sign, to utter a word, and I will serve you on my knees.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! you would not have the strength to do it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, my father, I will—as truly as I am your daughter.” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness wrung her hands with impatience. - </p> - <p> - “If you are my daughter, how is it that I have not seen you for ten - years?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I was told that you would not see me, my father; because they - told me that you did not love me.” - </p> - <p> - “You were told that I would not see you—not see that angel face!” - said he, taking her head between his hands, and looking at her with - intense auction; “they told you that—they told you that a poor - condemned soul did not wish for heaven! Who was it, then, that told you a - father would not see his child? Who has dared to say, child, your father - loves you not?” - </p> - <p> - “I!——” said the marchioness, again endeavoring to take - Marguerite from her father’s arms. - </p> - <p> - “You!” exclaimed the marquis, interrupting her: “it was you? To you then, - has been confided the fatal mission of deceiving me in all my affections. - All my griefs, then, must find their source in you? You wish, then, now to - break the father’s heart, as twenty years ago, you did that of the - husband.” - </p> - <p> - “You are delirious, sir,” said the marchioness, loosing the arm of her - daughter; and going to the right of the marquis, she whispered—“be - silent!” - </p> - <p> - “No, madam, no, I am not now delirious,” replied the marquis, “No! no! Say - rather, say that,—and it will be the truth,—say that I am now - between an angel who would recall me to reason, and a demon who wishes me - again to become insane. No! No! I am not mad. Do you wish that I should - prove it to you?” He rose, supporting himself on the arms of his chair. - “Must I speak to you of letters, of adultery, of a duel?” - </p> - <p> - “I say,” said the marchioness, grasping his arm, “I tell you that you are - more forsaken by heaven than ever, when you utter such things, without - reflecting as to whose ears are listening. Cast down your eyes, sir—look - who is standing yonder, and then dare assert that you are not mad!” - </p> - <p> - “You are right;” said the marquis, falling back in his chair. “Your mother - is right,” continued he, addressing Marguerite—“I am mad, and you - must not believe what I say, but what she says. Your mother is - devotedness, virtue itself, and therefore, she has not sleepless nights, - nor remorse, nor madness. What does your mother wish?” - </p> - <p> - “My misery, father; my everlasting misery.” - </p> - <p> - “And how can I prevent this misery?” said the unhappy old man, with a most - heart-rending anguish; “how can I, a poor, insane old man, prevent it? who - thinks he always sees the blood issuing from a wound—who thinks he - constantly hears a voice proceeding from a tomb!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh you can do all; say but one word and I am saved! They wish me to marry—” - </p> - <p> - The marquis listlessly reclined his head on the back of his chair. - </p> - <p> - “Listen to me! they wish to marry me to a man whom I do not love—do - you understand me?—to a wretch!—and you have been brought here—placed - in that arm-chair, before the table—you, you my father! to sign this - infamous contract—this contract which I now hand to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Without consulting me,” said the marquis, taking the contract; “without - asking me whether I will, or I will not! Do they believe me dead? And if - they think me dead, do they fear me less than they would a spectre? This - marriage would cause your misery, you say?” - </p> - <p> - “My eternal misery!” exclaimed Marguerite. “The marriage, then, shall not - take place.” - </p> - <p> - “I have pledged your word and mine,” said the marchioness, and with the - more energy, that she felt her influence over her husband about to escape - her. - </p> - <p> - “This marriage, I tell you, shall not take place!” replied the marquis, in - a tone louder than that of his wife. “It is too dreadful a thing,” - continued he, in a gloomy sepulchral tone, “to be permitted. A marriage in - which a wife loves not her husband—why, it causes madness! As to - myself, the marchioness has always loved me, and loved me faithfully—that - which drove me mad—oh! that was a different matter.” - </p> - <p> - A flash of diabolical joy shot from the eyes of the marchioness, for she - at once saw from the violence of the expressions used by her husband, and - the terror depicted on his features, that his insanity was about to - return. - </p> - <p> - “This contract,” said the marquis, and he raised it in his hands as if - about to tear it. - </p> - <p> - The marchioness eagerly caught his hand. Marguerite appeared to be hanging - by a thread between heaven and hell. - </p> - <p> - “That which drives me mad!” reiterated the marquis, “is a tomb which - widely opens, a spectre that issues from the earth, it is a phantom that - speaks to me, and says—” - </p> - <p> - “Your life is in my hands!” murmured the marchioness in his ear, repeating - the last words of the dying Morlaix: “I could take it.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you hear that?” cried the marquis, rising, and as if about to rush - from the room. - </p> - <p> - “My father! oh! my father! recall your senses; there is no tomb, there is - no spectre, there is no phantom; those words were uttered by the - marchioness.” - </p> - <p> - “But I wish you to live,” continued the latter, concluding the sentence - she had begun, “to forgive me as I forgive you.” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon, Morlaix, pardon!” cried the marquis, falling back in his - arm-chair, his hair standing on end with terror, and the perspiration - streaming from his forehead. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! father! father!” - </p> - <p> - “You see that your father is altogether deranged,” said the marchioness, - triumphantly; “say no more to him.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried Marguerite, “God will, I trust perform a miracle! My love, my - caresses, my tears, will restore him to reason.” - </p> - <p> - “Make the attempt,” replied the marchioness, coldly, abandoning to her - care the marquis, who was powerless, speechless, and almost without - consciousness. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! my poor father!” exclaimed Marguerite, in a tone of agony. - </p> - <p> - The marquis remained perfectly impassible. - </p> - <p> - “Sir!” said the marchioness, in an imperative manner. - </p> - <p> - “Eh! eh!” cried the marquis, shuddering. - </p> - <p> - “Save me! oh! save me, father!” cried Marguerite, wringing her hands, and - throwing herself back in despair. - </p> - <p> - “Take this pen and sign,” said the marchioness, “you must—it is my - will.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, I am lost indeed!” cried Marguerite, overwhelmed with terror, and - feeling that she had no longer strength to continue the struggle. - </p> - <p> - But at the moment that the marquis, overpowered, had written the first - letters of his name; when the marchioness was congratulating herself on - the victory she had obtained, and Marguerite was about to leave the room - in despair, an unexpected incident suddenly changed the scene. The door of - the study opened, and Paul, who had been anxiously watching, though - invisibly, the whole of this terrible conflict, issued from it. - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” said he, “one word before this contract is signed!” - </p> - <p> - “Who is it calls me!” said the marchioness, endeavoring to distinguish in - the distance that separated them, the person who had thus spoken, and who - stood in a dark corner of the room. - </p> - <p> - “I know that voice!” exclaimed the marquis, shuddering, as if seared by a - red-hot iron. - </p> - <p> - Paul advanced three paces, and the light from the lustre hanging in the - centre of the room fell full upon him. - </p> - <p> - “Is it a spectre?” cried the marchioness, in her turn, struck with the - resemblance of the youth who stood before her to her former lover. - </p> - <p> - “I know that face!” cried the marquis, believing that he saw the man whom - he had killed. - </p> - <p> - “My God! my God! protect me,” stammered Marguerite, raising her eyes and - hands to heaven. - </p> - <p> - “Morlaix! Morlaix!” said the marquis, rising and advancing toward Paul, - “Morlaix!—pardon! mercy!” and he fell at full length upon the floor. - </p> - <p> - “My father!” cried Marguerite, rushing to his assistance. - </p> - <p> - At that moment a servant entered the room, with terror in his looks, and - addressing the marchioness said— - </p> - <p> - “Madam, Achard has sent to request that the priest and the doctor of the - castle, may instantly be ordered to attend him—he is dying.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell him,” replied the marchioness, pointing to her husband, whom - Marguerite was vainly endeavoring to restore to consciousness, “that they - are both obliged to remain here to attend upon the marquis.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - And this our life, exempt from public haunt, - Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, - Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. - - Shakespeare. -</pre> - <p> - As has been seen by the end of the preceding chapter, God, by one of those - extraordinary combinations, which short-sighted man almost always - attributes to chance, had summoned to his presence, and almost at the same - moment, the souls of the noble Marquis d’Auray, and the poor low-born - Achard. We have seen that the former, struck by the sight of Paul, the - living portrait of his father, as if by a thunderbolt, fell at the feet of - the young man, who was himself terrified at the effect his appearance had - produced. - </p> - <p> - As to Achard, the circumstances which had hastened his death, although - differing in their nature, and from very opposite feelings, had arisen - from the same fatal causes, and had been brought about by the same - individual. The sight of Paul had created direful emotions in the breasts - both of the marquis and Achard. On the former from excess of terror, on - the latter from excess of joy. - </p> - <p> - During the day which had preceded the intended signing of the contract, - Achard had felt himself more feeble than usual. Notwithstanding this, he - had not neglected in the evening to crawl to his master’s grave, there to - put up his accustomed prayer. Thence he had observed with a devotion more - profound than ever, that ever new and splendid spectacle, the sun sinking - into the ocean. He had followed the decline of its enpurpled light, and as - though the vast torch of the world had drawn his soul toward it, he had - felt his strength extinguished with its last rays; so that when the - servant from the castle came in the evening at the accustomed hour to - receive his orders, not finding him in his house, had sought for him - without the park, and as it was well known that he generally walked in - that direction, found him lying extended at the foot of the great oak - tree, upon the grave of his master, and deprived of consciousness. Thus - did he remain constant to the last in that religious devotedness he had - vowed to his master’s tomb, and which had been the exclusive feeling of - the last years of his life. - </p> - <p> - The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; and - then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the - marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a - physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the servant - then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, under the - pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as the old - servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at the point of - death, gave her husband the right of first employing. - </p> - <p> - But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the - moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and - varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we - have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul. - Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible - from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to whisper - to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would find him at - Achard’s cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and winding his way - amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill of a sear man, who - reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon reached the house, entered - it panting from his rapid course, and found Achard just as he was - recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him in his arms. The delight - of again seeing him renewed the strength of the old man, who now felt - certain of having a friendly hand to close his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! it is you—it is you!” exclaimed the old man. - </p> - <p> - “I did not hope to see you again.” - </p> - <p> - “And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of the - state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your - assistance?” - </p> - <p> - “But I knew not where to find you—where I could send to tell you - that I wished once more to see you before I died.” - </p> - <p> - “I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously - ill, and I hastened hither.” - </p> - <p> - “And how was it that you were at the castle?” said the old man, with - amazement. - </p> - <p> - Paul related to him all that had occurred. - </p> - <p> - “Eternal Providence!” cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his - recital, “how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after - twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, and - hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the son!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, thus it happens,” replied Paul, “and it is Providence, also, - who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse to - send you the physician and the priest.” - </p> - <p> - “According to common justice,” rejoined Achard, “they might have made a - fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the - physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the - priest.” - </p> - <p> - “I can go on horseback,” said Paul, “and in less than an hour—” - </p> - <p> - “In an hour it would be too late,” said the dying man, in an enfeebled - voice, “a priest! a priest only—I ask but for a priest.” - </p> - <p> - “Father,” replied Paul, “in his sacred functions, I know I cannot supply - his place; but we can speak of God, of his greatness and his goodness.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but let us first finish with the things of this earth, that we may - then be able to turn our thoughts wholly to those of heaven. You say that, - like myself, the marquis is dying.” - </p> - <p> - “I left him at the last agony.” - </p> - <p> - “You know, that immediately after his death, the papers which are - deposited in that closet, and which prove your birth, are yours by right.” - </p> - <p> - “I know it.” - </p> - <p> - “If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?” The old man sat - up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. “You will take - that key, you will open the closet—in it you will find a casket. You - are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket until - the marquis shall be dead.” - </p> - <p> - “I swear it,” said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the - crucifix hanging at the head of the bed. - </p> - <p> - “‘Tis well,” replied Achard; “now I shall die in peace.” - </p> - <p> - “You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the father - stretches out his towards you from heaven!” - </p> - <p> - “Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?” - </p> - <p> - “No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since - his death.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, “I was but too exact in - following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have taken - place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, Paul; - it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is the only - thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been moments of - doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as an - assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only been - a witness, but an accomplice!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! my second father,” replied Paul, “I know not whether the laws of - earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether honor - as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the Lord; I - know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits that the - injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs inflicted - upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the judgment of - heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword’s point. These are questions - not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, then, my - conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have done - precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it also - misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right than a - priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, I pardon - you.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks! thanks!” cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; “thanks, - for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying man. Remorse is - a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that there exists no - God. For without a judge there can be no judgment.” - </p> - <p> - “Listen to me,” said Paul, in that poetic and solemn accent, which was - peculiar to him: “I also have often doubted in the existence of a God: - isolated and lost in the wide world, without family, and without a single - friend, I sought for support in the Lord, and I asked of every thing that - encircled me, some proof of his existence. Often have I arrested my steps - at the foot of one of these crosses, erected by the road side, and with my - eyes fixed upon the Saviour, I demanded, and with tears, to be assured of - his existence, and divine mission; I prayed that his eyes would deign to - look upon me: that one drop of blood might fall from his wound, or that a - sigh might issue from his lips. The crucifix remained motionless, and I - arose, my heart being overcome with despair, saying—‘did I but know - where I could find my father’s tomb, I would question him as Hamlet did - the ghost, and he would perhaps answer me!’” - </p> - <p> - “Poor child!” - </p> - <p> - “Then would I enter a church,” continued Paul, “one of those churches of - the north, gloomy, religious, Christian! And I would feel myself borne - down with sorrow; but sorrow is not faith! I approached the altar; I threw - myself upon my knees before the tabernacle, in which God dwells; I bowed - my head till it touched the marble of the steps; and when I had thus - remained prostrated for hours and lost in doubt, I raised my head, hoping - that the God I was seeking would at length manifest his presence to me by - a ray of his glory, or by some dazzling proof of his power. But the church - remained gloomy, as the cross had remained motionless. And I would then - rush from its porches with insensate haste, crying, ‘Lord! Lord! didst - thou exist, thou would reveal thyself to man. It is thy will, then, that - men should doubt, since thou canst reveal thyself to them, but dost not.’” - </p> - <p> - “Beware of what you are saying, Paul,” cried the old man: “beware that the - doubt thy heart contains do not attaint mine! Thou hast time left to thee - to believe, whereas, I—I am about to die.” - </p> - <p> - “Wait, father, wait!” continued Paul, with softened voice, and placid - features. “I have not told you all. It was then, that I said to myself, - ‘the crucifix by the road side, the churches of the cities are but the - work of man. Let us seek God, in God’s own works.’ From that moment, my - father, began that wandering life, which will remain an eternal mystery, - known only to the heavens, the ocean, and myself—it led me into the - solitary wilds of America, for I thought the newer a world was, the more - freshly would it retain the impress of God’s hand. I did not deceive - myself. There, often in those virgin forests, into which I was perhaps the - first who had ever penetrated; with no shelter, but the heavens, no couch, - but the earth, absorbed by one sole thought, I have listened to the - thousand noises of a world about to sleep, and nature when awakening. For - a long time, did I still remain without comprehending that unknown tongue, - formed by the mingling of the murmur of rivers, the vapor of the lakes, - the rustling of the forest, and the perfume of flowers. Finally, the veil - which had obscured my eyes, and the weight which had oppressed my heart, - was little by little removed; and from that time, I began to believe that - these noises of evening, and of approaching day, were but one universal - hymn, by which created things expressed their gratitude to the Creator.” - </p> - <p> - “Almighty God!” cried the dying man, clasping his hands, and raising his - eyes to heaven, with an expression of holy faith, “I cried to you from the - bottomless pit, and you heard me in my distress; oh! my God I I thank - thee.” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” continued Paul, with still increasing enthusiasm, “then, I sought - upon the ocean, that full conviction which earth had refused to me. The - earth is but a span—the ocean is immensity! The ocean is, after God - himself, the grandest, the most powerful object in the universe. I have - heard the ocean roar like a chafed lion, and then at the voice of its - master, become tranquil as a submissive dog; I have seen it rise like a - Titan, to scale the heavens; and then beneath the whip of the tempest, - moan like a weeping infant. I have seen it dashing its waves to meet the - lightning, and endeavoring to quench the thunder with its foam; and then - become smooth as a mirror, and reflect even the smallest star in the - heavens. Upon the land, I had become convinced of God’s existence, upon - the ocean, I recognised his power. In the solitary wilds, as Moses, I had - heard the voice of the Lord, but during the tempest, I saw him, as did - Ezekiel, riding upon the wings of the storm. Thenceforward, my father, - thenceforward, all doubt was driven from my mind, and from the evening on - which I witnessed the first hurricane, I believed, and prayed.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth,” said - the dying man, with ardent faith; and he continued thus the symbol of the - apostles to the last word. - </p> - <p> - Paul listened to him in silence, with his eyes raised to heaven, and when - he had concluded, said— - </p> - <p> - “It is not thus, that a priest would have spoken to you, my father, for I - have spoken to you as a seaman, and with a voice more accustomed to - pronounce words of death than consolation. Forgive me, father, forgive me - for it.” - </p> - <p> - “You have made me pray, and believe as you do,” said the old man; “tell - me, then, what more could a priest have done? What you have said is plain - and grand—let me reflect on what you have said.” - </p> - <p> - “Listen!” said Paul, shuddering, “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Did you not hear?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought that a voice of some one in distress called to me—there - again—do you not hear it?—now, again!—It is the voice of - Marguerite.” - </p> - <p> - “Go to her instantly,” replied the old man; “I need to be alone.” - </p> - <p> - Paul rushed into the adjoining room, and as he entered it he heard his - name again repeated, and close to the door of the cottage. Then, running - to the door he anxiously opened it, and found Marguerite upon the - threshold, her strength having failed her, and she had fallen upon her - knees. - </p> - <p> - “Save me! save me!” she cried, with an expression of profound terror, on - perceiving Paul, and clasped his knees. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Mercy from him! - And how can I expect it? - By what right - Can I demand he should withhold his claim, - The proofs once in his power?—Anonymous. -</pre> - <p> - Paul ran to Marguerite, and caught her in his arms; she was pale and icy - cold. He carried her into the first room, placed her in an arm chair, - returned to the door which had remained open, and closed it, and then - hastened back. - </p> - <p> - “What is it that so terrifies you? who is pursuing you? and how does it - happen that you come here at this unusual hour?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” exclaimed Marguerite, “at any hour, whether by day or night, I - should have flown as long as the earth would have borne me! I should have - flown till I had found some heart in which I could have poured forth my - sorrows, an arm capable of defending me. Paul! Paul! my father is dead?” - </p> - <p> - “Poor child!” said Paul, pressing Marguerite to his heart, “who flies from - one house of death to fall into another; who leaves death in the castle, - to find it in the cottage.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes!” cried Marguerite rising, still trembling with terror, and - convulsively pressing Paul’s arm. “Death is yonder, and I find death here! - but yonder it is attended with despair and fear, while here it is met with - tranquillity and hope. Oh! Paul! Paul! had you but seen that which I have - seen!” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me all that happened.” - </p> - <p> - “You saw the terrible effect produced by your appearance, and the mere - sound of your voice?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I saw that.” - </p> - <p> - “They carried him still fainting and speechless into his own room.” - </p> - <p> - “It was to your mother that I spoke,” said Paul, “and he heard me; I could - not foresee it would so much have terrified him.” - </p> - <p> - “You full well know all that had passed, for you must have heard from the - room in which you were concealed, every word we uttered. My father, my - poor father, had recognized me, and I, seeing him thus, could, not repress - my uneasiness: notwithstanding the risk I ran of irritating my mother, I - went up to his room—the door was locked; I knocked softly at it. He - had recovered his senses, for I heard a faint voice asking ‘who was - there?’” - </p> - <p> - “And your mother?” said Paul eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “My mother,” replied Marguerite, “was no longer there, and she had locked - him in as she would have done to a child; but when he had recognized my - voice, when I had told him that it was his daughter Marguerite who wished - to see him, he told me that I could get into the room by going down stairs - again, and that in the study I should find a private staircase which led - to it. A minute afterwards, I was kneeling by his bedside, and he gave me - his blessing. Yes, Paul, I received his blessing before he died, his - paternal benediction, which I trust will bring down the blessing of God - upon my head.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Paul, “God will pardon you; you may now feel tranquil. Weep - for your father, Marguerite, but weep no longer for yourself, for you are - saved.” - </p> - <p> - “You have heard nothing yet, Paul!” exclaimed Marguerite. “Hear me still.” - </p> - <p> - “Proceed!” - </p> - <p> - “At the very moment when I was kneeling, kissing the hand of my father, - and thanking him for the relief he had afforded my afflicted mind, I heard - my mothers footstep on the staircase. I recognized her voice, and my - father also recognized it, for he again embraced me, and made a sign to me - to leave him. I obeyed him, but such was my terror and confusion, that I - mistook the door, and instead of the staircase by which I had ascended, I - found myself in a small cabinet which had no issue. I felt all around its - walls, but could find no door. I was compelled to remain there. I then - heard my mother, accompanied by the priest, entering my father’s room—I - restrained my breathing, fearing that she should hear me. I saw then - through the glass window of the door, and I assure you, Paul, that she was - paler than my father who was about to die.” - </p> - <p> - “Gracious heaven!” murmured Paul. - </p> - <p> - “The priest seated himself by the bed-side,” continued Marguerite, so - terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; “my mother remained - standing at the foot of the bed—I was there, just opposite to them, - compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without the - means of retreat!—a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession - of her father!—was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my - eyes that I might not see—praying that I might not hear—and - yet in spite of myself—and this I swear to you, Paul—I saw and - I heard—Oh! what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my - memory—I saw my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him - with a feverish strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death - imprinted on his face. I heard him—I heard him pronounce the words, - a duel—adultery—assassination!—and at each word he - uttered, I saw my mother turn pale—and paler even than before—and - I heard her raise her voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying - man, saying to the priest: ‘believe him not—believe him not, - reverend father; what he says is false—or rather, he is mad, he - knows not what he says—believe him not!’ Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful - spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a cold perspiration stood upon my - forehead, and I fainted.” - </p> - <p> - “Justice of Heaven!” cried Paul. “I know not how long I remained without - consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the - tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were - burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my eyes - on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the sheet - which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I divined - that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between the funereal awe - which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of raising the covering - to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in his coffin, the - venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, overcame every other - feeling—an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror drove me from the - room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but I believe without - touching a single step,—I fled across the rooms and through the - corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I had left the - castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps were leading - me, until I remembered you had told me I should find you here. A secret - instinct—tell me what it was—for I cannot myself comprehend - it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I was pursued by - shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the avenues I thought—(had - I then lost my senses?)—I thought I saw my mother, dressed all in - black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. Oh! then, then! terror - lent me wings—I at first fled without knowing whither; after this my - strength failed me, and it was then you heard my cries. I dragged myself - along a few more paces, and fell motionless at this door; had you not - opened it, I should have expired upon the spot, for I was so much - terrified, that it appeared to me,”—then suddenly pausing, - Marguerite trembled, and whispered to Paul, “Silence! do you not hear?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” replied Paul, instantly extinguishing the lamp, “yes, yes—footsteps—I - hear them also.” - </p> - <p> - “Look! look!” cried Marguerite, concealing herself behind the curtain of - the window, and throwing them around Paul at the same moment—“look! - I was not mistaken—it was my mother.” - </p> - <p> - The door had been opened, and the marchioness, pale as a spectre, entered - the room slowly, closed the door after her, and locked it, and then - without observing Paul and Marguerite, went into the second room where - Achard was lying. She then walked up to his bed, as she had only a short - time before to that of the marquis, only that she was not now accompanied - by a priest. - </p> - <p> - “Who is there?” said Achard, drawing back one of the curtains of his bed. - </p> - <p> - “It is I,” replied the marchioness, drawing back the other curtain. - </p> - <p> - “You, madam,” cried the old man with terror; “for what purpose have you - come to the bedside of a dying man?” - </p> - <p> - “I have come to make a proposal to him.” - </p> - <p> - “One that will lose his soul! is it not?” - </p> - <p> - “To save it, on the contrary. There is only one thing in this world, - Achard, of which you stand in need,” rejoined the marchioness, bending - down over the bed of the dying man, “and that is a priest.” - </p> - <p> - “You refused to allow the one who is attached to the castle to attend me.” - </p> - <p> - “In five minutes, if you wish it, he shall be here.” - </p> - <p> - “Let him be sent then,” said the old man, “and believe me there is not a - moment to be lost. He must come quickly.” - </p> - <p> - “But if I give you the peace of heaven, you will give me in exchange peace - on earth.” - </p> - <p> - “What can I do for you?” murmured the dying man, closing his eyes, that he - might not see a woman whose looks chilled him. - </p> - <p> - “You stand in need of a priest, that you may die in peace,” said the - marchioness, “you know the gift I require, in order to exist in - tranquillity.” - </p> - <p> - “You would close heaven to me by a perjury.” - </p> - <p> - “I would open it to you by a pardon.” - </p> - <p> - “That pardon I have already received.” - </p> - <p> - “And from whom?—” - </p> - <p> - “From him who, perhaps, had alone the right to grant it to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Has Morlaix then descended from heaven?” asked the marchioness, in a tone - in which there was almost as much terror as irony. - </p> - <p> - “No, madam,” replied he, “but have you forgotten that he left a son upon - this earth?” - </p> - <p> - “Then you have also seen him,” exclaimed the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” replied Achard. - </p> - <p> - “And you have told him all——” - </p> - <p> - “All!” - </p> - <p> - “And the papers which prove his birth?” asked the marchioness, with - trembling anxiety. - </p> - <p> - “The marquis was not dead—the papers are still there.” - </p> - <p> - “Achard!” cried the marchioness, falling upon her knees, by the bedside. - “Achard! you will take pity on me?” - </p> - <p> - “You, on your knees, before me, madam?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, old man,” replied the marchioness, in a supplicating tone, “yes, I - am on my knees before you—and I beg, I implore you, for you hold in - your hands the honor of one of the most ancient families in France—my - past, my future life! Those papers are my heart, my soul—they are - more than this—they are my name—the name of my forefathers—of - my children—and you well know all that I have suffered to preserve - that name unsullied. Do you believe that I had not a heart as other women - have? the feelings of a lover, of a wife, and of a mother? Well! I have - overcome them all, one by one, and the struggle has been long. I am twenty - years younger than you are, old man, I am still in the prime of life, and - you are on the verge of the grave. Look, then, upon these hairs; they are - even whiter than your own.” - </p> - <p> - “What says she?” whispered Marguerite, who had softly crept to the door, - and could see all that was passing in the inner room. “Gracious heaven!” - </p> - <p> - “Listen, listen, dear child,” said Paul, “it is the Lord who permits that - all shall be thus revealed.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” murmured Achard, who was becoming weaker every moment. “Yes, - you doubted the goodness of the Lord, you had forgotten that he had - forgiven the adulterous woman—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but when she met with Christ, men were about to cast stones at her—men, - who for twenty generations have been accustomed to revere our name, to - honor our family—did they but learn, that which, thank heaven! has - heretofore been hidden from them—would hear it uttered with shame - and with contempt. I have so much suffered, that God will pardon me—but - man! men are so implacable, that they will not pardon—moreover, am I - alone exposed to their insults—on either side, the cross I bear, - have I not a child?—and is not the other that we speak of, the - first-born? In the eyes of the law, is he not the son of the Marquis - d’Auray? do you forget that he is the first-born, the head of the family? - Do you not know, that in order to possess himself of the title, the - estates, the fortune of the family of Auray, he has only to invoke the - law? and then what would remain to Emanuel? The cross of the order of - Malta—and to Marguerite?—a convent.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! yes, yes,” whispered Marguerite, and stretching out her arms, toward - the marchioness, “yes, a convent, in which I would pray for you, my - mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Silence! silence!” whispered Paul. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! you know him not,” said Achard, whose voice was scarcely audible. - </p> - <p> - “No! but I know human nature,” replied the marchioness, “he may recover a - name, he! who has no name—a fortune, he! who has no fortune. And do - you believe he would renounce that fortune and that name.” - </p> - <p> - “Should you ask it of him, he would.” - </p> - <p> - “And by what right could I demand it?” said the marchioness; “by what - right could I ask him to spare me, to spare Emanuel, to spare Marguerite? - He would say, ‘I do not know you, madam—I have never seen you—you - are my mother, and that is all I know.’” - </p> - <p> - “In his name,” stammered Achard, whose tongue death was beginning to - benumb, “in his name, madam, I engage, I swear—oh! my God! my God!” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness arose, observing attentively by the old man’s features, - the approach of death. - </p> - <p> - “You engage, you swear!” she said, “is he here to ratify this engagement—you - engage! you swear! and on your word, you would, that I should stake the - years I have yet to live, against the moments which yet remain between you - and death! I have entreated, I have implored, and again, I entreat and - implore you to give up those papers to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Those papers now are his.” - </p> - <p> - “I must have them! I repeat, I must have them,” continued the marchioness, - gaining strength, as the dying man became more feeble. - </p> - <p> - “My God! my God! have mercy upon me!” murmured Achard. - </p> - <p> - “No one can now come,” rejoined the marchioness “you told me that you wore - the key of that closet always about you——” - </p> - <p> - “Would you wrest it from the hands of a dying man?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” replied the marchioness, “I will wait.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me die in peace,” exclaimed Achard tearing the crucifix from the head - of his bed, and raising it between, himself and the marchioness, he cried: - “leave me! leave me; in the name of Jesus Christ!” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness fell upon her knees, bowing her head to the ground. The - old man, for a moment, remained in the same awful attitude; then, by - degrees, his strength forsook him, and he fell back on his bed, crossed - his arms, and pressed the image of the Saviour to his breast. - </p> - <p> - The marchioness seized the lower part of the two curtains, and without - raising her head, she crossed them in such a manner as to conceal the last - struggles of the dying man. - </p> - <p> - “Horror! horror!” murmured Marguerite. - </p> - <p> - “Let us kneel, and pray,” said Paul. - </p> - <p> - A moment of solemn and dreadful silence then ensued, which was only - interrupted by the last gasps of the dying man; these gasps became fainter - by degrees, and then ceased altogether. All was over; the old man was - dead. - </p> - <p> - The marchioness slowly raised her head, listened with intense anxiety for - some minutes, and then, without opening the curtains, passed her hand - between them, and after some effort, withdrew her hand again—she had - obtained the key. She then silently arose, and with her face still turned - toward the bed, walked to the closet. But at the moment she was about to - unlock it, Paul, who was observing all her movements, rushed into the - room, and seizing her by the arm, said—? - </p> - <p> - “Give me that key, my mother! for the marquis is dead, and those papers - now belong to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Justice of heaven!” exclaimed the marchioness, starting back with terror, - and falling into a chair, “justice of heaven! it is my son!” - </p> - <p> - “Merciful heaven!” murmured Marguerite, throwing herself upon her knees in - the outer room: “merciful heaven! he is my brother!” - </p> - <p> - Paul opened the closet, and took the casket which contained the papers. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Thou canst save me, - Thou ought’st! thou must! - I tell thee at his feet - I’ll fall a corse, ere mount his bridal bed! - Go choose betwixt my rescue and my grave. - - Knowles.—The hunchbach -</pre> - <p> - Notwithstanding the dreadful nature of the events which had occurred - during that fatal night, Paul had not forgotten the mortal defiance which - had been exchanged between himself and Lectoure. As that young gentleman - would probably not know where to find him, he thought it only decorous to - save Lectoure the trouble of seeking for him, and about seven in the - morning, Lieutenant Walter presented himself at the castle, being charged - on behalf of Paul to arrange the terms of the combat. He found Emanuel in - Lectoure’s apartment. The latter, on perceiving the officer, withdrew, and - went down into the park, that the two young men might more freely discuss - the matter. Walter had received from his commander directions to accede to - every thing that might be proposed. The preliminary terms were, therefore, - very speedily arranged; and it was agreed between them, that the meeting - should take place in the afternoon, at four o’clock. The place of - rendezvous the sea-side, near the fisherman’s hut, which was about - half-way between Port Louis and Auray castle. As to the weapons, they were - to bring their pistols and their swords; it would be decided on the spot - which they were to use, it being clearly understood that Lectoure, having - been the party insulted, should have the right to make his choice. - </p> - <p> - As to the marchioness, although in the first instance petrified by the - unexpected appearance of Paul, she soon recovered all her natural - firmness, and drawing her veil over her face, she withdrew from the - chamber, and walked across the outer room which had remained in darkness. - She did not, therefore, perceive Marguerite, who was kneeling in one - corner of it, mute from astonishment and terror. She after that crossed - the park, entered the castle, and repaired to the room in which the scene - of the contract had taken place. There, by the dying light of the wax - tapers, with both her elbows resting on the table, her head supported on - her hands, her eyes riveted to the paper to which Lectoure had already - affixed his name, and the marquis had signed the half of his, she passed - the remainder of the night reflecting upon a new determination. Thus she - awaited the coming day without even thinking of taking the least repose, - so powerfully did her soul of adamant support the body in which it was - enclosed. This resolution was to get Emanuel and Marguerite away from the - castle as speedily as possible, for it was from her children, most - especially, that she desired to conceal that which was about to take place - between Paul and herself. - </p> - <p> - Marguerite, who had been thus most unexpectedly present at the death-bed - of the marquis and of Achard, through which she had so providentially - discovered her mother’s secret, rushed into Paul’s arms immediately after - her mother’s departure from the cottage, exclaiming: - </p> - <p> - “Oh! now you are really my brother.” - </p> - <p> - Her tears choked further utterance, and it was some minutes before Paul - could tranquillize her agitated spirit, torn by so many and such - conflicting emotions. Paul then fearing that the marchioness might enquire - for her daughter, on her arrival at the castle, urged Marguerite to hasten - thither; and seeing she was still trembling at the recollection of the - many horrors she had witnessed, led her out of the cottage, of which he - locked the door, and accompanied her to within a few paces of the castle. - During this walk, Marguerite had in a certain degree, recovered her - composure. Paul stood gazing at her till he saw that she had safely - entered the court yard, and then returned to watch and pray beside the - body of his father’s faithful servant. - </p> - <p> - At seven o’clock, the marchioness hearing the noise occasioned by - Lieutenant Walter’s arrival at the castle, reached a bell which was - standing on the table and rang it. A servant presented himself at the door - in the grand livery he had worn the previous evening—it was easy to - perceive that he also had not been in bed. - </p> - <p> - “Inform Mademoiselle d’Auray, that her mother is waiting for her in the - drawing room,” said the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - The servant obeyed, and the marchioness resumed, gloomy and motionless, - her previous attitude. In a few minutes afterward, she heard a slight - noise behind her, and turned round. It was Marguerite. The young girl, - with more respect, perhaps, than she had ever before evinced, held out her - hand toward her mother, that she might give her her hand to kiss. But the - marchioness remained motionless, as if she had not understood the - intention of her daughter. Marguerite let fall her hand, and silently - awaited her mother’s pleasure. She also wore the same dress as the night - before. Sleep had hovered over the whole world, but had forgotten the - inhabitants of Auray castle. - </p> - <p> - “Come nearer,” said the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - Marguerite advanced one step. - </p> - <p> - “Why is it that you are thus pale and trembling,” continued the - marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” murmured Marguerite. - </p> - <p> - “Speak,” said the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “The death of my father—so sudden—so unexpected,” stammered - Marguerite; “indeed I have suffered so much this night.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on her - daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: “yes, the - young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves. The old - oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, Marguerite, - and suffered much. I have passed a dreadful night, and yet you see me calm - and firm.” - </p> - <p> - “God has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you - should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others. - You would destroy them.” - </p> - <p> - “And therefore is it,” replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall upon - the table, “that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is dead, - Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must - immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel.” - </p> - <p> - “I!” exclaimed Marguerite, “I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?” - </p> - <p> - “Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same - moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession of - the father.” - </p> - <p> - “My mother!” replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish, - “it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between - two ceremonies of so opposite a nature.” - </p> - <p> - “True piety,” rejoined the marchioness, “should lead us to fulfil the last - wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the first - letters of your father’s name.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! madam!” cried Marguerite, “allow me to ask you whether my father, - when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing, - was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own free - will?” - </p> - <p> - “Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle,” replied the marchioness, with that - imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all that - approached her. - </p> - <p> - “I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made him - thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as long as - they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the authority of - God. Now, God has ordained me to effect things terrible in themselves, and - I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!” - </p> - <p> - “Madam,” said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed - motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother was - so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; “madam! it is only - three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the feet - of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to - receive as my husband, and then at my father’s. Neither of them would or - could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened - their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, my - mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are best - capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I am about - to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, I would - make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I must also - sacrifice my son.—You are a mother, and I also, madam.” - </p> - <p> - “A mother!—a mother!” cried the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault——” - </p> - <p> - “Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a - mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam, - tell me—for you should better comprehend these things than I—tell - me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice - which speaks to our hearts—have not those to whom we have given - birth a voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each - other, to which ought we to obey?” - </p> - <p> - “You will never hear the voice of your child.” said the marchioness; “for - you will never again see him.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall never again see my son!” exclaimed Marguerite, “and who, madam, - can assert that positively?” - </p> - <p> - “He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is.” - </p> - <p> - “And should he some day discover it?” replied Marguerite; whose respect as - a daughter was giving way before her mother’s harshness; “if he should - then come to me and demand an account of his birth—and this may - happen, madam,”—she took up the pen—“and, with such an - alternative awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?” - </p> - <p> - “Sign it,” said the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “But,” observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers - upon the contract, “should my husband some day discover the existence of - this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong - committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and - without seconds—a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he - should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued by - a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of - reason—” - </p> - <p> - “Be silent!” cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror, - but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery - which dictated the words her daughter had employed: “be silent!” - </p> - <p> - “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, who had now said too much - to pause, “you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, and that - of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure myself with - a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my sight, and from - his, every living being, and that I should render my heart iron, that I - may no longer feel—that my eyes should never shed a tear! You would - have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, before my husband’s - death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty years before the - accustomed time?” - </p> - <p> - “Be silent! say not another word!” cried the marchioness, in a tone which - proved that menaces were giving way to fear: “be silent!” - </p> - <p> - “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, carried away by the - bitterness of her grief; “you would have me, then, in order that the - dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that I - should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician—you - would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that I - might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying.” - </p> - <p> - “Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!” again cried the - marchioness, wringing her hands. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” continued Marguerite, “tell me again, my mother, to sign - this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord will - be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited upon the - children, even to the third and fourth generations.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! my God! my God!” exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, “am - I not sufficiently humbled—am I not sufficiently punished?” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon! pardon! madam,” cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling by - the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; “I implore you to - forgive me.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter,” said the - marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, “you who have wrenched the - scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied the - lash even on your mother’s forehead.” - </p> - <p> - “Mercy! mercy!” reiterated Marguerite; “pardon me, my mother. I knew not - what I said. You had deprived me of reason—-I was mad!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! my God! my God,” said the marchioness, raising both her hands above - her daughter’s head, “Thou hast heard the words which have issued from my - daughter’s lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will forget - them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I have not - cursed her!” - </p> - <p> - She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, but - the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance so - fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite - dropped the skirt of her mother’s dress, and remained with arms - outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness had - disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon the - ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed that the - heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Be angry as - You will, it shall have scope; - Ah, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb - That carries anger, as the flint bears fire— - Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, - And straight is cold again. - And from henceforth - When you are over earnest with your brother, - He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so. - —Shakespeare -</pre> - <p> - Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent - manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had - not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who - had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together - with Count d’Auray, had received from his commander directions to make - every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not - meet Lectoure until the afternoon. - </p> - <p> - The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the time - arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, having - in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last found himself - in the position of the head of the family, his life belonged not to - himself, and that he had not the right to risk it. Moreover, as we have - seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; and Lectoure, who was - ignorant of the reason which could have induced his adversary to require - it, had acceded to it without much difficulty. - </p> - <p> - Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as soon - as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present himself to - the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle. - </p> - <p> - The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned - so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without - meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the - apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on - going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the floor. - </p> - <p> - On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of - consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must have taken - place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to Marguerite, - raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to give her air. The - state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more from a complete - prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; and therefore, as - soon as she felt that assistance was being rendered her, and with a - kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the person who had - thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and recognized her - brother, that living Providence, whom God had sent to sustain her every - time she felt she was about to succumb. - </p> - <p> - Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her - to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her - brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away by - the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her mother - to perceive that she knew all. - </p> - <p> - Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart of - the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and - anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had been - brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to one of - the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. Therefore, - compassionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to terminate - them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview he had come to - seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to the intentions of that - son, whose existence she was so unwilling to acknowledge, Marguerite, on - her side, wished to obtain her mother’s forgiveness; she, therefore, - undertook to inform the marchioness that the young captain waited her - orders. - </p> - <p> - Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece, - above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose - himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of the - last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the sovereign - arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly opened, and - Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On hearing the door - open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately perceiving the - young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal expression, which - reflected in his features the serenity of his soul. - </p> - <p> - Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as - politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence of - the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had awakened - to flush his features, and they instantly assumed a look of fierce - defiance. - </p> - <p> - “I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir,” said Emanuel, - placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from - Paul; “and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you; - for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have the - gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me that he - had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved me the - trouble I was about to take, in thus anticipating my desire.” - </p> - <p> - “I am happy,” replied Paul, “that my desire in this instance, although - probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously - chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here—what do you ask of me?” - </p> - <p> - “Cannot you divine even that, sir?” replied Emanuel, with increasing - agitation. “In that case—and you will allow me to express my - astonishment that it should be so—you are but ill-informed as to the - duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that you - put upon me.” - </p> - <p> - “Believe me, Emanuel,” rejoined Paul, in a calm tone— - </p> - <p> - “I yesterday called myself the count; to-day I call myself the Marquis - d’Auray,” said Emanuel, interrupting him with a gesture of haughtiness and - contempt; “and I beg, sir, that you will not forget it.” - </p> - <p> - An almost imperceptible smile passed over the lips of Paul. - </p> - <p> - “I was saying, then,” continued Emanuel, “that you but imperfectly - comprehend the feelings of a gentleman, if you believed that I would - permit another to take up, on my behalf, a quarrel which you came here to - seek. Yes, sir, for it is you who have thrown yourself across my path, and - not I who have sought you.” - </p> - <p> - “His lordship, the Marquis d’Auray,” said Paul, smiling, “forgets his - visit on board the <i>Indienne</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “A truce to your cavils, sir, and let us at once proceed to facts. - Yesterday, I know not from what strange and inexplicable feeling, when I - proposed to you that, which I will not say every gentleman, every officer, - but simply, any man of courage would instantly, and without hesitation, - have acceded to, you refused, sir, and evading my provocation, you went, - as it were, behind my back to seek an adversary, who, although not - precisely a stranger to the quarrel, yet good taste should have dictated - that he ought not to have been drawn into it.” - </p> - <p> - “Believe me, that in this, sir,” replied Paul, with the calmness and the - same candor of manner which had accompanied all he said; I was compelled - to yield to the exigency of the case, which did not leave me the choice of - an adversary. You had proposed a duel, which I could not accept, you being - my adversary, but which was perfectly indifferent to me with any other - person. I am too much habituated to encounters of this description, and to - encounters of a far more murderous and mortal nature, to consider an event - of this kind, but as one of the usual accidents of my adventurous life. - You will, however, please to remember that it was not I who sought this - duel; you, yesterday, proposed it to me; but, as I could not, I again - repeat it, appear as your antagonist, I selected M. de Lectoure, as I - would have done M. de Nozay or M. la Jarry, because he happened to be - there, within my reach—and because, if it were absolutely necessary - that I should kill some one, I preferred killing an useless and insolent - fop, rather than a good and honest country gentleman, who would consider - himself dishonored, did he but dream that he had entered into a bargain of - so vile and despicable a nature as that which the Baron de Lectoure has, - in reality, proposed to you.” - </p> - <p> - “‘Tis well, sir,” said Emanuel, jeeringly; “continue to constitute - yourself as the redresser of wrongs, to dub yourself the knight-errant of - oppressed princesses, and to shield yourself under the buckler of your - mysterious replies! As long as this antiquated quixotism does not come in - collision with my views, my interests, and my engagements, I will fully - permit it to wander over the whole earth, and ocean also, even from pole - to pole, and I shall merely smile at it as it passes by me; but whenever - this madness breaks out against me, as yours has done, sir; whenever, in - the intimate concerns of a family of which I am the head, I meet a - stranger, who orders as a master where I alone have the right to raise my - voice, I shall present myself before him, as I now do before you, should I - have the happiness to meet him alone as I do you, and then feeling - assured, that no one will come to interrupt us before I had obtained the - necessary explanation, I would say to him: ‘You have, if not insulted me, - at all events wounded my feelings, sir, by coming to my house, and - injuring me in my in-terests, and my family affections. It is then with - me, and not with another, that you ought to fight, and you shall fight - with me.’” - </p> - <p> - “You are mistaken, Emanuel,” replied Paul; “I will not fight, at all - events, with you; the thing is impossible.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! sir, the time of enigmas is gone by,” cried Emanuel, impatiently; “we - live in the midst of a world, in which at every moment we elbow a reality. - Let us, therefore, leave the poetical and the mysterious, to the authors - of romances and tragedies. Your presence in this castle has been marked by - circumstances too fatal to render it necessary to add that which is not, - to that which is. Lusignan returned, notwithstanding the order which - condemned him to transportation; my sister, who, for the first time, has - shown herself rebellious against the orders of her mother; my father, - killed by your mere presence: these are the disasters by which you have - been accompanied, which have heralded you from another hemisphere, and - have formed your funereal escort: for all this, you have to account to me; - therefore, speak, sir; speak as a man should to a man, in the broad - daylight, face to face, and not as a phantom gliding in the darkness, - which escapes under the cloud of night, letting fall some few solemn and - prophetic words, as if from the other world. Such things are well - calculated to terrify nurses and children! Speak, sir, speak! Look at me, - you will see that I am calm. If you have anything to reveal to me I will - listen to you.” - </p> - <p> - “The secret which you ask of me is not my own,” replied Paul, whose - perfect calmness strongly contrasted with the feverish excitement of - Emanuel; “believe what I have said, and do not insist farther. Farewell!” - </p> - <p> - After pronouncing these words, Paul moved toward the door. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried Emanuel, rushing between him and the door, to prevent his - passage; “you shall not leave me thus, sir! I have you now, we are alone - in this room, without fear of any interruption, into which, it was not I - that enticed you, but you have come here of your own free will. Therefore, - hearken to that which I am about to say. The person you have insulted is - myself! the person to whom you owe satisfaction is myself! - </p> - <p> - “The person with whom you have to fight is——” - </p> - <p> - “You are mad, sir,” tranquilly replied Paul; “I have already told you it - is impossible. Therefore, allow me to withdraw.” - </p> - <p> - “Take care, sir,” cried Emanuel, stretching out his hand to the box, and - taking out the pistols; “take care, sir. After having done every thing in - my power to compel you to act as a gentleman, I may treat you as a - brigand.—You are here in a house, in which you are a total stranger; - you have entered it, I know not how, nor for what purpose; if you have not - come into it to despoil us of our gold and jewels, you have entered it to - steal the obedience of a daughter to her mother, and to cancel the sacred - promise given by a friend to a friend. In one case or the other, you are a - violator, whom I have met at the moment that his hands were about to seize - a treasure; that treasure, is honor, the most precious of all riches! - Come, sir, believe me, you will do better to accept this weapon”—Emanuel - endeavored to thrust one of the pistols into Paul’s hand—“and defend - yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “You may kill me, sir,” replied Paul, again placing his elbow on the - chimney-piece, as if he were continuing an ordinary conversation; - “although I do not believe that God would permit so great a crime: but you - shall not force me to fight with you. I have before told you so, and I - repeat it.” - </p> - <p> - “Take the pistol, sir!” cried Emanuel, “take it, sir, I tell you! you - believe that the threat I am making is but a vain menace; undeceive - yourself! for three days have you fatigued my patience! for three days - have you filled my soul with gall and hatred! for three days have I - familiarised my mind with the idea of ridding myself of you; whether it be - by a duel or by murder! Do not imagine, that the dread of punishment - withholds my hand; this castle is isolated, mute, and deaf. The sea is - there; and before you could be even laid in the tomb, I should be in - England. Therefore, sir, for the last time, I say to you, take this pistol - and defend yourself.” Paul, without uttering a word, gently put the pistol - aside. - </p> - <p> - “Well then!” cried Emanuel, exasperated to the highest degree, by the - sangfroid of his adversary; “as you will not defend yourself like a man, - die like a dog!” And so saying, he raised the muzzle of the pistol to the - level of the captain’s breast. - </p> - <p> - At that moment a dreadful shriek was heard; it was Marguerite, who had - returned from her mother, and who had, at a glance, comprehended all that - had happened. She rushed upon Emanuel, and at that instant he fired the - pistol, but the direction of the ball having been changed by the young - girl’s striking up his arm, it passed two or three inches above Paul’s - head, and shattered the glass above the chimney-piece. - </p> - <p> - “My brother!” cried Marguerite, with one bound, springing to were Paul - stood, and throwing her arms around him: “my brother, are you not - wounded?” - </p> - <p> - “Your brother!” exclaimed Emanuel, letting fall the pistol which was still - smoking; “your brother!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Emanuel!” said Paul, with the same calmness which he had evinced - during the whole of this painful scene; “do you now comprehend why it was - I could not fight with you?” - </p> - <p> - At that moment, the marchioness appeared at the door, pale as a spectre, - for she had heard the report of the pistol; then looking around her with - an expression of infinite terror, and seeing that no one was wounded, she - silently raised her eyes to heaven, as if to ask if its anger was at - length appeased. She remained thus for some time in an attitude of mental - thanksgiving. When she again cast down her eyes, Emanuel and Marguerite - were on their knees before her, each holding one of her hands, and - covering it with tears and kisses. - </p> - <p> - “I thank you, my children,” said the marchioness, after a short silence; - “and now leave me with this young man.” - </p> - <p> - Marguerite and Emanuel bowed with an expression of the most profound - respect, and obeyed the command of their mother. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Oh! my mother! - You do not know the heart that you have pierced! - I—I—thy son—thine Arthur—I avenge? - Never on thee. - - Live happy—love my brother— - Forget that I was born. - Here, here—these proofs— - These—these! - - Oh! see you where the words are blistered - With my hot tears? - I wept—it was for joy— - I did not think of lands, of name, of birthright— - I did but think these arms should clasp a’ mother. - - Bulwer.—The Sea Captain. -</pre> - <p> - The marchioness closed the door as soon as they had withdrawn, advanced - into the middle of the room, and went without looking at Paul, and leaning - upon the arm-chair in which the marquis had the night before been seated - to sign the contract. There she remained standing, with her eyes cast upon - the ground. Paul for a moment experienced the desire to throw himself upon - his knees before her, but there was upon the features of the marchioness - such an expression of severity, that he repressed the yearnings of his - heart, and stood motionless awaiting her commands. After a few moments of - ice-like silence, the marchioness addressed him. “You desired to see me, - sir, and I have come to know your will—you wished to speak to me—I - am listening.” - </p> - <p> - These words were uttered without the marchioness making the least movement—her - lips trembled, rather than opened—it seemed a marble statue that was - speaking. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, madam,” replied Paul, in a tone of intense feeling, “yes, yes, I - desired to speak with you; it is long since first this desire was - cherished in my heart, and it has never left me. Recollections of infancy - preyed upon the mind of the grown man. I remembered a woman who would - formerly glide to my cradle, and in my youthful dreams, I thought her the - guardian angel of my infancy. Since that time, still so fresh in my - memory, although so distant, more than once, believe me, I have awakened - with a start, imagining that I had felt upon my forehead the impression of - a maternal kiss: and then seeing that there was no one near me, I would - call that person, hoping she would, perhaps, return. It is now twenty - years since first I thus had called, and this is the first time she has - replied to me. Can it have been as I have often fearfully imagined, that - you would have trembled at again beholding me? Can it be true, as I at - this moment fear, that you have naught to say to me?” - </p> - <p> - “And had I feared your return,” said the marchioness, in a hollow tone, - “should I have been to blame? You appeared before me only yesterday, sir, - and now the mystery which ought to have been concealed to all but God and - myself, is known to both my children.” - </p> - <p> - “Is it my fault that God has been pleased to reveal the secret to them? - Was it I that conducted Marguerite, despairing and in tears, to the - bedside of her dying father, whose protection she had gone to ask, and - whose confession she was compelled to hear? Was it I that led her to - Achard, and was it not you, madam, that followed her thither? As to - Emanuel, the report you heard, and that shattered glass, attest, that I - would have preferred death rather than to have saved my life at the - expense of your secret. No, no, believe me, madam, I am the instrument, - and not the hand; the effect, and not the cause. No, madam, it is God who - has brought about all this, that you might see at your feet, as you have - just now seen them, your two children whom you have so long banished from - your arms!” - </p> - <p> - “But there is a third,” said the marchioness, in a voice in which emotion - began to evince itself, “and I know not what I have to expect from him.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me accomplish a last duty, madam, and that once fulfilled, he will on - his knees await your orders.” - </p> - <p> - “And of what nature is this duty?” - </p> - <p> - “It is to restore his brother to the rank to which he is entitled, his - sister to that happiness which she has lost—to his mother that - tranquillity of mind, which she has so long sought in vain.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet, thanks to you,” replied the marchioness, “M. de Maurepas refused - to M. de Lectoure the regiment he had solicited for my son.” - </p> - <p> - “Because,” replied Paul, taking the commission from his pocket and laying - it on the table, “because the king had already granted it to me, for the - brother of Marguerite.” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness cast her eyes upon the commission, and saw that it was - made out in the name of Emanuel d’Auray. - </p> - <p> - “And yet you would give the hand of Marguerite to a man without name, - without fortune—and what is more, to a man who is banished.” - </p> - <p> - “You are mistaken, madam; I would give Marguerite to the man she loves. I - would give Marguerite not to the banished Lusignan, but to the Baron - Anatole de Lusignan, his majesty’s governor of the Island of Gaudaloupe—there - is his commission also.” The marchioness looked at the parchment, and saw - that in this instance, as in the former one, Paul had uttered but the - truth. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I acknowledge it,” she replied, “these will satisfy the ambition of - Emanuel, and confer happiness on Marguerite.” - </p> - <p> - “And at the same time, secures your tranquillity madam; for Emanuel will - join his regiment, and Marguerite will follow her husband. You will then - remain here alone, as you have, alas! so frequently desired.” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness sighed. - </p> - <p> - “Is not this all you desire, or have I deceived myself,” continued Paul. - </p> - <p> - “But,” said the marchioness, “how can I recall the promise given to the - Baron de Lectoure?” - </p> - <p> - “The marquis is dead, madam,” replied Paul; “is not the death of a husband - and a father a sufficient cause for the adjournment of a marriage?” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness, without replying, seated herself in the arm-chair, took a - pen and paper, wrote a few lines, folded the letter, and putting on the - address the name of the Baron de Lectoure, she rang the bell for the - servant. After waiting a few moments, during which time, both Paul and - herself remained silent, a servant came into the room. - </p> - <p> - “In two hours from this time, you will deliver this to the Baron de - Lectoure,” said the Marchioness. The servant took the letter and withdrew. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” continued the marchioness, looking at Paul, “now sir, that you - have done justice to the innocent, it remains to you to pardon the guilty. - You have papers which prove your birth, you are the elder—at all - events, in the eyes of the law. The fortunes of Emanuel and Marguerite are - yours by right. What do you require in exchange for these papers?” - </p> - <p> - Paul took them from his pocket, and showing them to the marchioness, said, - “Here are the documents, look at them—they are the letters you wrote - to my poor father—look here, they are moistened by my tears, for I - read them last night, while watching by Achard’s corpse.” Then approaching - the fire-place, he held them over the flaming wood, saying, “permit me - even but once to call you mother! call me but once your son, and——” - </p> - <p> - “Can it be possible!” exclaimed the marchioness, rising. - </p> - <p> - “You speak of name, of fortune,” continued Paul, with an expression of - profound melancholy; “what need have I of them. I have by my own sword - gained a rank which few men of my age have ever attained—I have - acquired a name which is pronounced with blessings by one nation, andi - with terror by another. I could, did it so please me, amass a fortune, - worthy of being bequeathed to a king. What, then, are your name your - fortune, and your rank, to me, if you have nothing else to offer me—if - you do not give me that which I have incessantly, and in every position of - my life most yearned for—that which I have not the power to create—which - God had granted to me, but which misfortune wrested from me—that - which you alone can restore to me—a mother!” - </p> - <p> - “My son!” exclaimed the marchioness, overcome at length, by his tears, and - supplicating accent, “my son! my son! my son!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” exclaimed Paul, letting the papers fall into the flames, which - speedily consumed them, “ah! that missed appellation has at length escaped - your lips—that tender name so long desired, and which I have so - unceasingly prayed to hear addressed to me. Merciful heaven! I thank - thee.” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness had fallen back into her chair, and Paul had thrown - himself upon his knees, his head leaning upon her bosom. At length the - marchioness gently raised him. - </p> - <p> - “Look at me!” she said; “for twenty years, this is the first tear that has - ever escaped my eyelids, give me your hand!”—she placed it upon her - heart—“for twenty years this is the first feeling of happiness with - which my heart has palpitated. Come to my arms! For twenty years this is - the first caress I have either given or received. These twenty years have - doubtless been my expiation, since God now pardons me, for he has restored - to me the power of weeping, of feeling joy, and has permitted me to - embrace my son. Thanks to G-od! and thanks to thee, my son!” - </p> - <p> - “My mother!” cried Paul, “my beloved mother!” - </p> - <p> - “And I trembled at the thoughts of seeing you again—I trembled when - I did see you—I knew not—I could not have imagined that such - feelings still existed in my heart. Oh! I bless thee! I bless thee!” - </p> - <p> - At that moment, the tolling of the chapel bell was heard: the marchioness - shuddered. The funeral hour had arrived. The bodies of the noble Marquis - d’Auray and that of the poor man Achard, were about to be returned to - earth at the same moment. - </p> - <p> - “This hour must be consecrated to prayer,” said the marchioness: “I must - now leave you.” - </p> - <p> - “I must sail to-morrow, my mother,” said Paul; “shall I not once more see - you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! yes, yes,” replied the marchioness, “we must meet again.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, my mother, this evening I shall be at the park gate. There is - a spot which is sacred to me, and to which I must pay a last visit. I - shall expect to meet you there. It is on that spot, my mother, that we - should say farewell.” - </p> - <p> - “I will be there,” said the marchioness. - </p> - <p> - “Here, my mother, here,” said Paul, “take these commissions: the one for - Emanuel, and the other for the husband of Marguerite. Let the happiness of - your children be conferred by yourself. Believe me, mother, you have - bestowed more on me than I on them.” - </p> - <p> - The marchioness retired to shut herself up in her oratory. Paul left the - castle, and proceeded toward the hut of the fisherman. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Hark! she has bless’d her son—I bid ye witness, - Ye listening heavens—thou circumambient air; - The ocean sighs it back—and with the murmur - Bustle the happy leaves. - - All nature breathes - Aloud—-aloft—to the Great Parent’s ear, - The blessing of the mother on her child. -</pre> - <p> - ON approaching the fisherman’s hut, the place appointed with Lectoure, - Paul perceived Lusignan and Walter, who were waiting for him. - </p> - <p> - Precisely at the hour agreed, Lectoure appeared on horseback; he had been - obliged to find his way as he best could, for he had no guide, and his own - servant was as much a stranger as himself in that part of the country. On - seeing him at a distance the young men came out of the hut. The baron - instantly put his horse into a gallop, to hasten to them. When within a - few paces of them he alighted from his horse, and threw the rein to his - servant. - </p> - <p> - “I trust you will pardon me, gentlemen,” said he, “that I should have - approached you thus alone, like a forsaken orphan; but the hour selected - by that gentleman,” he added, raising his hat to Paul, who returned the - salutation, “was precisely that fixed upon for the funeral obsequies of - the marquis; I have therefore left Emanuel to fulfil the duties of a son, - and have come here without a second, trusting that I had to deal with an - adversary generous enough to procure some friend of his own to aid me in - this dilemma.” - </p> - <p> - “We are entirely at your service, baron,” replied Paul; “here are two - friends of mine. Select which you please, and he who shall be honored by - your choice, will instantly become yours.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no preference, I swear to you,” said Lectoure; “please to - designate which of these two gentlemen you may desire should reader me - this service.” - </p> - <p> - “Walter,” said Paul, “be so good as to officiate as second to the baron.” - </p> - <p> - The lieutenant assented; the two adversaries again bowed to each other. - </p> - <p> - “And now, sir,” continued Paul, “permit me, before our respective seconds, - to address a few words to you, not of apology, but explanation.” - </p> - <p> - “At your own pleasure, sir, replied Lectoure. - </p> - <p> - “When I uttered the words which have been the cause of your coming hither, - the events which have since occurred at the castle were hidden in the womb - of time, and these events might have entailed the misery of a whole - family. You, sir, had on your side Madame d’Auray, Emanuel, and the - Marquis—Marguerite had but me alone. Every chance was, therefore, in - your favor. It was for this reason that I addressed myself directly to - you, for had I fallen by your hand from circumstances which must for ever - remain hidden to you, Marguerite could not have married you. If I had - killed you, the case would have been still more simplified, and requires - no commentary. - </p> - <p> - “This exordium is really most logical, sir,” replied the baron, smiling, - and tapping his boots with his riding-whip; “let us proceed, if you - please, to the main body of the discourse.” | - </p> - <p> - “Now,” continued Paul, bowing in sign of acquiescence, “every circumstance - has changed; the marquis is dead, Emanuel has received his commission, the - marchioness renounces your alliance, honorable as it may be, and - Marguerite marries the Baron Anatole de Lusignan, who, for that reason, I - did not name your second.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, “then that is the true meaning of the note - which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave the - castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an adjournment. - It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. ‘Tis well, sir, and now to - the peroration.” - </p> - <p> - “It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know - you—I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each - other, and with opposing interests—hence our collision. Then, as I - have before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make - sure of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my - death or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed - to the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank - it would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?” - </p> - <p> - “I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed so - long a journey,” replied Lectoure: “Not having the honor to espouse - Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, I should desire, at least, to have the - honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have - travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at your - orders, sir,” continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it saluting - his adversary. - </p> - <p> - “At your good pleasure, sir,” replied Paul, and replying to the salutation - in the same manner. - </p> - <p> - The two young men then advanced towards each other—their swords - crossed—at the third parry Lectoure’s sword was twisted from his - hand, and flew to a distance of twenty yards. - </p> - <p> - “Before taking sword in hand,” said Paul, “I had offered an explanation, - and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology.” - </p> - <p> - “And this time I will accept it, sir,” said Lectoure, in the same careless - and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. “Pick up my sword, - Dick.” - </p> - <p> - His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very tranquilly - put it into the scabbard. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” continued he, “if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for - Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell the king, sir,” replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing his - sword, “that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed against - the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my own - countrymen.” - </p> - <p> - And then the two young men again bowed to each other. Lectoure remounted - his horse, and at about a hundred paces from the sea shore, got into the - high road leading to Vannes, and galloped off; while his servant went to - the castle to get his travelling carriage, with which Lectoure had ordered - him to rejoin him speedily. - </p> - <p> - “And now, Mr. Walter,” said Paul, “you must send the long-boat to the - nearest creek to Auray castle, and have every thing in readiness to set - sail tonight.” - </p> - <p> - The lieutenant immediately set out for Port Louis, and Paul and Lusignan - returned into the fisherman’s hut. - </p> - <p> - During this time Emanuel and Marguerite had fulfilled the mournful duty to - which they had been summoned by the chapel bell. The body of the marquis - had been deposited in the emblazoned tomb of his ancestors, and Achard’s - in the humble cemetery outside the chapel, and then the brother and sister - repaired to their mother’s apartment. The marchioness delivered to Emanuel - the commission which he so anxiously coveted, and gave to Marguerite her - unexpected consent to her marriage with Lusignan. She then handed to - Marguerite the king’s sign manual appointing Lusignan governor of - Guadaloupe. And then, in order that the emotions which they experienced - should not be renewed, and which were the more poignant, because they were - concealed within their own breasts, for neither of them made any allusion - to past events, the mother and the children embraced each other for the - last time, each feeling the innate conviction that they should never meet - again. - </p> - <p> - The remainder of the day was occupied in the necessary preparations for - departure. Toward the evening the marchioness left the castle, to meet - Paul at the place which he had appointed. When passing through the - court-yard she perceived a carriage, with horses already attached to it, - standing on one side of it, and the young midshipman, Arthur, with four - sailors, on the other. Her heart was oppressed by the sight of this - two-fold preparation. She, however, passed on, and went into the park, - without giving way to her emotions, so much had her long-continued - restraint upon natural feelings given her the power of self-command. - </p> - <p> - However, when she had reached a small clearing, from which she could see - Achard’s house, she paused, for her knees trembled beneath her, and she - was obliged to lean for support against a tree, while she pressed her hand - to her breast to restrain the violent beatings of her heart. For there are - souls which present danger, however imminent, cannot cause to quail, but - which tremble at the remembrance of perils past; and the marchioness - recalled to mind the agonizing fears and emotions to which she had been - for twenty years a prey, and during which time she had daily visited that - house, now closed never again to be opened. She, however, soon overcame - this weakness, and reached the park gate. - </p> - <p> - There she again paused. Above all the trees rose the summit of a gigantic - oak, whose wide spreading branches could be discerned from many places in - the park. Often had the eyes of the marchioness remained riveted for hours - upon its verdant dome: but never had she dared to seek repose beneath its - shade. It was there, however, that she had promised to meet Paul, and - there Paul was awaiting her. At length she made a last effort, and entered - the forest. - </p> - <p> - From a distance she perceived a man kneeling upon the ground in the - attitude of prayer. She slowly approached him, and kneeling down by his - side, prayed also. When the prayer was concluded, they both rose, and - without uttering a word, the marchioness placed her arm around Paul’s - neck, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. After some moments’ silence, - they heard the noise of the wheels of a carriage at a distance. The - marchioness shuddered, and made a sign to Paul to listen; it was Emanuel - setting out to join his regiment. Shortly afterwards Paul pointed in a - direction opposite to that in which they had heard the noise, and showed - the marchioness a boat gliding rapidly and silently upon the surface of - the ocean; it was Marguerite going on board the frigate. - </p> - <p> - The marchioness listened to the noise of the receding wheels as long as - she could hear it, and followed with anxious eyes the movements of the - boat, as long as she could distinguish it; then she turned toward Paul, - and raising her eyes to heaven, for she felt that the moment was - approaching, when he, whom she was leaning upon, would, in his turn, leave - her, she exclaimed— - </p> - <p> - “May God bless, as I now bless, the duteous son, who was the last to leave - his mother.” - </p> - <p> - Saying these words, she threw her arms around his neck, pressed him - convulsively to her heart, and kissed him; then gazing at him intently, - she seemed to be scanning every outline of his face, and then, again, - rapturously embraced him. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she cried, “in every feature he is the living resemblance of my - poor lost Morlaix,” then for some moments she seemed to be absorbed in - thought; at last after a seemingly violent struggle, she continued, “Paul, - you have refused to accept any portion of that fortune to which you are - legally entitled, although you know the wealth of the Auray family is - unbounded—and that the fortune which I inherit in my own right, from - the family of Sablé, is very large.” Paul shook his head. “Well, then, - there is one thing that you must receive from your mother, as her parting - gift. It is twenty years since I have dared to look upon it, and yet I - have clung to its possession—it is your father’s portrait, presented - to me when I was authorized to receive it—when, by the assent of - both our families, he was to have become my husband—take it, my dear - son, for although it tears my heart to part with it, yet I feel that I - shall be more tranquil when it is in your possession—to no one but - yourself would I have given it. You will sometimes look upon it, and you - will think of your mother, who must now remain for ever isolated from the - world. But it is better that it should be so—henceforward all my - moments shall be spent in making my peace with Heaven.” - </p> - <p> - While saying these words, she had drawn from her pocket a case, which she - put into Paul’s hands, and which he had eagerly opened, and gazed with - intense interest at the features of his father. The miniature was richly - set in diamonds of great value. - </p> - <p> - Then summoning all her fortitude, the marchioness for the last time kissed - her son, who was kneeling before her, and tearing herself from his arms, - she returned alone to the castle. - </p> - <p> - The next morning the inhabitants of Port Louis vainly sought the frigate - they had seen only the evening before, and which for fifteen days had - remained at anchor in the outer roads of Lorient. As on the former - occasion, she had disappeared without their being able to comprehend the - cause of her arrival, or the motive of her so sudden departure. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - EPILOGUE. - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Last scene of all - That ends this strange, eventful history. -</pre> - <p> - Five years had elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have related. - The independence of the United States had been recognized; New York, the - last strong-hold of the English, had been evacuated. The roar of - cannon,-which had resounded in the Indian seas, as well as in the Gulf of - Mexico, had ceased to thunder. Washington, in the solemn meeting of - Congress of the 28th December, 1783, had resigned his commission as - general-in-chief, and had retired to Mount Vernon, his parental estate, - without any other recompence than that of being allowed to receive and - send letters free of charge; and the tranquillity which America had begun - to enjoy, had extended to the French colonies in the West Indies; for the - mother country having espoused the American cause, they had been several - times exposed to the hostile attempts of Great Britain. Among these - islands, Guadaloupe had been more particularly threatened, in consequence - of its military and commercial importance; but, thanks to the vigilance of - its new governor, the attempts of the enemy to land there had always - failed, and France had not to mourn over any serious discomfiture in this - important position, so that at the commencement of the year 1784, the - island, without being altogether denuded of warlike appearance, which was - maintained in it more from custom than from necessity, the inhabitants - generally had applied themselves anew to the cultivation of the numerous - products which form its riches. - </p> - <p> - If our readers will be pleased by a last effort of their complaisance, to - accompany us to the other side of the Atlantic, and land with us at the - port of Basseterre, we will conduct them amidst fountains which jet on - every side, through the street which leads to the promenade, called Champ - d’Arbaud; then, after having availed ourselves of the cool shade of the - tamarind trees, planted on each side of it, till we have proceeded about - two-thirds of its length, we will turn upon the left up a small beaten - road, which conducts to the gate of a garden, the upper part of which - commands a view of the whole town. - </p> - <p> - When we have arrived there, we will allow them for a few moments to inhale - the evening breeze, so refreshingly sweet after the mid-day heat of the - month of May, and they can cast a glance with us over the luxuriant - vegetation of the tropics. - </p> - <p> - With our backs turned to the woody and volcanic mountains, which divide - the western part of the island, and amid which arise, crowned with their - plumes of smoke and sparks, the two calcined pinnacles of the sulphur - mountain, we have at our feet, sheltered by the hills, which have been - named Bellevue, Mont-Désir, Beau Soliel, Espérance and Saint Charles, the - city gracefully descending towards the sea, the waves of which sparkling - with the last rays of the setting sun, laves its white walls. The horizon, - formed by the ocean, lying like a vast and limpid mirror, and to the right - and left, the most beautiful and richest plantation of the island; large - square fields of coffee trees, transplanted originally from Arabia, with - their knotty and flexible branches, covered with dark green glossy leaves, - of an oblong and pointed form, and bearing clusters of flowers as white as - snow; long rows of cotton plants, covering with a rich carpet of verdure, - the dry and stony soil, on which they thrive best, and among which we see, - like so many colossal ants, negroes occupied in reducing to two or three, - the thousand shoots which sprout out from each stalk. And then again, but - in more level and well sheltered spots, in which the soil is richer and - more argillaceous, we see plantations of cocoa trees, first introduced - into the West Indies by the Jew, Benjamin Dacosta, with their lofty trunks - and porous branches, covered with fawn colored bark, from which large - oblong leaves are pending, among which we see fresh shoots of a soft rose - color, which contrast strongly with the long, curved and yellow fruit, - which bends the branches with its weight. And further off, whole fields of - the plant, discovered at Tabaco, first brought to France by the Ambassador - of Francis II., who presented it to Catherine de Medicis, from which - circumstance it derived its name of <i>Herbe-a-là-reine</i>.* This did - not, however, prevent it from being, like every popular thing, in the - first instance, excommunicated and proscribed, in Europe and Asia, by the - two powers who then divided the world, proscribed by the Grand Duke of - Muscovy, Michael Fedorowich, by the Turkish Sultan Amurath IV., by the - Emperor of Persia, and excommunicated by Pope Urban VIII. Here and there, - we see springing up to a height of forty or fifty feet above all the - shrubs and plants, by which it is surrounded, the banana tree of Paradise, - of which, according to tradition, the oval leaves, seven or eight feet in - length, served to form the first garment of the first created woman. And - finally, elevated above all the rest, and standing forth pre-eminent, - whether hacked by the azure of the Heavens, or by the dark green tea, the - cocoa-nut and the palm-tree, those two giants of the Western Archipelago - graceful and prodigal, as is everything that is powerful. Figure to - yourselves, then these beautiful hills, intersected by seventy rivers, - eased in beds, ninety feet in depth; these mountains illuminated during - the day by a tropical sun, at night, by the volcano of the sulphur - mountain; that vegetation, which never is arrested, the new leaves of - which succeed the leaves which fall; this soil so salubrious, and air so - pure, that notwithstanding the insensate experiments that man, the real - enemy of himself, has made by transporting serpents from Martinique, and - Saint Lucie, it was found that they could neither live nor reproduce - there, and then judge after the sufferings they had endured in Europe, of - the happiness which Antole de Lusignan and Marguerite d’Auray must have - enjoyed there. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - * Queen’s Grass. -</pre> - <p> - To a life agitated by the passions, to that struggle of natural rights - against legal power, to that succession of scenes in which all earthly - pains, from childbirth even to death, had played their part, had succeeded - a life of pure delights, each day of which had passed on calmly and - tranquilly; the only clouds that darkened it, arose from that vague - uneasiness for distant friends, which as if borne upon the air, and which - contracts the heart like a painful presentiment. However, from time to - time, whether by newspapers, or by vessels, touching at the island, - Anatole and Marguerite had obtained some intelligence of the generous - being who had so powerfully served them as a protector; they had heard of - his victories; that after he had left them, he had been appointed to the - command of a small squadron, and had destroyed the English establishments - on the coast of Acadia, which had gained for him the title of commodore; - that, in an engagement with the <i>Serapis</i> and the <i>Countess of - Scarborough</i>, after a combat yard-arm to yard-arm, which lasted four - hours, he had obliged the two frigates to strike to him, and that finally, - as a reward for the services he had rendered to the cause of American - Independence, he had received the public thanks of Congress, who had voted - him a gold medal, and had selected him to command the frigate <i>America</i>, - to which that name had been given as being the finest in the service, and - the command of which had been conferred on him as the bravest of its - officers; but this splendid ship had been presented by Congress to the - King of France, to replace the <i>Magnifique</i>, which had been lost at - Boston. Paul Jones, after conducting this frigate to Havre, had joined the - fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil, who had projected an attack upon Jamaica. - This last intelligence had overjoyed the hearts of Lusignan and - Marguerite, for this enterprize would bring Paul into their latitude, and - they hoped at last they should soon see their brother and their friend; - but peace, as we have before said, had intervened, and from that time, - they had heard no more of the adventurous seaman. - </p> - <p> - In the evening of the day on which we have transported our readers from - the wild shores of Brittany to the fertile coast of Guadaloupe, the young - family were assembled in the very garden which we have entered, and which - commands a view of the immense panorama we have described; the foreground - of which is formed by the city, at its feet the ocean, studded with - islands in the distance. - </p> - <p> - Marguerite had promptly habituated herself to the soft listlessness of - Creole life; and her mind now tranquil and full of happiness, she gave - herself up to the <i>dolce far niente</i>, which renders the sensual - existence of the colonies a half sleep, the incidents of which appear as - dreams. - </p> - <p> - She was lying with her daughter in a Peruvian hammock, netted with the - silken fibres of the aloe, and ornamented with the most brilliant colored - plumes of the rarest tropical birds; her son was swinging her with a soft - and regular motion, and Lusignan was holding one of her hands between both - his. She was still pale, but delicate and graceful as a wild lily. Her - looks were vacantly wandering over the immense extent of ocean lying - before her, and she felt her soul and senses enraptured by all the bliss - which heaven can promise, and all the enjoyments which this earth can - offer. At that moment, and as if everything concurred to complete the - magic spectacle which every evening she came there to contemplate, and - which every succeeding evening she found still more marvellously - beautiful, there suddenly appeared, doubling the cape <i>Trois Pointes</i>, - and looking like an ocean king, a large vessel, gliding along the surface - of the sea without more apparent effort than a swan playing upon the - tranquil bosom of a lake. Marguerite was the first to perceive it, and - without speaking, for every action is a fatigue under that burning clime, - she made a sign with her head to Lusignan, who directed his looks to the - spot she had indicated, and then, like her, silently followed with his - eyes the rapid and graceful movements of the vessel. By degrees as she - approached, and as the elegant and delicate proportions of her masts - amidst the mass of sails which they sustained, could be discerned, which, - in the first instance, had seemed a cloud floating upon the horizon—they - began to discover in one corner of her flag the stars of America, equal in - number to the States they represent. One same idea shot instantly through - their minds, and they exchanged a glance, radiant with hope that they - were, perhaps, about to receive some news of Paul. Lusignan immediately - ordered a negro to bring a telescope: but before he had returned, a hope - still more delightful pervaded both their hearts. It appeared to Lusignan - and Marguerite that they recognized an old friend in the frigate that was - approaching. To persons, however, unaccustomed, it is so difficult to - distinguish, at a great distance, signs which speak at once to the eye of - an experienced seaman, that they did not yet dare to have faith in this - hope, and which, indeed, was more an instinctive presentiment than - positive reality. At last the negro brought the so much longed for - telescope. Lusignan uttered a cry of joy, and then handed it to - Marguerite: he had recognized the sculpture of Guillaume Costou, upon the - prow of the vessel, and it was really the <i>Indienne</i> which was - advancing towards Basseterre. - </p> - <p> - Lusignan raised Marguerite from the hammock and placed her on her feet, - for their first impulse was to hasten to the harbour; but then they - reflected that Paul had left the <i>Indienne</i> nearly five years, at the - time that his promotion entitled him to the command of a larger vessel, - and that she might now be under the orders of another captain, and they - paused with palpitating hearts and trembling limbs. During this time, - their son Hector had taken up the telescope, and placing it to his eye, - looked through it, and soon after exclaimed,—“Father, see there,—upon - the deck stands an officer, dressed in a black coat, embroidered with - gold, just like the one in the picture of my dear friend, Paul!” Lusignan - hastily snatched the glass from his son’s hands, looked through it for a - few moments, then again passed it to Marguerite, who, after directing it - toward the vessel, let it fall, and then they threw themselves into each - other’s arms; they had recognized their friend, who, as he was about to - visit them, had put on the dress which we have before said he had - generally worn. At this instant the frigate passed the fort, which it - saluted with three guns, and the fort returned the salute with an equal - number. - </p> - <p> - From the moment that Lusignan and Marguerite had acquired the certitude - that their friend and brother was actually on board the <i>Indienne</i>, - they had hastened down the mountain, followed by young Hector, towards the - port, leaving their little Blanche in the hammock. The captain had also - recognized them, so that at the moment they left the garden he had ordered - a boat to be lowered, and, thanks to the united strength of ten vigorous - oarsmen, he had rapidly glided over the distance between the anchorage - ground and the port, and had sprung upon the jetty at the instant that his - friends arrived there. Such sensations as then filled their breasts cannot - be expressed in words; tears are their only interpreter. And thus their - joy more closely resembled grief, for they all wept, even to the child, - who wept because he saw them weep. - </p> - <p> - After giving some orders relating to the vessel, the young commodore, with - his delighted friends, slowly ascended the hill down which they had rushed - so rapidly to meet him. Paul told them that the expedition of Admiral - Vaudreuil having failed, he had returned to Philadelphia, and peace having - been signed, as we have before mentioned, with England, the Congress, as a - token of gratitude, had presented him with the first ship he had commanded - as captain. - </p> - <p> - Upon hearing this, Lusignan and Marguerite experienced the most lively - joy, for they hoped that their brother had come with the intention of - taking up his abode with them; but the character of the young seaman was - too adventurous, and stood too much in need of excitement, to sink quietly - down into the monotonous and unvaried dulness of a life on shore. He - informed his friends that he had but eight days to remain with them, after - which he should seek in another quarter of the globe, to follow the - profession he had adopted. - </p> - <p> - These eight days passed by as rapidly as a dream, and notwithstanding the - reiterated entreaties of both Lusignan and Marguerite, Paul would not - consent to delay his departure even for twenty-four hours. He was still - the same ardent determined being, considering the execution of a - resolution he had once formed as a positive duty, and more austere with - regard to himself than toward others. - </p> - <p> - The hour of separation had arrived. Marguerite and Lusignan wished to - accompany the young commodore on board his ship; but Paul wished not to - prolong the grief of this leave-taking. When they reached the jetty he - embraced them for the last time, then jumped into his boat, which was - rowed away as swiftly as an arrow. Marguerite and Lusignan followed him - with their eyes until his boat had disappeared on the leeward side of the - frigate, and they sorrowfully reascended the hill to watch the ship’s - departure, from the same terrace from which they had before discerned its - arrival. - </p> - <p> - At the moment they reached it, they observed that activity and bustle on - board the frigate which always precede the departure of a vessel. The - sailors had surrounded the capstan, and were employed in getting up the - anchor, and thanks to the pureness of the atmosphere, the sonorous and - lively cries of the seamen reached the ears of Lusignan and Marguerite; - the anchor was soon apeak, and they saw it rising slowly under the ship’s - bows; then the sails dropped successively from the yards, from the royals - to the courses, and the ship, seemingly endowed with an instinctive and - animated feeling, gracefully turned her prow toward the harbour’s mouth, - and beginning to move, cut through the waves with an easy motion, as if - merely gliding upon their surface. Then, as if the frigate might be - abandoned to her own will, they saw the young commodore spring upon the - stern rails, and devote all his attention to the land he was thus leaving. - Lusignan took out his handkerchief and made a signal, to which Paul - replied. And then, when they could no longer perceive each other with the - naked eye, they had recourse to their telescopes, and, thanks to this - ingenious invention, they retarded the separation for another hour. They - all felt a presentiment that this separation would be eternal. - </p> - <p> - The vessel gradually diminished upon the horizon, and darkness was about - to cover the heavens, when Lusignan ordered a quantity of wood to be - brought upon the terrace, to form a beacon fire, which was instantly - ignited, in order that Paul, whose vessel was nearly enshrouded in the - darkness, might continue to fix his eyes upon that spot until he had - doubled Cape Trois Pointes. Lusignan and Marguerite had for an hour lost - sight of the ship, while Paul, thanks to their large brilliant fire, might - still perceive them, when a bright flame, like to a flash of lightning, - appeared on the horizon, and in a few seconds the report of a gun, similar - to the prolonged sound of distant thunder, reached their ears, and all - again was silent. Lusignan and Marguerite had received Paul’s last - farewell. - </p> - <p> - And now, although the domestic drama which we had undertook to relate, - has, in fact, terminated here, some of our readers may, perhaps, have felt - sufficient interest in the young adventurer, of whom we have made the hero - of this story, to follow him in the second part of his career; to these - then, after thanking them for the kind attention they have been pleased to - grant to us, we are about to recount truly and plainly, facts which a most - minute research have enabled us to lay before them. - </p> - <p> - At the period we have reached, that is to say, in the month of May, 1784, - the whole of Europe had fallen into that state of torpor, which unthinking - men imagined to be tranquillity, but which minds more profound, regarded - as the dull and momentary calm that precedes the tempest. America, by - obtaining her independence, had prepared France for her revolution. Kings - and people, mistrustful of each other, were upon their guard. Peter III., - who had become odious to the Russians, in consequence of his ignoble - character, the narrowness of his political views, and above all, for his - excessive leaning to Prussian manners, and Prussian discipline, had been - deposed without opposition, and strangled without a struggle. Catherine - had thus found herself, at the age of thirty-two, mistress of an empire - which extended over one-seventh part of the globe; her first care was to - compel the neighbouring powers to accept her as a mediatrix in their - quarrel, and thus become do-pendent upon her. Thus, had she obliged the - people of Courland to drive from them their new Duke, Charles of Saxony, - and to recall Biren; she had sent her ambassadors and her armies to - Warsaw, there to have crowned by the name of Stanislaus Augustus, her - former lover, Poniatowski; she had formed an alliance with England; she - had associated to her policy the Courts of Vienna and Berlin; and - notwithstanding all these great projects of foreign policy, she had not - neglected the internal government of her own country, and in the interval - of her amours, so fickle and so various, she still found time to reward - industry, to encourage agriculture, to reform the laws, to raise a navy, - to send Pallas into provinces the productions of which were till then - unknown—Blumager into the northern Archipelago, and Bel-lings into - the Indian ocean; in fine, jealous of the literary reputation of her - brother, the King of Prussia, she wrote with the same hand that had - ordered the erection of a new city, signed the order for the execution of - young Ivan, and the dismemberment of Poland, <i>The Refutation of the - Journey into Siberia</i>, by the Abbé Chappe, a romance of the Czarowich - Chlose, several plays, among which was a translation into French of Oleg, - a drama, written by the Russian poet, Dersehawin, so that Voltaire - proclaimed her the Semiraris of the North, and the King of Prussia, in his - letters, classed her between Solon and Lycurgus. - </p> - <p> - The effect produced amid this voluptuous and chivalric court by the - arrival of such a man, as our adventurous seaman, can readily be imagined. - The reputation for courage, which had rendered him the terror of the - enemies of France and America, had preceded him to the court of Russia, - and in exchange for his frigate, which he presented to Catherine, he - received the rank of Rear-Admiral. Then the flag of Russia, after having - navigated round one-half the old world, appeared in the Grecian seas, and - beneath the ruins of Lacedemon and the Parthenon, he, who had assisted in - establishing the independence of America, dreamt of the re-establishment - of the Republics of Sparta and of Athens. The old Ottoman empire was - shaken to its foundations, the defeated Turks signed a treaty of peace at - Kainardji. Catherine retained Azof, Taganrog, and Kenburr, and Kenburn, - compelled the Turks to grant to her the free navigation of the Black Sea, - and the independence of the Crimea; she then desired to visit her new - possessions. Paul, recalled to St. Petersburgh, accompanied her on this - journey, the route of which had been drawn up by Potemkin. During the - whole of it, all the attributes of triumph were offered to the conquering - Empress and her suite; bonfires were lighted all along the road, cities - were illuminated with the most fairy-like brilliancy, magnificent palaces - erected, as if by magic, for one day, amid desert countries, and which the - next morning disappeared; villages, rising as if beneath the wand of an - enchanter, in solitudes, in which eight days before the Tartars fed their - flocks; towns appearing on the horizon of which there existed but the - exterior walls; in every direction, homage, and songs of welcome, and - dances of the people: during the day, a numerous population crowded the - road, and at night, while the Empress was sleeping, they would run to - station themselves in the way she was to proceed on waking the following - morning: a king and emperor rode by her side, calling themselves not her - brothers, not her equals, but her courtiers; finally, a triumphal arch was - erected at the last halt she was to make on her journey southward, bearing - the inscription—“<i>This is the road to Byzantium,</i>” which if it - did not reveal the ambition of Catherine, demonstrated at least, the - policy of Potemkin. Then Russia became strengthened in her tyranny, as - America had in her independence. Catherine offered to her Admiral places - which would have more than satisfied the rapacity of a courtier, honors - which would have overwhelmed the ambitious, estates which would have - consoled a deposed king for the loss of his dominions; but it was the deck - of his ship, it was the sea with its combats and its tempests, it was the - boundless immensity of ocean for which yearned the heart of our - adventurous and poetic seaman. He, therefore, left the brilliant court of - Catherine, as he had left the austere Congress of America, and returned to - France to seek that, which he could not find elsewhere, that is to say, a - life of excitement, enemies to combat, a people to defend. Paul arrived in - Paris in the midst of our European wars and civil struggles; while, with - one hand, we were seizing a foreign enemy by the throat, with the other, - we were tearing our own entrails. That king, whom he had seen ten years - before, beloved, honored, powerful, was then a captive, despised and - strengthless. All that had been exalted was abased, and great names fell - as did high-born heads.—It was the reign of equality, and the - guillotine was the levelling instrument. Paul inquired after Emanuel, and - was told that he was proscribed. He asked what had become of his mother, - and was informed that she was dead. Then he felt an irresistible longing - to revisit once again, before he himself might die, the spot on which, - twelve years before, he had experienced emotions at once so sweet and - terrible. He set out for Brittany, left his carriage at Vannes, and - mounted on horseback, as he had done on the first day he had seen - Marguerite; but he was no longer the young and enthusiastic seaman, whose - desires and hopes had no horizon; he was a man bereft of all those, - brilliant illusions, for he had tasted of all, whether weet or bitter, had - learnt to appreciate all, both men and things; had known all, glory and - oblivion. Therefore, did he not come to search a family, but to visit - tombs. - </p> - <p> - When he came within sight of the castle, he turned his eyes toward - Achard’s house, and not being able to discover it, he thought he would go - into the forest, but the forest seemed to have vanished as by enchantment. - It had been sold as national property to twenty-five or thirty farmers of - the neighbourhood, who had cleared off the timber, and transformed it into - a large plain. The gigantic oak had disappeared, and the plough had passed - over the unknown grave of the Count de Morlaix, and the eyes of his son - even, could no longer recognize the spot. - </p> - <p> - Then he returned through the park toward the castle, now become even more - gloomy and desolate than when he had last seen it. In it he found only an - old man, a living ruin amidst these ruins of the past; it was at first - intended to have pulled down the mansion, but the reputation for holiness - which the marchioness had left behind her, was regarded with such - religious veneration throughout the country, that the old walls, which for - four centuries had been the abode of her ancestors, remained undesecrated. - Paul went through the apartments, which for three years had remained - closed, and which were now open for him. He walked through the portrait - gallery; it was in the same state as he had formerly seen it; no pious - hand had added to the portrait either of the marquis or the marchioness. - He went into the study in which he had been concealed—found a book - lying in it which he had opened and placed upon the very spot on which he - found it, and read the same passages which he had read so many years - before. He then pushed open the door which communicated with the contract - chamber, where had passed the chief scenes of that drama in which he was - the principal actor. The table was still in the same place and the - Venetian looking-glass over the chimney-piece was there, shattered as it - had been by the ball of Emanuels pistol. - </p> - <p> - Paul advanced to the fire-place, and placing his elbow on the marble - mantle-piece, questioned the servant as to the last years of the - Marchioness. - </p> - <p> - The account he received shewed that she had remained austere and - melancholy, as was her wont. Remaining secluded and alone at the castle, - her hours were uniformly spent in three different places: her oratory, the - vault in which the body of her husband had been buried, and the spot - sheltered by the oak tree, at the foot of which her lover had been - interred. For eight years after the evening on which Paul had taken leave - of her, she had been seen to wander amid the old corridors of the castle, - and in the gloomy avenues of the Park, slow and pale as a spectre; then a - disease of the heart, engendered by the agonies she had suffered, declared - itself, and she daily became weaker. At length, one evening, when her - failing strength no longer permitted her to walk, she had ordered the - servants to carry her to the foot of the oak tree, her favorite walk, that - she might once more see, she said, the sun setting in the ocean. When they - had reached the spot, she desired the servants to withdraw, and to come - back to her in half an hour. On their return they found her lying fainting - on the ground. They immediately bore her to the castle, but having - recovered her senses on the way, she ordered them, instead of conducting - her to her own room, which they usually did, to take her down into the - family vault. There she had still strength enough to kneel upon the tomb - of her husband, and made a sign that she desired to be left alone. However - imprudent their doing so might be, the servants elbow on the marble - withdrew, for she had accustomed them to obey her in every thing at the - first intimation of her will. They, however, remained at a short distance, - concealed behind the corner of a tomb, that they might be ready to render - her assistance, should it be necessary. In a few minutes they saw her fall - down upon the stone on which she had been praying; they rushed forward, - imagining that she had again fainted. She was dead. - </p> - <p> - Paul requested the old servant to conduct him into the vault, and slowly - entered it with uncovered head; and when he had reached the stone which - covered the grave of his mother, he knelt down and prayed. On the - monumental stone were inscribed the following words, and which may still - be seen in one of the chapels of the church of the small town of Auray, to - which it has since been removed. The inscription had been written by the - marchioness herself, and she had desired that it should be placed upon her - tomb. - </p> - <p> - “Here lies the very noble and very puissant lady Marguerite Blanche de - Sablé, Marchioness of Auray; born the 2nd of August 1729—died the - 3rd September, 1788. - </p> - <p> - “Pray for her and for her children.” - </p> - <p> - Paul raised his eyes to heaven, with an expression of infinite gratitude, - His mother, who during her life, had for so long a time forgotten him, had - remembered him in her funeral inscription. - </p> - <p> - Six months after this visit, the National Convention decreed, in solemn - sitting, that they would attend in a body the funeral procession of Paul - Jones, formerly a commodore in the American navy, and whose burial was to - take place in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise. - </p> - <p> - They had come to this decision, said the decree, in order to consecrate - the establishment of <i>religious freedom throughout France</i>. - </p> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL *** - -***** This file should be named 41222-h.htm or 41222-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/2/2/41222/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Captain Paul - -Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -Release Date: October 29, 2012 [EBook #41222] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -CAPTAIN PAUL - -By Alexandre Dumas, Pere - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - -The admirers of "The Pilot," one of the most magnificent of Cooper's -novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves -have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether -lose sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such -intense interest, through the narrows of the Devil's Grip, and the -Cloisters of St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and -in the actions of this person, introduced in the first place by the name -of John, and afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a -grief so bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every -reader desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so -brave and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have -more than once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of -it, it might have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for -information regarding the early career and closing years of this -adventurous seaman--information which we have vainly searched for in his -narrative. I thought that such a request would be readily forgiven by -him to whom it was addressed, for it would have been accompanied by the -expression of the most sincere and ardent admiration of his work; but I -was restrained by the reflection that the author himself, perhaps, knew -no more of that career, of which, he had given us but an episode, than -that portion of it which had been illuminated by the sun of American -Independence: for, in fact, this brilliant meteor had passed from the -clouds which environed his birth to the obscurity of his death in such -a manner, that it was quite possible the "poet historian," being far -distant from the place where his hero was born, and from the country in -which he died, knew no more of him than what he has transmitted to us. -The very mystery which surrounded him, may have been the cause of -his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals. Urged by these -considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own research, those -details which I had so often desired to receive from others. I searched -through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was a copy of the -letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined the annals of -the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at the time of -his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that he was -buried in the cemetery of Pere la Chaise. This was all the information I -could gather from my first attempts. - -I then consulted our living library--Nodier, the learned--Nodier, the -philosopher--Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few moments, he -mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself, containing memoirs -of his life, bearing this motto, "Munera sunt Laudi." I started off -to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched through -libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls--all that I could find was an -infamous libel, entitled, "_Paul Jones, ou Prophetie sur l'Amerique, -l'Angleterre, la France, l'Espagne et la Hollande_" which I threw from -me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page, marvelling -that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved, whilst -we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food--I therefore -renounced all hope in this quarter. - -Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having -started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l'Orient. Upon -my arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography -of Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that -port. This circumstance had struck me--I had noted down the dates, and -had only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval -archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which -the two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of -thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming -there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept -the register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office -without further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk -who was sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in -the country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me -that in 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office -at Havre, had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore -in the fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this -officer, and his extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression -upon him, that upon his, the clerk's, return to Brittany, he spoke of -him to his father, who then had charge of the Chateau d'Auray. Upon -hearing the name of Paul Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to -him to be silent--the young man obeyed, though not without astonishment. -He frequently afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he -always refused to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death -of the Marchioness d'Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and -the dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt -himself permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious -history, in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly -blended. Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father -had related that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression -upon him that he repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for -word. - -I have treasured up this history in the recesses of my memory for nearly -seven years: and it would have still remained buried there, with a mass -of other recollections, destined never to see the light, had I not about -six months ago read "The Pilot" for the second time, and even with much -greater interest than before; for, thanks to the researches I had made, -the hero was no longer to me an unknown being, appearing only for an -instant, his face but partially visible, and with merely the portion -of a name; he had now become a friend, almost a brother, to me--for -new sympathies had been awakened in my heart besides those which had -formerly been inspired by the recital of the expedition to Whitehaven. -These led me to reflect that whatever of interest and disappointment -I had experienced on reading' Cooper's novel, they must have been -entertained alike by others, and that the anxious desire I had felt -to know more of the former lover of Alice Dunscombe was not a feeling -peculiar to myself, but would be participated by all those, and their -number must be great, who have followed this skilful seaman from the -moment of his first meeting Lieutenant Barnstaple on the English cliffs, -until that in which he quitted the Alert to land on the shores of -Holland. - -I have, therefore, gathered up my recollections, and have written this -history. - - - - -CAPTAIN PAUL. - - - -CHAPTER I--A STRANGE SAIL - - Hoarse o'er her side the rustling cable rings- - The sails are furled--and anchoring, round she swings; - And gathering loiterers on the land discern - Her boat descending from the latticed stern. - 'Tis mann'd--the oars keep concert to the strand, - Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.--Byron. - - -Toward the close of a fine evening in the month of October, 1779, the -most inquisitive among the inhabitants of the small town of Fort Louis, -had assembled on the point of land immediately opposite to that on which -stands the city of Lorient. The object which attracted their attention, -and which was the subject of their inquiries, was a noble beautiful -frigate, carrying 32 guns, which had been anchored for about a week, not -in the port, but in a small cove in the roadstead, and which had been -perceived for the first time early one morning, like an ocean flower -which had suddenly blossomed during the night. From the elegant and -coquettish appearance of this frigate, it was imagined that this was -the first time of her putting to sea; she bore the French flag, for the -three golden _fleur-de-lis_ were seen glittering in the last rays of the -setting sun. - -That which, above all, appeared to excite the curiosity of the -admirers of this spectacle, so frequent, and notwithstanding, always so -interesting in a seaport, was the uncertainty as to the country in which -this vessel had been built; for, having all her sails clewed up and -snugly stowed around her yards, showed in the setting sun the graceful -outline of her hull, and a minute elegance as to her running rigging. -Some thought they could discern in her the bold and taunt masts used -by the Americans, but the perfection exemplified in the finish which -distinguished the rest of her construction, was in perfect contrast with -the barbarous rudeness of those rebellious children of England. Others, -deceived by the flag she had hoisted, were endeavouring to divine in -what port of France she had been launched, but their national pride soon -gave way to the conviction that she was not built in France, for they -sought in vain for those heavy galleries, ornamented with sculpture, -which is the compulsory decoration of the stern of every daughter of -the ocean, or of the Mediterranean, born on the stocks of Brest or of -Toulon; others, again, knowing that the flags were frequently used as a -mask to hide the real face, maintained that the lion and the towers of -Spain would have more properly been placed upon the ensign waving from -her peak, than the three _fleur-de-lis_ of France: but the latter were -asked whether the straight and elegant sides and quarters of the frigate -all resembled the bulging build of Spanish galleons. In short, there -were some among them who would have sworn that this beautiful fairy of -the waters had been brought to life among the frogs of Holland, had not -the dangerous boldness of her masts and rigging fully contradicted -the suggestion that she could have been built by those old but prudent -sweepers of the seas. But, as we have said, for eight whole days, and -ever since the first appearance of this splendid vision upon the -coast of Brittany, she had been the constant theme of wonder and -of conversation, for nothing had happened to give them any positive -information, as not an individual from the crew had landed from the -ship, under any pretext whatever. They might, indeed, have doubted -whether she had a crew or not, had not they now and then seen the -head of a sentinel, or of the officer of the watch, peering above the -bulwarks. It appeared, however, that this vessel, although she had not -communicated with the shore, could not have any hostile intention; -her arrival had not seemed to give the least uneasiness to the public -authorities of Lorient, for she had run under the guns of a small fort, -which the recent declaration of war between England and France had -caused to be put in order, and which displayed a battery of long guns of -heavy calibre. - -Among this crowd of idlers, however, there was a young man, who was -remarked for the anxious eagerness of his inquiries:--without any one -being able to devise the cause, it was easily perceived that he felt -some direct interest in this mysterious vessel. His brilliant uniform -was that of the _mousquetaires_, and as these royal guards rarely -left the capital, he had, at first, directed a portion of the public -curiosity to himself, but it was soon discovered that this person, whom -they thought a stranger, was the young Count d'Auray, the last scion of -one of the most ancient families of Brittany. The castle inhabited by -his family rose above the shores of the Golf of Morbihan, at six or -seven leagues, distance from Fort Louis. The family consisted of the -Marquis d'Auray, a poor insane old man, who for twenty years had never -been seen beyond the boundaries of his estates; of the Marchioness -d'Auray, whose rigid morality, and whose ancient nobility, could alone -excuse her haughty and aristocratic bearing; of the young Marquerite, a -sweet girl of seventeen or eighteen years of age, delicate and pale -as the flower whose name she bore; and of Count Emanuel, whom we have -mentioned above, and around whom the crowd had gathered, carried away, -as it always is, by a sounding title, a brilliant uniform, and noble and -lordly manners. - -However eager might have been the desire of those he addressed to -satisfy his curiosity, they could only answer his questions in a -vague and undecided manner; all they knew of the frigate being mere -conjecture. The count was about retiring from the jetty, when he -perceived a six-oared boat approaching it. At a moment when curiosity -had been so much excited, this incident could not fail to attract all -eyes. In the stern of the boat sat a young man, who appeared to be from -twenty to twenty-two years of age, and who was dressed in the uniform of -a lieutenant of the royal navy--he was sitting, or rather lying, upon a -bearskin, one hand reclining carelessly on the tiller of the small -boat, while the coxswain, who, thanks to the caprice of his officer, -had nothing to do, was sitting in the bow. From the moment that it -first made its appearance, every eye was directed towards it, as if it -contained the means of solving the mystery which had so much puzzled -them. The boat, urged on by the last efforts of its oarsmen, took the -ground at eight or ten feet distance from the beach, there being too -little water in that place to allow it to come nearer. Two of the -sailors jumped into the sea up to their knees. The young lieutenant then -rose up in a careless way, walked to the bow of the boat, and allowed -the two sailors to carry him in their arms to the beach, so that not a -drop of salt water should soil his elegant uniform. He then ordered his -men to double the point of land which advanced about three hundred feet -into the sea, and to go and wait for him on the opposite side of the -battery. As for himself, he stopped a moment on the beach to arrange his -dress, which had been a little disordered by the rough mode of transport -he had been compelled to adopt, and then he advanced, humming a French -air, towards the gate of a small fort, which he passed, after having -slightly returned the military salute of the sentinel on duty. - -Although nothing could, in a seaport, be more natural than that a naval -officer should cross the roads and walk into a fort, the minds of the -lookers-on had been so much occupied with the foreign vessel, that there -was hardly one among the crowd who did not imagine that this visit to -the commandant of the fort had some relation to her, so that when the -young officer issued from it, he found himself surrounded so closely by -the crowd, that for a moment he appeared half inclined to use the rattan -which he carried in his hand, to make way through it. However after -having flourished it with impertinent affectation above the heads of -those who were nearest him, he appeared all at once to change his -mind, and perceiving Count Emanuel, whose distinguished appearance, -and elegant uniform, contrasted strikingly with the vulgar air and -habiliments of the persons who surrounded him, he made a few steps -towards him at the same moment that the count had advanced to meet him. -The two officers merely exchanged a rapid glance, but that look at -once assured both that they were persons of rank and station. They -immediately saluted each other with that easy grace and affable -politeness which characterized the young nobility of that period. - -"By Heaven!" exclaimed the young midshipman; "my dear countryman, for I -suppose that like myself you are a Frenchman, although I meet you in -a seemingly hyperborean land, and in regions which, if not absolutely -savage, appear sufficiently barbarous--will you have the goodness to -tell me what there is so extraordinary about me, that I seem to cause -quite a revolution in the country? Or is the appearance of an officer of -the navy an event so rare and so extraordinary at Lorient, that his mere -presence excites, in so singular a degree, the curiosity of the natives -of Lower Brittany? By solving this mystery, you will render me a service -which I shall be happy to reciprocate, should any opportunity present -itself in which I can be useful to you." - -"This will be so much the more easy," replied Count Emanuel, "as -this curiosity is not founded in any feeling which you would consider -offensive to your uniform or hostile to your person--and the proof of -this is, my dear comrade--for I see by your epaulettes that we are of -equal rank in the service of his majesty--that I participate with these -honest Britons in the curiosity which they evince, although, perhaps, -my motives are more weighty than theirs, in endeavouring to obtain a -solution of the problem which has occupied us." - -"If I can be of any assistance to you, in the inquiries which you have -undertaken, I place all the algebra I possess at your disposal. Only the -position we are in is not a comfortable one to carry out mathematical -demonstrations. Will it please you to remove to a small distance from -these honest people, whose presence would only tend to confuse our -calculations." - -"Certainly," replied the mousquetaire, "and the more readily, as, if I -do not deceive myself, by walking this way I shall lead you nearer -to your boat and your sailors." - -"Oh! that is not of the slightest consequence; should this path not be -convenient to you we can take another. I have plenty of time; and my men -are less eager to, return on board than I am. Therefore, we will about -ship, if such is your good pleasure." - -"Not at all; on the contrary, let us go on, the nearer we are to -the beach the better we can discuss the matter in question. Let us, -therefore, walk upon this strip of land as far as we can." - -The young seamen, without replying a word, conti-nued to walk on, like a -man to whom the direction he was to take was perfectly indifferent, and -these two young men, who had thus met for the first time, walked arm in -arm, as though they had been friends from infancy, towards the end of -the promontory. When they had reached the extreme point, Count Emanuel -paused, and pointed towards the frigate, saying, "Do you know what ship -that is?" - -The young seaman threw a rapid and scrutinizing glance upon the -mousquetaire, and then looked towards the ship: "Yes," replied he, -negligently, "it is a pretty frigate carrying two and thirty guns, with -her sails bent and her starboard anchor atrip, ready to sail at the -first signal given." - -"Excuse me," replied Emanuel, smiling; "that is not what I ask of you. It -signifies little to me how many guns she carries, or by what anchor she -is holding--is not that your technical mode of speaking?" - -The lieutenant smiled: in turn. "But," continued Emanuel, "what I wish -to know is, to what nation she actually belongs, the port, that she is -bound to, and the name of her captain." - -"As to the nation she belongs to," replied the lieutenant, - -"She has taken care to give us that information herself, or she is, an -outrageous liar; Do you not see her flag flying from her peak? It is the -flag without a stain, rather worn out from being too much used that's -all. As to the place she is bound to, it is as the commandant of the -fort told you, when, you asked him,--Mexico." Emanuel looked with -astonishment at the young lieutenant. "And finally, as to her captain, -that is a much more difficult matter.. There are some people who would -swear he is a young man about my own age or yours, for; I, believe we -left the cradle pretty closely the one after, the other, although the -professions we follow may place a long interval between our graves. -There are others who pretend he is of the same age with my uncle the -Count d'Estaing, who as you doubtless know, has just been made an -admiral, and who is at: this moment affording every assistance to the -rebels of America, as some people, even in France, still call them. -But, in short, as to his name, that is quite another thing; it is said -he does not know it himself; and until some fortunate occurrence shall -apprise him of it, he calls himself Paul." - -"Paul?" - -"Yes, Captain Paul." - -"Paul, what?" - -"Paul, of the _Providence_, of the _Banger_, of the _Alliance_, -according to the name of the ship he commands. Are there not also in -France some of our young nobles, who, finding their family name too -short, lengthen it out by the name of an estate, and surmount the whole -with a knight's casque, or a baron's coronet: so that their seals or -their carriages bear the evidence of belonging to some ancient family, -quite delightful to reflect upon? Well! so it is with him. At this -moment he calls himself, I believe, Paul, of the _Indienne_, and he is -proud of the appellation; if I may judge front my naval sympathies, I -do not think he would exchange his frigate for the finest estate to be -found between the Port of Brest and the mouth of the Rhone." - -"But, tell me," rejoined Emanuel, after reflecting for a moment on the -singular mixture of simplicity and sarcasm which pervaded the answers of -his companion; "what is the character of this man?" - -"His character--but, my dear baron--count--marquis"-- - -"Count," replied Emanuel, bowing. - -"Well, my dear count, then, I was about to say that you pursued me from -one abstraction to another, and that when I placed at you disposal all -my knowledge in algebra, I did not intend that we should enter into a -research of the unknown. His character! good heaven, my dear count, who -can speak knowingly of the character of a man, unless it be himself--and -even then--but hold--I, myself, as you now see me, have ploughed for -twenty years, at one time with the keel of a brig, at another with that -of a frigate, this vast expanse, which now extends itself before us. -My eyes, for so I may express myself, discerned the ocean almost at the -same moment that they saw the sky above it; since my tongue was able to -join two words together, or my comprehension could combine two ideas, -I have interrogated and studied the caprices of the ocean, and yet I -do not, even to this time, know its character--and there are only four -principal winds and thirty-two breezes which agitate it--that's all. -How, then, can you expect that I should judge of man, torn as he is by -his thousand passions." - -"Nor did I ask you, my dear--duke--marquis--count?"-- - -"Lieutenant," replied the young sailor, bowing, as Emanuel had done -before. - -"I was about to say, then, my dear lieutenant, I do not ask a -physiological lecture on the passions of Captain Paul. I only wish to -inform myself upon two points. Firstly, whether you consider him a man -of honor?" - -"We must first of all understand each other as to the meaning of words, -my dear count--what is your precise definition of the word honor?" - -"Permit me to remark, my dear lieutenant, that this question is a most -singular one. Honor! Why, honor--is--honor." - -"That's it precisely--a word without a definition, like the word God! -God--is God! and every one creates a God after his own fashion. The -Egyptians adored him under the form of a scorpion--the Israelites, -under that of a golden calf. So it is with honor. There is the honor -of Camillus, and that of Coriolanus--that of the Cid, and that of Count -Julian. Define your question better if you wish me to reply to it." - -"I ask, then, whether his word may be relied upon?" - -"I do not believe he ever failed in that regard. His enemies--and no one -can arrive to his station without having them--even his enemies, I say, -have never doubted that he would keep, even unto death, an oath which he -had sworn to. This point is, therefore, believe me, fully settled. In -this respect, he is a man of _honor_. Let us pass, therefore, to your -second question, for if I do not deceive myself, you wish to know -something farther." - -"Yes, I wish to know whether he would faithfully obey an order given by -his Majesty?" - -"What Majesty?" - -"Really, my dear lieutenant, you affect a difficulty of comprehension -which would better suit the gown of a sophist, than a naval uniform." - -"Why so? You accuse me of cavilling, because, before replying, I wish -to know precisely what I have to answer. We have, at this? present time, -eight or ten majesties, seated securely or otherwise, upon the different -thrones of Europe. We have his Catholic Majesty--a feeble majesty, who -allows the inheritance, left him by Charles, the Fifth, to be torn -from him piece by piece;--we have his Britannic Majesty--a headstrong -majesty, who clings to his America, as Cyingetus to the Persian ship, -and whose hands we shall cut off, if he does not loose his hold;--we -have his Christian Majesty, whom I venerate and honor"-- - -"Well--it is of him I wish to speak," said Emanuel, - -"Do you believe that Captain Paul would feel disposed to obey an order -which I should deliver from him?" - -"Captain Paul," replied the lieutenant, "would, as every captain ought -to do, obey every order emanating from a power which has the right of -commanding him--unless indeed he be an accursed pirate, or some damned -privateersman, some buccaneer, who owes no allegiance, and which I -should doubt from the appearance of the frigate he commands, and from -the way she is fitted. He must have then in some drawer of his cabin, a -commission signed by some power or other. Well! should this commission -bear the name of Louis, and be sealed with the fleur-de-lis of France, -there can be no doubt that he would obey any order sealed, and signed by -the same name." - -"This is all then that I wish to be informed of," replied the young -mousquetaire, who began to grow impatient at the strange and evasive -answers given by his companion. "I will only ask you one more question." -"I am ready to obey your wishes in that, as I have in the rest, count," -returned the lieutenant. - -"Do you know any way of getting on board of that ship?" - -"There is one," replied the lieutenant, pointing towards his own boat, -which lay rocked, by the waves, in a small creek close to them. - -"That boat! why, is it yours?" - -"Well! I will take you on board." - -"You know this Captain Paul, then?" - -"I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally -acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the -hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides -which, we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic -language, by which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of -the ocean we may meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the -same frankness in which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at -your disposal." - -"Do me this service, then," said Emanuel, "and"-- - -"You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations, -will you not?" said the lieutenant. "You cannot be surprised at it," -continued he smiling, "my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman's life -has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During -a calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and -during the night we address ourselves to God." - -Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with -that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread -over his features every time he had become the object of investigation, -to the mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of -contempt for human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of -God. But finding that this singular man was disposed to render him, -although in a strange manner, the service he had asked of him, he -accepted his proffered assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two -young men were advancing towards the unknown vessel with as much -rapidity as the vigor of six stout rowers could give to the light bark -in which they were seated. Their oars rose and fell with so regular a -movement, that it appeared rather impelled by some powerful machine, -than by the combination of human strength. - - - - -CHAPTER II.--THE FRIGATE. - - And oh! the little warlike world within! - The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy; - The hoarse command, the busy humming din- - When, at a word, the tops are mann'd on high, - Hark to the boatswain's call, the cheering cry; - While through the seaman's hands the tackle glides: - Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by, - Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides, - And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.--Byron. - - -As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more -clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him -to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck -by the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of -her masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood -out against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be -composed of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. -There was not, however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, -which seemed, either from inattention or contempt, to care but little -for the visit she was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, -however, at one moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping -out of one of the port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was -pointed towards the boat; but the ship being gently moved round by -the quiet heaving of the waves, presented her prow toward them, his -attention was attracted by the figure-head which generally bears -some allusion to the name of the vessel that it decorates: it was -a representation of one of the daughters of America, discovered by -Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a head-dress of many colored -feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with a coral necklace. As to -the remainder of the figure, it was a curious combination, half syren, -half serpent, attached to the fore part of the ship in a graceful though -fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached the ship, the more did -the attention of the count appear attracted by this figure. It was, in -fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but very remarkable -from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to perceive, that -it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by a superior -artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a seaman, the -increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the soldier; -and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the -figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that -the latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did -not give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its -beauties, he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question -his young companion. - -"Well, count," said he, concealing the interest which he took in -his reply under an apparent gaiety, "what do you think of this -master-piece?" - -"I think," replied Emanuel, "that comparing it with works of the same -description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have -given it." - -"Yes," said the lieutenant, carelessly, "it is the last work of William -Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of -his pupils, named Dupre, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is -obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of -ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See," said -he, giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, -"it is a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls -that are hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond -worth a hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, -besides the honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to -offer to his bride." - -"What an odd caprice," exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the -singularity of the object he was gazing at, "to ornament a ship in the -same way that one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable -sums to the chances of a battle, or the dangers of a storm." - -"Why should this astonish you?" said the lieutenant with an accent -of indescribable melancholy; "we seamen have no other family than our -sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the -tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to -something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, -who are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an -imaginary love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady -island, and every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the -ocean like a flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a -bird, when returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star -from out the firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the -Atlantic, every time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it -approaches nearer to him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There -are others, and they are the greater number, who attach themselves to -their frigate as to a well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the -tempest tears away any part of her, at every wound given by the shot -that strikes her, and when she is at length sunk by the tempest or -the combat, prefer to perish with her, rather than to save themselves -without her, giving to landsmen a holy example of fidelity. Captain Paul -is one of the latter class, that's all, and he has given to his frigate -the wedding present which he had intended for his bride. Ah? I see they -are waking up." - -"Boat ahoy?" cried some one from on board the frigate, "what boat's -that?" - -"We want to come on board," replied Emanuel; "throw us a rope that we -may catch hold of." - -"Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder." - -The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were -going up the ship's side. The officer of the watch came forward with an -eagerness which appeared in Emanuel's mind to promise well. - -"Sir," said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same -uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, "this is my -friend, the Count ---- By the by, I forgot to ask your name?" - -"Count Emanuel d'Auray." - -"I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d'Auray, -who anxiously desires to speak to Captain Paul. Is he on board?" - -"He has just this moment arrived," replied the officer. - -"In that case I will go below and prepare him to receive you, my dear -count. In the meantime, this is Mr. Walter, who will have the pleasure -of showing you through the ship. It is an interesting sight for a land -officer, and the more so, as I doubt whether you would find many ships -kept in such order as this is. The people are at supper just now, I -believe?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"In that case it will be the more curious sight." - -"But," observed the officer, hesitating a little, "it is my watch on -deck." - -"Bah! you can easily find one of your brother officers who will relieve -you for a short time. I will endeavour to manage so that the captain -shall not make you kick your heels too long in the ante-room. Adieu, -till I meet you again, count: I shall recommend you in such a way as will -insure a good reception for you." With these words, the young lieutenant -disappeared down the companion ladder, while the one who remained with -Emanuel to show him over the ship, took him into the 'tween decks. - -As the lieutenant had presumed, the crew of the frigate were at their -supper. It was the first time that the young count had been present at -such a repast; and however much he desired to speak immediately to -the captain, he felt so curious to observe what was going on, that he -examined everything with eager attention. - -Between every two guns, a table and benches were prepared, not standing -on their feet, but slung by ropes from above. Four men were seated -upon each of the benches, taking their portion of pieces of beef, which -seemed to resist the action of their knives, but which had to do with -hearty fellows who did not appear at all disposed to be daunted by its -toughness. At every table there were two cans of wine, that is to say, -about a pint for each man. As to the bread, it did not appear to be -distributed by rations, but they could take as much as they wanted. The -most profound silence reigned throughout the crew, which, was composed -of of more than from one hundred and eighty to two hundred men. - -Although none of those seated at the table, opened their mouths for any -other purpose than to eat, Emanuel perceived, with some surprise, -that they were composed of many different nations, which was easily -discernible from the contour of their countenances. His _cicerone_ -remarked his astonishment, and replying to his thought before he had -given utterance to it, said, with an American accent, which Emanuel had -already observed, and which proved that he who spoke to him was born on -the other side of the Atlantic: "Yes, yes, we have a tolerably pretty -sample of every nation in the world, and if all at once a good deluge -should carry off the children of Noah, as it formerly did those of Adam, -our ark could furnish people who speak every language. Do you observe -those three fellows who are exchanging a piece of roast beef for a -clove of garlick, they are lads from Galicia, whom we picked up at Cape -Ortegal, and who would not go into action without having said a prayer -to St Jago, of Corapostello, but who, when once their prayer is over, -would rather allow themselves to be cut in pieces, like martyrs, than -retreat a single step. Those two who are polishing their table at -the expense of their jacket-sleeves, are honest Dutchmen, who still -complain: of the injury done to their commerce by the discovery of the -Cape of Good Hope. You see them--at first sight they look like very -beer-pots. Well, those brave fellows, the moment they hear the drum beat -to quarters, become as active as monkeys; Go near them, and they will -talk to you about their ancestors; they will tell you they descend from -those famous sweepers of the sea, who when going into action, hoisted a -broom instead of a flag; but they will take good care not to inform you -that one fine morning the English took their broom, and made rods of it -to whip them with. That whole table, where they are chattering together -at such a rate, but in an under tone, is occupied by Frenchmen, who -would talk louder if they dared. The seat of honor is occupied by a -chief, elected by themselves; he is a Parisian by birth, a cosmopolite -from taste, a great master at the small sword, singlestick, and a -dancing-master to boot. Always gay and contented, he sings when he is -on duty, sings when he is fighting, and will die singing, unless a hemp -cravat should stop his voice, which may very likely happen to him should -he have the misfortune to fall into the hands of John Bull. Turn your -eyes to the other side now, and observe that row of square and idle -heads. These are strange faces to you, are they not? but which every -American born between Hudson's Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, would -recognize at once for bears born on: the borders of Lake Erie, or -seals from Nova Scotia.. There are three, or four of them who are one -eyed--this arises from, their peculiar mode of fighting; they twist -their fingers in the hair of their antagonist, and gouge out his eye -with their thumbs. There are some of them who are very expert at this -exercise, and who never miss their mark. So that when they are boarding -a ship, they almost invariable throw away their boarding, pikes, or -their cutlass, and seizing the first Englishman they can catch hold -of, they uneye him with a dexterity and quickness quite delightful to -behold. You will now comprehend that I did not deceive you in what I -said, and that our collection is complete." - -"But," asked Emanuel, who had listened to this long enumeration with -a certain degree of interest, "how does your captain manage to make -himself understood by men brought together from such distant nations?" - -"First of all our captain understands all languages--and although in -battle and during stormy weather he speaks his mother tongue, he; gives -such an accent to it that every one understands him and obeys: him. But -see, the larboard cabin door is opening, and I doubt not he is ready -to-receive you." - -And instantly a boy dressed in a midshipman's uniform came up to the -two officers, and asked Emanuel if he did not call himself the Count -d'Auray; and on his receiving an affirmative reply, he requested him -to follow him; and the officer who had so conscientiously sustained the -part of a cicerone, immediately went on deck to resume his duties there. -As to Emanuel, he advanced towards the cabin with a mixed feeling -of anxiety and curiosity, He was at last about to be ushered in the -presence of Captain Paul. - -He was a man who appeared to be between fifty and fifty-five years of -age, and to whom the habit of walking between decks had given him -a stoop rather than age. He wore the uniform of the French navy, -accord-ing to its strictest regulations. It was a blue coat with -scarlet facings, a red waistcoat, and breeches of the same color, grey -stockings, with frilled shirt and' ruffles. His hair, rolled up in large -curls, and powdered quite white, was tied into a queue by a ribbon, the -ends of which floated upon his shoulders. His cocked hat and his sword -were lying upon a table beside him. At the moment Emanuel entered the -door, he was sitting upon the carriage of a gun, but when he perceived -him, he rose up to receive him. - -The young count felt intimidated by the aspect of this man: there was -in his eye a searching look which appeared to peer into the very soul -of the person whom he gazed upon. Perhaps, also, this impression was the -more powerful, that he presented himself before him with a conscience -that reproached him with the act he was endeavouring to accomplish, and -of which he was about to render the captain, if not an accomplice, at -all events the executioner. These two men, as though they felt a -secret repulsion, the one towards the other, saluted each other with -politeness, but with cold reserve. - -"It is the Count d'Auray that I have the honor of addressing," said the -old officer. - -"And I Captain Paul, I believe," replied the young mousquetaire; they -both bowed a second time. - -"May I know to what fortunate chance I owe the honor," rejoined the -captain, "of the visit which is now paid to me by the heir of one of the -oldest and greatest families in Brittany?" - -Emanuel bowed again by way of thanks for this compliment, and then, -after hesitating for a moment as if he found it difficult to open the -conversation, he observed: "I am told, Captain Paul, that you are bound -to the Gulf of Mexico?" - -"And you have not been deceived, sir; I purpose sailing for New Orleans, -calling on my way at Cayenne, and at the Havannah." - -"This falls out very fortunately, captain, and you will not have to -alter your course, in case you should be willing to undertake the -execution of the order of which I am the bearer." - -"You have an order to communicate to me, sir, and from whom?" - -"From the Minister of Marine." - -"An order addressed to me personally?" reiterated the captain, -doubtingly. - -"Not personally to you, sir; but to any captain of the royal navy, who -may be about to sail for South America." - -"Of what nature is it, count?" - -"A state prisoner to be transported to Cayenne." - -"And you have the order with you?" - -"Here it is," replied Emanuel, taking it from his pocket, and presenting -it to the captain. - -He took the paper, and going near the cabin window, that he might avail -himself of the last gleam of daylight, he read aloud: - -"The Ministers of Marine and of the Colonies, orders any captain or -lieutenant, commanding a government vessel, who may be about to sail for -South America, or for the Gulf of Mexico, to take on board his ship -and to land at Cayenne, the person named Lusignan, condemned to -transportation for life. During the passage the convict shall take -his meals in his own cabin, and shall not be allowed to have any -communication with the ship's company." - -"Is the order in due form?" asked Emanuel. - -"Perfectly, sir," replied the captain. "And are you disposed to execute -it?" - -"Am I not under the orders of the Minister of Marine?" - -"The prisoner may then be sent to you?" - -"Whenever you will; but it had better be this evening, or as soon as -possible, as I do not expect to be long in these roads." - -"I will take care that due diligence shall be used." - -"Is this all that you have to say to me?" - -"Nothing further, excepting to add my thanks." - -"Do not add anything, sir. The minister orders, and I obey, that's all. -It is a duty which I fulfil, and not a service that I am rendering." - -Upon these words, the captain and the count bowed to each other and -separated, more coldly even than they had met. - -When he reached the deck, Emanuel asked the officer of the watch for his -friend who had accompanied him on board, but was informed he had been -detained by Captain Paul to sup with him, and that being anxious to -oblige the count, he had placed his boat as his disposal. - -She was waiting alongside the ship, and the sailors were in readiness -to accompany him. Emanuel had scarcely got into her when they rowed him -away with a rapidity equal to that with which they had conducted him on -board. But this time she proceeded in sorrowful silence, for the young -lieutenant was no longer there to animate the count with his practical -philosophy. - -That same night the prisoner was conducted on board the _Indienne_, and -the next morning at day-break the inquisitive inhabitants of the -coast no longer discerned the frigate which had given rise to so many -conjectures, and whose unexpected arrival, her remaining there without -any apparent object, and her spontaneous departure, remained an -inexplicable mystery to the inhabitants of Fort Louis. - - - -CHAPTER III.--THE SEA FIGHT. - - The gallant vessels side by side did lie, - Yard-arm and yard-arm, and the murd'rous guns - Belch'd forth their flame and shot, 'till the white decks - Ran like a sea with blood. Uncertain still - The victory stood, 'till Perry, waving - His bright sword o'er his head, cried, "Follow me!" - A hundred shouts responded to this call, - Then with one spring he bounded on the deck - Of his determined foe.--Oxd Play. - - -As the motives which had induced Captain Paul to visit the coast of -Brittany had no relation with our history, excepting as far as regards -the events which we have related, we shall leave our readers in the same -state of uncertainty as were the inhabitants of Fort Louis; and although -our' vocation and our sympathies naturally incline us to terra-firma, -we must follow our hero for a few days in his adventurous course upon -the ocean. The weather was as beautiful as it generally is on the -western coast of France, at the commencement of autumn. The _Indienne_ -sailed gaily on with as fair a wind as could blow for her. The ship's -crew, excepting those actually employed in manoeuvring the vessel, -were availing themselves of the fine weather and occupied in their own -matters, as caprice directed them, or were idly lounging about the ship, -when all at once a voice which appeared to descend from the sky, called -out, "Below, there!" - -"Hullo, there!" replied the quarter-master, who was standing near the -helm. - -"Sail, ho!" cried the seaman who was on the lookout, at the head-mast. - -"Sail, ho!" repeated the quarter-master. "Officer of the deck, be so -good as to inform the captain there is a sail in sight." - -"A sail! a sail!" re-echoed the crew from different parts of the deck; -for at that moment a wave, having raised the vessel which appeared upon -the horizon, had for an instant rendered her visible to the eyes of the -ship's company. - -"A sail!" exclaimed a young man of five-and-twenty, springing upon the -quarter deck from the cabin stairs; "ask Mr Arthur what he thinks of -her." - -"Mast head, there!" cried the lieutenant, using his speaking trumpet; -"the captain wants to know, Mr. Arthur, what you make of the strange -sail." - -Arthur, the young midshipman, had gone aloft immediately upon hearing -a sail announced. He replied, "She looks like a large square-rigged -vessel, close hauled, and steering for us." - -"Yes, yes," said the young man, to whom Walter had given the title of -captain, "she has as good eyes as we have, and she has seen us." - -"Very well, if she wishes for a little chat, she will find us ready to talk -to her. Besides, our guns must be almost choked from having their mouths -stopped so long." - -After some little time, the midshipman again hailed the officer on deck, -and told him that the strange ship had just set her mainsail, and had -altered her course a little, so as to cross their bow. - -"Sir," said the captain, addressing the lieutenant, "get ready to -beat to quarters, we must prepare for this fellow; he looks rather -suspicious." And then calling out to the midshipman, "How does the ship -seem to sail, Mr. Arthur? what do you think of her?" - -"She seems to be a fast sailer, and is a man-of-war, I should think, by -the squareness of her yards; and although I cannot see her flag, I would -wager that she bears King George's commission." - -"I should not wonder," observed the captain to the first lieutenant, -"and that she has orders to give chase to a certain frigate called the -Indienne, and that her commander is promised good promotion should he -succeed in capturing her. Ha! ha! now she is loosing her top gallant -sails. The blood hound has scented us, and is decidedly about to give us -chase. Set our top gallant sails, too, Mr. Walter, and let us keep our -course without varying a point. We shall see whether they will dare to -come athwart our hawse." - -The captain's orders were instantly repeated by the lieutenant, and in -a few minutes the ship which had been running under her top sails, -felt the influence of her top gallant sails, heeled over under this new -pressure and bounded along as if animated by the sight of an enemy, and -dashing away the spray from either bow with eager impetuosity. - -For some time there was hardly a word uttered on board. Every one -appeared to wait anxiously the termination of this state of suspense, -and we shall profit by this momentary quiet, to call the attention of -our readers to the person of the officer to whom the lieutenant had -given the title of captain. - -It was no longer either the young and sceptical lieutenant whom we -have seen accompanying the Count d'Auray on board the ship, nor the old -sea-wolf with his stooping gait, and harsh and snappish answers, who had -received him in the cabin. He was a handsome young man, from twenty to -twenty-five years of age, as we have said before, who, having thrown off -all disguise, appeared at length in his own person, and dressed in the -fanciful uniform which he always wore when upon the wide ocean. It was -a sort of great coat of black velvet, with gold shoulder knots and -fastened with hooks and eyes of the same metal. Round his waist he wore -a Turkish belt, in which was placed a pair of elegant duelling pistols, -richly inlaid and ornamented, apparently more for show than defence. His -pantaloons were of white kerseymere, with boots which reached nearly -to his knees. Round his neck, a cravat of transparent India muslin, -embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, was loosely tied; his -hair, no longer disfigured by powder, and black as ebony, flowed about -his cheeks, which were tanned by exposure to the sun; his eyes beamed -with hope and animation. Near him, upon a gun, was placed a steel helmet -which fastened by a curb chain under the chin. This was his battle -dress, and the only defensive armour which he wore. Some deep -indentations in his helmet proved that it had more than once-saved the -head which it protected from those severe wounds inflicted by those -terrible cutlasses used by seamen when boarding. As to the ship's -company, they wore the elegant though plain uniform of the French navy. - -During this time, the vessel which had been described by the man at -the mast head, and which had then appeared like a white speck upon the -horizon, had become, little by little, a pyramid of sails and rigging. -All eyes were fixed upon her, and although no order had been actually -given, every one of the crew had taken the position which individually -belonged to him, as though it had been determined that a combat should -take place. There reigned then on board the Indienne that solemn and -profound silence, which in a ship of war always precedes the decisive -orders of the captain. Finally, the hull of the strange sail appeared -rising out of the water, as her sails had successively done before. -It was then clearly discernible that she was a larger ship than the -Indienne, and that she carried thirty-six guns. She, however, showed no -colors, and as her crew were carefully and completely concealed behind -her bulwarks, it was impossible to ascertain, unless by some particular -indications, to what nation she belonged. These two observations were -made almost at the same moment by Captain Paul; the last, however, -seemed to strike him the most forcibly. - -"It appears," said he, addressing his lieutenant, "that we are going to -have a scene of a masked ball. Order Arthur to bring us a few flags, and -let us prove to this unknown, that the Indienne has several disguises -at her disposal. And then, Mr. Walter, give orders that cutlasses and -boarding pikes be distributed, for we can hardly expect, in these seas, -to meet with any but enemy's ships." - -The two orders were executed; as soon as given. In an instant the young -midshipman had brought on deck a dozen flags of different nations, and -Lieutenant Walter, having had the arm chest opened, had boarding pikes -piled in different positions throughout the ship, and had distributed -cutlasses and axes to the ship's company, he then returned to his place -by the Captain's side. Every man again resumed his post by instinct -rather than by order, for they had not yet beat to quarters; so that the -apparent confusion which had existed for a moment ceased at once, and -the frigate became once more, as it were, silent and attentive. - -However, the two ships following their converging directions, continued -to approach each other. When they were about the distance of three gun -shots, "Mr. Walter," said the Captain, "I think it is time we should -begin to mistify our good friend here. Let us show him the old Scotch -flag." - -The lieutenant gave a sign to the quartermaster, and the red Lion -of Scotland, on a blue field, rose like a flame to the peak of the -_Indienne_; but nothing on board the enemy's ship gave evidence of their -paying the slightest attention to this manouvre. - -"Yes, yes," murmured the captain, "the three leopards of England have so -well filed the teeth and pared the claws of the Scottish lion, that -they pay no attention to him, believing that he is tamed because he is -defenceless. Show him some other color, Mr. Walter, and perhaps we shall -succeed in loosening his tongue." - -"What flag shall I hoist, captain?" - -"Take the first one that comes; chance may perhaps favor us." - -This order was scarcely given, when the Scotch flag was hauled down, and -that of Sardinia took its place. The ship still remained mute. - -"Well, well," said the captain, jestingly, "it appears that His Majesty, -King George, is on good terms with his brother of Cyprus and Jerusalem. -Do not let us bring them to loggerheads by carrying our joke farther, -Mr. Walter, let us show the American flag, and prove that it is really -the right one, by firing an unshotted gun." - -The same manouvre was repeated. The Sardinian flag was hauled down, and -the stars of the United States rose slowly towards the sky, and were -certified by firing a gun. - -What the captain had foreseen then happened immediately on the display -of this symbol of rebellion rising insolently in the air. The unknown -ship immediately betrayed its incognita by hoisting the British flag. At -the same moment a cloud of smoke was seen issuing from the side of the -royalist ship, and before the report was heard, a cannon ball was seen -tipping from wave to wave, and fell about a hundred yards short of the -Indienne. - -"Beat to quarters, Mr. Walter, for you see we have guessed rightly. -Come, my boys," cried he, to the crew, "hurrah for America! and death to -England!" - -This was answered by a general shout, and had not ceased, when they -heard them beating to quarters on board the _Drake_, for that was the -name of the English ship. The drums of the Indienne immediately replied, -and every man ran to his post:--the gunners to their guns, the officers -to their stations, and the sailors to their running rigging. As to the -captain, he jumped upon the top of the companion, his speaking trumpet -in his hand--the supreme symbol, the sceptre of nautical royalty, which -the commander always wields in the hour of combat or during the raging -of the tempest. - -They now seem to have made an exchange of parts, for the English -appeared impatient, and the Americans affected calmness. The ships were -hardly within gun shot, when a long line of smoke was seen issuing from -the side of the English vessel, and a report similar to loud thunder -was heard, and the iron messengers sent to deal death among the rebels, -having in their impetuosity, miscalculated the distance, fell harmless -before reaching the sides of the frigate. The latter, however, as if -refusing to reply to so premature an attack, continued to haul to the -wind, as if to spare the enemy too long a course. - -At this moment the captain turned, as if to give a last look round his -ship, and his astonished gaze was attracted by the appearance of a new -personage on the deck, who had selected this dangerous and exciting -moment to make his entrance upon the scene. - -It was a young man, somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three years of -age. His face was pale and mild; he was plainly, but elegantly dressed, -and whom the captain had not before seen on board. He was leaning -against the mizen-mast, his arms folded over his chest, and looking with -melancholy indifference at the English vessel which was approaching them -under a heavy press of canvas. The calmness at such a moment, and in -a man who appeared a stranger to nautical combats, forcibly struck the -captain. He then remembered the prisoner, whom the Count d'Auray had -announced to him, and who had been brought on board during the last -night he had passed at the anchorage of Port Louis. - -"Who allowed you to come on deck, sir?" said he, softening as much as -possible, the tone of his enquiry, so that it would have been difficult -to ascertain whether this was addressed as a mere question, or as a -reproach. - -"No one, sir," replied the prisoner, in a soft and sorrowful voice; -"but I had hoped that under the present circumstances, you would less -severely observe the orders by which I became your prisoner." - -"Have you forgotten that you were forbidden to hold any communication -with the ship's company." - -"I did not come here for the purpose of holding communication with the -ship's company, sir; I came to see whether some friendly cannon ball -would do me a good' turn." - -"You may, but too soon, have your desire accomplished, if you remain -where you are now standing; therefore, believe me, you had better remain -below." - -"Is this your advice; or an order, captain?" - -"You have full liberty to construe it as you please." - -"In that case," replied the young man, "I thank you--I will remain -here." - -At this instant, another loud report was heard; but the two ships had by -this time neared each other so much, that they were within gun-shot, and -the whole tempest of shot passed through the sails of the Indienne. Two -splinters fell from the masts; and the groans and stifled cries of some -of the ship's company were heard. The captain, at that moment, had his -eyes fixed upon the prisoner, above whose head, a cannon ball had passed -within two feet, grazing the mizen mast, against which he was leaning; -but notwithstanding this death warning, he remained calm and unmoved, -in the same attitude as if he had not felt the wing of the exterminating -angel waft above his head. The captain knew how to appreciate -courage--this incident was sufficient to assure him of the undaunted -bravery of the man who stood before him. - -"Tis well, sir," said he to him; "remain where you are, and when we come -to boarding, if you should be tired of remaining with your arms crossed, -take up a cutlass, or an axe, and give us a helping hand. You will -excuse me not payings you more attention at this moment, for I have -other things to do." - -"Fire!" cried he, in a voice of thunder, through his speaking trumpet, -"now, give it her: fire!" - -"Fire!" repeated the officers like an echo, at their different stations. - -At the instant, the Indienne trembled from her keel, to her royal mast -head, as she poured her broadside into the enemy--a cloud of smoke -spread itself like a veil, along the starboard-side, which was -soon carried to leeward. The captain, standing upon the companion, -impatiently awaited its clearing off, that he might ascertain the effect -which the broadside had produced upon the enemy's vessel. When his gaze -could penetrate through the smoke, he perceived that the enemy's main -top mast had fallen, and had, with its sails, encumbered the after-part -of the Drake's deck, and that her other sails were cut to ribbons. Then -putting his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he cried-- - -"Well done! my lads. Now watch her closely. They will be too busy in -clearing away the wreck of their mast, to think of raking us--fire--as -you can--and this time shave close!" - -The crew hastened to obey this order--the frigate veered round, and as -the guns were brought to bear upon the enemy, they were discharged with -terrible effect; and, as the captain had imagined, without any hindrance -from the Drake. The Indienne once more trembled like a volcano, and, as -a volcano, vomited forth her flame and smoke. - -This time the gunners had followed the orders of their captain to the -letter, (and the broadside had been fired point blank) striking the hull -and the lower masts. Both her masts were still standing; but on all -sides the sails were hanging in tatters. It appeared that some more -considerable damage had been done, which it was impossible to ascertain -at that distance; for some time, the broadside was not returned; at -length it was, and instead of raking the _Indienne_, it struck her in a -diagonal direction. It was not the less terrible, for it swept off many -a brave fellow from the deck; but by a chance which appeared positively -magical, touched neither of the masts. Some of the running rigging -was cut, but nothing that prevented her manoeuvring as before. At one -glance, Paul ascertained that he had only lost some men. His heart -bounded with joy. He once more placed the speaking-trumpet to his mouth. - -"Larboard the helm," cried he, "and board her on the larboard side! -Boarders, to your stations--be ready! Give her one more broadside." - -At the first movement of the _Indienne_, the enemy at once perceived the -intention, and endeavoured to neutralize it by it similar movement, but -at the instant of attempting to execute it, a dreadful crash was heard -on board her, and the mainmast, which had been nearly cut through by the -last discharge from the _Indienne_, trembled, for a few seconds like an -uprooted tree, and fell forward, covering the deck with the mainsail -and the rigging. Captain Paul at once comprehended what had delayed the -return of the broadside. - -"Now, she is ours, my lads!" cried he; "we have only to take her. One -last broadside within pistol shot, and then we'll board her!" - -The _Indienne_ obeyed her helm, as does a well trained horse the -bridle, and unopposed, advanced towards her enemy, for the latter had no -steerage-way upon her, and her guns were consequently useless. The -Drake was therefore at the mercy of her adversary, who by remaining at a -distance and playing at long bowls, might have riddled her and sunk -her, but disdaining this too easy victory, sent in a last broadside; and -then, before seeing the effect it had produced, the frigate ran in upon -her larboard quarter, and threw her grappling-irons on board. On -the instant, the tops and forecastle of the Indienne blazed as with -fireworks on a holiday, and flaming grenades were showered upon the deck -of the Drake with the rapidity of hailstones. - -"Courage, my lads, courage, lash the bowsprit to her quarter rails. Well -done! now, to your two forecastle carronades--fire!" - -All these orders were executed with magical celerity: the two ships were -as securely lashed together as if by iron chains--the two carronades -which had not been fired during the combat, thundered in there turn, and -swept the enemy's deck with a cloud of grape shot, and then another cry -was heard, uttered by the same stentorian voice-- - -"Now, board her!!!" - -And, adding example to precept, the captain of the _Indienne_ threw -aside his speaking trumpet, now of no longer use, placed his helmet on -his head, fastening the clasp beneath his chin; placed the sabre which -he usually wore in his belt between his teeth, and rushed upon the -bowsprit to jump thence upon the deck of the enemy. - -Although this movement followed the order he had given with as great -rapidity as the thunder succeeds the lightning, he was only the second -upon the English deck: he was preceded by the young prisoner with whom -he had conversed, who had thrown aside his coat, and armed only with a -hatchet, was the first to encounter death or victory. - -"You are not conversant with the discipline of my ship," said Paul, -laughing; "it is my place to be the first to board a ship I am -attacking. I forgive you this time, but take care it does not again -happen." - -At the same instant, the seamen of the _Indienne_ rushed from their own -ship to the enemy's, taking advantage of every point of contact, some -from the bowsprit, others from the end of the yards, and nettings, and -fell upon the deck like ripe fruit falling from a tree when shaken -by the wind. Then the English, who had retreated to their forecastle, -unmasked a carronade which they had had time to turn upon their enemy. A -volley of fire and iron was vomited forth on the assailants. One fourth -of the crew of the _Indienne_ fell killed or mutilated on the enemy's -deck, in the midst of cries and maledictions. But above the cries and -blasphemous oaths, a voice resounded, crying: - -"Forward--all of you!" - -Then ensued a scene of appalling confusion--a combat hand to hand--a -general duel. To the roar of cannon, to the report of musketry, to the -explosion of hand grenades, had succeeded the struggle with cold steel, -less noisy but more sure, above all with seamen, who have retained for -their sole use this inheritance from the giants, proscribed for more -than two centuries on the field of battle. It was with hatchets that -they cleaved each other's sculls; it was with cutlasses they wounded -each other's breasts; it was with boarding-pikes that they nailed each -other to the deck and masts. From time to time, in the midst of this -mute carnage, a stray pistol shot was heard, but isolated, and as if -ashamed of taking part in such a butchery. It lasted nearly a quarter of -an hour, and amidst a confusion it would be impossible to describe. -And then the British flag was lowered, and the crew of the Drake being -driven below, there remained on deck only the conquerors, the wounded -and the dead; in the midst of whom was the captain of the _Indienne_, -surrounded by his crew, with his foot upon the breast of the captain of -the enemy's ship, having on his right his first lieutenant, Walter, and -on his left his young prisoner, whose shirt, steeped in blood, witnessed -the share he had in the victory. - -"Now, all is over," said Paul, stretching out his hand; "and he who -strikes another blow will have to deal with me." - -Then holding out his hand to his young prisoner, "Sir," said he, "you -will relate to me, to-night, how it was that you were made my prisoner, -will you not! For there must be some cowardly machination in this -affair. The infamous only are transported to Cayenne, and you are too -brave to be infamous." - - - -CHAPTER IV.--THE MARCHIONESS. - - She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth, - And of most royal presence--but sad thoughts - Seemed to possess her wholly--her children, even, - Seldom approached her, and when they did, - No soft affection, motherly caress, - Was e'er accorded to them--stern and cold, - She looked a moving statue.--Old Play. - - -About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just -related, and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise, -whose wheels and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified -that it had performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along, -although two powerful horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between -Vanness and Auray. The traveller it contained, and who was roughly -jolted in traversing the cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count -Emanuel, whom we saw open the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was -coming from Paris with all haste, and proceeding to his ancient family -mansion, with regard to which it is now necessary to give some more -precise and circumstantial details. - -Count Emanuel d'Auray was descended from one of the oldest families -in Brittany--one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy -Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor, -had been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in -its victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d'Auray, Chevalier -of the order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and -Grand Cross of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of -Louis XV., in which he filled the post of high steward, that high -distinction to which his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit, -truly entitled him. His influence there had been increased by his -marriage with Mademoiselle de Sable, who was his equal in every thing -that regarded family or credit at court: so that a brilliant future was -opened to the ambition of the young people, when, after being married -five years, a report was suddenly spread about the court, that the -Marquis d'Auray had become insane during a journey he had made to his -estates. This report was for a long time disbelieved. At length -the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his wife made their -appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him another -year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason, refused to -appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and even the -marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In France -people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which -even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of -indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old -chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting -or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of -a son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d'Aurays, -therefore, continued to figure among the names of the French nobility; -but not having mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in -court intrigues or in political affairs, not having sided either with -a Pampadour or a Du Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the -victories of the Marechal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count -Clermont--in short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been -completely forgotten. - -However, the ancient name of the lords of d'Auray had been twice -pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first -time on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel's being admitted in -1769, as one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after -having served his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires -of the young King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted -with the Baron de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who -was favorably disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable -degree of influence with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to -his old courtier, who having been informed that the Count d'Auray had -a sister, one day let fall a few words upon the possibility of an union -between the two families. Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied -with struggling beneath the veil which had obscured his family name, saw -in this marriage a means of regaining the position which his father had -occupied at court under the late king, and had eagerly caught at the -first overtures for this alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under -the pretext of uniting himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood, -to his young friend, had urged his suit with an eagerness which was so -much the more flattering to Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand -of his sister had never seen her. The Marchioness d'Auray had listened -the more readily to this proposal, as it opened to her son the road to -royal favor, and the marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two -young people, at all events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded -M. de Lectoure three or four days only, had hastened into the country -to inform his mother that everything had been arranged according to her -desire. As to Marguerite, the intended wife, they contented themselves -with informing her of the resolution they had taken without thinking -it necessary to ask her consent to it, in about the same way that a -criminal is informed of the sentence which condemns him to the scaffold. - -It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of -future exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated -projects of ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy -castle of his family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards, -overgrown with grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden -hopes that agitated him. The castle was a league and a half distant from -any other dwelling. The principal facade overlooked that part of the -ocean, which being so constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name -of "the Wild Sea." The other looked toward an immense park, which, -being for twenty years abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete -forest. As to the apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with -the exception of those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had -been renewed during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of -a numerous household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which -the more modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more -elegant, was less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops -of Boule, the appointed upholsterer of the court. - -It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney -pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was -ushered on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to -communicate to his mother the happy news of which he was the bearer, -that without taking the time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his -gloves, and travelling pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant -to inform the marchioness of his arrival, and to ask her permission to -present himself, saying that he would await it in that room; for such in -this old family was the respect paid to parents, that the son, after an -absence of five months, did not dare to present himself to his mother, -without in the first place consulting her desires upon the subject. As -to the Marquis d'Auray, his children could not remember having seen -him more than two or three times, and then it was by stealth: for his -insanity was of a nature, it was said, that certain objects irritated, -and they had been always kept from him with the greatest precaution. The -marchioness alone, a model of conjugal virtue, remained always with him, -fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not only the duties of a wife, -but also those of a servant. Consequently, her name was revered in the -surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose devotedness on earth has -gained a place in heaven. - -In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the -marchioness d'Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that -the count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost -immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel's -mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age, -tall and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy -features had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command. -She was in costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time -that her husband had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her -mourning garments. Her long black gown gave to her movements, cold and -slow as those of a shadow, a solemn appearance, which shed around this -extraordinary woman a feeling of awe, which even filial affection had -never been able to surmount. Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started -as at the sight of an unexpected apparition, and instantly rising, he -advanced three steps toward her, respectfully went down upon one knee, -and kissed the hand she presented to him. - -"Rise, sir," said the marchioness. "I am happy to see you again." And -she pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who -had been absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel -obeyed, conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated -herself, and he remained standing before her. - -"I received your letter, count," she said, "and I congratulate you on -your skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than -for military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain -an embassy for you, rather than a regiment." - -"Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what -is more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power -with M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister." - -"In love with a woman he has never seen?" - -"Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of -Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our -fortune, has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your -son and to call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that -all the preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You -have obtained the publication of the bans, madam?" - -"Yes." - -"The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed." - -"With the help of God, all will be ready." - -"Thanks, madam." - -"But tell me," continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her -chair, and bending toward Emanuel, "has he not questioned you regarding -that young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of -deportation?" - -"By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without -entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit -confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world, -that they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered." - -"Then he knows nothing?" - -"No--but did he know all----" - -"Well?" - -"Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the -discovery would not in any way influence his determination." - -"I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift," replied the -marchioness, with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if -speaking to herself. - -"But supposing it should be so," said Emanuel anxiously, "your -resolution would be still unchanged, I hope." - -"Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our -former influence?" - -"Then, there is only my sister----" - -"Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?" - -"Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?" - -"For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my -presence." - -"Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our -family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not -conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having -been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king -at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your -virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him, -even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason; -your virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses, -but of which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in -this old forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission, -which you call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they -forget you (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count -six hundred years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at -court, our name, the name of the family d'Auray, was hardly known to -their majesties, but as an historical recollection." - -"Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories," murmured -the marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such -a blasphemy, she rejoined, "I hope that the blessing of God may always -attend their majesties and France." - -"And what can in any way affect their happiness?" replied Emanuel, -with that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the -distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility. -"Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both -of them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them, -Heaven be praised, beyond the reach of every evil." - -"No one, my son," replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head, -"believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty. -No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master -it, firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head, -were it even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The -people, you say, are brave and loyal." The marchioness arose and slowly -advanced to the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean. -"Observe that sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this -night, in an hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the -cries of distress of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I -am separated from the world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears, -borne as it were by invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not -exist a sect of philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the -errors which it propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which -is detaching itself from the mother country, whose children refuse to -acknowledge their father? Is there not a people who style themselves a -nation? Have I not heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the -ocean, to offer to rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but -at the call of their legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told, -moreover, or is it but the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI. -and the Queen, Marie Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are -a family of brothers, have authorised these armed emigrations, and have -given letters of marque to I know not what foreign pirate?" - -"All this is true," said Emanuel, much astonished. - -"May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of -France!" rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room, -leaving Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw -her withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain -her. - -Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant -character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change -his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window -which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence -he could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between -d'Auray and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he -perceived two persons on horseback, following the same road he had just -travelled over, and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they -drew nearer he could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his -servant. The first, dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of -that day, that is to say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs, -stocking-knit breeches, and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad -brim, and his hair tied with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on -an English horse of rare beauty and great value, which he managed with a -grace that proved he had made equestrian exercises a profound study. He -was followed at a short distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery -was in perfect harmony with the lordly air of the person whom he served. -Emanuel imagined for a moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards -the castle, that it was the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his -departure from Paris, intended to surprise him; but he soon found that -he was mistaken; and although it appeared to him that it was not the -first time he had seen the horseman, he could not recollect where or -under what circumstances he had met him. While he was racking his memory -to discover the event in his life with which this vague remembrance was -connected, the strangers had disappeared behind an angle of the castle -wall. Five minutes afterwards Emanuel heard the sound of their horses' -feet in the court yard, and, almost immediately the door was opened; a -servant announced, "_Mr. Paul!_" - - - - -CHAPTER V.--DEVOTED LOVE. - - Woman's love - Once given, may break the heart that holds--but never - Melts into air save with her latest sigh. - - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain, - - -The name, as well as the appearance of the person thus announced, -awakened in their turn in the mind of Emanuel a confused recollection of -which he could not affix either date or event. The person, preceded by -the servant, entered the room by a door opposite the one through which -the marchioness had retired. Although the moment was ill-timed for a -visit, and though the young count, pre-occupied by his projects for the -future, would have preferred meditating upon and ripening them, he was -compelled, by the rules of etiquette, so severe in those days between -well-bred people, to receive the visitor with courtesy and politeness. -The deportment of the latter bespoke the man of distinction. After the -usual salutations, Emanuel, by a gesture, invited the stranger to be -seated, who bowed and took a chair, and then the conversation commenced -with some common-place polite observation. - -"I am delighted to meet you, count," said the stranger. - -"Chance has favored me, sir," replied Emanuel; "an hour sooner you would -not have found me here: I have just arrived from Paris." - -"I am aware of that, count, for we have been travelling the same road. -I set out an hour after you, and all along the road I heard of you, by -means of the postillions who had the honor of driving you." - -"May I be bold enough to ask," said Emanuel, in a tone which began to -evince a certain degree of dissatisfaction, "to what circumstance I owe -the interest you appear to evince concerning me." - -"This interest is perfectly natural between old acquaintance, and -perhaps. I might have reason to complain that it does not appear to be -reciprocal." - -"In fact, sir, it does appear to me," replied Emanuel, "that I have met -you somewhere; but my recollection serves me but confusedly; will you be -kind enough to assist it?" - -"If what you say be the case, count, your memory must indeed be rather -fugitive, for within the last six months, on three separate occasions, I -have the honor of exchanging compliments with you." - -"Even should I expose myself to further reproach, I am compelled to say -that I still remain in the same state of uncertainty with regard to your -person. Pray, therefore, have the goodness to fix my memory, by aid -of more precise dates, on some event, and remind me under what -circumstances I had the honor of meeting you for the first time." - -"The first time, count? it was on the jetty of Port Louis. You desired -to obtain some information with regard to a certain frigate, which I -was so fortunate as to be able to furnish you. I believe, even, that -I accompanied you on board. Upon that occasion I wore the uniform of a -lieutenant in the royal navy, and you that of a mousquetaire." - -"I now well recollect it, sir, and I was obliged to leave the vessel -without offering the thanks I owed you." - -"You are mistaken, count; I received those thanks during our second -interview." - -"And where did that take place?" - -"On board the very vessel to which I had conducted you--in the cabin. I -then wore the uniform of the captain of the ship: blue coat, red -waistcoat and breeches, with grey stockings, a three-cornered hat, and -curled hair. Only the captain appeared to you some thirty years older -than the lieutenant, and it was not without motive that I had made -myself appear so much older, for you would perhaps, not have chosen to -confide to a young man a secret of such importance as you then -communicated to me." - -"What you now say is incredible, sir; and yet something tells me that it -was really so. Yes, yes; I now remember that in the shade in which you -remained half concealed, I saw eyes sparkling similar to yours. I have -not forgotten them; but this was only the time before the last, you say, -that I had the honor of seeing you. Continue, sir, I beg, to assist my -memory, for I cannot recollect our third interview." - -"The last, count, was only a week since, at Paris--at a fencing match, -at Saint-George's, in the rue Chanterecin. You remember, do you not, an -English gentleman, with his hair so red that his powder could scarcely -conceal its brilliant color--a scarlet coat, and tightly fitting -pantaloons. I even had the honor of trying a bout with you, and I was -fortunate enough to hit you three times, while, on the contrary, you -were not lucky enough to touch me once. On that occasion I called myself -Jones." - -"It is most singular--it was certainly the same look, but it could not -be the same man." - -"The will of God has directed that the look should be the only thing -which cannot be disguised, and this is why he has thrown into the look -a spark of his own light. Well, then, the lieutenant, the captain, the -Englishman, were one and the same person." - -"At the present moment, sir, what are you if you please? For, with a man -who can so perfectly disguise himself, that question you must admit, is -not altogether unnecessary." - -"At the present moment, count, as you see, I have no motive for -concealment, and, therefore, I have come to you in the simple costume of -the young nobility, when they visit each other as neighbors in the -country. I am whatever you may please to consider me; French, English, -Spanish, or even an American. In which of these languages would you wish -our conversation to be continued?" - -"Although some of these languages may be as familiar to me as they are -to you, sir, I prefer the French language; it is that of a plain and -concise explanations." - -"Be it so," replied Paul, with an expression of profound melancholy; -"the French is also the language I prefer; I first saw the day upon -French ground, for the sun of France was that which gladdened my eyes; -and although I have often seen more fertile climes, and a more brilliant -sun, there has never been for me but one country and one sun, the sun -and the country of Franco!" - -"Your national enthusiasm," said Emanuel, interrupting him ironically, -"causes you to forget the motive to which I am indebted for the honor of -this visit." - -"You are right, sir, and I will return to it. It was, then, about six -months ago, while walking on the jetty of Port Louis, you saw in the -outer roads a fine sharp frigate, with tall masts and square yards, and -you said to yourself: 'the captain of that ship must have some motive -known only to himself, for carrying so much canvas, on masts so -slight,'--and from that sprung to your mind that he must be some -buccaneer, a pirate, a corsair"---- - -"And was I mistaken?" - -"I thought I had already expressed to you, count," replied Paul, with a -slight tone of irony, "my admiration of the perspicacity with which, at -the first glance, you sound the depths of men and circumstances"---- - -"A truce to compliments, if you please, sir, and let us to facts." - -"It was under this persuasion that you caused yourself to be conducted -on board the frigate, by a certain lieutenant, and that you found a -certain captain in the cabin. You were the bearer of a letter from the -Minister of Marine, ordering any officer, upon your requisition, and -whose ship was under the French flag and bound for the Gulf of Mexico, -to conduct to Cayenne a person named Lusignan, guilty of a crime against -the state." - -"That is true." - -"I obeyed that order, for I was then ignorant that this great culprit, -thus transported, had committed no other crime than that of being the -lover of your sister." - -"Sir," cried Emanuel, starting up. - -"These are very fine pistols, count," carelessly continued Paul, playing -with the weapons which the Count d'Auray had placed upon the table, on -alighting from his carriage. - -"And they are ready loaded," said Emanuel, in a tone which was not to be -mistaken. - -"Are they so?" returned Paul, with affected indifference. - -"That is a matter of which you can assure yourself, if you will take a -turn in the park with me." - -"There is no necessity for going out to do that," replied Paul, without -pretending to understand Emanuel's proposal in the sense which he meant -to give to it; "here is a mark which is well placed, and at a proper -distance." - -Saying these words, the captain cocked the pistol, and pointed it -through the open window towards the top of a small tree. A goldfinch -was rocking himself on the highest branch, singing forth his shrill and -joyful notes. Paul fired, and the poor bird, cut in two, fell at the -foot of the tree. Paul coolly replaced the pistol on the table. - -"You were perfectly right, count," said he, "they are excellent weapons, -and I advise you not to part with them." - -"You have just given me an extraordinary proof of it," replied Emanuel; -"and I feel bound to acknowledge that you have a steady hand." - -"There is nothing extraordinary in that," rejoined Paul, in that -melancholy tone which was peculiar to him. "During those long days, -when not a breath passes over that mirror of the Supreme Being, which -is called the ocean, we seamen are compelled to seek for amusements to -which you landsmen are daily accustomed. Then we try our skill upon -the sea-gulls, which hover over the crest of a wave; or the fish-hawks, -which dart down upon the imprudent tenant of the deep that rise to -its surface; or, again, upon the swallows which, fatigued with a long -flight, alight upon the royal mast-head or on the yards or rigging. It -is thus, count, that we acquire some dexterity in exercises which may -appear so incompatible with our profession." - -"Go on, sir; and if it be possible, let us return to the subject of our -conversation." - -"He was a handsome, brave young man, this Lusignan; he related his -whole history to me. That being the son of an old friend of your -father's, who had died poor, he had been adopted by him some two years -before the unknown accident occurred which deprived him of his -reason. That having been brought up with you, he had inspired you with -hatred--your sister with affection. He told me that, during the long -years they passed together in the same solitude, they never perceived -the isolation from the world in which they lived, excepting when they -were absent from each other. He recounted to me all the details of their -youthful love, and how Marguerite had one day said to him, in the words -of the tender maiden of Verona-- - - "'I will be thine, or else I'll be the tomb's.'" - -"She has but too truly kept her word." - -"Yes--has she not? And you virtuous people call that shame and -dishonour, when a poor child, lost through her own innocence, is carried -away by love. Your mother, whose duties estranged her from her daughter, -and perpetually confined her to your father's room--(for I know the -virtues of your mother, sir, as well as I know your sister's weakness: -she is an austere woman, more severe than one of God's creatures ought -to be, whose only advantage over others is, that of never having -fallen)--your mother, I say, one night heard some stifled cries; she -entered your sister's chamber, walked pale and silently up to her bed, -and coldly snatched from her arms a child which had just been born, and -left the room without addressing even a reproach to her daughter, but -only paler and more silent than when she entered it. As to poor -Marguerite, she did not utter even a cry--she made no complaint. She had -fainted away immediately on perceiving her mother. Was it so, sir? Have -I been rightly informed, and is the whole of this dreadful story true?" - -"You seem to be acquainted with every detail of it!" exclaimed Emanuel, -with amazement. - -"It is because the whole of these details are given in these letters -signed by your sister," replied Paul, opening a pocket-book, "and -which Lusignan, at the time he was about to be thrown amid robbers and -assassins, through your instrumentality, confided to me, that I might -restore them to her who had written them." - -"Give them to me, then," said Emanuel, stretching forth his hand towards -the pocket-book, "and they shall be faithfully delivered to her who has -had the imprudence"-- - -"To complain to the only person who loved her in this world--is it not -so?" said Paul, withdrawing the letters and the pocket-book. "Imprudent -daughter, whose own mother snatched the child from her heart, and who -poured her bitter tears into the bosom of the father of her child! -Imprudent sister, who, not finding any protection from this tyranny in -her brother, has compromised his noble name by signing with the name he -bears, letters, which, in the stupid and prejudiced eye of the world, -may--how is it you term this in your noble class--dishonour her family, -is it not?" - -"Then," cried Emanuel, reddening with impatience, "since you are aware -of the terrible tendency of these papers, fulfil the mission which you -have been charged, by delivering them either to me, to my mother, or my -sister." - -"This was my intention when I landed at Lorient; but about ten or twelve -days ago, on entering a church--" - -"A church!" - -"Yes, sir." - -"And for what purpose?" - -"To pray there." - -"Ah! Captain Paul believes in God, then!" - -"Did I not believe in him, whom should I invoke during the raging of the -tempest?" - -"And in this church, then?" - -"In that church, sir, I heard a priest announce the approaching marriage -of the noble Marguerite d'Auray with the very high and very potent Baron -de Lectoure. I immediately inquired for you, and was informed you were -at Paris, where I was myself compelled to go, to give an account of my -mission to the king." - -"To the king!" - -"Yes, sir, to the king--Louis XVI.; to his majesty, in person. I -immediately set out, intending to return here as soon as you did. I -met you in Saint George's rooms, and was informed of your approaching -departure. I arranged mine in consequence, in order that we might arrive -here at about the same time, and here I am, sir, with a very different -resolution to that I had formed before landing in Brittany." - -"And what is this new determination? Let me hear it, for we must come to -some conclusion." - -"Well, then, I think that as all the world, and even his mother, seem -to have forgotten the poor orphan, it is highly necessary that I should -remember it. In the position in which you are placed, sir, and with the -disposition you have evinced of becoming allied to the Baron de Lectoure -(who in your view, is the only person who can assist the realization -of your ambitious projects), these letters are well worth a hundred -thousand francs, are they not? and will make but a very trifling breach -in the income of two hundred thousand francs which your estates afford -you." - -"But who will prove to me that this hundred thousand francs--" - -"You are right, sir, and therefore it will be in exchange for a contract -for an annuity upon the young Hector de Lusignan, that I will deliver up -these letters." - -"Is that all, sir?" - -"I will also ask, that the child be confided to me, and I will have him -brought up, thanks to his little fortune, far from the mother who has -forgotten him, and far from his father whom you caused to be banished." - -"'Tis well, sir; had I known that it was for so small a sum, and so -trifling an interest that you had come, I should not have experienced so -much anxiety. You will, however, permit me to speak to my mother on the -subject." - -"Monsieur le Comte," said a servant, opening the door. - -"I am not at home to any one. Leave the room." replied Emanuel, -impatiently. - -"It is your sister, sir, who wishes to see you." - -"Tell her to come by and by." - -"She desires to speak to you this instant." - -"Do not put yourself out of the way on my account," said Paul. - -"But my sister must not see you, sir,--you comprehend it is important -that she should not see you." - -"As you please; but as it is important, also, that I should not leave -the castle before concluding the affair which brought me here, permit me -to go into this side room." - -"That will do," said Emanuel, himself opening the door; "but be quick, -I beg of you." - -Paul went into the small room, and Emanuel hastily closed the door upon -him, which was hardly done when Marguerite appeared. - - - -CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. - - Look kindly on them; I cannot bear - Severity; - My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough, - I should but weep and answer you with sobbing; - But use me gently, like a loving brother, - And search through all the secrets of my soul.--Otway. - - -Marguerite d'Auray, whose history the reader has become aquainted with, -from the conversation between Captain Paul and Emanuel, was one of those -delicate, pale beauties, who bear impressed upon their features the -characteristic stamp of high birth. At the first glance, from the soft -flexibility of her form, the whiteness of her skin, the shape of her -hands and tapering fingers, with their thin, rosy and transparent nails, -could be discerned that she was descended from an ancient race. It was -evident that her feet, so small that both of them could have been placed -in the foot-mark of most women, had never walked excepting on carpeted -saloons or on the flowery turf of a park. There was in her movements, -graceful as they were, a certain degree of haughtiness and pride, the -attribute of all her family; in fine, she conveyed the impression that -her soul, capable of making any sacrifice she had resolved upon, -was very likely to rebel against tyranny; that devotedness was an -instinctive virtue of her heart, while obedience, in her view, was only -an educational duty, so that the tempest wind which blew upon her, might -make her bend down before it as a lily, but not as a reed. - -And yet, when she appeared at the door, her features depicted such -complete discouragement, her eyes had retained the traces of such -burning tears, her whole frame seemed weighed down by such an -overwhelming despair, that Emanuel saw at once, that she must have -summoned all her strength to assume an appearance of calmness. On seeing -him, she made a violent effort, and it was with a certain degree of -nervous firmness that she approached the arm chair on which he was -sitting. And then, seeing that the features of her brother retained the -expression of impatience, which they had assumed on being interrupted, -she paused, and these two children of the same mother, looked at each -other as strangers, the one with the eyes of ambition, the other with -those of fear. By degrees, Marguerite resumed her courage. - -"You have come at last, Emanuel! I was awaiting your return as the blind -await the light, and yet from the manner in which you look upon your -sister, it is easy to perceive that she was wrong in placing her hopes -in you." - -"If my sifter has become, as she always ought to have been," replied -Emanuel, "that is to say, a submissive and respectful daughter, she will -have understood what her rank and her position demand of her; she will -have forgotten past events as things which never should have happened, -and which consequently she ought not to remember, and she will have -prepared herself for the new destiny which awaits her. If it is in this -disposition that she now comes before me, my arms are open to receive -her, and my sister is still my sister." - -"Listen attentively to what I am about to say," said Marguerite, "and -above all, consider it as a justification of myself, and not intended as -a reproach to others. If my mother--and God forbid that I should accuse -her, for a holy duty keeps her apart from us--if my mother had been, -I was about to say, toward me as other mothers are towards their -daughters, I should constantly have opened my heart to her as a book; -at the first word traced upon it by any stranger hand, she would have -warned me of my danger and I should have avoided it. Had I been educated -in the world instead of being brought up like a poor wild flower beneath -the shade of this old castle, I should have learned from infancy the -value of the rank and position which you speak of to-day, and I should, -perhaps, not have infringed the decorum they prescribe, or the duties -they impose. In short, had I been tutored amidst women of the world, -with their sparkling wit and frivolous hearts, whom I have so often -heard you praise, but whom I never knew, had I been guilty of some -faults from levity, which love has caused me to commit--yes, I can well -understand, I might then have forgotten the past, have sown upon the -surface new recollections as flowers are planted upon tombs; and then, -forgetting the place where they had grown, have formed of them a bouquet -for a ball, or a bridal wreath. But unfortunately it is not so, Emanuel. -I was told to beware, when it was too late to avoid the danger. They -spoke to me of my rank and position in society, when I had already -forfeited them, and I am now called upon to look forward to joy in the -future, when my heart is drowned in the tears and misery of the past." - -"And the conclusion of all this," bitterly rejoined Emanuel. - -"The conclusion depends on you alone, Emanuel; it is in your power to -render it, if not happy, at all events becoming. I cannot have recourse -to my father. Alas! I know not even if he could recognise his daughter. -I have no hope in my mother; her glance freezes me, her words are -death to me. You alone, Emanuel, were left to me, to whom I could say, -brother: you are now the head of the family; it is to you alone that we -are answerable for our honor. I have fallen from ignorance, and I have -been punished for my fault as if it had been a wilful crime." - -"Well! well!", murmured Emanuel impatiently, "what is it that you ask?" - -"Brother, I demand, since a union with the only being I could have -loved, is said to be impossible, I demand that my punishment be -regulated according to my strength to bear it. My mother--may heaven -pardon her!--tore my child from me as if she had never herself been a -mother, and my child will be brought up far from me, neglected, and in -obscurity. You, Emanuel, removed the father, as my mother did the child, -and you were more cruel to him than the case required; I will not say as -man to man, but even as a judge towards a guilty person. As to myself, -you have both united to impose upon me a martyrdom more painful still. -Well, then, Emanuel, I demand in the name of our childhood spent in the -same cradle, of our youth passed under the same roof, in the name of the -tender appellations of brother and sister, which nature bestowed upon -us--I demand that a convent be opened to me, and that its gates should -close upon me for ever. And in that convent, I swear to you, Emanuel, -that every day upon my knees, before God, my forehead bent down to the -stone-pavement, weighed down by my fault, I will entreat the Lord as -a recompense for all my sufferings, to restore my father to reason, my -mother to happiness, and to pour on you, Emanuel, honor, and glory and -fortune. I swear to you, I will do this." - -"Yes; and the world will say that I had a sister whom I sacrificed to my -fortune, whose property I inherited while she still lived! Why this is -sheer madness!" - -"Listen to me, Emanuel," rejoined Marguerite, supporting herself on the -back of a chair, near which she was standing. - -"Well?" replied Emanuel. - -"When you have pledged your word, you keep it, do you not?" - -"I am a gentleman." - -"Well, then! look at this bracelet." - -"I see it--perfectly--what then?" - -"It is fastened by a key--the key which opens it is attached to a ring, -and with that ring, I pledged my word that I would not be released from -a promise I had made, until the ring should be brought back and returned -to me." - -"And he who has the key of it?" - -"Thanks to you, and to my mother, Emanuel, he is too far from us to -ask it of him. He is at Cayenne." - -"Before you are married two months," replied Emanuel, with an ironical -smile, "that bracelet will be so irksome to you, that you will be the -first to get rid of it." - -"I thought that I had told you it is locked upon my arm." - -"You know what people do when they have lost the key and cannot get into -their house--they send for a locksmith." - -"Well! in my case, Emanuel," replied Marguerite, rasing her voice, -and extending her arm with a solemn gesture, "they must send for the -executioner then, for this hand shall be cut off before I give it to -another." - -"Silence! silence!" cried Emanuel, rising hastily, and looking anxiously -towards the door of the inner room. - -"And now I have said all I had to say," rejoined Marguerite: "my -only hope was in you, Emanuel; for although you cannot comprehend any -deep-seated feeling, you are not cruel. I came to you in tears, look -at me and you will see that it is true--I came to you to say, 'Brother, -this marriage is the misfortune, is the misery of my life--I would -prefer a convent--I would prefer death to it--and you have not listened -to me, or if you have listened, you have not understood me. Well, then, -I will address myself to this man--I will appeal to his honor, to his -delicacy; if that should not be sufficient, I will tell him all; my love -for another, my weakness, my fault, my crime! I will tell him that I -have a child; that although he was torn from me, although I have never -since seen him, although I am ignorant of his abode, still my child -exists. A child cannot die, without his death striking some chord within -its mother's heart. In short I will tell him, should it be necessary, -that I still love another, that I cannot love him, and that I never -will." - -"Well! tell him all this," cried Emanuel, irritated by her persistence, -"and that evening we will sign the contract, and the next day you will -be Baroness de Lectoure." - -"And then," replied Marguerite, "then, I shall be truly the most -miserable woman in existence, for I should then have a brother whom I -should no longer love, and a husband for whom I should have no esteem. -Farewell, Emanuel; believe me this contract is not yet signed." - -And after saying these words, Marguerite withdrew with that deep and -settled despair upon her features, which could not for a moment be -mistaken. And Emanuel, convinced that he had not, as he had anticipated, -obtained a victory, but that the struggle was still to be continued, -gazed after her with an anxiety which was not devoid of tenderness. - -After a few moments of silence, in which he sat pensive and motionless, -he turned round and saw Captain Paul, whom he had completely forgotten, -standing at the door of the study, and then considering the vital -importance it was to him to get possession of the papers, which the -captain had offered him, he hurriedly sat down at the table, took a pen -and paper, and turning towards him, said-- - -"And now, sir, we are again alone, and there is nothing to prevent our -at once concluding this affair. In what terms do you wish the promise -to be drawn up? Dictate them, I am ready to write them down." - -"It is now useless," coldly replied the captain. - -"And why so?" - -"I have changed my mind." - -"How is that?" said Emanuel, rising, alarmed at the consequences which -he perceived might arise from words which he was far from expecting. - -"I will give," replied Paul, with the calmness of a fixed determination, -"the hundred thousand livres to the child, and I will find a husband -for your sister." - -"Who are you, then," said Emanuel, advancing a step towards him, "who -are you, sir, who thus disposes of a young girl who is my sister, who -has never seen you, and who does not even know that you exist?" - -"Who am I!" replied Paul, smiling; "upon my honor, I know no more upon -that subject than you do, for my birth is a secret which is only to be -revealed to me when I have attained my twenty-fifth year." - -"And you will attain that age?"---- - -"This evening, sir. I place myself at your disposal from to-morrow -morning, to give you all the information you may require of me," and -saying these words, Paul bowed. - -"I allow you to depart, sir, but you will understand it is upon the -condition that we meet again." - -"I was about to propose that condition, count, and I thank you for -having anticipated me." - -He then bowed to Emanuel a second time, and left the room. At the castle -gate, Paul found his horse and servant, and resumed the route to Port -Louis. When he had got out of sight of the castle, he alighted from his -horse, and directed his steps towards a fisherman's hut, built upon -the beach. At the door of this house, seated upon a bench, and in a -sailor's' dress, was a young man so deeply absorbed in thought, that he -did not observe Paul's approach. The captain placed his hand upon the -young man's shoulder, the other started, looked at him, and became -frightfully pale, although the open and joyful countenance of Paul, -indicated that he was far from being the bearer of bad news. - -"Well!" said Paul to him, "I have seen her." - -"Who?" demanded the young man. - -"Marguerite, by heaven!" - -"And----" - -"She is charming." - -"I did not ask you that." - -"She loves you still." - -"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed the young man, throwing himself into Paul's -arms, and bursting into tears. - - - -CHAPTER VII.--THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. - - O good old man; how well in thee appears - The constant service of the antique world - When service sweat for duty, not for need! - - Thou art not for the fashion of these times - Where none will sweat but for promotion; - And having that, do choice their service up - Even with the having: it is not so with thee. - - Shakespeare. - - -Although our readers must readily comprehend, after that which we have -just related to them, all that had passed in the six months during which -we had lost sight of our heroes, some details are, however, necessary, -in order that they should fully understand the new events about to be -accomplished. - -On the evening after the combat between the _Indienne_ and the Drake, -and which, notwithstanding our ignorance in naval matters, we have -attempted to describe to our readers, Lusignan had related to Paul the -history of his whole life. It was a very simple one, and contained but -few incidents. Love had formed the principal event in it, and after -having been its only joy, it had become its greatest grief. The -adventurous and independent life of Paul, his station, which had placed -him beyond the trammels of society, his caprice which was superior -to all laws, his habit of supreme command on board his own ship, had -inspired him with too just a sense of natural rights to obey the order -he had received with regard to Lusignan. Moreover, although he had -anchored under the French flag, Paul, as we have seen, belonged to -the navy of America, whose cause he had enthusiastically espoused. -He continued, therefore, his cruise along the shores of England; but -finding there was nothing to be done on the sea he landed at Whitehaven, -a small port in Cumberland, at the head of twenty men, among whom was -Lusignan, took the fort, spiked the guns, and put to sea again, after -having burnt the merchant vessels in the roads. Thence he sailed for -the coast of Scotland, with the intention of carrying off the Earl -of Selkirk and taking him as a hostage to the United States; but this -project had miscarried from an unforeseen circumstance, that nobleman -having unexpectedly gone to London. In this enterprise, as in the other, -Lusignan had seconded him with the courage we have seen him exhibit -in the battle between the _Indienne_ and the Drake; so that Paul -congratulated himself more than ever upon the chance which had enabled -him to oppose an injustice. But it was not enough that he had saved -Lusignan from transportation, it was necessary to restore his honor, -and to our young adventurer, in whom our readers will doubtless have -recognised the celebrated privateersman, Paul Jones, it was a more easy -matter than to any other person; for having letters of marque from Louis -XVI., against the English, he had to repair to Versailles to give an -account of his cruize. - -Paul determined upon running into Lorient, and for the second time cast -anchor there, that he might be within a short distance of the Chateau -d'Auray. The first answer which the young men received to their -enquiries regarding that family, was that Marguerite d'Auray was about -to be married to M. do Lectoure. Lusignan thought himself' forgotten, -and in the first paroxysm of his despair, insisted, even at the risk of -falling into the hands of his former persecutors, on once more seeing -Marguerite, if it were only to reproach her for infidelity; but Paul, -more calm and less credulous, made him pledge his word that he would not -land until he had heard from him; then, being assured that the marriage -would not take place in less than fifteen days, he set out for Paris, -and was received by the king, who presented him with a sword, the hilt -of which was of gold, and decorated him with the order of military -merit. Paul had availed himself of the kindness of the king towards him -to relate to him Lusignan's adventures, and had obtained not only his -pardon, but also as a reward for his late services, the appointment -of Governor of Guadaloupe. All these cares had not prevented him -from keeping sight of Emanuel. Being informed of the count's intended -departure, he left Paris, and having written to Lusignan, appointing a -place of meeting, he arrived at Auray an hour after the young count. - -After their joyful meeting, Paul and Lusignan remained together until -nearly twilight. Then Paul, who, as he had told Emanuel, had a personal -revelation to receive, left his friend and again took the road to Auray. -But this time he was on foot, and did not enter the castle, but going -along the park wall, he directed his steps toward an iron gate which -opened into a wood belonging to the domains of Auray. - -About an hour before Paul left the fisherman's hut, where he had found -Lusignan, a person had preceded him on the road toward the cottage at -which he was to ask the revelation of the secret of his birth; that -person was the Marchioness d'Auray, the haughty heiress of the name of -Sable. She was attired in her usual mourning garments with the addition -of a long black veil, which enveloped her from head to foot. Moreover, -the habitation which our young adventurer, with the hesitation of -ignorance, was seeking for, was to her familiar. It was a sort of -keeper's house, situated at a few paces from the entrance to the park, -and inhabited by an old man, in whose behalf the Marchioness d'Auray -had for twenty years fulfilled one of those acts of sedulous benevolence -which had gained for her in that part of Lower Brittany, the reputation -of rigid holiness which she enjoyed. These attentions to age were given, -it is true, with the same gloomy and solemn face which we have observed -in her, and which the tender emotions of pity never softened; but they -were nevertheless afforded, and all knew it, with careful punctuality. - -The face of the Marchioness d'Auray was even more grave than it was wont -to be, while she crossed the park to repair to the dwelling of a man who -was said to be an old servant of the family. The door was standing open -as if to allow the last rays of the setting sun to penetrate into the -house, so sweet and balmy to old people in the month of May. The house -was however empty. The Marchioness d'Auray entered it, looked around -her, and then as if certain that the person she was in search of would -not be long absent, she resolved to await his return. She sat down. She -had remained there about half an hour, motionless and absorbed in her -reflections, when she saw, between her and the declining daylight, a -shadow cast before the door. She slowly raised her eyes and recognised -the person she had been expecting. They both started as though they had -met by chance, and were not in the habit of seeing each other every day. - -"It is you, Achard," said the marchioness, who was the first to speak. "I -have been waiting for you half an hour. Where can you have been?" - -"Had your ladyship walked fifty paces farther, you would have found me -under the large oak, on the edge of the forest." - -"You know I never walk that way," said the marchioness, with a visible -shudder. - -"And you are wrong, madam; there is one in heaven who has a right to our -joint prayers, and who, perhaps, is astonished to hear only those of old -Achard." - -"And how know you that I do not also pray?" said the marchioness, with -a certain degree of feverish agitation. "Do you believe that the dead -require we should be constantly kneeling on their tombs?" - -"No," replied the old man, with a feeling of profound sorrow; "no, I do -not believe that the dead are so exacting, madam; but I believe if any -part of us lives under ground, it would thrill at the noise caused by -the steps of those whom we have loved during our life." - -"But," said the marchioness, in a low and hollow tone, "if that love -were a guilty passion?" - -"However guilty it may have been, madam," replied the old man, also -lowering his voice, "do you not believe that blood and tears have -expatiated it? God was then, believe me, too severe a judge, not to have -now become an indulgent father." - -"Yes, God has perhaps pardoned it," murmured the marchioness, "but did the -world know that which God knows, would it pardon as God has done?" - -"The world!" exclaimed the old man; "the world! Yes, there is the great -word which has again escaped your lips! The world! It is to it, to that -phantom you have sacrificed everything, madam; your feelings as a lover, -your feelings as a wife, your feelings as a mother! your own happiness, -the happiness of others! The world! It is the fear of the world which -has clothed you in perpetual mourning, beneath which you hope to conceal -remorse! And in that you are right, for you have succeeded in deceiving -it, for it has taken your remorse for virtue!" - -The marchioness raised her head with some degree of agitation, and -putting aside her veil that she might look upon the person who addressed -her in such extraordinary language; then, after a momentary silence, not -being able to discover any sinister expression in the calm features of -the old man. - -"You speak to me," she said to him, "with a bitterness which would lead -me to believe you have some personal reason for reproaching me. Have I -failed in any promise I have made? The persons who attend on you by my -orders, are they wanting in that respect which I have desired them to -observe? You know, if this should be the case, you have only to say a -word." - -"Forgive me, madam, it is in sorrow that I speak, not bitterness; it is -the effect of solitude and of age. You must well know what it is to -have sorrows that you cannot speak of--tears which we dare not shed, -and which fall back, drop by drop, upon the heart! No, I have not to -complain of any one, madam, since first, from a feeling for which I am -truly grateful, without seeking to know whence it emanated, you have -been pleased to see personally that my wants were all supplied, and -you have not for a single day forgotten your promise, but like the old -prophet, I have sometimes seen an angel come as your messenger." - -"Yes," replied the marchioness, "I know that Marguerite often -accompanies the servant who is charged to wait upon you; and I have seen -with pleasure the attentions she has paid you, and the friendship she -feels for you." - -"But in my turn, I have not failed either, I trust, in the promises I -made. For twenty years I have lived far from the habitations of men, I -have kept away every living being from this dwelling; so much did I fear -on your account, the delirium of my waking hours, or the indiscretion of -my dreams." - -"Undoubtedly! undoubtedly! and happily the secret has been well -preserved," said the marchioness, placing her hand upon Achard's arm; -"but this is a stronger incentive in my mind not to lose in a single -day the fruit of twenty years, all more gloomy, more isolated, and more -terrible than yours have been." - -"Yes, I understand you perfectly; and you have shuddered more than once -upon suddenly remembering that there is roaming about the world, a man -who may one day call upon me to reveal that secret, and that I have not -the right to conceal it from that man. Ah! you tremble at the bare idea, -do you not? But, tranquilise yourself; that man, when but a boy, fled -from the school at which we had placed him in Scotland, and for -ten years past nothing has been heard of him. In short, destined to -obscurity, he himself rushed forward to meet his fate. He is now lost -amid the millions that crowd this populous world, and not a soul knows -where to find him; this poor unit, without a name, is lost for ever. He -must have lost his father's letter, have mislaid the token by which I -was to recognise him; or, better still, perhaps he exists no longer." - -"It is cruel of you, Achard," replied the marchioness, "to utter such -words to a mother. You cannot appreciate the strange feelings and -singular contradictions contained in the heart of woman. For, in fine, -can I not be tranquil unless my child be dead! Consider, my old friend; -this secret, of which he has been ignorant five and twenty years, has it -become at the age of twenty-five, so necessary to his existence that -he cannot live, unless it be revealed to him? Believe me, Achard, for -himself even it would be better he should still remain ignorant of it, -as he has been to this day. I feel assured that to this day he has been -happy--old man, do not mar this happiness--do not inspire his mind with -thoughts which may induce him to commit an evil action. No--tell him, -in lieu of the dreadful tale you were desired to communicate, that his -mother has gone to rejoin his father in heaven; and, would to God that -it were so! but that when dying (for I must see him whatever you may say -to the contrary, I will even if it be but once, press him to my heart), -when dying, as I said, his mother had bequeathed him to her friend the -Marchioness d'Auray, in whom he will find a second mother." - -"I understand you, madam," said Achard, smiling. "It is not the first -time you have pointed out this path, in which you wish to lead me -astray. Only to-day, you speak more openly, and if you dared to do so, -or if you knew me less, you would offer me some reward to induce me to -disobey the last injunctions of him who sleeps by us." - -The marchioness made a gesture as if about to interrupt him. - -"Listen to me, madam," hastily said the old man, stretching forth his -hand, "and let my words be considered by you as holy and irrevocable. As -faithful as I have been to the promise which I made to the Marchioness -d'Auray, so faithful will I be to that I made to the Count de Morlaix, -on the day when his son, or your son, shall present himself before me -with the token of recognition, and shall demand to know the secret. I -shall reveal it to him, madam. As to the papers which attest it, you are -aware that they are to be delivered to him only after the death of the -Marquis d'Auray. The secret is here," said the old man, placing his hand -upon his heart; "no human power could have extracted it before the time; -no human power, that time having arrived, can prevent me from revealing -it. The papers are there in that closet, the key of which I always have -about me, and it is only by robbery or by assassination that I can be -deprived of them." - -"But," said the marchioness, half rising and supporting herself on -the arm of her chair, "you might die before my husband, old man; for -although he is more dangerously ill than you are, you are older than he -is, and then what would become of those papers?" - -"The priest who shall attend my last moments will receive them under the -seal of confession." - -"Ah! it is that!" cried the marchioness, rising, "and thus this chain of -fears will be prolonged until my death! and the last link of it will be -to all eternity rivetted to my tomb. There is in this world a man, the -only one perhaps, who is as immoveable as a rock; and God has placed him -in my path, not only as a remorse,' but as a vengeance also. My secret -is in your hands, old man,--tis well!--do with it as you will!--you are -the master, and I am your slave--farewell!" - -So saying, the marchioness left the cottage, and returned towards the -chateau. - - - -CHAPTER VIII.--THE SECRET. - - More than ten years have passed since I beheld him, - The noble boy; now time annuls my oath - And cancels all his wrongs. - I took a solemn oath to veil the secret, - Conceal thy rights, while lived her lord, - And thus allow'd thy youth to quit my roof. - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain. - - -"Yes," said the old man, gazing after the marchioness as she withdrew, -"yes, I know you have a heart of adamant, madam, insensible to every -sort of fear, with the exception of that which God has placed within -your breast to supply the place of remorse. But that suffices; and it is -dearly buying that reputation you have obtained for virtue, to pay -the price of such eternal terrors. It is true that the virtue of the -Marchioness d'Auray is so firmly established, that if truth herself were -to rise from the earth or to descend from heaven to arraign her, she -would be treated as a calumniator. But God orders all things according -to His will, and what He does ordain, His wisdom has long before -matured." - -"Rightly reasoned," cried a youthful and sonorous voice, replying to -the religious axiom which the resignation of the old man had led him to -utter. "Upon my word, good father, you speak like Ecclesiastes." Achard -turned round and perceived Paul, who had arrived just as the marchioness -left him, but who was so absorbed by the scene we have just described, -that she had not observed the young captain. The latter, seeing the -old man alone, approached him, and not hearing the last words he had -uttered, had spoken with his usual good humor. Achard, who was surprised -by his unexpected appearance, looked at him as if he wished him to -repeat that which he had said. - -"I say," resumed Paul, "that there is more grandeur in resignation that -humbly bows itself, than in philosophy that doubts. That is a maxim of -our quakers, which, for my eternal welfare, I wish I had less often on -my tongue, and more frequently in my heart." - -"I beg your pardon, sir," said the old man on seeing our adventurer, who -was fixedly gazing at him, while standing with one foot on the threshold -of his door. "May I know who you are?" - -"For the moment," replied Paul, giving, as usual, free course to his -poetical and heedless gaiety, "I am a child of the republic of Plato, -having all human kind for brothers, the world for a country, and -possessing upon this earth only the station I have worked out for -myself." - -"And what are you in search of?" continued the old man, smiling in spite -of himself at the air of jovial good-nature which was spread over the -features of the young man. - -"I am seeking," replied Paul, "at three leagues distance from Lorient, -at five hundred paces from resembles this one, and in which I am to find -an old man, whom it is very likely is yourself." - -"And what is the name of this old man?" - -"Louis Achard." - -"That is my name." - -"Then may the blessing of heaven descend on your white hairs," said -Paul, in a voice which at once changing its tone, assumed that of deep -feeling and respect; "for here is a letter which I believe was written -by my father, in which he says that you are an honest man." - -"Does not that letter enclose something?" cried d'Auray, and advancing a -step nearer to the young captain. - -"It does," replied the latter, opening the letter and taking out of it -one half of a Venetian sequin, which had been broken in two; "it seems -to be part of a gold coin, of which I have one half, and you ought to be -in possession of the other." - -Achard mechanically held out his hand, while gazing with intense -interest at the young man. - -"Yes, yes," said the old man, and eyes gradually became more and more -suffused with tears: "yes, this is the true token, and more than -that, the extraordinary resemblance," and opening his arms, he cried, -"child!--oh! my God! my God!" - -"What is it?" cried Paul, extending his arms to support the old man, who -was quite overcome by his emotions. - -"Oh! can you not comprehend?" replied the latter, "can you not -comprehend that you are the living portrait of your father, and that I -loved your father--loved him so much that I would have shed my blood, -have given my life to serve him, as I would now for you, young man, were -you to demand it." - -"Embrace me, then, my old friend," said Paul, throwing his arms around -the old man, "for the chain of feeling, believe me, is not broken, which -extended from the tomb of the father to the cradle of the son. Whatever -my father may have been, if in order to resemble him it be only -necessary to have a conscience without reproach, undaunted courage, -and a memory which never forgets a benefit conferred, although it may -sometimes forget an injury; if this be so, then am I, as you have said, -my father's living portrait, and more so in soul than in form." - -"Yes, he possessed all these," replied the old man, with solemnity, and -clasping Paul to his breast, looking at him with affectionate though -tearful tenderness--"Yes, he had the same commanding voice, the same -flashing eyes, the same nobleness of heart. But why was it that I have -not seen you sooner, young man? I have, during my life, passed many -gloomy hours, which your presence would have brightened." - -"Why--because this letter told me to seek you out only when I should -have attained the age of twenty-five, and because it is not long since I -attained that age, not more than an hour ago." - -The old man bowed down his head with a pensive air, and remained silent -for some time, seemingly absorbed by recollections of the past. - -"Can it be so?" at length ne said, raising his head, "can it be -twenty-five years ago. Good heaven! it appears to me only yesterday that -you were born in this house, that you first saw the light in that very -room:" and the old man raised his head, and pointed to a door which led -into another room. - -Paul, in his turn, appeared to reflect, and then, looking around him, to -strengthen by the aid of objects which presented themselves to his view, -the recollections which crowded on his memory. - -"In this cottage, in that room," he repeated, "and I lived here till -I was five years old, did I not?" - -"Yes," murmured the old man, as if fearful to disturb the feelings which -were taking possession of the young man's mind. - -"Well," continued Paul, leaning his head on both his hands, as if to -concentrate his thoughts, "allow me for one moment to look back, in my -turn, to the past, for I am recollecting a room which I had thought I -had seen in a dream--it may be that one. Listen to me! Oh! how strange -it is--remembrances now rush upon me." - -"Speak, my child, speak!" said the old man. - -"It it be that room, there ought to be on the right, as you go in, at -the end of the room, a bed with green hangings." - -"Yes." - -"A crucifix at the head of the bed." - -"Yes." - -"A closet opposite, in which were books, among the rest a large Bible, -with numerous engravings." - -"There it is," said the old man, pointing to the sacred book which was -lying open on a desk for prayer. - -"Oh! it is that--it is that," cried Paul, pressing his lips against the -leaves. - -"Oh! good and pious heart," cried the old man, "I thank thee, oh! my -God--I thank thee." - -"Then," said Paul, rising, "in that room there is a window, from which -you can discern the sea, and on the sea, three islands?" - -"Yes, Houat, Hoedic, and Belle-Ileen-mer. - -"Then, it is really so," said Paul, rushing towards the room, and then -perceiving that the old man was about to follow him, he said: "No, no! I -must be alone--let me enter it alone--I feel that I must be alone," and he -went into the room, closing the door after him. - -He then paused a moment, impressed with that holy respect which -accompanies the remembrance of our infancy. The room was as he had -described it, for the religious devotedness of the old servant had -preserved it from any change. Paul, feeling doubtless that the eye of -a stranger would have interrupted the expression of the feelings he -experienced, and now certain of being alone, abandoned himself to them -He slowly advanced, and with clasped hands, towards the ivory crucifix; -and falling on his knees, which formerly he had the habit of doing, -morning and evening, he endeavoured to remember one of those simple -prayers, in which a child, still on the threshold of this life, prays -to God for those who have opened its gates to him. "What events had -succeeded each other in the lapse of time which had passed between these -genuflexions! Paul remained for a considerable time absorbed in thought, -and then slowly arose, and went to the window. The night was beautiful -and calm, the moon was shining in the heavens, and tipped the ocean -waves with silver. The three islands appeared on the horizon, like blue -vapor floating on the ocean. He remembered how often in his infancy he -had leaned against that window, gazing upon that same scene, following -with his eyes some bark, with its snowy sails, which glided silently -over the sea, like the wing of a night bird. Then his heart swelled with -sweet and tender recollection; his head fell upon his chest, and silent -tears ran down his cheeks. At that moment he felt that some one pressed -his hands--it was the old man--he wished to conceal his emotions; but -instantly repenting this vain feeling, he turned toward Achard, and -frankly let him see his face, down which the tears were streaming. - -"You weep, my child," said the old man. - -"Yes, I weep," replied Paul; "and why should I conceal it? Yea, look at -me. And yet I have, during my life, witnessed dreadful scenes. I have -seen the tempest bear my vessel to the summit of a mountain wave, and -then sink her into an abyss, from which I thought she would never rise -again; and I felt that she weighed no more upon the wings of the storm -than does a dried leaf on the evening breeze. I have seen men fall -around me like the ripe ears of corn before the sickle of the reaper. -I have heard the cries of distress, and the dying groans of those whose -meal I had shared but the day before. In order to receive their last -sigh, I have walked amid a shower of bullets, and grape-shot, upon a -plank slippery with blood. And yet, amid all this, my soul was calm--my -eyes remained unmoistened. But this room, see you; this room, of which -I had retained so holy a remembrance; this room, in which I had received -the first caresses of a father whom I shall never see again, and the -last kisses of a mother who perhaps desires no more to see me; this room -is sacred as a cradle and as a tomb. I cannot thus revisit it without -giving vent to my emotions; I must weep, or I shall suffocate." The old -man clasped him in his arms. Paul leaned his head upon his shoulder, -and during some time nothing was heard but his sobs. At length the old -servant rejoined: - -"Yes, you are right; this room is at once a cradle and a tomb; it was -there that you were born;" he pointed to one corner with his hand; -"and it was there that you received the last blessing of your father," -continued he, pointing to the opposite side of the room. - -"He is then dead?" said Paul. - -"He is dead." - -"You must tell me how he died." - -"I will tell you all." - -"Defer it for a moment," added Paul, as he reached a chair and seated -himself, "for I am now too weak to listen to you. Let me recover -myself." He placed his elbow on the window-sill, leaned his head upon -his hand, and once more cast his eyes upon the sea. - -"What a magnificent spectacle is the ocean when the moon shines upon -it as brightly as it does now," continued he, with that accent of soft -melancholy which was habitual to him. "It is as calm as God himself, and -vast as eternity. I do not believe that a man accustomed to study such a -scene can be afraid of death. My father met death bravely, did he not?" - -"Assuredly!" proudly replied Achard. - -"It could not be otherwise," continued Paul, "for I remember my father, -although I was only four years old when I last saw him." - -"He was a handsome young man, as you yourself are," said Achard, looking -sorrowfully at Paul, "and just as old as you are." - -"What was his name?" - -"The Count de Moraix." - -"Then I also am of an old and noble family. I also have arms and an -escutcheon as well as those young and insolent nobles who ask me for my -parchments when I show them my wounds?" - -"Wait, young man, wait; do not allow pride to carry you thus away, for -I have not yet told you the name of her who gave you being, and you are -still ignorant of the dreadful secret of your birth." - -"Well: be it so. I shall not with the less respect and veneration hear -the name of my mother. What was my mother's name?" - -"The Marchioness d'Auray," slowly replied the old man, as if regretting -that he was compelled to mention her name. - -"What is it that you tell me!" cried Paul, starting from his chair, and -seizing the hands of the old man. - -"The truth!" replied Achard, sorrowfully. - -"Then Emanuel is my brother--Marguerite is my sister." - -"Do you then already know them?" exclaimed the old servant, much -astounded. - -"Oh! you were right, old man," said Paul, throwing himself into his -chair. "God orders all things according to His will, and what He does -ordain, His wisdom has long before matured." - -They both remained silent for a time, when at length Paul raised his -head, and resolutely fixing his eyes on the old man's face, said: - -"Now, I am ready to hear all you have to communicate--you may go on." - - - -CHAPTER IX.--FATAL LOVE. - - I shall a tale unfold - Will harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; - Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres; - Thy knotted and combined locks to part. - And each particular hair to stand on end, - Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. - - Shakespeare. - - -The old man seemed to be summoning up his recollections for a time, and -then began: - -"They were affianced to each other. I know not what mortal hatred it -was that arose between the families and separated them. The Count de -Morlaix, broken hearted, could not remain in France. He sailed for Saint -Domingo, where his father possessed a large estate; I accompanied him, -for the Count de Morlaix reposed much confidence in me. I was the son of -her who had nursed him; I had received the same education as himself; he -used to call me his brother, and I alone remembered the distance which -nature had placed between us. The Marquis de Morlaix confided to me the -charge of watching over his son, for I loved him with all the love of -a father. We remained two years under a tropical sun; during that two -years, your father, lost amid the solitude of that magnificent island, -a traveller without an object and without an aim, an ardent and -indefatigable sportsman, endeavouring to cure the griefs of the mind, -by the fatigues of the body; but so far from succeeding, one would have -thought that his heart became still more inflamed under that ardent sun. -At length, after two years of trial and incessant struggles, his love -conquered. He must either see her again or die. I yielded and we set -sail for France. Never was a voyage more beautiful, or more prosperous. -The sea and sky seemed to smile upon us; so favourable were they that -it would have induced one to believe in lucky omens. Six weeks after our -departure from Port au Prince, we landed at Havre. Mademoiselle de Sable -was married. The Marquis d'Auray was at Versailles, fulfilling at the -court of Louis XV. the duties of his charge, and his wife, who was -too much indisposed to follow him, was at the old chateau d'Auray, the -turrets of which you see from this place." - -"Yes, yes," said Paul, "I know it; pray go on." - -"As to myself," rejoined the old map, "during our voyage, one of my -uncles, an old servant of the house of Auray, had died, and left me -this small house, with a small quantity of land surrounding it. I took -possession of it. Your father had left me at Vannes, telling me he was -going to Paris, and for the whole of the first year that I inherited -this house I did not see him." - -"One night,--it is exactly twenty-five years ago,--some one knocked at -my door; I went to open it and found your father there, carrying in his -arms a woman whose face was veiled. He brought her into this room, and -laid her on that bed. And then returning to me in the adjoining room, -where I was waiting mute and motionless with astonishment, he placed -his hand upon my shoulder, and looking at me in a supplicating manner, -although he had the right to command me, said, 'Louis, you can do more -than save my life and honor--you can save the life and honor of her I -love--get on horseback, gallop to the next town, and return here in an -hour with a doctor.' He spoke to me in that short and hasty tone, which -indicated that there was not a moment to be lost. I immediately -obeyed. The day was beginning to break when we returned. The doctor was -introduced by the Count de Morlaix into this room, the door of which was -immediately closed: he remained there during the whole day; towards -five in the afternoon, the doctor left the house, and at nightfall your -father also left the house carrying in his arms the mysterious veiled -lady whom he had brought the previous night. When they had gone, I came -into this room and found you here--you had just been born." - -"And how did you learn that this woman was the Marchioness d'Auray?" - -"Oh!" exclaimed the old man, in a way which was as terrible as it was -unexpected; "I had offered the Count de Morlaix to keep you here, and he -accepted my proposal: from time to time he would come to spend an hour -with you." - -"Alone?" demanded Paul, with much anxiety. - -"Yes, always; but as he had given me permission to walk with you in the -park, it would sometimes happen that at the corner of one of the avenues -I would meet the marchioness, whom chance appeared to have conducted in -that direction. She would make you a sign to come to her, and she would -kiss you as people kiss a strange child, because he is handsome. Four -years passed on in this way, and then one night some one again knocked -at this door, and it was again your father. He was more calm, but had, -perhaps, a more gloomy look than on the first occasion. 'Louis,' said -he, 'to-morrow, at the break of day, I have to meet the Marquis d'Auray. -It is a duel in which one of us must fall, and you are to be the only -witness of it. The terms are agreed upon. You must, therefore, give me -shelter for this night, and let me have materials for writing.' He sat -down at this table, on the very chair you are now seated." - -Paul sprang up, but supported himself on the back of the chair, without -again sitting down upon it. "He sat up all night. At day-break he came -into my room and found me up--I had not gone to bed. As to you poor -child, unconscious of the passions and miseries of this life, you were -quietly sleeping." - -"And then,--pray go on." - -"Your father bent slowly over you, supporting himself by the wall, and -looking sorrowfully upon you: 'Louis,' said he to me, in a hollow voice, -'should I be killed, and which may happen, wo to this child! You will -deliver him with this letter to Field, my valet de chambre, whom I have -charged to conduct him to Selkirk, in Scotland, there to leave him in -sure hands. When he is twenty-five years old, he will bring you the -other half of this gold coin, and will ask you to reveal to him the -secret of his birth. You will communicate it; for then, perhaps, his -mother will be alone and isolated. As to these papers which prove his -birth, you will not deliver them to him, until after the death of the -Marquis d'Auray. Now I have said all that is necessary, let us go, for -it is the appointed hour. He then leaned over your bed, bent down toward -you, and although he was a man of fortitude, as I have told you, I saw a -tear fall upon your cheek." - -"Proceed," said Paul, in a voice choked by emotion. - -"The rendezvous was in one of the avenues of the park, about a hundred -paces from this house. When we reached the place, we found the marquis -there, he had been waiting for us some minutes. Near him upon a bank -were pistols ready loaded. The adversaries bowed to each other without -exchanging a word. The marquis pointed to the weapons--they each took -one, and then, according to the terms which had been agreed upon, as -your father had told me, they placed themselves, mute and gloomily, at -the distance of thirty paces, and then began to walk towards each other. -Oh! it was a moment ef agony for me, I can assure you," rejoined the -old man, almost as much moved as if the scene were then actually passing -before him, "when I saw the distance gradually diminishing between these -two men. When they were only about ten paces, the marquis stopped and -fired. I looked at your father; not a muscle of his face was moved, so -that I thought him safe and unhurt. He continued to walk on till he came -close to the marquis, and then placing the muzzle of the pistol to his -heart--" - -"He did not kill him, I trust," cried Paul seizing the old man's arm. - -"He said to him, Your life is in my hands, sir, and I might take it, but -I wish you to live, that you may pardon me, as I do you. And uttering -these words, he fell dead at the feet of the marquis, whose ball had -passed through his chest." - -"Oh! my father! my father!" cried Paul, wringing his hands. "And the man -who killed my father--he still lives, does he not? He is still young, -and has strength enough to wield a sword or raise a pistol? We will go -to him--to-day--instantly! You will tell him, that it is his son! -that he must fight with him." - -"God has avenged your father," replied Achard--"that man is mad." - -"That is true--I had forgotten that," murmured Paul. - -"And in his madness that bloody scene is ever before his eyes, and he -repeats ten times a day the dying words your father addressed to him." - -"And that must be the reason why the marchioness will not leave him for -a single moment." - -"And that is also the reason, under the pretext that he will not see his -children, that she keeps Emanuel and Marguerite from him." - -"My poor sister," said Paul, with an accent of undefinable tenderness; -"and now she wishes to sacrifice her by forcing her to marry that wretch -Lectoure." - -"Yes, but that wretch Lectoure will take Marguerite with him to Paris, -and give a regiment of dragoons to her brother, so that the marchioness -will no longer have cause to dread the presence of her children. Her -secret, therefore, remains henceforward in the breasts of two old men, -who to-morrow, this night even, may die. The grave is silent." - -"But, I--I!"---- - -"You! Does she know that you still exist! Has anything been heard of you -since you escaped from Selkirk? Could not some accident have prevented -you from coming to the appointment, which fortunately you have done -safely? It is certain that she has not forgotten you, but she hopes"---- - -"Oh! can you believe that my mother"---- - -"I beg your pardon, that is true. I do not believe it!" cried Achard, "I -was wrong; forget what I have said." - -"Yes, yes, let us speak of you, my friend; let us speak of my father." - -"Is it necessary that I should tell you that his last wishes were -fulfilled. Field came to fetch you during the day, and took you away -with him. Twenty-one years have passed since then, and since then not -a single day has passed without my putting up a prayer that I might see -you at the appointed time. My prayers have been granted," continued the -old man; "and thanks be to God, you are here. Your father lives again in -you--I once more see him--I am speaking to him. I weep no longer, I am -now consoled." - -"And he died thus, instantly, without a struggle, without a sigh?" - -"Yes--I brought him here. I placed him on the bed in which you were -born--I closed the door that no one might enter the house, and I went -alone and dug his grave. I passed the whole day in this painful duty; -for, according to the request of your father, to no one was to be -confided this dreadful secret. In the evening I returned for the body. -The heart of man is singularly constituted, and hope which God has -planted in it can with difficulty be eradicated. I had seen him fall--I -had felt his hands grow cold--I had kissed his ice-like face--I had -left him, to hollow out his grave, and that grave being made, that duty -being accomplished, I returned with a beating heart, for it appeared to -me, although a miracle would be required for such a change, that during -my absence life had returned to him, and that he would rise from his bed -and speak to me. I entered the house--alas! alas! the days of miracles -had passed away. Lazarus remained lying on his couch--dead! dead! dead!" -and the old man remained for some time overwhelmed with grief, silent -and voiceless, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks. - -"Yes, yes," cried Paul, also bursting into tears; "yes, and you then -fulfilled your holy mission. Good old man, let me kiss those hands which -deposited my father in his last home. And you have remained faithful -to his tomb as you had been to him during life. Poor guardian of the -sepulchre; you have remained near him that your tears might water the -grass which grew about the unknown grave. Oh! how little are those who -think themselves great because their name resounds amid the tempest, -and the cry of war, louder than the storm or the din of battle, in -comparison with you, old man, whose devotedness has been mute and -noiseless. Oh! give me your blessings lay those hallowed hands upon my -head, since my father is not here to bless me," continued Paul, throwing -himself on his knees before him. - -"Rise to my arms--let me clasp you to my heart, my child, for you -exaggerate these actions, in themselves so simple and so natural. And -then, believe me, that which you term my piety has not been a useless -lesson to me. I have seen how little space a man occupies beneath the -ground, and how soon he is lost amid the world, should God turn his -face from him. Your father was young, full of courage, with a brilliant -career opening before him. Your father was the last descendant of an -ancient line; he bore a noble name. His path seemed marked with honors -and distinction; he had a family and powerful friends. Well, he suddenly -disappeared, as if the earth had opened beneath his feet. I know not if -some tearful eyes sought for him till they lost all trace of him; but -this I know, that for one-and-twenty years no one has sought out his -tomb--no one knows that he lies beneath that spot, where the grass -is greener and grows more luxuriantly than elsewhere--and yet, vain, -glorious, and miserable as he is, man considers himself of some value." - -"Oh! and my mother, has she not visited his grave?" - -The old man did not answer. - -"Well, then! there will be two of us who henceforward will know the -spot, where he reposes. Come, and show it to me; for I will return -to it, I promise solemnly, every time my ship returns to the coast of -France." - -Saying this, he drew Achard into the outer room, but as they opened the -door they heard a slight noise in the park. It was a servant from the -castle, who had accompanied Marguerite. Paul hurriedly returned into the -bedroom. - -"It is my sister," said he to Achard; "leave me alone with her a -moment. It is necessary that I should speak to her. I have something -to communicate which will make her pass a happy night. We must have -compassion for those who watch and weep." - -"Reflect," said Achard, "that the secret I have revealed to you is your -mother's." - -"Fear not--I will speak to her but of that which concerns herself." - -At that moment Marguerite entered the room. - - - -CHAPTER X.--CONFIDENCE. - - This ring I gave him when he parted from me - To bind him to remember my good will; - The more shame for him that he sends it to me. - - Shakespeare. - - -Marguerite had come, as she frequently did, to bring some provisions for -the old man, and it was not without astonishment that she perceived in -the outer room, where she usually found Achard, a young and handsome -man, who looked at her with gladdened eyes, and with a kindly smile. -She made a sign to the servant to put down the basket in a corner of the -room; he obeyed, and then went out to wait for his mistress in the park. -When he had withdrawn, she advanced towards Paul, saying,-- - -"I beg your pardon, sir, but I expected to find my old friend, Achard, -here, and I came, to bring him something from my mother"-- - -Paul pointed to the inner room, to let her know that the person she was -seeking was within, for he could not reply to her; he felt that the tone -of his voice would betray the emotions he experienced. The young girl -thanked him, with a bow, and went into the room to find Achard. - -Paul followed her with his eyes--his hand pressed upon his heart. That -virgin soul into which love had never penetrated, now expanded with -fraternal tenderness. Isolated as he had always been, having no friends -but the rude children of the ocean, all that was soft or tender in his -heart, he had turned towards God, and although in the eyes of rigid -Christians, his religion might not have appeared as strictly orthodox, -it is no less true, that the poetry which overflowed in every word he -uttered was nothing more than one vast and eternal prayer. It was not, -therefore, astonishing, that this first feeling which penetrated his -heart, although purely fraternal, was as extravagant and transporting as -the emotions of love. - -"Oh!" murmured he, "poor isolated being that I am! How shall I be -able to restrain my feelings when she returns, and prevent myself from -clasping her to my heart and saying to her: Marguerite! my sister, no -woman has yet felt love for me; love me then with sisterly affection. -Oh! mother! mother! by depriving me of your caresses, you have also -deprived me of those of this dear angel. May God restore to you in -eternity that happiness which you have driven from yourself and others." - -"Farewell!" said Marguerite to the old man, opening the door, "farewell! -I wished this evening to come myself, for I know not when I may see you -again." - -And she went toward the outer door, pensive, and with her eyes cast -down, without seeing Paul, without remembering that a stranger was in -that room. Paul remained gazing at her with outstretched arms as if -to prevent her leaving the house, with palpitating heart and moistened -eyes. At length, when he saw her placing her hand upon the door-latch, -he cried aloud-- - -"Marguerite!" - -She turned round amazed, but not being able to comprehend this strange -familiarity, in one who was totally unknown to her, she half-opened the -door. - -"Marguerite!" reiterated Paul, advancing a step towards his sister, -"Marguerite, do you not hear me call you?" - -"It is true that my name is Marguerite, sir," she replied, with dignity; -"but I could not imagine that word was addressed to me by a person whom -I have the honor of knowing." - -"But I know you!" exclaimed Paul, going nearer to her, and then closing -the door he brought her back into the room. "I know that you are -unhappy, that you have not one friendly heart into which you can pour -your sorrows, not one arm from which you can ask support." - -"You forget the one which is on high," replied Marguerite, raising her -eyes and hand toward heaven. - -"No, no, Marguerite, I do not forget, for it is He who sends me to offer -you that which you most need; to tell you when all lips and all hearts -are closed toward you, 'I am your friend, devotedly, eternally.'" - -"Oh! sir!" replied Marguerite, "these are sacred and solemn words which -you have uttered; words, unfortunately, to which it would be difficult -for me to give credence without proofs." - -"And should I give you one?" said Paul. - -"Impossible!" murmured Marguerite. - -"Irrefragable!" continued Paul. - -"Oh! then!" exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which -doubt began to give place to hope-- - -"Well! and then"-- - -"Oh! then--but no, no!" - -"Do you know this ring?" said Paul, showing her the one with the key -that opened the bracelet. - -"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed Marguerite, "have mercy upon me! he is -dead!" - -"He lives." - -"Then he no longer loves me." - -"He loves you!" - -"If he be living--if he still love me--oh! I shall go mad--what was it I -was saying? If he be living--if he still love me, how comes it that this -ring is in your possession?" - -"He confided it to me as a token of recognition." - -"And have I confided this bracelet to any one?" cried Marguerite, -pushing back the sleeve of her gown--"Look!" - -"Yes, but you, Marguerite, you are not proscribed--dishonored, in the -eyes of the whole world--thrown amongst a condemned race!" - -"Of what importance is that. Is he not innocent?" - -"And then, he thought," continued Paul, wishing to discover the extent -of the devotedness and love of his sister, "he thought that delicacy -required, banished as he is for ever from society, that he should offer -you, if not restore to you, the liberty of disposing of your hand." - -"When a woman has done for a man that which I have done for him," -replied Marguerite, "her only excuse is to love him eternally, and it is -that I mean to do." - -"Oh! you are an angel!" exclaimed Paul. - -"Tell me!" rejoined Marguerite, seizing the young man's hands, and -looking at him with a supplicating air-- - -"What?" - -"Have you seen him, then?" - -"I am his friend, his brother." - -"Speak to me of him, then?" she exclaimed, giving herself up entirely to -the recollection of her lover, and forgetting that it was the first -time she had seen the person to whom she was addressing questions of so -delicate a nature. "What is he doing? what hope has he? Poor, unhappy -man!" - -"He loves you--and he hopes again to see you." - -"Then, then," stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,--"he -has told you----?" - -"All!" - -"Oh!" she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a -sudden tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual -paleness. - -Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming-- - -"You are a miracle of devotedness!" - -"You do not then despise me, sir?" said Marguerite, Venturing to raise -her eyes. - -"Marguerite!" cried Paul, "had I a sister I would pray to heaven that -she might resemble you." - -"Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister," she replied, -leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears. - -"Perhaps," said Paul, smiling. - -"You know not, then----?" - -"Proceed." - -"That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning." - -"I have been informed of that." - -"And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed." - -"I know that, too." - -"Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can -I apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? -My brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my -feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman -whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will -inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe -that others can forget it, and when she has once said, 'It is my will,' -all that remains to do is to bow down one's head, to weep, and to obey. -My father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from -which he has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My -father! for any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove -a resource: but you know not that he is insane--that he has lost his -reason, and with it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, -it is ten years since I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not -pressed his trembling hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows -not that he has still a daughter! he knows not even whether he has a -heart, and will not be able even to recognize me. And were he but to -know me, and took compassion on me, my mother would place a pen in -his hand and would say, 'Sign that, it is my will!' and he would sign -it--the poor feeble old man! and his daughter would be condemned." - -"Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be -pacified, that contract never will be signed." - -"And who can prevent it?" - -"I will!" - -"You?" - -"Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council." - -"Who will present you there?" - -"I have the means." - -"My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while -striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?" - -"Your brother's person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite. -Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me." - -"Oh! I believe you, sir, and I implicitly confide in you," said -Marguerite, as if overwhelmed by the contending feelings of confidence -and mistrust which she had till then labored under. "For what advantage -could you derive from endeavoring to deceive me? What interest could you -have to betray me?" - -"None, undoubtedly; but let us talk of other matters. What line of -conduct do you intend to pursue with regard to the Baron de Lectoure?" - -"I will tell him all!" - -"Oh!" cried Paul, bowing profoundly, "allow me to adore you." - -"Sir!" murmured Marguerite, "sir!" - -"As a sister! as a sister!" - -"Yes, you are indeed kind and good," cried Marguerite, "and I believe it -is God who sent you to my aid." - -"Believe it," replied Paul. "Then--to-morrow evening." - -"Do not be astonished, nor alarmed at anything that may occur, only -contrive to let me know by letter, by a word, a sign, the result of your -interview with Lectoure!" - -"I will endeavor to do so." - -"It is now late, and your servant may be surprised at the length of this -interview. Return to the castle, and say not a word of me to any one. -Farewell!" - -"Farewell," reiterated Marguerite; "you to whom I know not what name to -give." - -"Call me your brother." - -"Farewell, then, brother." - -"Oh, my sister! my sister!" cried Paul, clasping her convulsively in his -arms, "your lips are the first from which I have heard so sweet a word. -God will reward you for it." - -The young girl drew back amazed; and then returning to Paul, she held -out her hand to him. Paul again pressed it, and Marguerite left the -cottage. - -The young man then went to the door of the inner room, and opened it. - -"And now, good old man," said he, "conduct me to my father's grave." - - - -CHAPTER XI.--THE COURTIER. - - Hamlet.--Dost thou know this water-fly? - Horatio.--No, my good lord. - Hamlet.--Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him. - SHAKESPEARE. - - Here on my knees by heaven's blest nower I swear, - If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you; - But rather wander through the world a beggar, - And live on sordid scraps at poor men's doors. - For, though to fortune lost, I'll still inherit - My mother's virtues and my father's honor.--Otway. - - -The day following that on which Paul had been made acquainted with the -secret of his birth, the inhabitants of the castle of Auray awoke more -than ever absorbed in the fears and hopes which their several interests -had created, for that day must necessarily prove a decisive one to -the whole of them. The marchioness, whom our readers have ere this -discovered, was neither perverse or wicked, but a haughty and inflexible -woman, saw in it the termination of those heart-rending apprehensions, -which for so many years, had been her daily companions; for it was -above all, in the eyes of her children, that she wished to preserve that -unsullied reputation, the usurpation of which had been purchased at -such cost. To her, Lectoure was not only a fitting son-in-law, being -the bearer of a name as noble as her own, but more than this, a man, or -rather a good genius, who at the same moment would bear away not only -her daughter, whom he would take with him as his wife, but her son also, -to whom the minister, thanks to this alliance, had promised to give a -regiment. Both her children gone, her first-born might come, and the -secret revealed to him, would find no echo. Moreover, there were -a thousand methods by which to close his lips. The fortune of the -marchioness was immense, and gold was one of those resources, which, -in such a case, she deemed infallible. The more terrible her fears, the -more ardently did she desire this union; so that she not only encouraged -the anxiety of Lectoure, but she also excited that of Emanuel. As to the -latter, tired of living unknown at Paris, or immured in Brittany, lost -in the crowd of brilliant young men who formed the household of the -King, or shut up in the antique castle of his ancestors, having their -portraits as his sole companions, he knocked with impatient eagerness at -the golden door which his intended brother-in-law was to open for him, -at Versailles. The grief and tears of his sister had, certainly, for -a time afflicted him; for he was ambitious, more from a dread of the -_ennui_, which would consume him if compelled to live on his estate, and -from the desire of parading at the head of his regiment, captivating the -hearts of all the ladies by the richness and good taste of his uniform, -than from either pride or hardness of heart. Being himself incapable of -forming any serious attachment, and despite the fatal consequences of -his sister's love, he considered that love, merely as a childish fancy, -which the tumult and pleasure of the world would soon efface from her -memory, and he really believed that before a year had elapsed, she would -be the first to thank him for having thus done violence to her feelings. - -As to Marguerite, poor victim, so irrevocably condemned to be immolated -to the fear of the one, and to the ambition of the other, the scene of -the preceding day had made a profound impression on her mind. She could -not at all account to herself for the extraordinary feelings which the -young man who had transmitted to her the words of Lusignan, had awakened -in her heart; who had tranquillized her as to the fate of the unhappy -exile, and had concluded by pressing her to his heart, and calling her -his sister. A vague and instinctive hope whispered to her heart, that -this man, as he had told her, had received from heaven the mission to -protect her. But as she was ignorant of the tie which bound him to -her, of the secret which made him master of his mother's will, of the -influence he might exercise over her future life, she did not dare -allow herself to dream of happiness, habituated as she had been for six -months, to consider death as the only term to her misfortunes. - -The marquis, alone, amid the various emotions which agitated all around -him, had remained coldly and impassibly indifferent; for to him the -world had ceased to move since the dreadful day on which reason had -abandoned him; continually absorbed by one fixed idea, that of his -mortal combat, without seconds. The only words he ever uttered, were -those pronounced by the Count de Morlaix, when he forgave him his death. -He was an old man, weak as an infant, and whom his wife could overawe -by a gesture, and who received from her cold and continuous will, -every impulsion, which, for twenty years, the vegetating instinct had -received, and which, on him, had usurped the place of reason and free -will. On this day, however, a great change had taken place in his -monotonous mode of life. A valet de chambre had entered his apartment, -and had succeeded to the marchioness in the cares of his toilette; -he had dressed him in his uniform of steward of the household, had -decorated his breast with the several orders that had been conferred -upon him; and then the marchioness, placing a pen in his hand, had -ordered him to try to sign his name, and he had obeyed, passively and -negligently, without imagining that he was studying the part of an -executioner. - -About three in the afternoon, a postchaise, the sound of whose wheels -had very differently impressed the hearts of the three persons who were -expecting it, entered the court-yard of the castle. Emanuel had eagerly -run down to the vestibule to receive his future brother-in-law, for it -was he who had arrived. Lectoure sprang lightly from his carriage. He -had halted for some time at the last post-house, to attire himself in a -presentable costume, so that he arrived in an elegant court dress of the -latest fashion. Emanuel smiled at this evidence of his anxiety, for it -was clearly to be perceived, that Lectoure was determined not to lose -the advantage of a first favorable impression, by presenting himself in -a dusty travelling dress. His intercourse with the fair sex had taught -him, that they almost invariably judge from the first glance, and the -effect which it produces upon their minds or hearts, let it be favorable -or unfavorable, is with difficulty removed. Moreover, it is but -rendering justice to the baron to acknowledge that his person was -graceful and elegant, and might have been dangerous to any woman whose -heart was not already occupied by another. - -"Permit me, my dear baron," said Emanuel, advancing toward him, "in the -momentary absence of the ladies, to do the honors of the mansion of -my ancestors. See," continued he, when they had reached the top of the -stone steps leading into the hall, and pointing to the turrets and -the bastions, "these date from the time of Philip Augustus, as to -architecture, and from Henry IV., in point of ornament." - -"Upon my honor," replied the baron, in the affected tone which the young -men of that day had adopted, "it is a most charming fortress, and throws -around it, to a distance of at least three leagues, a baronial odour, -which would perfume even an army contractor. If ever," continued he, as -they passed through the hall and entered a gallery ornamented on each -side with long lines of family portraits, "I should take a fancy to -enter into a rebellion against his most Christian Majesty, I shall -entreat you to lend me this jewel of a place; and," added he, casting -his eyes on the long rows of ancestors which offered themselves to his -view, "the garrison with it." - -"Thirty-three quarters--I will not say in flesh and blood," replied -Emanuel, "for they are long since turned to dust--but in painting, -as you see. They begin with a certain Chevalier Hugues d'Auray, who -accompanied King Louis VII. to the crusades; that one, it is pretended, -is my aunt Deborah, whom you see decked out as Judith; and all this -eventually ends in the male line, in the last member of this illustrious -family, your very humble and very obedient servant, Emanuel d'Auray." - -"It is perfectly respectable, and nothing can be more authentic." - -"Yes; but as I do not feel that I have, as yet, become sufficiently a -patriarch," rejoined Emanuel, passing before the baron to show him the -way to the apartment which had been prepared for him, "to spend my days -in such formidable society, I hope, baron, that you have thought of the -means by which I can withdraw from it?" - -"Undoubtedly, my dear count," said Lectoure, following him. "I wished -even to have been myself the bearer of your commission, as my wedding -gift to you. I knew of a vacancy in the queen's dragoon's, and called -yesterday on M. de Maurepas to solicit it for you, when I heard that it -had been granted, at the request of I know not what mysterious admiral, -a sort of corsair, pirate, or fantastic being, whom the queen has made -the fashion by giving him her hand to kiss, and whom the king has taken -a great affection to because he beat the English, I know not where--so -that his majesty has conferred upon him the order of military merit, and -presented him a sword with a gold hilt, just as he would have done to -one of the nobility. In short, the game is lost on that side, but do not -be alarmed, we will turn round to another." - -"Very well," replied Emanuel, "I care not what regiment it may be in; -what I desire is, that it should be a rank suitable to my name, and a -position which would be becoming to our wealth." - -"Precisely--you shall have them." - -"But how," said Emanuel, wishing to change the subject of conversation, -"how did you manage to get rid of the thousand engagements you must have -had on your hands." - -"Why," said the baron, with that perfectly free and easy air, which -belonged only to that distinguished class, and stretching himself upon -a couch, for they had at length reached the apartment destined for him, -"why, by frankly stating the fact to them. I announced at the queen's -card table, I was going to be married." - -"Oh! good heaven! Why, this was perfect heroism! Above all, if you -acknowledged you were about to seek a wife in the depths of Lower -Brittany." - -"I did acknowledge it." - -"And then," said Emanuel, smiling, "compassion stifled every angry -feeling." - -"Gad! you will readily comprehend, my dear count," said Lectoure, -putting one knee over the other and, balancing his leg with a motion as -regular as that of a pendulum, "our women of the court believe that the -sun rises at Paris, and sets at Versailles--all the rest of France, is, -in their idea, a Lapland, Greenland, Nova Zembla! So that they expect, -as you have hinted, my dear count, to see me bring back with me from my -voyage to the pole some large hands, and formidable feet! Fortunately, -they are mistaken," he added, with an accent half timorous, half -interrogatory; "is it not so, Emanuel? for you told me that your -sister"---- - -"You will see her," replied Emanuel. - -"It will be a dreadful disappointment to that poor Madame de Chaulne--it -cannot be helped--and she must console herself. What is it?" - -This question was induced by the entrance of Emanuel's valet-de-chambre; -who had half opened the door, and remained upon the threshold, waiting, -as was then the custom of all servants in great houses, till his master -should address him. - -"What is it? repeated Emanuel. - -"Mademoiselle Marguerite d' Auray requests that Monsieur, the Baron de -Lectoure, will honor her with a private interview." - -"Me!" said Lectoure, rising from the sofa, "certainly, with the greatest -pleasure." - -"But no! it is a mistake!" exclaimed Emanuel; "you must be mistaken, -Celestin." - -"I have the honor to assure your lordship," replied the valet de -chambre, "that I have correctly and faithfully executed the order which -was given to me." - -"Impossible!" said Emanuel, uneasy to the highest degree, at the step -his sister had ventured to take: "Baron, if you will be advised by me, -you will send the little simpleton about her business." - -"By no means! by no means," replied Lectoure. "What does this bluebeard -of a brother mean? Celestin! Did you not call this lad, Celestin?" - -Emanuel impatiently bowed his head in the affirmative. "Well then, -Celestin, tell my lovely betrothed that I throw myself at her knees, at -her feet, and that I await her orders either to go to her or to receive -her here;--and there, take this for the charges of your embassy." - -He threw him his purse. - -"And you, count," rejoined Lectoure, "I trust that you have confidence -enough in me, to permit this _ tete-a-tete?_" - -"But it is so perfectly absurd!" - -"Not at all," replied Lectoure; "on the contrary, it is perfectly -befitting. I am not a crowned head, that I should marry a woman upon her -portrait, and by proxy. I wish to see her in person. Come, Emanuel," he -continued, pushing his friend toward a side door, that he might not -meet his sister--"Come, now, tell me frankly--in confidence, between -ourselves--is there any--deformity?" - -"Why, no, by heaven!" replied the young count, "no--on the contrary, she -is as lovely as an angel." - -"Well, then!" said the baron, "what does all this opposition mean? Come, -now, begone, or must I call my guards?" - -"No; but on my word, I am afraid that this little simpleton, who has -not the slightest notion of the world, is coming to destroy all that has -been arranged between us." - -"Oh! if that is all you fear," replied Lectoure, opening the door, "you -may be perfectly at ease. I like the brother too well not to look over -some caprice--some extraordinary fantasies in the sister--and I pledge -you my word as a gentleman, unless the devil should play us some strange -trick, (whom, I trust, is at this moment fully occupied in some other -corner of the world!) that Mademoiselle Marguerite d'Auray, shall be -Madame the Baroness de Lectoure, and that in a month you shall have your -regiment." - -This promise appeared in some degree to pacify Emanuel, who allowed -himself to be pushed out of the door without making further difficulty. -Lectoure immediately ran to a looking-glass to repair the slight -traces of disorder, which the jolting over the three last leagues had -occasioned in his dress. He had scarcely given to his, hair and garments -the most becoming turn and folds, when the door again opened, and -Celestin announced-- - -"Mademoiselle Marguerite d'Auray." - -The baron turned round, and perceived his betrothed standing pale and -trembling on the threshold of the door. Although the promises of Emanuel -had inspired him with some degree of hope, a certain residue of doubt -had still remained on his mind, if not as to the beauty, at all events, -with regard to the deportment of the lady who was about to become his -wife. His surprise was therefore unbounded, when he saw that delicate -and graceful creature standing before him, and whom the most fastidious -critic of female elegance could only have reproached with being in -a slight degree too pallid. Marriages, such as the one about to be -contracted by Lectoure, were by no means rare in an age in which -questions as to rank and suitableness of fortune in general, decided -alliances between noble houses; but that which was scarcely found once -in a thousand times, was, that a man in the baron's position should -meet, immured in a distant province, a lady possessed of an immense -fortune, and whom, at the first glance, he could discern, was worthy, -by her demeanor, her elegance, and her beauty, to shine in the most -brilliant circles of the court. He, therefore, advanced toward her, -no longer with the feeling of superiority as a courtier, addressing a -country girl, but with all the respectful ease which distinguished good -society at that time. - -"Pardon me, mademoiselle," said he, offering her his hand to conduct her -to an arm chair, but which she did not accept; "it was to me to -solicit the favor you have bestowed upon me; and believe me, it was the -apprehension of being considered indiscreet, which alone has occasioned -the apparent neglect of allowing myself to be forestalled." - -"I truly appreciate this delicacy, sir," replied Marguerite, in a -trembling voice, and retreating one step, she remained standing. "It -strengthens me still more in the confidence which, without having seen -you, without knowing you, I had placed in your honor and good faith." - -"Whatever aim this confidence may have had, I am honored by it, -mademoiselle, and I will endeavor to render myself worthy of it. But, -good heaven, what can so affect you?" - -"Nothing, sir, nothing," replied Marguerite, endeavoring to overcome her -emotion; "but it is--it is--that I have to tell you that--but--really--I -am not sufficiently mistress of myself to--" - -She staggered, and appeared as if about to fall; the baron sprang toward -her to offer his support, but he had scarcely touched her when a flush -of crimson suffused the cheeks of the young girl, and with a feeling, -which might be attributed as well to modesty as to repugnance, she -disengaged herself from his arms. Lectoure had taken her hand, and -conducted her to a chair, against which she leaned, but would not seat -herself in it. - -"Good God!" exclaimed the baron, still retaining her hand, "it must then -be something very difficult to utter, that has brought you hither! Or, -without my at all suspecting it, has my being affianced to you already -conferred upon me the imposing air of a husband?" Marguerite made -another effort to withdraw her hand from the baron, and which induced -the latter to observe it. - -"How!" said he, "not satisfied with having the most adorable of -faces, the elegant figure of a fairy, but you must have such lovely -hands!--hands perfectly royal in their shape--why, 'tis enough to make -me expire at once." - -"I trust M. le Baron," rejoined Marguerite, and making a last effort, -she withdrew her hand from his grasp, "that the words with which you are -now addressing me, are merely words of gallantry." - -"No, by my soul! they are the sincere truth." - -"Well then, I hope, should it be, which I much doubt, that you really -think that which you have been pleased to say--I trust, I say, that such -motives will not lead you to attach a higher value to the union which -has been projected?" - -"They will, indeed, and that I swear to you." - -"And yet," continued Marguerite, gasping for breath, so much was her -heart oppressed, "and yet, sir, you consider marriage as a solemn -matter?" - -"That is as it may happen," smilingly replied Lectoure; "for example, if -I were about to marry an old dowager." - -"In short," rejoined Marguerite, in a more determined tone, "I beg your -pardon, sir, if I have been mistaken; I thought, perhaps, that with -regard to the alliance proposed between us, you had formed some idea of -reciprocity of feeling." - -"Never!" cried Lectoure, interrupting her, for he appeared as eager to -avoid the frank explanation, which Marguerite desired, as she seemed to -provoke it. "Never! and above all, since I have seen you, I could not -hope to be worthy of your love. And yet my name, my position in society, -notwithstanding I should fail to influence your heart, may yet give me a -title to your hand." - -"But how, sir," said Marguerite, timidly, "how can you separate the one -from the other?" - -"As do three-fourths of the people who get married, mademoiselle," -replied Lectoure, with a carelessness which would have at once deterred -the confidence of a woman less candid than Marguerite. "A man marries -in order to have a wife, the wife to have a husband; it is a social -compact, an arrangement of convenience. What can love have to do in a -matter of this nature?" - -"Your pardon, sir; perhaps I have not clearly expressed my meaning," -continued Marguerite, making an effort to control her feelings, and to -conceal from the man upon whom her future fate depended, the impression -his words had produced upon her mind. "But you must attribute my -hesitation, sir, to the timidity of a young girl, compelled by imperious -circumstances to speak on such a subject." - -"Not at all, mademoiselle," replied Lectoure, bowing and giving to his -voice a tone which nearly approached raillery; "on the contrary, you -speak like _Clarissa Harlowe_, and all you say is as clear as daylight. -God has endowed me with a mind sufficiently quick-sighted perfectly -to comprehend things which are but hinted at." - -"How, sir!" cried Marguerite, "you comprehend what I had the intention -of saying, and you allow me to continue? How would it be if on looking -deeply into my heart and interrogating all its feelings, I found it -impossible to love--to love the person who had been presented to me as -my future husband?" - -"Why," replied Lectoure, in the same sarcastic tone in which he had -before spoken, "in my opinion the best course to pursue would be not to -tell him of it." - -"And why not, sir?" - -"Because--but--but--because it would really be too simple." - -"And if that avowal were made, not from simplicity but from delicacy? -If I added, and may the shame of such an avowal fall back on those who -compel me to make it--if I added sir, that I have loved, that I -still love?" - -"Oh! some little romance, is it not so?" said Lectoure, carelessly, -crossing his leg and playing with the frill of his shirt; "upon my -honor, the race of little cousins is an accursed race. But fortunately -we know what these ephemeral attachments are; and there is not a -school-girl, who, after the holidays, does not return to her convent but -with a passion in her little heart." - -"Unfortunately for me," replied Marguerite, with, a voice as sorrowful -and grave as that of the baron was sarcastic and light, "unfortunately, -I am no longer a school-girl, sir; and although still young, I have long -ago passed the age of childish games and infantine attachments. When I -speak to the man who does me the honor to solicit my hand and to offer -me his name, of my love for another, he ought to understand that I -am speaking of a serious, profound, and eternal love; of one of those -passions, in fine, which leave their traces in the heart, and imprint -them there for ever." - -"The devil!" exclaimed Lectoure, as if beginning to attach some -importance to Marguerite's confession; "why, this is perfectly pastoral. -But let us see! is it a young man whom one can receive at one's house?" - -"Oh! sir," cried Marguerite, catching at the hope which these words -seemed to inspire: "oh! believe me, he is the most estimable being, the -most devoted soul----" - -"Why, I am not asking you to tell me this--I was not speaking of the -qualities of his heart--he has all these, of course, that's perfectly -understood. I ask you whether he is noble? if he is of good race? -in short, whether a woman of quality could acknowledge him, and that -without degrading her husband?" - -"His father, whom he lost when very young, and who was my father's -friend from infancy, was a counsellor at the Court of Rennes." - -"Nobility of the bar!" exclaimed Lectoure, dropping his nether lip with -a contemptuous shrug; "I would rather it were otherwise--is he a knight -of Malta, at least?" - -"He was educated for a military life." - -"Oh! then, we must get a regiment for him, to give him rank and standing -in society. Well, that's all arranged, and it is well. Now, listen to -me: he will absent himself for six months, merely for decency's sake, -will obtain leave of absence, no difficult matter now, as we are not -at war--he will get himself presented to you for form's sake, by some -mutual friend, and then all will go on rightly." - -"I do not understand you, sir," replied Marguerite, looking at the baron -with an expression of profound astonishment. - -"What I have said to you is, notwithstanding, perfectly pellucid," -rejoined the latter, with some show of impatience; "you have engagements -on your side--I have on mine--but that is no reason for preventing -an union which is perfectly suitable in every respect; and once -accomplished, why, I think, we are bound to render it as bearable as we -can. Do you comprehend me now?" - -"Oh! pardon me, sir, pardon me," cried Marguerite, starting back, as -though these words had outraged her; "I have been very imprudent, very -culpable perhaps; but whatever I may have been, I did not dream I could -have merited so gross an insult. Oh! sir, the blush of shame is now -scorching my cheek, but more for you than for myself. Yes, I understand -you--an apparent love and a concealed one; the face of vice and the mask -of virtue; and it is to me--to me, the daughter of the Marquis d'Auray, -that so shameful, so humiliating, so infamous a bargain is proposed. -Oh!" continued she, falling into an arm-chair, and hiding her face with -both her hands, "I must then be a most unfortunate, most contemptible -lost creature! Oh! my God! my God!" - -"Emanuel! Emanuel!" cried the baron, opening the door, at which he -rightly suspected Marguerite's brother had remained; "come in, my dear -friend; your sister is attacked with spasms; these things ought to be -attended to, or they may become chronic; Madame do Moulan died of them. -Here, take my scent bottle, and let her smell at it. As to myself, I am -going down into the park. If you have nothing else to do, you can rejoin -me there, and bring me, if you please, news of your sister." - -Saying these words, the Baron de Lectoure left the room with miraculous -calmness, leaving Marguerite and Emanuel together. - - - -CHAPTER XII.--THE CHALLENGE. - - Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me, - It shall not anger me--I tell thee Claudius, - Thou art enshrined in a holy circle - My foot can never pass--nor taunt, nor insult - Can e'er induce this hand to rise against thee. - Therefore be satisfied-- - Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee. - --Old Play. - - -On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron -de Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so -diametrically opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl, -on that day at four o'clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the -castle. Emanuel did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could -not leave her husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to -come down stairs. The other guests were the notary, the relations of the -family, and the witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding -the imperturbable gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his -joyous humor, so stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun -his own feelings. From time to time, indeed, his boisterous -liveliness failed all at once, like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly -extinguished, and then it suddenly burst forth again, as doth the flame -when it devours its last aliment. At seven o'clock they rose from table, -and went into the drawing-room. It would be difficult to form an idea -of the strange aspect which the old castle then presented; the vast -apartments of which were hung with damask draperies, with gothic -designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times of Louis XIII. and -Louis XIV. - -They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the -presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance -of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the -feeble and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to -illuminate the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the -arches of a cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to -be joined during the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the -neighbourhood, increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the -emblazoned columns of the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons, -the same one in which Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from -Paris, had received Captain Paul, was placed a table prepared with much -solemnity, on which was laid a closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a -stranger ignorant of all that was preparing, might as well have enclosed -a death warrant as a marriage contract. In the midst of these grave -aspects and gloomy impressions, from time to time a shrill mocking laugh -would reach the ears of a group of persons whispering to each other. It -proceeded from Lectoure, who was amusing himself at the expense of some -good country gentlemen, without any respect for the feelings of Emanuel, -upon whom a portion of his raillery necessarily recoiled. He would, -however, every now and then cast an anxious glance around the room, and -then a gloomy cloud would pervade his features, for he saw not either -his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or Marguerite enter the room. -As we have already stated, that neither of them had been present at -the dinner table, and his interview with the latter had not, however -careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some uneasiness with -regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take place during -the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and he had -just determined to go up to his sister's apartment, when in passing -through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw -near. - -"By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count," said he -to him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country -gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of -perfect intimacy; "here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very -curious things, upon my word! But do you know," continued he, turning -to the narrator, "this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also -have marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to -Paris, to tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild -ducks in this way." - -"An immense quantity," replied the gentleman, and with the accent of -perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of -detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same -tone. - -"What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?" inquired Emanuel. - -"Only imagine, my dear friend," replied Lectoure, with the most complete -sang froid, "that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,--At -what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?" - -"In the month of December and January." - -"It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying, -then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool -over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so -completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and -allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?" - -"As near as I am to you." - -"Bah! really?" exclaimed Emanuel. - -"And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases." - -"I kill them by dozens," said he, proudly, being enchanted by the -attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his -exploits. - -"It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of -ducks," said Emanuel. - -"She adores them," said M. de Nozay. - -"I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a -person," said Lectoure, bowing. - -"Undoubtedly baron." - -"I swear to you," said Lectoure, "that instantly on my return to -Paris, I will speak of this sport in the king's dressing-room, and I am -persuaded that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his -large ponds of Versailles." - -"I beg your pardon, dear marquis," said Emanuel, taking Lectoure's arm, -and whispering in his ear, "this is one of our country neighbors, whom -we could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion." - -"It requires no apology, my dear friend," said Lectoure, using the same -precaution not to be heard by the party in question: "you would have -been decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He -is an appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been -greatly chagrined not to have made his acquaintance." - -"Monsieur de la Jarry," said a servant, opening the door. - -"A sporting companion?" said Lectoure. - -"No," replied M. de Nozay; "he is a traveller." - -"Ah! ah!" exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the -newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had -hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room, -muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur. - -"Ah! my dear La Jarry," cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and -holding out his hand to him, "but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, -you look like the Czar Peter." - -"It is," replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no -means cold, "because, when one arrives from Naples--perrrrrou!" - -"Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples," said Lectoure, joining in -the conversation. - -"Direct, sir." - -"Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?" - -"No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then," -continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to -the volcano, "Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen -at Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when -the wind is in the wrong quarter,--and besides Madame La Jarry was -dreadfully alarmed at the idea of an eruption." - -"But of course you visited the _Grotto del Cane?_" continued Lectoure. - -"To what purpose?" rejoined La Jarry; "to see an animal that has -vapors--give a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as -much. And then, Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it -would have given her pain to witness so cruel an exhibition." - -"I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself," said Emanuel, -bowing, "did not neglect the Solfatara." - -"Who, I--I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine what -three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which is -a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the -odour of sulphur." - -"What do you think of our new friend?" said Emanuel, leading Lectoure -into the room in which the contract was to be signed. - -"I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly -prefer Nozay." - -The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, "Monsieur -Paul." - -"Eh!" exclaimed Emanuel, turning round. - -"Who is this?" inquired Lectoure, listlessly, "another country -neighbour?" - -"No; this is quite another sort of person," replied Emanuel, with -agitation. "How does this man dare to present himself here?" - -"Ah! ah! a plebeian--eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I -suppose. No--a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you, Emanuel, -that they are beginning to receive this sort of people--that accursed -philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my dear -fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it--we have come to -that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches the -corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises--they -converse together on court matters--they jest, they joke, they squabble, -it is _bon ton_ though decidedly bad taste." - -"You are mistaken, Lectoure," replied Emanuel; "he is neither poet, -painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead -off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry." - -Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours -by the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting -and travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely -closed upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into -the room he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door--the one -led to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up -on his first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between -Marguerite and Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained -there for a moment, looking attentively at the two doors, as though he -had expected to see one of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In -a few moments, that of the library was opened, and he perceived a white -form standing within it; he rushed towards it. - -"Is it you, Marguerite?" said he. - -"Yes," replied a trembling voice. - -"Well?" - -"I told him all?" - -"And--" - -"And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed." - -"I suspected as much--he is a miserable wretch." - -"What's to be done?" cried the young girl. - -"Take courage, Marguerite." - -"Courage--oh! it now fails me entirely." - -"There is that which will restore it," said Paul, handing her a letter. - -"What does this letter contain?" - -"The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name -of the woman in whose house he has been concealed." - -"My son! oh! you are my guardian angel," cried Marguerite, endeavoring -to kiss the hand which held the paper to her. - -"Silence! someone is coming--whatever may happen, you will find one at -Achards." - -Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had -heard: the sound of her brother's footsteps. Paul turned round, and went -to meet him, which he did, near the table. - -"I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company," -said Emanuel, who was the first to speak. - -"It appears to me that we are alone at this moment," said Paul, glancing -around the room. - -"Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an -instant this room will be full." - -"But many things may be said in an instant, count." - -"You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more -than an instant to comprehend them." - -"I am listening," said Paul. - -"You spoke to me of letters," rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him, -and lowering his voice. - -"It is true," said Paul, with the same calmness. - -"You fixed a price upon those letters?" - -"That is also true." - -"Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum -enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them -up." - -"Yes, sir, yes," replied Paul, "the case stood thus, as long as I -believed your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault -she had committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was -seconding your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a -sufficiently bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without -a name and without a family, not to allow him to enter it without -a fortune also, and I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in -exchange for the letters in my possession. But now the state of things -is altered, sir. I saw your sister throw herself upon her knees before -you, I heard her entreat you not to force her into this infamous -marriage, and neither prayers, nor tears, nor supplications could make -any impression on your heart. It is now for me, for me who hold your -honor, and the honor of your family within my hands, it is for me to -save the mother from despair, as I would have saved the child from -penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be delivered to you, when -you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the marriage contract -of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of Mademoiselle -Marguerite d'Auray with Anatole de Lusignan." - -"Never, sir, never!" - -"You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count." - -"Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them." - -"I know not any," coldly replied Paul. - -"Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!" - -"Count," replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under -the circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, "count, listen -to me?" - -"Will you return me those letters, sir?" - -"Count--" - -"Yes, or no!" - -"No!" said Paul, calmly. - -"Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or -rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together, -and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful -from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases." - -"I regret I cannot accept the offer, count." - -"How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side -that sword, and you refuse a duel." - -"Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against -you, count--believe me, I entreat you." - -"You cannot fight with me!" - -"I cannot, upon my honor." - -"You cannot fight with me, you say?" - -"At this moment a person who had entered the room without being -perceived, burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul -and Emanuel turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them. - -"But," said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, "I can fight with him, for he is -a miserable and infamous wretch." - -A burning blush passed over Lectoure's features, like the reflection of -a flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped. - -"It is well, sir," said he; "send your second to Emanuel and they can -arrange this matter." - -"You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred," -said Emanuel, to Paul. - -"Silence!" replied Paul, "they are announcing your mother." - -"Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure," added Emanuel, -"let us go to receive my mother." - -Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he -entered the small room in which he had before been concealed. - - - -CHAPTER XIII.--THE CONTRACT. - - Listen to me and heed me! - If this contract - Thou holdst me to, abide thou the result! - Answer to heaven for what I suffer! act! - Prepare thyself for such calamity - To fall on me, and those whose evil - Have linked them with me, as no past mishap, - However rare and marvellously Sad, - Can parallel. - - Knowles--The Hunchback. - - -At the moment that Paul went into the study, the marchioness appeared -at the door of the drawing-room, followed by the notary, and the -several persons who had been invited to be present at the signing of the -contract. Notwithstanding the nature of the meeting, the marchioness -had not considered it proper to lay aside, even for one evening, her -mourning garments, and dressed in complete black, as she had been always -during twenty years, she came into the room a few moments before the -marquis. None of the persons present, not even his son, had seen the -marquis for many years. Such attention was in those days paid to ancient -forms, that the marchioness would not allow the marriage contract of her -daughter to be signed, without the head of the family, although deprived -of reason, being present; at the ceremony. However little accustomed -Lectoure was to feel intimidated, the marchioness produced upon him the -effect which she did on every one that approached her, and on seeing her -enter the room with so grave and dignified an aspect, he bowed to her -with a feeling of profound respect. - -"I am grateful to you, gentlemen," said the marchioness, bowing to the -persons who accompanied her, "for the honor you have been pleased -to confer upon me, by being present at the betrothal of Mademoiselle -Marguerite d'Auray, with the Baron de Lectoure. I, in consequence, was -desirous that the marquis, although suffering from illness, should also -be present at this meeting, to thank you at least by his presence, if he -cannot do so verbally. You are all aware of his unfortunate malady, and -you will, therefore, not be astonished, should some disjointed words--" - -"Yes, madam," said Lectoure, interrupting her, "we know the misfortune -which has befallen him, and we admire the devoted wife, who for twenty -years has borne half the weight of this sad visitation." - -"You see, madam," said Emanuel, addressing in his turn, and kissing -the hand of his mother, "all the world bows down in admiration of your -conjugal piety." - -"Where is Marguerite?" murmured the marchioness, in a hair whisper. - -"She was here not a moment ago," said Emanuel. "Let her know that we are -all assembled," rejoined the marchioness, in the same tone. - -A servant then announced "the Marquis d'Auray." All present drew to -one side, so as to leave free passage from the door, and all eyes were -directed to the spot at which this new personage was to appear. It -was not long before their curiosity was satisfied; the marquis came in -almost immediately, supported by two servants. - -He was an old man, whose countenance, notwithstanding that the traces -of suffering had deeply furrowed it, still retained that noble -and dignified appearance which had rendered him one of the most -distinguished men of the court of Louis XV. His large, hollow, and -feverish eyes, glanced around the assembly with a strange expression of -astonishment. He was dressed in his costume of Steward of the Household, -wore the order of the Holy Ghost suspended from his neck, and that of -St. Louis, at his button hole. He advanced slowly, and without uttering -a word. The two servants led him forward amid the most profound silence, -to an arm-chair, in which he seated himself, and the servants left the -room. The marchioness then placed herself at his right hand. The notary -opened the portfolio, drew from it the marriage contract and read it -aloud. The marquis and the marchioness made over the sum of five hundred -thousand francs to Lectoure, and gave a like sum to Marguerite, as her -dowry. - -During the whole of the time occupied by the reading of the contract, -the marchioness, notwithstanding her great self command, had betrayed -some symptoms of uneasiness. But just at the moment when the notary had -placed the contract open on the table, Emanuel returned and approached -his mother. - -"And Marguerite?" said the marchioness. - -"She will be here instantly." - -"Madam," murmured Marguerite, half opening the door, and clasping her -hands. - -The marchioness pretended not to hear her, and pointed with her finger -at the pen. - -"Baron, it is you who are first to sign." - -Lectoure immediately approached the table and signed the contract. - -"Madam!" cried Marguerite, in a tone of supplication, and advancing one -step toward her mother. - -"Pass the pen to your betrothed, Baron," said the marchioness. - -The Baron walked round the table, and drew near to Marguerite. - -"Madam!" again cried the latter, with an accent so melancholy, that -it struck to the heart of every person present, and even the marquis -himself raised his head. - -"Sign!" said the marchioness, pointing to the marriage contract. - -"Oh! my father! my father!" exclaimed Marguerite throwing herself at the -feet of the marquis. - -"What does this mean?" said the marchioness, leaning upon the arm of the -marquis' chair, and bending over him, "are you mad, mademoiselle?" - -"My father! oh! my father!" again cried Marguerite, throwing her arms -around him, "my father, have pity, save your daughter!" - -"Marguerite!" murmured the marchioness, in a threatening accent. - -"Madam!" replied Marguerite, "I cannot address myself to you--permit me, -then, to implore my father's pity; unless," she added, pointing to the -notary with a firm and determined gesture, "you would prefer my invoking -the protection of the law." - -"Come, come," said the marchioness, rising, and in a tone of bitter -irony, "this is a family scene, and which, although highly interesting -to near relations, must be sufficiently tedious to strangers. Gentlemen, -you will find refreshments in the adjoining rooms. My son, conduct these -gentlemen, and do the honors. Baron, I must beg your pardon for a short -time." Emanuel and Lectoure bowed in silence and withdrew, followed by -all the company. The marchioness remained motionless until the last of -them had withdrawn, and then she closed all the doors leading into the -room, when, returning to the marquis, whom Marguerite still held clasped -in her arms. - -"And now," said she, "that there is no one present excepting those -who have the right to lay their commands upon you, sign that paper, -mademoiselle, or leave the room." - -"For pity's sake, madam, for pity's sake, do not compel me to commit so -infamous an act!" - -"Have you not heard me?" said the marchioness, giving to her voice an -imperative tone, which she thought impossible to be resisted, "or must I -repeat my words? 'Sign, or leave the room.'" - -"Oh! my father!" cried Marguerite, "mercy! mercy! No, it shall not be -said, that after having been banished from my father's presence for ten -years, I was torn from his arms the first time I again beheld him--and -that, before he had recognized me, before he has embraced me. Oh! -father! father!--it is I, it is your daughter!" - -"What is that voice that is imploring me?" murmured the marquis. "Who -is this child who calls me father?" - -"That voice," said the marchioness, seizing the arm of her daughter, -"is a voice that is raised against the rights of nature. That child is a -rebellious daughter." - -"My father!" cried Marguerite imploringly, "look at me. Oh! my father, -save me I defend me! I am Marguerite." - -"Marguerite? Marguerite?" stammered the marquis, "I had formerly a child -of that name." - -"It is I! it is I!" rejoined Marguerite: "I am your child--I am your -daughter." - -"There are no children but those who obey. Obey! and you will then have -the right to call yourself our daughter," rejoined the marchioness. - -"To you, my father, yes,--to you I am ready to obey. But you do -not command this sacrifice! you do not wish that I should be -unhappy--unhappy even to despair--unhappy even to death." - -"Come! come!" said the marquis holding her in his turn, and pressing her -to his heart. "Oh! this is a delicious and unknown feeling to me. And -now--wait! wait!" He pressed his hand to his forehead. "It seems to me -that I recollect." - -"Sir!" cried the marchioness, "tell her that she ought to obey; that -the malediction of God awaits rebellious children. Tell her that, rather -than to encourage her in her impiety!" - -The marquis slowly raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his -wife, and then slowly pronounced the following words: "Take care! madam, -take care. Have I not told you that I begin to remember!" and then again -bending down his head to that of Marguerite, so that his grey hairs -mingled with the dark tresses, of his daughter--"Speak--speak!" said he, -"what is it that disturbs you, my child--tell me all." - -"Oh! I am most unhappy!" - -"Everybody, then, is unhappy here," exclaimed the marquis, "whether -their hair be grey or black--an old man or a child.. Oh! and I also--I -am unhappy--be assured. - -"Sir, go up stairs into your room again: you must," said the -marchioness. - -"Yes, that I may again be face to face with you; shut up like a -prisoner! That may be very well, when I am mad." - -"Yes, yes, my father, you are right. My mother has devoted herself to -you long enough; it is now time that your daughter should perform that -duty. Take me with you, father. I will not leave you day or night. You -will only have to make a sign, to utter a word, and I will serve you on -my knees." - -"Oh! you would not have the strength to do it." - -"Yes, yes, my father, I will--as truly as I am your daughter." - -The marchioness wrung her hands with impatience. - -"If you are my daughter, how is it that I have not seen you for ten -years?" - -"Because I was told that you would not see me, my father; because they -told me that you did not love me." - -"You were told that I would not see you--not see that angel face!" said -he, taking her head between his hands, and looking at her with intense -auction; "they told you that--they told you that a poor condemned soul -did not wish for heaven! Who was it, then, that told you a father would -not see his child? Who has dared to say, child, your father loves you -not?" - -"I!----" said the marchioness, again endeavoring to take Marguerite from -her father's arms. - -"You!" exclaimed the marquis, interrupting her: "it was you? To you -then, has been confided the fatal mission of deceiving me in all my -affections. All my griefs, then, must find their source in you? You -wish, then, now to break the father's heart, as twenty years ago, you -did that of the husband." - -"You are delirious, sir," said the marchioness, loosing the arm of her -daughter; and going to the right of the marquis, she whispered--"be -silent!" - -"No, madam, no, I am not now delirious," replied the marquis, "No! no! -Say rather, say that,--and it will be the truth,--say that I am now -between an angel who would recall me to reason, and a demon who wishes -me again to become insane. No! No! I am not mad. Do you wish that I -should prove it to you?" He rose, supporting himself on the arms of his -chair. "Must I speak to you of letters, of adultery, of a duel?" - -"I say," said the marchioness, grasping his arm, "I tell you that you -are more forsaken by heaven than ever, when you utter such things, -without reflecting as to whose ears are listening. Cast down your eyes, -sir--look who is standing yonder, and then dare assert that you are not -mad!" - -"You are right;" said the marquis, falling back in his chair. "Your -mother is right," continued he, addressing Marguerite--"I am mad, and -you must not believe what I say, but what she says. Your mother is -devotedness, virtue itself, and therefore, she has not sleepless nights, -nor remorse, nor madness. What does your mother wish?" - -"My misery, father; my everlasting misery." - -"And how can I prevent this misery?" said the unhappy old man, with a -most heart-rending anguish; "how can I, a poor, insane old man, prevent -it? who thinks he always sees the blood issuing from a wound--who thinks -he constantly hears a voice proceeding from a tomb!" - -"Oh you can do all; say but one word and I am saved! They wish me to -marry--" - -The marquis listlessly reclined his head on the back of his chair. - -"Listen to me! they wish to marry me to a man whom I do not love--do you -understand me?--to a wretch!--and you have been brought here--placed -in that arm-chair, before the table--you, you my father! to sign this -infamous contract--this contract which I now hand to you." - -"Without consulting me," said the marquis, taking the contract; "without -asking me whether I will, or I will not! Do they believe me dead? And if -they think me dead, do they fear me less than they would a spectre? This -marriage would cause your misery, you say?" - -"My eternal misery!" exclaimed Marguerite. "The marriage, then, shall -not take place." - -"I have pledged your word and mine," said the marchioness, and with -the more energy, that she felt her influence over her husband about to -escape her. - -"This marriage, I tell you, shall not take place!" replied the marquis, -in a tone louder than that of his wife. "It is too dreadful a thing," -continued he, in a gloomy sepulchral tone, "to be permitted. A marriage -in which a wife loves not her husband--why, it causes madness! As -to myself, the marchioness has always loved me, and loved me -faithfully--that which drove me mad--oh! that was a different matter." - -A flash of diabolical joy shot from the eyes of the marchioness, for she -at once saw from the violence of the expressions used by her husband, -and the terror depicted on his features, that his insanity was about to -return. - -"This contract," said the marquis, and he raised it in his hands as if -about to tear it. - -The marchioness eagerly caught his hand. Marguerite appeared to be -hanging by a thread between heaven and hell. - -"That which drives me mad!" reiterated the marquis, "is a tomb which -widely opens, a spectre that issues from the earth, it is a phantom that -speaks to me, and says--" - -"Your life is in my hands!" murmured the marchioness in his ear, -repeating the last words of the dying Morlaix: "I could take it." - -"Do you hear that?" cried the marquis, rising, and as if about to rush -from the room. - -"My father! oh! my father! recall your senses; there is no tomb, there -is no spectre, there is no phantom; those words were uttered by the -marchioness." - -"But I wish you to live," continued the latter, concluding the sentence -she had begun, "to forgive me as I forgive you." - -"Pardon, Morlaix, pardon!" cried the marquis, falling back in his -arm-chair, his hair standing on end with terror, and the perspiration -streaming from his forehead. - -"Oh! father! father!" - -"You see that your father is altogether deranged," said the -marchioness, triumphantly; "say no more to him." - -"Oh!" cried Marguerite, "God will, I trust perform a miracle! My love, -my caresses, my tears, will restore him to reason." - -"Make the attempt," replied the marchioness, coldly, abandoning to her -care the marquis, who was powerless, speechless, and almost without -consciousness. - -"Oh! my poor father!" exclaimed Marguerite, in a tone of agony. - -The marquis remained perfectly impassible. - -"Sir!" said the marchioness, in an imperative manner. - -"Eh! eh!" cried the marquis, shuddering. - -"Save me! oh! save me, father!" cried Marguerite, wringing her hands, -and throwing herself back in despair. - -"Take this pen and sign," said the marchioness, "you must--it is my -will." - -"Now, I am lost indeed!" cried Marguerite, overwhelmed with terror, and -feeling that she had no longer strength to continue the struggle. - -But at the moment that the marquis, overpowered, had written the first -letters of his name; when the marchioness was congratulating herself on -the victory she had obtained, and Marguerite was about to leave the room -in despair, an unexpected incident suddenly changed the scene. The door -of the study opened, and Paul, who had been anxiously watching, though -invisibly, the whole of this terrible conflict, issued from it. - -"Madam," said he, "one word before this contract is signed!" - -"Who is it calls me!" said the marchioness, endeavoring to distinguish -in the distance that separated them, the person who had thus spoken, and -who stood in a dark corner of the room. - -"I know that voice!" exclaimed the marquis, shuddering, as if seared by -a red-hot iron. - -Paul advanced three paces, and the light from the lustre hanging in the -centre of the room fell full upon him. - -"Is it a spectre?" cried the marchioness, in her turn, struck with the -resemblance of the youth who stood before her to her former lover. - -"I know that face!" cried the marquis, believing that he saw the man -whom he had killed. - -"My God! my God! protect me," stammered Marguerite, raising her eyes and -hands to heaven. - -"Morlaix! Morlaix!" said the marquis, rising and advancing toward Paul, -"Morlaix!--pardon! mercy!" and he fell at full length upon the floor. - -"My father!" cried Marguerite, rushing to his assistance. - -At that moment a servant entered the room, with terror in his looks, and -addressing the marchioness said-- - -"Madam, Achard has sent to request that the priest and the doctor of the -castle, may instantly be ordered to attend him--he is dying." - -"Tell him," replied the marchioness, pointing to her husband, whom -Marguerite was vainly endeavoring to restore to consciousness, "that -they are both obliged to remain here to attend upon the marquis." - - - -CHAPTER XIV.--RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. - - And this our life, exempt from public haunt, - Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, - Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. - - Shakespeare. - - -As has been seen by the end of the preceding chapter, God, by one of -those extraordinary combinations, which short-sighted man almost always -attributes to chance, had summoned to his presence, and almost at -the same moment, the souls of the noble Marquis d'Auray, and the poor -low-born Achard. We have seen that the former, struck by the sight of -Paul, the living portrait of his father, as if by a thunderbolt, fell at -the feet of the young man, who was himself terrified at the effect his -appearance had produced. - -As to Achard, the circumstances which had hastened his death, although -differing in their nature, and from very opposite feelings, had arisen -from the same fatal causes, and had been brought about by the same -individual. The sight of Paul had created direful emotions in the -breasts both of the marquis and Achard. On the former from excess of -terror, on the latter from excess of joy. - -During the day which had preceded the intended signing of the contract, -Achard had felt himself more feeble than usual. Notwithstanding this, he -had not neglected in the evening to crawl to his master's grave, there -to put up his accustomed prayer. Thence he had observed with a devotion -more profound than ever, that ever new and splendid spectacle, the sun -sinking into the ocean. He had followed the decline of its enpurpled -light, and as though the vast torch of the world had drawn his soul -toward it, he had felt his strength extinguished with its last rays; -so that when the servant from the castle came in the evening at the -accustomed hour to receive his orders, not finding him in his house, -had sought for him without the park, and as it was well known that he -generally walked in that direction, found him lying extended at the foot -of the great oak tree, upon the grave of his master, and deprived of -consciousness. Thus did he remain constant to the last in that religious -devotedness he had vowed to his master's tomb, and which had been the -exclusive feeling of the last years of his life. - -The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; -and then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the -marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a -physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the -servant then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, -under the pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as -the old servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at -the point of death, gave her husband the right of first employing. - -But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the -moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and -varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we -have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul. -Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible -from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to -whisper to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would -find him at Achard's cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and -winding his way amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill -of a sear man, who reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon -reached the house, entered it panting from his rapid course, and found -Achard just as he was recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him -in his arms. The delight of again seeing him renewed the strength of -the old man, who now felt certain of having a friendly hand to close his -eyes. - -"Oh! it is you--it is you!" exclaimed the old man. - -"I did not hope to see you again." - -"And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of -the state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your -assistance?" - -"But I knew not where to find you--where I could send to tell you that -I wished once more to see you before I died." - -"I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously -ill, and I hastened hither." - -"And how was it that you were at the castle?" said the old man, with -amazement. - -Paul related to him all that had occurred. - -"Eternal Providence!" cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his -recital, "how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after -twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, -and hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the -son!" - -"Yes, yes, thus it happens," replied Paul, "and it is Providence, also, -who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse -to send you the physician and the priest." - -"According to common justice," rejoined Achard, "they might have made -a fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the -physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the -priest." - -"I can go on horseback," said Paul, "and in less than an hour--" - -"In an hour it would be too late," said the dying man, in an enfeebled -voice, "a priest! a priest only--I ask but for a priest." - -"Father," replied Paul, "in his sacred functions, I know I cannot supply -his place; but we can speak of God, of his greatness and his goodness." - -"Yes, but let us first finish with the things of this earth, that we -may then be able to turn our thoughts wholly to those of heaven. You say -that, like myself, the marquis is dying." - -"I left him at the last agony." - -"You know, that immediately after his death, the papers which are -deposited in that closet, and which prove your birth, are yours by -right." - -"I know it." - -"If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?" The old man -sat up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. "You will -take that key, you will open the closet--in it you will find a casket. -You are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket -until the marquis shall be dead." - -"I swear it," said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the -crucifix hanging at the head of the bed. - -"'Tis well," replied Achard; "now I shall die in peace." - -"You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the -father stretches out his towards you from heaven!" - -"Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?" - -"No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since -his death." - -"Yes," murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, "I was but too exact -in following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have -taken place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, -Paul; it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is -the only thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been -moments of doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as -an assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only -been a witness, but an accomplice!" - -"Oh! my second father," replied Paul, "I know not whether the laws of -earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether -honor as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the -Lord; I know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits -that the injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs -inflicted upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the -judgment of heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword's point. These -are questions not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, -then, my conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have -done precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it -also misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right -than a priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, -I pardon you." - -"Thanks! thanks!" cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; -"thanks, for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying -man. Remorse is a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that -there exists no God. For without a judge there can be no judgment." - -"Listen to me," said Paul, in that poetic and solemn accent, which was -peculiar to him: "I also have often doubted in the existence of a God: -isolated and lost in the wide world, without family, and without a -single friend, I sought for support in the Lord, and I asked of every -thing that encircled me, some proof of his existence. Often have I -arrested my steps at the foot of one of these crosses, erected by the -road side, and with my eyes fixed upon the Saviour, I demanded, and with -tears, to be assured of his existence, and divine mission; I prayed that -his eyes would deign to look upon me: that one drop of blood might fall -from his wound, or that a sigh might issue from his lips. The crucifix -remained motionless, and I arose, my heart being overcome with despair, -saying--'did I but know where I could find my father's tomb, I would -question him as Hamlet did the ghost, and he would perhaps answer me!'" - -"Poor child!" - -"Then would I enter a church," continued Paul, "one of those churches of -the north, gloomy, religious, Christian! And I would feel myself borne -down with sorrow; but sorrow is not faith! I approached the altar; -I threw myself upon my knees before the tabernacle, in which God dwells; -I bowed my head till it touched the marble of the steps; and when I had -thus remained prostrated for hours and lost in doubt, I raised my head, -hoping that the God I was seeking would at length manifest his presence -to me by a ray of his glory, or by some dazzling proof of his power. But -the church remained gloomy, as the cross had remained motionless. And -I would then rush from its porches with insensate haste, crying, 'Lord! -Lord! didst thou exist, thou would reveal thyself to man. It is thy -will, then, that men should doubt, since thou canst reveal thyself to -them, but dost not.'" - -"Beware of what you are saying, Paul," cried the old man: "beware that -the doubt thy heart contains do not attaint mine! Thou hast time left to -thee to believe, whereas, I--I am about to die." - -"Wait, father, wait!" continued Paul, with softened voice, and placid -features. "I have not told you all. It was then, that I said to myself, -'the crucifix by the road side, the churches of the cities are but the -work of man. Let us seek God, in God's own works.' From that moment, my -father, began that wandering life, which will remain an eternal mystery, -known only to the heavens, the ocean, and myself--it led me into the -solitary wilds of America, for I thought the newer a world was, the more -freshly would it retain the impress of God's hand. I did not deceive -myself. There, often in those virgin forests, into which I was perhaps -the first who had ever penetrated; with no shelter, but the heavens, no -couch, but the earth, absorbed by one sole thought, I have listened -to the thousand noises of a world about to sleep, and nature when -awakening. For a long time, did I still remain without comprehending -that unknown tongue, formed by the mingling of the murmur of rivers, -the vapor of the lakes, the rustling of the forest, and the perfume of -flowers. Finally, the veil which had obscured my eyes, and the weight -which had oppressed my heart, was little by little removed; and from -that time, I began to believe that these noises of evening, and of -approaching day, were but one universal hymn, by which created things -expressed their gratitude to the Creator." - -"Almighty God!" cried the dying man, clasping his hands, and raising his -eyes to heaven, with an expression of holy faith, "I cried to you from -the bottomless pit, and you heard me in my distress; oh! my God I I -thank thee." - -"Then," continued Paul, with still increasing enthusiasm, "then, I -sought upon the ocean, that full conviction which earth had refused to -me. The earth is but a span--the ocean is immensity! The ocean is, after -God himself, the grandest, the most powerful object in the universe. I -have heard the ocean roar like a chafed lion, and then at the voice of -its master, become tranquil as a submissive dog; I have seen it rise -like a Titan, to scale the heavens; and then beneath the whip of the -tempest, moan like a weeping infant. I have seen it dashing its waves to -meet the lightning, and endeavoring to quench the thunder with its foam; -and then become smooth as a mirror, and reflect even the smallest -star in the heavens. Upon the land, I had become convinced of God's -existence, upon the ocean, I recognised his power. In the solitary -wilds, as Moses, I had heard the voice of the Lord, but during the -tempest, I saw him, as did Ezekiel, riding upon the wings of the storm. -Thenceforward, my father, thenceforward, all doubt was driven from my -mind, and from the evening on which I witnessed the first hurricane, I -believed, and prayed." - -"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth," said -the dying man, with ardent faith; and he continued thus the symbol of -the apostles to the last word. - -Paul listened to him in silence, with his eyes raised to heaven, and -when he had concluded, said-- - -"It is not thus, that a priest would have spoken to you, my father, for -I have spoken to you as a seaman, and with a voice more accustomed to -pronounce words of death than consolation. Forgive me, father, forgive -me for it." - -"You have made me pray, and believe as you do," said the old man; "tell -me, then, what more could a priest have done? What you have said is -plain and grand--let me reflect on what you have said." - -"Listen!" said Paul, shuddering, "What is it?" - -"Did you not hear?" - -"No." - -"I thought that a voice of some one in distress called to me--there -again--do you not hear it?--now, again!--It is the voice of Marguerite." - -"Go to her instantly," replied the old man; "I need to be alone." - -Paul rushed into the adjoining room, and as he entered it he heard his -name again repeated, and close to the door of the cottage. Then, running -to the door he anxiously opened it, and found Marguerite upon the -threshold, her strength having failed her, and she had fallen upon her -knees. - -"Save me! save me!" she cried, with an expression of profound terror, on -perceiving Paul, and clasped his knees. - - - -CHAPTER XV.--THE PAPERS. - - Mercy from him! - And how can I expect it? - By what right - Can I demand he should withhold his claim, - The proofs once in his power?--Anonymous. - - -Paul ran to Marguerite, and caught her in his arms; she was pale and icy -cold. He carried her into the first room, placed her in an arm chair, -returned to the door which had remained open, and closed it, and then -hastened back. - -"What is it that so terrifies you? who is pursuing you? and how does it -happen that you come here at this unusual hour?" - -"Oh!" exclaimed Marguerite, "at any hour, whether by day or night, I -should have flown as long as the earth would have borne me! I should -have flown till I had found some heart in which I could have poured -forth my sorrows, an arm capable of defending me. Paul! Paul! my father -is dead?" - -"Poor child!" said Paul, pressing Marguerite to his heart, "who flies -from one house of death to fall into another; who leaves death in the -castle, to find it in the cottage." - -"Yes, yes!" cried Marguerite rising, still trembling with terror, and -convulsively pressing Paul's arm. "Death is yonder, and I find death -here! but yonder it is attended with despair and fear, while here it is -met with tranquillity and hope. Oh! Paul! Paul! had you but seen that -which I have seen!" - -"Tell me all that happened." - -"You saw the terrible effect produced by your appearance, and the mere -sound of your voice?" - -"Yes, I saw that." - -"They carried him still fainting and speechless into his own room." - -"It was to your mother that I spoke," said Paul, "and he heard me; I -could not foresee it would so much have terrified him." - -"You full well know all that had passed, for you must have heard from -the room in which you were concealed, every word we uttered. My father, -my poor father, had recognized me, and I, seeing him thus, could, not -repress my uneasiness: notwithstanding the risk I ran of irritating my -mother, I went up to his room--the door was locked; I knocked softly at -it. He had recovered his senses, for I heard a faint voice asking 'who -was there?'" - -"And your mother?" said Paul eagerly. - -"My mother," replied Marguerite, "was no longer there, and she had -locked him in as she would have done to a child; but when he had -recognized my voice, when I had told him that it was his daughter -Marguerite who wished to see him, he told me that I could get into the -room by going down stairs again, and that in the study I should find a -private staircase which led to it. A minute afterwards, I was kneeling -by his bedside, and he gave me his blessing. Yes, Paul, I received his -blessing before he died, his paternal benediction, which I trust will -bring down the blessing of God upon my head." - -"Yes," said Paul, "God will pardon you; you may now feel tranquil. Weep -for your father, Marguerite, but weep no longer for yourself, for you -are saved." - -"You have heard nothing yet, Paul!" exclaimed Marguerite. "Hear me -still." - -"Proceed!" - -"At the very moment when I was kneeling, kissing the hand of my father, -and thanking him for the relief he had afforded my afflicted mind, I -heard my mothers footstep on the staircase. I recognized her voice, and -my father also recognized it, for he again embraced me, and made a sign -to me to leave him. I obeyed him, but such was my terror and confusion, -that I mistook the door, and instead of the staircase by which I had -ascended, I found myself in a small cabinet which had no issue. I felt -all around its walls, but could find no door. I was compelled to remain -there. I then heard my mother, accompanied by the priest, entering my -father's room--I restrained my breathing, fearing that she should hear -me. I saw then through the glass window of the door, and I assure you, -Paul, that she was paler than my father who was about to die." - -"Gracious heaven!" murmured Paul. - -"The priest seated himself by the bed-side," continued Marguerite, -so terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; "my mother -remained standing at the foot of the bed--I was there, just opposite to -them, compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without -the means of retreat!--a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession -of her father!--was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my -eyes that I might not see--praying that I might not hear--and yet in -spite of myself--and this I swear to you, Paul--I saw and I heard--Oh! -what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my memory--I saw -my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him with a feverish -strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death imprinted on -his face. I heard him--I heard him pronounce the words, a -duel--adultery--assassination!--and at each word he uttered, I saw my -mother turn pale--and paler even than before--and I heard her raise her -voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying man, saying to the -priest: 'believe him not--believe him not, reverend father; what he says -is false--or rather, he is mad, he knows not what he says--believe him -not!' Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a -cold perspiration stood upon my forehead, and I fainted." - -"Justice of Heaven!" cried Paul. "I know not how long I remained without -consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the -tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were -burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my -eyes on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the -sheet which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I -divined that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between -the funereal awe which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of -raising the covering to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in -his coffin, the venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, -overcame every other feeling--an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror -drove me from the room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but -I believe without touching a single step,--I fled across the rooms and -through the corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I -had left the castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps -were leading me, until I remembered you had told me I should find -you here. A secret instinct--tell me what it was--for I cannot myself -comprehend it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I -was pursued by shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the -avenues I thought--(had I then lost my senses?)--I thought I saw my -mother, dressed all in black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. -Oh! then, then! terror lent me wings--I at first fled without knowing -whither; after this my strength failed me, and it was then you heard my -cries. I dragged myself along a few more paces, and fell motionless at -this door; had you not opened it, I should have expired upon the spot, -for I was so much terrified, that it appeared to me,"--then suddenly -pausing, Marguerite trembled, and whispered to Paul, "Silence! do you -not hear?" - -"Yes," replied Paul, instantly extinguishing the lamp, "yes, -yes--footsteps--I hear them also." - -"Look! look!" cried Marguerite, concealing herself behind the curtain of -the window, and throwing them around Paul at the same moment--"look! I -was not mistaken--it was my mother." - -The door had been opened, and the marchioness, pale as a spectre, -entered the room slowly, closed the door after her, and locked it, and -then without observing Paul and Marguerite, went into the second room -where Achard was lying. She then walked up to his bed, as she had only -a short time before to that of the marquis, only that she was not now -accompanied by a priest. - -"Who is there?" said Achard, drawing back one of the curtains of his -bed. - -"It is I," replied the marchioness, drawing back the other curtain. - -"You, madam," cried the old man with terror; "for what purpose have you -come to the bedside of a dying man?" - -"I have come to make a proposal to him." - -"One that will lose his soul! is it not?" - -"To save it, on the contrary. There is only one thing in this world, -Achard, of which you stand in need," rejoined the marchioness, bending -down over the bed of the dying man, "and that is a priest." - -"You refused to allow the one who is attached to the castle to attend -me." - -"In five minutes, if you wish it, he shall be here." - -"Let him be sent then," said the old man, "and believe me there is not a -moment to be lost. He must come quickly." - -"But if I give you the peace of heaven, you will give me in exchange -peace on earth." - -"What can I do for you?" murmured the dying man, closing his eyes, that -he might not see a woman whose looks chilled him. - -"You stand in need of a priest, that you may die in peace," said -the marchioness, "you know the gift I require, in order to exist in -tranquillity." - -"You would close heaven to me by a perjury." - -"I would open it to you by a pardon." - -"That pardon I have already received." - -"And from whom?--" - -"From him who, perhaps, had alone the right to grant it to me." - -"Has Morlaix then descended from heaven?" asked the marchioness, in a -tone in which there was almost as much terror as irony. - -"No, madam," replied he, "but have you forgotten that he left a son upon -this earth?" - -"Then you have also seen him," exclaimed the marchioness. - -"Yes," replied Achard. - -"And you have told him all----" - -"All!" - -"And the papers which prove his birth?" asked the marchioness, with -trembling anxiety. - -"The marquis was not dead--the papers are still there." - -"Achard!" cried the marchioness, falling upon her knees, by the bedside. -"Achard! you will take pity on me?" - -"You, on your knees, before me, madam?" - -"Yes, old man," replied the marchioness, in a supplicating tone, "yes, -I am on my knees before you--and I beg, I implore you, for you hold in -your hands the honor of one of the most ancient families in France--my -past, my future life! Those papers are my heart, my soul--they are -more than this--they are my name--the name of my forefathers--of my -children--and you well know all that I have suffered to preserve that -name unsullied. Do you believe that I had not a heart as other women -have? the feelings of a lover, of a wife, and of a mother? Well! I have -overcome them all, one by one, and the struggle has been long. I am -twenty years younger than you are, old man, I am still in the prime -of life, and you are on the verge of the grave. Look, then, upon these -hairs; they are even whiter than your own." - -"What says she?" whispered Marguerite, who had softly crept to the door, -and could see all that was passing in the inner room. "Gracious heaven!" - -"Listen, listen, dear child," said Paul, "it is the Lord who permits -that all shall be thus revealed." - -"Yes, yes," murmured Achard, who was becoming weaker every moment. "Yes, -you doubted the goodness of the Lord, you had forgotten that he had -forgiven the adulterous woman--" - -"Yes, but when she met with Christ, men were about to cast stones at -her--men, who for twenty generations have been accustomed to revere our -name, to honor our family--did they but learn, that which, thank heaven! -has heretofore been hidden from them--would hear it uttered with shame -and with contempt. I have so much suffered, that God will pardon me--but -man! men are so implacable, that they will not pardon--moreover, am I -alone exposed to their insults--on either side, the cross I bear, have I -not a child?--and is not the other that we speak of, the first-born? In -the eyes of the law, is he not the son of the Marquis d'Auray? do you -forget that he is the first-born, the head of the family? Do you not -know, that in order to possess himself of the title, the estates, the -fortune of the family of Auray, he has only to invoke the law? and then -what would remain to Emanuel? The cross of the order of Malta--and to -Marguerite?--a convent." - -"Oh! yes, yes," whispered Marguerite, and stretching out her arms, -toward the marchioness, "yes, a convent, in which I would pray for you, -my mother." - -"Silence! silence!" whispered Paul. - -"Oh! you know him not," said Achard, whose voice was scarcely audible. - -"No! but I know human nature," replied the marchioness, "he may recover -a name, he! who has no name--a fortune, he! who has no fortune. And do -you believe he would renounce that fortune and that name." - -"Should you ask it of him, he would." - -"And by what right could I demand it?" said the marchioness; "by -what right could I ask him to spare me, to spare Emanuel, to spare -Marguerite? He would say, 'I do not know you, madam--I have never seen -you--you are my mother, and that is all I know.'" - -"In his name," stammered Achard, whose tongue death was beginning to -benumb, "in his name, madam, I engage, I swear--oh! my God! my God!" - -The marchioness arose, observing attentively by the old man's features, -the approach of death. - -"You engage, you swear!" she said, "is he here to ratify this -engagement--you engage! you swear! and on your word, you would, that I -should stake the years I have yet to live, against the moments which -yet remain between you and death! I have entreated, I have implored, and -again, I entreat and implore you to give up those papers to me." - -"Those papers now are his." - -"I must have them! I repeat, I must have them," continued the -marchioness, gaining strength, as the dying man became more feeble. - -"My God! my God! have mercy upon me!" murmured Achard. - -"No one can now come," rejoined the marchioness "you told me that you -wore the key of that closet always about you----" - -"Would you wrest it from the hands of a dying man?" - -"No," replied the marchioness, "I will wait." - -"Let me die in peace," exclaimed Achard tearing the crucifix from the -head of his bed, and raising it between, himself and the marchioness, he -cried: "leave me! leave me; in the name of Jesus Christ!" - -The marchioness fell upon her knees, bowing her head to the ground. The -old man, for a moment, remained in the same awful attitude; then, by -degrees, his strength forsook him, and he fell back on his bed, crossed -his arms, and pressed the image of the Saviour to his breast. - -The marchioness seized the lower part of the two curtains, and without -raising her head, she crossed them in such a manner as to conceal the -last struggles of the dying man. - -"Horror! horror!" murmured Marguerite. - -"Let us kneel, and pray," said Paul. - -A moment of solemn and dreadful silence then ensued, which was only -interrupted by the last gasps of the dying man; these gasps became -fainter by degrees, and then ceased altogether. All was over; the old -man was dead. - -The marchioness slowly raised her head, listened with intense anxiety -for some minutes, and then, without opening the curtains, passed her -hand between them, and after some effort, withdrew her hand again--she -had obtained the key. She then silently arose, and with her face still -turned toward the bed, walked to the closet. But at the moment she was -about to unlock it, Paul, who was observing all her movements, rushed -into the room, and seizing her by the arm, said--? - -"Give me that key, my mother! for the marquis is dead, and those papers -now belong to me." - -"Justice of heaven!" exclaimed the marchioness, starting back with -terror, and falling into a chair, "justice of heaven! it is my son!" - -"Merciful heaven!" murmured Marguerite, throwing herself upon her knees -in the outer room: "merciful heaven! he is my brother!" - -Paul opened the closet, and took the casket which contained the papers. - - - -CHAPTER XVI.--RECRIMINATION. - - Thou canst save me, - Thou ought'st! thou must! - I tell thee at his feet - I'll fall a corse, ere mount his bridal bed! - Go choose betwixt my rescue and my grave. - - Knowles.--The hunchbach - - -Notwithstanding the dreadful nature of the events which had occurred -during that fatal night, Paul had not forgotten the mortal defiance -which had been exchanged between himself and Lectoure. As that young -gentleman would probably not know where to find him, he thought it only -decorous to save Lectoure the trouble of seeking for him, and about -seven in the morning, Lieutenant Walter presented himself at the castle, -being charged on behalf of Paul to arrange the terms of the combat. He -found Emanuel in Lectoure's apartment. The latter, on perceiving the -officer, withdrew, and went down into the park, that the two young -men might more freely discuss the matter. Walter had received from his -commander directions to accede to every thing that might be proposed. -The preliminary terms were, therefore, very speedily arranged; and -it was agreed between them, that the meeting should take place in the -afternoon, at four o'clock. The place of rendezvous the sea-side, near -the fisherman's hut, which was about half-way between Port Louis and -Auray castle. As to the weapons, they were to bring their pistols and -their swords; it would be decided on the spot which they were to use, it -being clearly understood that Lectoure, having been the party insulted, -should have the right to make his choice. - -As to the marchioness, although in the first instance petrified by -the unexpected appearance of Paul, she soon recovered all her natural -firmness, and drawing her veil over her face, she withdrew from -the chamber, and walked across the outer room which had remained in -darkness. She did not, therefore, perceive Marguerite, who was kneeling -in one corner of it, mute from astonishment and terror. She after that -crossed the park, entered the castle, and repaired to the room in which -the scene of the contract had taken place. There, by the dying light -of the wax tapers, with both her elbows resting on the table, her head -supported on her hands, her eyes riveted to the paper to which Lectoure -had already affixed his name, and the marquis had signed the half -of his, she passed the remainder of the night reflecting upon a new -determination. Thus she awaited the coming day without even thinking of -taking the least repose, so powerfully did her soul of adamant support -the body in which it was enclosed. This resolution was to get Emanuel and -Marguerite away from the castle as speedily as possible, for it was from -her children, most especially, that she desired to conceal that which -was about to take place between Paul and herself. - -Marguerite, who had been thus most unexpectedly present at the death-bed -of the marquis and of Achard, through which she had so providentially -discovered her mother's secret, rushed into Paul's arms immediately -after her mother's departure from the cottage, exclaiming: - -"Oh! now you are really my brother." - -Her tears choked further utterance, and it was some minutes before -Paul could tranquillize her agitated spirit, torn by so many and such -conflicting emotions. Paul then fearing that the marchioness might -enquire for her daughter, on her arrival at the castle, urged -Marguerite to hasten thither; and seeing she was still trembling at the -recollection of the many horrors she had witnessed, led her out of the -cottage, of which he locked the door, and accompanied her to within a -few paces of the castle. During this walk, Marguerite had in a certain -degree, recovered her composure. Paul stood gazing at her till he saw -that she had safely entered the court yard, and then returned to watch -and pray beside the body of his father's faithful servant. - -At seven o'clock, the marchioness hearing the noise occasioned by -Lieutenant Walter's arrival at the castle, reached a bell which was -standing on the table and rang it. A servant presented himself at the -door in the grand livery he had worn the previous evening--it was easy -to perceive that he also had not been in bed. - -"Inform Mademoiselle d'Auray, that her mother is waiting for her in the -drawing room," said the marchioness. - -The servant obeyed, and the marchioness resumed, gloomy and motionless, -her previous attitude. In a few minutes afterward, she heard a slight -noise behind her, and turned round. It was Marguerite. The young girl, -with more respect, perhaps, than she had ever before evinced, held out -her hand toward her mother, that she might give her her hand to kiss. -But the marchioness remained motionless, as if she had not understood -the intention of her daughter. Marguerite let fall her hand, and -silently awaited her mother's pleasure. She also wore the same dress -as the night before. Sleep had hovered over the whole world, but had -forgotten the inhabitants of Auray castle. - -"Come nearer," said the marchioness. - -Marguerite advanced one step. - -"Why is it that you are thus pale and trembling," continued the -marchioness. - -"Madam," murmured Marguerite. - -"Speak," said the marchioness. - -"The death of my father--so sudden--so unexpected," stammered -Marguerite; "indeed I have suffered so much this night." - -"Yes, yes," rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on -her daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: "yes, -the young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves. -The old oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, -Marguerite, and suffered much. I have passed a dreadful night, and yet -you see me calm and firm." - -"God has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you -should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others. -You would destroy them." - -"And therefore is it," replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall -upon the table, "that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is -dead, Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must -immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel." - -"I!" exclaimed Marguerite, "I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?" - -"Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same -moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession -of the father." - -"My mother!" replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish, -"it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between -two ceremonies of so opposite a nature." - -"True piety," rejoined the marchioness, "should lead us to fulfil the -last wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the -first letters of your father's name." - -"Oh! madam!" cried Marguerite, "allow me to ask you whether my father, -when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing, -was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own -free will?" - -"Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle," replied the marchioness, with -that imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all -that approached her. - -"I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made -him thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as -long as they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the -authority of God. Now, God has ordained me to effect things terrible in -themselves, and I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!" - -"Madam," said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed -motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother -was so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; "madam! it is -only three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the -feet of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to -receive as my husband, and then at my father's. Neither of them would or -could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened -their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, -my mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are -best capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I -am about to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, -I would make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I -must also sacrifice my son.--You are a mother, and I also, madam." - -"A mother!--a mother!" cried the marchioness. - -"Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault----" - -"Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a -mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam, -tell me--for you should better comprehend these things than I--tell -me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice -which speaks to our hearts--have not those to whom we have given birth a -voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each other, -to which ought we to obey?" - -"You will never hear the voice of your child." said the marchioness; -"for you will never again see him." - -"I shall never again see my son!" exclaimed Marguerite, "and who, madam, -can assert that positively?" - -"He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is." - -"And should he some day discover it?" replied Marguerite; whose respect -as a daughter was giving way before her mother's harshness; "if he -should then come to me and demand an account of his birth--and this may -happen, madam,"--she took up the pen--"and, with such an alternative -awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?" - -"Sign it," said the marchioness. - -"But," observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers -upon the contract, "should my husband some day discover the existence of -this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong -committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and -without seconds--a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he -should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued -by a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of -reason--" - -"Be silent!" cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror, -but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery -which dictated the words her daughter had employed: "be silent!" - -"You would have me, then," continued Marguerite, who had now said too -much to pause, "you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, -and that of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure -myself with a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my -sight, and from his, every living being, and that I should render my -heart iron, that I may no longer feel--that my eyes should never shed -a tear! You would have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, -before my husband's death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty -years before the accustomed time?" - -"Be silent! say not another word!" cried the marchioness, in a tone -which proved that menaces were giving way to fear: "be silent!" - -"You would have me, then," continued Marguerite, carried away by the -bitterness of her grief; "you would have me, then, in order that the -dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that -I should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician--you -would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that -I might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying." - -"Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!" again cried the -marchioness, wringing her hands. - -"Well, then," continued Marguerite, "tell me again, my mother, to sign -this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord -will be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited -upon the children, even to the third and fourth generations." - -"Ah! my God! my God!" exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, -"am I not sufficiently humbled--am I not sufficiently punished?" - -"Pardon! pardon! madam," cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling -by the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; "I implore you to -forgive me." - -"Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter," said the -marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, "you who have wrenched the -scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied -the lash even on your mother's forehead." - -"Mercy! mercy!" reiterated Marguerite; "pardon me, my mother. I knew not -what I said. You had deprived me of reason---I was mad!" - -"Oh! my God! my God," said the marchioness, raising both her hands above -her daughter's head, "Thou hast heard the words which have issued from -my daughter's lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will -forget them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I -have not cursed her!" - -She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, -but the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance -so fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite -dropped the skirt of her mother's dress, and remained with arms -outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness -had disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon -the ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed -that the heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken. - - - -CHAPTER XVII.--THE BROTHERS - - Be angry as - You will, it shall have scope; - Ah, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb - That carries anger, as the flint bears fire-- - Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, - And straight is cold again. - And from henceforth - When you are over earnest with your brother, - He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. - --Shakespeare - - -Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent -manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had -not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who -had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together -with Count d'Auray, had received from his commander directions to make -every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not -meet Lectoure until the afternoon. - -The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the -time arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, -having in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last -found himself in the position of the head of the family, his life -belonged not to himself, and that he had not the right to risk it. -Moreover, as we have seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; -and Lectoure, who was ignorant of the reason which could have induced -his adversary to require it, had acceded to it without much difficulty. - -Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as -soon as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present -himself to the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle. - -The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned -so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without -meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the -apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on -going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the -floor. - -On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of -consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must -have taken place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to -Marguerite, raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to -give her air. The state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more -from a complete prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; -and therefore, as soon as she felt that assistance was being rendered -her, and with a kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the -person who had thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and -recognized her brother, that living Providence, whom God had sent to -sustain her every time she felt she was about to succumb. - -Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her -to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her -brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away -by the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her -mother to perceive that she knew all. - -Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart -of the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and -anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had -been brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to -one of the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. -Therefore, compassionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to -terminate them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview -he had come to seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to -the intentions of that son, whose existence she was so unwilling to -acknowledge, Marguerite, on her side, wished to obtain her mother's -forgiveness; she, therefore, undertook to inform the marchioness that -the young captain waited her orders. - -Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece, -above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose -himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of -the last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the -sovereign arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly -opened, and Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On -hearing the door open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately -perceiving the young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal -expression, which reflected in his features the serenity of his soul. - -Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as -politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence -of the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had -awakened to flush his features, and they instantly assumed a look of -fierce defiance. - -"I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir," said Emanuel, -placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from -Paul; "and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you; -for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have -the gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me -that he had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved -me the trouble I was about to take, in thus anticipating my desire." - -"I am happy," replied Paul, "that my desire in this instance, although -probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously -chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here--what do you ask of me?" - -"Cannot you divine even that, sir?" replied Emanuel, with increasing -agitation. "In that case--and you will allow me to express my -astonishment that it should be so--you are but ill-informed as to the -duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that -you put upon me." - -"Believe me, Emanuel," rejoined Paul, in a calm tone-- - -"I yesterday called myself the count; to-day I call myself the Marquis -d'Auray," said Emanuel, interrupting him with a gesture of haughtiness -and contempt; "and I beg, sir, that you will not forget it." - -An almost imperceptible smile passed over the lips of Paul. - -"I was saying, then," continued Emanuel, "that you but imperfectly -comprehend the feelings of a gentleman, if you believed that I would -permit another to take up, on my behalf, a quarrel which you came here -to seek. Yes, sir, for it is you who have thrown yourself across -my path, and not I who have sought you." - -"His lordship, the Marquis d'Auray," said Paul, smiling, "forgets his -visit on board the _Indienne_." - -"A truce to your cavils, sir, and let us at once proceed to facts. -Yesterday, I know not from what strange and inexplicable feeling, when -I proposed to you that, which I will not say every gentleman, every -officer, but simply, any man of courage would instantly, and without -hesitation, have acceded to, you refused, sir, and evading my -provocation, you went, as it were, behind my back to seek an adversary, -who, although not precisely a stranger to the quarrel, yet good taste -should have dictated that he ought not to have been drawn into it." - -"Believe me, that in this, sir," replied Paul, with the calmness and the -same candor of manner which had accompanied all he said; I was compelled -to yield to the exigency of the case, which did not leave me the choice -of an adversary. You had proposed a duel, which I could not accept, you -being my adversary, but which was perfectly indifferent to me with -any other person. I am too much habituated to encounters of this -description, and to encounters of a far more murderous and mortal -nature, to consider an event of this kind, but as one of the usual -accidents of my adventurous life. You will, however, please to remember -that it was not I who sought this duel; you, yesterday, proposed it to -me; but, as I could not, I again repeat it, appear as your antagonist, -I selected M. de Lectoure, as I would have done M. de Nozay or M. la -Jarry, because he happened to be there, within my reach--and because, -if it were absolutely necessary that I should kill some one, I preferred -killing an useless and insolent fop, rather than a good and honest -country gentleman, who would consider himself dishonored, did he but -dream that he had entered into a bargain of so vile and despicable a -nature as that which the Baron de Lectoure has, in reality, proposed to -you." - -"'Tis well, sir," said Emanuel, jeeringly; "continue to constitute -yourself as the redresser of wrongs, to dub yourself the knight-errant -of oppressed princesses, and to shield yourself under the buckler of -your mysterious replies! As long as this antiquated quixotism does not -come in collision with my views, my interests, and my engagements, I -will fully permit it to wander over the whole earth, and ocean also, -even from pole to pole, and I shall merely smile at it as it passes by -me; but whenever this madness breaks out against me, as yours has done, -sir; whenever, in the intimate concerns of a family of which I am the -head, I meet a stranger, who orders as a master where I alone have the -right to raise my voice, I shall present myself before him, as I now do -before you, should I have the happiness to meet him alone as I do you, -and then feeling assured, that no one will come to interrupt us before -I had obtained the necessary explanation, I would say to him: 'You have, -if not insulted me, at all events wounded my feelings, sir, by coming to -my house, and injuring me in my in-terests, and my family affections. It -is then with me, and not with another, that you ought to fight, and you -shall fight with me.'" - -"You are mistaken, Emanuel," replied Paul; "I will not fight, at all -events, with you; the thing is impossible." - -"Oh! sir, the time of enigmas is gone by," cried Emanuel, impatiently; -"we live in the midst of a world, in which at every moment we elbow a -reality. Let us, therefore, leave the poetical and the mysterious, to -the authors of romances and tragedies. Your presence in this castle has -been marked by circumstances too fatal to render it necessary to add -that which is not, to that which is. Lusignan returned, notwithstanding -the order which condemned him to transportation; my sister, who, for -the first time, has shown herself rebellious against the orders of her -mother; my father, killed by your mere presence: these are the disasters -by which you have been accompanied, which have heralded you from another -hemisphere, and have formed your funereal escort: for all this, you have -to account to me; therefore, speak, sir; speak as a man should to a man, -in the broad daylight, face to face, and not as a phantom gliding in the -darkness, which escapes under the cloud of night, letting fall some few -solemn and prophetic words, as if from the other world. Such things are -well calculated to terrify nurses and children! Speak, sir, speak! Look -at me, you will see that I am calm. If you have anything to reveal to me -I will listen to you." - -"The secret which you ask of me is not my own," replied Paul, whose -perfect calmness strongly contrasted with the feverish excitement -of Emanuel; "believe what I have said, and do not insist farther. -Farewell!" - -After pronouncing these words, Paul moved toward the door. - -"Oh!" cried Emanuel, rushing between him and the door, to prevent his -passage; "you shall not leave me thus, sir! I have you now, we are alone -in this room, without fear of any interruption, into which, it was not -I that enticed you, but you have come here of your own free will. -Therefore, hearken to that which I am about to say. The person you have -insulted is myself! the person to whom you owe satisfaction is myself! - -"The person with whom you have to fight is----" - -"You are mad, sir," tranquilly replied Paul; "I have already told you it -is impossible. Therefore, allow me to withdraw." - -"Take care, sir," cried Emanuel, stretching out his hand to the box, and -taking out the pistols; "take care, sir. After having done every thing -in my power to compel you to act as a gentleman, I may treat you as a -brigand.--You are here in a house, in which you are a total stranger; -you have entered it, I know not how, nor for what purpose; if you have -not come into it to despoil us of our gold and jewels, you have entered -it to steal the obedience of a daughter to her mother, and to cancel the -sacred promise given by a friend to a friend. In one case or the other, -you are a violator, whom I have met at the moment that his hands were -about to seize a treasure; that treasure, is honor, the most precious -of all riches! Come, sir, believe me, you will do better to accept this -weapon"--Emanuel endeavored to thrust one of the pistols into Paul's -hand--"and defend yourself." - -"You may kill me, sir," replied Paul, again placing his elbow on the -chimney-piece, as if he were continuing an ordinary conversation; -"although I do not believe that God would permit so great a crime: but -you shall not force me to fight with you. I have before told you so, and -I repeat it." - -"Take the pistol, sir!" cried Emanuel, "take it, sir, I tell you! you -believe that the threat I am making is but a vain menace; undeceive -yourself! for three days have you fatigued my patience! for three days -have you filled my soul with gall and hatred! for three days have I -familiarised my mind with the idea of ridding myself of you; whether it -be by a duel or by murder! Do not imagine, that the dread of punishment -withholds my hand; this castle is isolated, mute, and deaf. The sea is -there; and before you could be even laid in the tomb, I should be in -England. Therefore, sir, for the last time, I say to you, take this -pistol and defend yourself." Paul, without uttering a word, gently put -the pistol aside. - -"Well then!" cried Emanuel, exasperated to the highest degree, by the -sangfroid of his adversary; "as you will not defend yourself like a man, -die like a dog!" And so saying, he raised the muzzle of the pistol to -the level of the captain's breast. - -At that moment a dreadful shriek was heard; it was Marguerite, who had -returned from her mother, and who had, at a glance, comprehended all -that had happened. She rushed upon Emanuel, and at that instant he fired -the pistol, but the direction of the ball having been changed by the -young girl's striking up his arm, it passed two or three inches above -Paul's head, and shattered the glass above the chimney-piece. - -"My brother!" cried Marguerite, with one bound, springing to were -Paul stood, and throwing her arms around him: "my brother, are you not -wounded?" - -"Your brother!" exclaimed Emanuel, letting fall the pistol which was -still smoking; "your brother!" - -"Well, Emanuel!" said Paul, with the same calmness which he had evinced -during the whole of this painful scene; "do you now comprehend why it -was I could not fight with you?" - -At that moment, the marchioness appeared at the door, pale as a spectre, -for she had heard the report of the pistol; then looking around her with -an expression of infinite terror, and seeing that no one was wounded, -she silently raised her eyes to heaven, as if to ask if its anger was -at length appeased. She remained thus for some time in an attitude of -mental thanksgiving. When she again cast down her eyes, Emanuel and -Marguerite were on their knees before her, each holding one of her -hands, and covering it with tears and kisses. - -"I thank you, my children," said the marchioness, after a short silence; -"and now leave me with this young man." - -Marguerite and Emanuel bowed with an expression of the most profound -respect, and obeyed the command of their mother. - - - -CHAPTER XVIII--RECOGNITION. - - Oh! my mother! - You do not know the heart that you have pierced! - I--I--thy son--thine Arthur--I avenge? - Never on thee. - - Live happy--love my brother-- - Forget that I was born. - Here, here--these proofs-- - These--these! - - Oh! see you where the words are blistered - With my hot tears? - I wept--it was for joy-- - I did not think of lands, of name, of birthright-- - I did but think these arms should clasp a' mother. - - Bulwer.--The Sea Captain. - - -The marchioness closed the door as soon as they had withdrawn, advanced -into the middle of the room, and went without looking at Paul, and -leaning upon the arm-chair in which the marquis had the night before -been seated to sign the contract. There she remained standing, with her -eyes cast upon the ground. Paul for a moment experienced the desire to -throw himself upon his knees before her, but there was upon the features -of the marchioness such an expression of severity, that he repressed -the yearnings of his heart, and stood motionless awaiting her commands. -After a few moments of ice-like silence, the marchioness addressed him. -"You desired to see me, sir, and I have come to know your will--you -wished to speak to me--I am listening." - -These words were uttered without the marchioness making the least -movement--her lips trembled, rather than opened--it seemed a marble -statue that was speaking. - -"Yes, madam," replied Paul, in a tone of intense feeling, "yes, yes, -I desired to speak with you; it is long since first this desire was -cherished in my heart, and it has never left me. Recollections of -infancy preyed upon the mind of the grown man. I remembered a woman who -would formerly glide to my cradle, and in my youthful dreams, I thought -her the guardian angel of my infancy. Since that time, still so fresh -in my memory, although so distant, more than once, believe me, I have -awakened with a start, imagining that I had felt upon my forehead the -impression of a maternal kiss: and then seeing that there was no one -near me, I would call that person, hoping she would, perhaps, return. It -is now twenty years since first I thus had called, and this is the first -time she has replied to me. Can it have been as I have often fearfully -imagined, that you would have trembled at again beholding me? Can it be -true, as I at this moment fear, that you have naught to say to me?" - -"And had I feared your return," said the marchioness, in a hollow tone, -"should I have been to blame? You appeared before me only yesterday, -sir, and now the mystery which ought to have been concealed to all but -God and myself, is known to both my children." - -"Is it my fault that God has been pleased to reveal the secret to them? -Was it I that conducted Marguerite, despairing and in tears, to the -bedside of her dying father, whose protection she had gone to ask, and -whose confession she was compelled to hear? Was it I that led her to -Achard, and was it not you, madam, that followed her thither? As to -Emanuel, the report you heard, and that shattered glass, attest, that -I would have preferred death rather than to have saved my life at the -expense of your secret. No, no, believe me, madam, I am the instrument, -and not the hand; the effect, and not the cause. No, madam, it is God -who has brought about all this, that you might see at your feet, as you -have just now seen them, your two children whom you have so long banished -from your arms!" - -"But there is a third," said the marchioness, in a voice in which -emotion began to evince itself, "and I know not what I have to expect -from him." - -"Let me accomplish a last duty, madam, and that once fulfilled, he will -on his knees await your orders." - -"And of what nature is this duty?" - -"It is to restore his brother to the rank to which he is entitled, -his sister to that happiness which she has lost--to his mother that -tranquillity of mind, which she has so long sought in vain." - -"And yet, thanks to you," replied the marchioness, "M. de Maurepas -refused to M. de Lectoure the regiment he had solicited for my son." - -"Because," replied Paul, taking the commission from his pocket and -laying it on the table, "because the king had already granted it to me, -for the brother of Marguerite." - -The marchioness cast her eyes upon the commission, and saw that it was -made out in the name of Emanuel d'Auray. - -"And yet you would give the hand of Marguerite to a man without name, -without fortune--and what is more, to a man who is banished." - -"You are mistaken, madam; I would give Marguerite to the man she loves. -I would give Marguerite not to the banished Lusignan, but to the -Baron Anatole de Lusignan, his majesty's governor of the Island of -Gaudaloupe--there is his commission also." The marchioness looked at the -parchment, and saw that in this instance, as in the former one, Paul had -uttered but the truth. - -"Yes, I acknowledge it," she replied, "these will satisfy the ambition -of Emanuel, and confer happiness on Marguerite." - -"And at the same time, secures your tranquillity madam; for Emanuel will -join his regiment, and Marguerite will follow her husband. You will then -remain here alone, as you have, alas! so frequently desired." - -The marchioness sighed. - -"Is not this all you desire, or have I deceived myself," continued Paul. - -"But," said the marchioness, "how can I recall the promise given to the -Baron de Lectoure?" - -"The marquis is dead, madam," replied Paul; "is not the death of -a husband and a father a sufficient cause for the adjournment of a -marriage?" - -The marchioness, without replying, seated herself in the arm-chair, took -a pen and paper, wrote a few lines, folded the letter, and putting on -the address the name of the Baron de Lectoure, she rang the bell for the -servant. After waiting a few moments, during which time, both Paul and -herself remained silent, a servant came into the room. - -"In two hours from this time, you will deliver this to the Baron -de Lectoure," said the Marchioness. The servant took the letter and -withdrew. - -"And now," continued the marchioness, looking at Paul, "now sir, that -you have done justice to the innocent, it remains to you to pardon the -guilty. You have papers which prove your birth, you are the elder--at -all events, in the eyes of the law. The fortunes of Emanuel and -Marguerite are yours by right. What do you require in exchange for these -papers?" - -Paul took them from his pocket, and showing them to the marchioness, -said, "Here are the documents, look at them--they are the letters you -wrote to my poor father--look here, they are moistened by my tears, -for I read them last night, while watching by Achard's corpse." Then -approaching the fire-place, he held them over the flaming wood, saying, -"permit me even but once to call you mother! call me but once your son, -and----" - -"Can it be possible!" exclaimed the marchioness, rising. - -"You speak of name, of fortune," continued Paul, with an expression of -profound melancholy; "what need have I of them. I have by my own -sword gained a rank which few men of my age have ever attained--I have -acquired a name which is pronounced with blessings by one nation, andi -with terror by another. I could, did it so please me, amass a fortune, -worthy of being bequeathed to a king. What, then, are your name your -fortune, and your rank, to me, if you have nothing else to offer me--if -you do not give me that which I have incessantly, and in every position -of my life most yearned for--that which I have not the power to -create--which God had granted to me, but which misfortune wrested from -me--that which you alone can restore to me--a mother!" - -"My son!" exclaimed the marchioness, overcome at length, by his tears, -and supplicating accent, "my son! my son! my son!" - -"Ah!" exclaimed Paul, letting the papers fall into the flames, which -speedily consumed them, "ah! that missed appellation has at length -escaped your lips--that tender name so long desired, and which I have -so unceasingly prayed to hear addressed to me. Merciful heaven! I thank -thee." - -The marchioness had fallen back into her chair, and Paul had thrown -himself upon his knees, his head leaning upon her bosom. At length the -marchioness gently raised him. - -"Look at me!" she said; "for twenty years, this is the first tear that -has ever escaped my eyelids, give me your hand!"--she placed it upon -her heart--"for twenty years this is the first feeling of happiness with -which my heart has palpitated. Come to my arms! For twenty years this -is the first caress I have either given or received. These twenty years -have doubtless been my expiation, since God now pardons me, for he has -restored to me the power of weeping, of feeling joy, and has permitted -me to embrace my son. Thanks to G-od! and thanks to thee, my son!" - -"My mother!" cried Paul, "my beloved mother!" - -"And I trembled at the thoughts of seeing you again--I trembled when I -did see you--I knew not--I could not have imagined that such feelings -still existed in my heart. Oh! I bless thee! I bless thee!" - -At that moment, the tolling of the chapel bell was heard: the -marchioness shuddered. The funeral hour had arrived. The bodies of the -noble Marquis d'Auray and that of the poor man Achard, were about to be -returned to earth at the same moment. - -"This hour must be consecrated to prayer," said the marchioness: "I must -now leave you." - -"I must sail to-morrow, my mother," said Paul; "shall I not once more -see you?" - -"Oh! yes, yes," replied the marchioness, "we must meet again." - -"Well, then, my mother, this evening I shall be at the park gate. There -is a spot which is sacred to me, and to which I must pay a last visit. -I shall expect to meet you there. It is on that spot, my mother, that we -should say farewell." - -"I will be there," said the marchioness. - -"Here, my mother, here," said Paul, "take these commissions: the one for -Emanuel, and the other for the husband of Marguerite. Let the happiness -of your children be conferred by yourself. Believe me, mother, you have -bestowed more on me than I on them." - -The marchioness retired to shut herself up in her oratory. Paul left the -castle, and proceeded toward the hut of the fisherman. - - - -CHAPTER XIX.--THE FAREWELL. - - Hark! she has bless'd her son--I bid ye witness, - Ye listening heavens--thou circumambient air; - The ocean sighs it back--and with the murmur - Bustle the happy leaves. - - All nature breathes - Aloud---aloft--to the Great Parent's ear, - The blessing of the mother on her child. - - -ON approaching the fisherman's hut, the place appointed with Lectoure, -Paul perceived Lusignan and Walter, who were waiting for him. - -Precisely at the hour agreed, Lectoure appeared on horseback; he had -been obliged to find his way as he best could, for he had no guide, and -his own servant was as much a stranger as himself in that part of the -country. On seeing him at a distance the young men came out of the hut. -The baron instantly put his horse into a gallop, to hasten to them. When -within a few paces of them he alighted from his horse, and threw the -rein to his servant. - -"I trust you will pardon me, gentlemen," said he, "that I should have -approached you thus alone, like a forsaken orphan; but the hour selected -by that gentleman," he added, raising his hat to Paul, who returned the -salutation, "was precisely that fixed upon for the funeral obsequies -of the marquis; I have therefore left Emanuel to fulfil the duties of -a son, and have come here without a second, trusting that I had to deal -with an adversary generous enough to procure some friend of his own to -aid me in this dilemma." - -"We are entirely at your service, baron," replied Paul; "here are two -friends of mine. Select which you please, and he who shall be honored by -your choice, will instantly become yours." - -"I have no preference, I swear to you," said Lectoure; "please to -designate which of these two gentlemen you may desire should reader me -this service." - -"Walter," said Paul, "be so good as to officiate as second to the -baron." - -The lieutenant assented; the two adversaries again bowed to each other. - -"And now, sir," continued Paul, "permit me, before our respective -seconds, to address a few words to you, not of apology, but -explanation." - -"At your own pleasure, sir, replied Lectoure. - -"When I uttered the words which have been the cause of your coming -hither, the events which have since occurred at the castle were hidden -in the womb of time, and these events might have entailed the misery of -a whole family. You, sir, had on your side Madame d'Auray, Emanuel, and -the Marquis--Marguerite had but me alone. Every chance was, therefore, -in your favor. It was for this reason that I addressed myself directly -to you, for had I fallen by your hand from circumstances which must for -ever remain hidden to you, Marguerite could not have married you. If -I had killed you, the case would have been still more simplified, and -requires no commentary. - -"This exordium is really most logical, sir," replied the baron, smiling, -and tapping his boots with his riding-whip; "let us proceed, if you -please, to the main body of the discourse." | - -"Now," continued Paul, bowing in sign of acquiescence, "every -circumstance has changed; the marquis is dead, Emanuel has received his -commission, the marchioness renounces your alliance, honorable as it may -be, and Marguerite marries the Baron Anatole de Lusignan, who, for that -reason, I did not name your second." - -"Ah! ah!" exclaimed Lectoure, "then that is the true meaning of the note -which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave -the castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an -adjournment. It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. 'Tis well, -sir, and now to the peroration." - -"It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know -you--I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each -other, and with opposing interests--hence our collision. Then, as I have -before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make sure -of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my death -or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed to -the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank it -would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?" - -"I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed -so long a journey," replied Lectoure: "Not having the honor to espouse -Mademoiselle Marguerite d'Auray, I should desire, at least, to have -the honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have -travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at -your orders, sir," continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it -saluting his adversary. - -"At your good pleasure, sir," replied Paul, and replying to the -salutation in the same manner. - -The two young men then advanced towards each other--their swords -crossed--at the third parry Lectoure's sword was twisted from his hand, -and flew to a distance of twenty yards. - -"Before taking sword in hand," said Paul, "I had offered an explanation, -and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology." - -"And this time I will accept it, sir," said Lectoure, in the same -careless and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. "Pick -up my sword, Dick." - -His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very -tranquilly put it into the scabbard. - -"Now," continued he, "if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for -Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot." - -"Tell the king, sir," replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing -his sword, "that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed -against the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my -own countrymen." - -And then the two young men again bowed to each other. Lectoure remounted -his horse, and at about a hundred paces from the sea shore, got into the -high road leading to Vannes, and galloped off; while his servant went -to the castle to get his travelling carriage, with which Lectoure had -ordered him to rejoin him speedily. - -"And now, Mr. Walter," said Paul, "you must send the long-boat to the -nearest creek to Auray castle, and have every thing in readiness to set -sail tonight." - -The lieutenant immediately set out for Port Louis, and Paul and Lusignan -returned into the fisherman's hut. - -During this time Emanuel and Marguerite had fulfilled the mournful duty -to which they had been summoned by the chapel bell. The body of the -marquis had been deposited in the emblazoned tomb of his ancestors, and -Achard's in the humble cemetery outside the chapel, and then the -brother and sister repaired to their mother's apartment. The marchioness -delivered to Emanuel the commission which he so anxiously coveted, and -gave to Marguerite her unexpected consent to her marriage with Lusignan. -She then handed to Marguerite the king's sign manual appointing Lusignan -governor of Guadaloupe. And then, in order that the emotions which they -experienced should not be renewed, and which were the more poignant, -because they were concealed within their own breasts, for neither of -them made any allusion to past events, the mother and the children -embraced each other for the last time, each feeling the innate -conviction that they should never meet again. - -The remainder of the day was occupied in the necessary preparations for -departure. Toward the evening the marchioness left the castle, to meet -Paul at the place which he had appointed. When passing through the -court-yard she perceived a carriage, with horses already attached to it, -standing on one side of it, and the young midshipman, Arthur, with four -sailors, on the other. Her heart was oppressed by the sight of this -two-fold preparation. She, however, passed on, and went into the park, -without giving way to her emotions, so much had her long-continued -restraint upon natural feelings given her the power of self-command. - -However, when she had reached a small clearing, from which she could -see Achard's house, she paused, for her knees trembled beneath her, and -she was obliged to lean for support against a tree, while she pressed -her hand to her breast to restrain the violent beatings of her heart. -For there are souls which present danger, however imminent, cannot cause -to quail, but which tremble at the remembrance of perils past; and the -marchioness recalled to mind the agonizing fears and emotions to which -she had been for twenty years a prey, and during which time she had -daily visited that house, now closed never again to be opened. She, -however, soon overcame this weakness, and reached the park gate. - -There she again paused. Above all the trees rose the summit of a -gigantic oak, whose wide spreading branches could be discerned from -many places in the park. Often had the eyes of the marchioness remained -riveted for hours upon its verdant dome: but never had she dared to seek -repose beneath its shade. It was there, however, that she had promised -to meet Paul, and there Paul was awaiting her. At length she made a last -effort, and entered the forest. - -From a distance she perceived a man kneeling upon the ground in the -attitude of prayer. She slowly approached him, and kneeling down by his -side, prayed also. When the prayer was concluded, they both rose, and -without uttering a word, the marchioness placed her arm around Paul's -neck, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. After some moments' -silence, they heard the noise of the wheels of a carriage at a distance. -The marchioness shuddered, and made a sign to Paul to listen; it was -Emanuel setting out to join his regiment. Shortly afterwards Paul -pointed in a direction opposite to that in which they had heard the -noise, and showed the marchioness a boat gliding rapidly and silently -upon the surface of the ocean; it was Marguerite going on board the -frigate. - -The marchioness listened to the noise of the receding wheels as long as -she could hear it, and followed with anxious eyes the movements of the -boat, as long as she could distinguish it; then she turned toward -Paul, and raising her eyes to heaven, for she felt that the moment was -approaching, when he, whom she was leaning upon, would, in his turn, -leave her, she exclaimed-- - -"May God bless, as I now bless, the duteous son, who was the last to -leave his mother." - -Saying these words, she threw her arms around his neck, pressed him -convulsively to her heart, and kissed him; then gazing at him intently, -she seemed to be scanning every outline of his face, and then, again, -rapturously embraced him. - -"Yes," she cried, "in every feature he is the living resemblance of my -poor lost Morlaix," then for some moments she seemed to be absorbed in -thought; at last after a seemingly violent struggle, she continued, -"Paul, you have refused to accept any portion of that fortune to which -you are legally entitled, although you know the wealth of the Auray -family is unbounded--and that the fortune which I inherit in my own -right, from the family of Sable, is very large." Paul shook his head. -"Well, then, there is one thing that you must receive from your mother, -as her parting gift. It is twenty years since I have dared to look -upon it, and yet I have clung to its possession--it is your father's -portrait, presented to me when I was authorized to receive it--when, by -the assent of both our families, he was to have become my husband--take -it, my dear son, for although it tears my heart to part with it, yet I -feel that I shall be more tranquil when it is in your possession--to no -one but yourself would I have given it. You will sometimes look upon it, -and you will think of your mother, who must now remain for ever isolated -from the world. But it is better that it should be so--henceforward all -my moments shall be spent in making my peace with Heaven." - -While saying these words, she had drawn from her pocket a case, which -she put into Paul's hands, and which he had eagerly opened, and gazed -with intense interest at the features of his father. The miniature was -richly set in diamonds of great value. - -Then summoning all her fortitude, the marchioness for the last time -kissed her son, who was kneeling before her, and tearing herself from -his arms, she returned alone to the castle. - -The next morning the inhabitants of Port Louis vainly sought the frigate -they had seen only the evening before, and which for fifteen days had -remained at anchor in the outer roads of Lorient. As on the former -occasion, she had disappeared without their being able to comprehend the -cause of her arrival, or the motive of her so sudden departure. - - - -EPILOGUE. - - Last scene of all - That ends this strange, eventful history. - - -Five years had elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have -related. The independence of the United States had been recognized; New -York, the last strong-hold of the English, had been evacuated. The roar -of cannon,-which had resounded in the Indian seas, as well as in the -Gulf of Mexico, had ceased to thunder. Washington, in the solemn meeting -of Congress of the 28th December, 1783, had resigned his commission as -general-in-chief, and had retired to Mount Vernon, his parental estate, -without any other recompence than that of being allowed to receive and -send letters free of charge; and the tranquillity which America had -begun to enjoy, had extended to the French colonies in the West Indies; -for the mother country having espoused the American cause, they had been -several times exposed to the hostile attempts of Great Britain. Among -these islands, Guadaloupe had been more particularly threatened, in -consequence of its military and commercial importance; but, thanks to -the vigilance of its new governor, the attempts of the enemy to land -there had always failed, and France had not to mourn over any serious -discomfiture in this important position, so that at the commencement of -the year 1784, the island, without being altogether denuded of warlike -appearance, which was maintained in it more from custom than from -necessity, the inhabitants generally had applied themselves anew to the -cultivation of the numerous products which form its riches. - -If our readers will be pleased by a last effort of their complaisance, -to accompany us to the other side of the Atlantic, and land with us at -the port of Basseterre, we will conduct them amidst fountains which jet -on every side, through the street which leads to the promenade, called -Champ d'Arbaud; then, after having availed ourselves of the cool -shade of the tamarind trees, planted on each side of it, till we have -proceeded about two-thirds of its length, we will turn upon the left up -a small beaten road, which conducts to the gate of a garden, the upper -part of which commands a view of the whole town. - -When we have arrived there, we will allow them for a few moments to -inhale the evening breeze, so refreshingly sweet after the mid-day -heat of the month of May, and they can cast a glance with us over the -luxuriant vegetation of the tropics. - -With our backs turned to the woody and volcanic mountains, which divide -the western part of the island, and amid which arise, crowned with their -plumes of smoke and sparks, the two calcined pinnacles of the sulphur -mountain, we have at our feet, sheltered by the hills, which have been -named Bellevue, Mont-Desir, Beau Soliel, Esperance and Saint Charles, -the city gracefully descending towards the sea, the waves of which -sparkling with the last rays of the setting sun, laves its white walls. -The horizon, formed by the ocean, lying like a vast and limpid mirror, -and to the right and left, the most beautiful and richest plantation of -the island; large square fields of coffee trees, transplanted originally -from Arabia, with their knotty and flexible branches, covered with dark -green glossy leaves, of an oblong and pointed form, and bearing clusters -of flowers as white as snow; long rows of cotton plants, covering with -a rich carpet of verdure, the dry and stony soil, on which they thrive -best, and among which we see, like so many colossal ants, negroes -occupied in reducing to two or three, the thousand shoots which -sprout out from each stalk. And then again, but in more level and well -sheltered spots, in which the soil is richer and more argillaceous, we -see plantations of cocoa trees, first introduced into the West Indies by -the Jew, Benjamin Dacosta, with their lofty trunks and porous branches, -covered with fawn colored bark, from which large oblong leaves are -pending, among which we see fresh shoots of a soft rose color, which -contrast strongly with the long, curved and yellow fruit, which bends -the branches with its weight. And further off, whole fields of the -plant, discovered at Tabaco, first brought to France by the Ambassador -of Francis II., who presented it to Catherine de Medicis, from which -circumstance it derived its name of _Herbe-a-la-reine_.* This did not, -however, prevent it from being, like every popular thing, in the first -instance, excommunicated and proscribed, in Europe and Asia, by the -two powers who then divided the world, proscribed by the Grand Duke of -Muscovy, Michael Fedorowich, by the Turkish Sultan Amurath IV., by -the Emperor of Persia, and excommunicated by Pope Urban VIII. Here and -there, we see springing up to a height of forty or fifty feet above all -the shrubs and plants, by which it is surrounded, the banana tree of -Paradise, of which, according to tradition, the oval leaves, seven or -eight feet in length, served to form the first garment of the first -created woman. And finally, elevated above all the rest, and standing -forth pre-eminent, whether hacked by the azure of the Heavens, or by the -dark green tea, the cocoa-nut and the palm-tree, those two giants of -the Western Archipelago graceful and prodigal, as is everything that is -powerful. Figure to yourselves, then these beautiful hills, intersected -by seventy rivers, eased in beds, ninety feet in depth; these mountains -illuminated during the day by a tropical sun, at night, by the volcano -of the sulphur mountain; that vegetation, which never is arrested, -the new leaves of which succeed the leaves which fall; this soil -so salubrious, and air so pure, that notwithstanding the insensate -experiments that man, the real enemy of himself, has made by -transporting serpents from Martinique, and Saint Lucie, it was found -that they could neither live nor reproduce there, and then judge after -the sufferings they had endured in Europe, of the happiness which Antole -de Lusignan and Marguerite d'Auray must have enjoyed there. - - * Queen's Grass. - -To a life agitated by the passions, to that struggle of natural rights -against legal power, to that succession of scenes in which all earthly -pains, from childbirth even to death, had played their part, had -succeeded a life of pure delights, each day of which had passed on -calmly and tranquilly; the only clouds that darkened it, arose from that -vague uneasiness for distant friends, which as if borne upon the air, -and which contracts the heart like a painful presentiment. However, -from time to time, whether by newspapers, or by vessels, touching at -the island, Anatole and Marguerite had obtained some intelligence of the -generous being who had so powerfully served them as a protector; they -had heard of his victories; that after he had left them, he had been -appointed to the command of a small squadron, and had destroyed the -English establishments on the coast of Acadia, which had gained for him -the title of commodore; that, in an engagement with the _Serapis_ and -the _Countess of Scarborough_, after a combat yard-arm to yard-arm, -which lasted four hours, he had obliged the two frigates to strike to -him, and that finally, as a reward for the services he had rendered to -the cause of American Independence, he had received the public thanks -of Congress, who had voted him a gold medal, and had selected him to -command the frigate _America_, to which that name had been given as -being the finest in the service, and the command of which had been -conferred on him as the bravest of its officers; but this splendid ship -had been presented by Congress to the King of France, to replace -the _Magnifique_, which had been lost at Boston. Paul Jones, after -conducting this frigate to Havre, had joined the fleet of the Count -de Vaudreuil, who had projected an attack upon Jamaica. This last -intelligence had overjoyed the hearts of Lusignan and Marguerite, for -this enterprize would bring Paul into their latitude, and they hoped at -last they should soon see their brother and their friend; but peace, as -we have before said, had intervened, and from that time, they had heard -no more of the adventurous seaman. - -In the evening of the day on which we have transported our readers from -the wild shores of Brittany to the fertile coast of Guadaloupe, the -young family were assembled in the very garden which we have entered, -and which commands a view of the immense panorama we have described; -the foreground of which is formed by the city, at its feet the ocean, -studded with islands in the distance. - -Marguerite had promptly habituated herself to the soft listlessness of -Creole life; and her mind now tranquil and full of happiness, she -gave herself up to the _dolce far niente_, which renders the sensual -existence of the colonies a half sleep, the incidents of which appear as -dreams. - -She was lying with her daughter in a Peruvian hammock, netted with -the silken fibres of the aloe, and ornamented with the most brilliant -colored plumes of the rarest tropical birds; her son was swinging her -with a soft and regular motion, and Lusignan was holding one of her -hands between both his. She was still pale, but delicate and graceful as -a wild lily. Her looks were vacantly wandering over the immense extent -of ocean lying before her, and she felt her soul and senses enraptured -by all the bliss which heaven can promise, and all the enjoyments which -this earth can offer. At that moment, and as if everything concurred -to complete the magic spectacle which every evening she came there to -contemplate, and which every succeeding evening she found still more -marvellously beautiful, there suddenly appeared, doubling the cape -_Trois Pointes_, and looking like an ocean king, a large vessel, gliding -along the surface of the sea without more apparent effort than a swan -playing upon the tranquil bosom of a lake. Marguerite was the first to -perceive it, and without speaking, for every action is a fatigue under -that burning clime, she made a sign with her head to Lusignan, who -directed his looks to the spot she had indicated, and then, like her, -silently followed with his eyes the rapid and graceful movements of the -vessel. By degrees as she approached, and as the elegant and delicate -proportions of her masts amidst the mass of sails which they sustained, -could be discerned, which, in the first instance, had seemed a cloud -floating upon the horizon--they began to discover in one corner of her -flag the stars of America, equal in number to the States they represent. -One same idea shot instantly through their minds, and they exchanged a -glance, radiant with hope that they were, perhaps, about to receive some -news of Paul. Lusignan immediately ordered a negro to bring a telescope: -but before he had returned, a hope still more delightful pervaded -both their hearts. It appeared to Lusignan and Marguerite that they -recognized an old friend in the frigate that was approaching. To -persons, however, unaccustomed, it is so difficult to distinguish, at a -great distance, signs which speak at once to the eye of an experienced -seaman, that they did not yet dare to have faith in this hope, and -which, indeed, was more an instinctive presentiment than positive -reality. At last the negro brought the so much longed for telescope. -Lusignan uttered a cry of joy, and then handed it to Marguerite: he -had recognized the sculpture of Guillaume Costou, upon the prow of the -vessel, and it was really the _Indienne_ which was advancing towards -Basseterre. - -Lusignan raised Marguerite from the hammock and placed her on her feet, -for their first impulse was to hasten to the harbour; but then they -reflected that Paul had left the _Indienne_ nearly five years, at the -time that his promotion entitled him to the command of a larger vessel, -and that she might now be under the orders of another captain, and they -paused with palpitating hearts and trembling limbs. During this time, -their son Hector had taken up the telescope, and placing it to his eye, -looked through it, and soon after exclaimed,--"Father, see there,--upon -the deck stands an officer, dressed in a black coat, embroidered -with gold, just like the one in the picture of my dear friend, Paul!" -Lusignan hastily snatched the glass from his son's hands, looked through -it for a few moments, then again passed it to Marguerite, who, after -directing it toward the vessel, let it fall, and then they threw -themselves into each other's arms; they had recognized their friend, -who, as he was about to visit them, had put on the dress which we have -before said he had generally worn. At this instant the frigate passed -the fort, which it saluted with three guns, and the fort returned the -salute with an equal number. - -From the moment that Lusignan and Marguerite had acquired the certitude -that their friend and brother was actually on board the _Indienne_, they -had hastened down the mountain, followed by young Hector, towards the -port, leaving their little Blanche in the hammock. The captain had -also recognized them, so that at the moment they left the garden he had -ordered a boat to be lowered, and, thanks to the united strength of ten -vigorous oarsmen, he had rapidly glided over the distance between the -anchorage ground and the port, and had sprung upon the jetty at the -instant that his friends arrived there. Such sensations as then filled -their breasts cannot be expressed in words; tears are their only -interpreter. And thus their joy more closely resembled grief, for they -all wept, even to the child, who wept because he saw them weep. - -After giving some orders relating to the vessel, the young commodore, -with his delighted friends, slowly ascended the hill down which they -had rushed so rapidly to meet him. Paul told them that the expedition -of Admiral Vaudreuil having failed, he had returned to Philadelphia, and -peace having been signed, as we have before mentioned, with England, the -Congress, as a token of gratitude, had presented him with the first ship -he had commanded as captain. - -Upon hearing this, Lusignan and Marguerite experienced the most lively -joy, for they hoped that their brother had come with the intention of -taking up his abode with them; but the character of the young seaman -was too adventurous, and stood too much in need of excitement, to sink -quietly down into the monotonous and unvaried dulness of a life on -shore. He informed his friends that he had but eight days to remain with -them, after which he should seek in another quarter of the globe, to -follow the profession he had adopted. - -These eight days passed by as rapidly as a dream, and notwithstanding -the reiterated entreaties of both Lusignan and Marguerite, Paul would -not consent to delay his departure even for twenty-four hours. He was -still the same ardent determined being, considering the execution of a -resolution he had once formed as a positive duty, and more austere with -regard to himself than toward others. - -The hour of separation had arrived. Marguerite and Lusignan wished to -accompany the young commodore on board his ship; but Paul wished not to -prolong the grief of this leave-taking. When they reached the jetty he -embraced them for the last time, then jumped into his boat, which was -rowed away as swiftly as an arrow. Marguerite and Lusignan followed him -with their eyes until his boat had disappeared on the leeward side -of the frigate, and they sorrowfully reascended the hill to watch the -ship's departure, from the same terrace from which they had before -discerned its arrival. - -At the moment they reached it, they observed that activity and bustle -on board the frigate which always precede the departure of a vessel. The -sailors had surrounded the capstan, and were employed in getting up the -anchor, and thanks to the pureness of the atmosphere, the sonorous and -lively cries of the seamen reached the ears of Lusignan and Marguerite; -the anchor was soon apeak, and they saw it rising slowly under the -ship's bows; then the sails dropped successively from the yards, from -the royals to the courses, and the ship, seemingly endowed with an -instinctive and animated feeling, gracefully turned her prow toward the -harbour's mouth, and beginning to move, cut through the waves with an -easy motion, as if merely gliding upon their surface. Then, as if the -frigate might be abandoned to her own will, they saw the young commodore -spring upon the stern rails, and devote all his attention to the land he -was thus leaving. Lusignan took out his handkerchief and made a signal, -to which Paul replied. And then, when they could no longer perceive each -other with the naked eye, they had recourse to their telescopes, and, -thanks to this ingenious invention, they retarded the separation for -another hour. They all felt a presentiment that this separation would be -eternal. - -The vessel gradually diminished upon the horizon, and darkness was about -to cover the heavens, when Lusignan ordered a quantity of wood to be -brought upon the terrace, to form a beacon fire, which was instantly -ignited, in order that Paul, whose vessel was nearly enshrouded in the -darkness, might continue to fix his eyes upon that spot until he had -doubled Cape Trois Pointes. Lusignan and Marguerite had for an hour lost -sight of the ship, while Paul, thanks to their large brilliant fire, -might still perceive them, when a bright flame, like to a flash of -lightning, appeared on the horizon, and in a few seconds the report of -a gun, similar to the prolonged sound of distant thunder, reached their -ears, and all again was silent. Lusignan and Marguerite had received -Paul's last farewell. - -And now, although the domestic drama which we had undertook to relate, -has, in fact, terminated here, some of our readers may, perhaps, have -felt sufficient interest in the young adventurer, of whom we have made -the hero of this story, to follow him in the second part of his career; -to these then, after thanking them for the kind attention they have been -pleased to grant to us, we are about to recount truly and plainly, facts -which a most minute research have enabled us to lay before them. - -At the period we have reached, that is to say, in the month of May, -1784, the whole of Europe had fallen into that state of torpor, which -unthinking men imagined to be tranquillity, but which minds more -profound, regarded as the dull and momentary calm that precedes the -tempest. America, by obtaining her independence, had prepared France for -her revolution. Kings and people, mistrustful of each other, were upon -their guard. Peter III., who had become odious to the Russians, in -consequence of his ignoble character, the narrowness of his political -views, and above all, for his excessive leaning to Prussian manners, and -Prussian discipline, had been deposed without opposition, and strangled -without a struggle. Catherine had thus found herself, at the age of -thirty-two, mistress of an empire which extended over one-seventh part -of the globe; her first care was to compel the neighbouring powers to -accept her as a mediatrix in their quarrel, and thus become do-pendent -upon her. Thus, had she obliged the people of Courland to drive from -them their new Duke, Charles of Saxony, and to recall Biren; she had -sent her ambassadors and her armies to Warsaw, there to have crowned by -the name of Stanislaus Augustus, her former lover, Poniatowski; she had -formed an alliance with England; she had associated to her policy -the Courts of Vienna and Berlin; and notwithstanding all these -great projects of foreign policy, she had not neglected the internal -government of her own country, and in the interval of her amours, so -fickle and so various, she still found time to reward industry, to -encourage agriculture, to reform the laws, to raise a navy, to -send Pallas into provinces the productions of which were till then -unknown--Blumager into the northern Archipelago, and Bel-lings into -the Indian ocean; in fine, jealous of the literary reputation of her -brother, the King of Prussia, she wrote with the same hand that had -ordered the erection of a new city, signed the order for the execution -of young Ivan, and the dismemberment of Poland, _The Refutation of the -Journey into Siberia_, by the Abbe Chappe, a romance of the Czarowich -Chlose, several plays, among which was a translation into French of -Oleg, a drama, written by the Russian poet, Dersehawin, so that Voltaire -proclaimed her the Semiraris of the North, and the King of Prussia, in -his letters, classed her between Solon and Lycurgus. - -The effect produced amid this voluptuous and chivalric court by the -arrival of such a man, as our adventurous seaman, can readily be -imagined. The reputation for courage, which had rendered him the terror -of the enemies of France and America, had preceded him to the court -of Russia, and in exchange for his frigate, which he presented to -Catherine, he received the rank of Rear-Admiral. Then the flag of -Russia, after having navigated round one-half the old world, appeared in -the Grecian seas, and beneath the ruins of Lacedemon and the Parthenon, -he, who had assisted in establishing the independence of America, dreamt -of the re-establishment of the Republics of Sparta and of Athens. The -old Ottoman empire was shaken to its foundations, the defeated Turks -signed a treaty of peace at Kainardji. Catherine retained Azof, -Taganrog, and Kenburr, and Kenburn, compelled the Turks to grant to -her the free navigation of the Black Sea, and the independence of the -Crimea; she then desired to visit her new possessions. Paul, recalled to -St. Petersburgh, accompanied her on this journey, the route of which had -been drawn up by Potemkin. During the whole of it, all the attributes of -triumph were offered to the conquering Empress and her suite; bonfires -were lighted all along the road, cities were illuminated with the most -fairy-like brilliancy, magnificent palaces erected, as if by magic, for -one day, amid desert countries, and which the next morning disappeared; -villages, rising as if beneath the wand of an enchanter, in solitudes, -in which eight days before the Tartars fed their flocks; towns appearing -on the horizon of which there existed but the exterior walls; in every -direction, homage, and songs of welcome, and dances of the people: -during the day, a numerous population crowded the road, and at night, -while the Empress was sleeping, they would run to station themselves in -the way she was to proceed on waking the following morning: a king and -emperor rode by her side, calling themselves not her brothers, not her -equals, but her courtiers; finally, a triumphal arch was erected at -the last halt she was to make on her journey southward, bearing the -inscription--"_This is the road to Byzantium,_" which if it did not -reveal the ambition of Catherine, demonstrated at least, the policy of -Potemkin. Then Russia became strengthened in her tyranny, as America had -in her independence. Catherine offered to her Admiral places which would -have more than satisfied the rapacity of a courtier, honors which would -have overwhelmed the ambitious, estates which would have consoled a -deposed king for the loss of his dominions; but it was the deck of -his ship, it was the sea with its combats and its tempests, it was -the boundless immensity of ocean for which yearned the heart of our -adventurous and poetic seaman. He, therefore, left the brilliant court -of Catherine, as he had left the austere Congress of America, and -returned to France to seek that, which he could not find elsewhere, that -is to say, a life of excitement, enemies to combat, a people to defend. -Paul arrived in Paris in the midst of our European wars and civil -struggles; while, with one hand, we were seizing a foreign enemy by the -throat, with the other, we were tearing our own entrails. That king, -whom he had seen ten years before, beloved, honored, powerful, was then -a captive, despised and strengthless. All that had been exalted was -abased, and great names fell as did high-born heads.--It was the reign -of equality, and the guillotine was the levelling instrument. Paul -inquired after Emanuel, and was told that he was proscribed. He asked -what had become of his mother, and was informed that she was dead. Then -he felt an irresistible longing to revisit once again, before he himself -might die, the spot on which, twelve years before, he had experienced -emotions at once so sweet and terrible. He set out for Brittany, left -his carriage at Vannes, and mounted on horseback, as he had done on the -first day he had seen Marguerite; but he was no longer the young and -enthusiastic seaman, whose desires and hopes had no horizon; he was a -man bereft of all those, brilliant illusions, for he had tasted of all, -whether weet or bitter, had learnt to appreciate all, both men and -things; had known all, glory and oblivion. Therefore, did he not come to -search a family, but to visit tombs. - -When he came within sight of the castle, he turned his eyes toward -Achard's house, and not being able to discover it, he thought he -would go into the forest, but the forest seemed to have vanished as by -enchantment. It had been sold as national property to twenty-five or -thirty farmers of the neighbourhood, who had cleared off the timber, and -transformed it into a large plain. The gigantic oak had disappeared, and -the plough had passed over the unknown grave of the Count de Morlaix, -and the eyes of his son even, could no longer recognize the spot. - -Then he returned through the park toward the castle, now become even -more gloomy and desolate than when he had last seen it. In it he found -only an old man, a living ruin amidst these ruins of the past; it was at -first intended to have pulled down the mansion, but the reputation for -holiness which the marchioness had left behind her, was regarded with -such religious veneration throughout the country, that the old walls, -which for four centuries had been the abode of her ancestors, remained -undesecrated. Paul went through the apartments, which for three years -had remained closed, and which were now open for him. He walked through -the portrait gallery; it was in the same state as he had formerly seen -it; no pious hand had added to the portrait either of the marquis or -the marchioness. He went into the study in which he had been -concealed--found a book lying in it which he had opened and placed upon -the very spot on which he found it, and read the same passages which -he had read so many years before. He then pushed open the door which -communicated with the contract chamber, where had passed the chief -scenes of that drama in which he was the principal actor. The table -was still in the same place and the Venetian looking-glass over the -chimney-piece was there, shattered as it had been by the ball of -Emanuels pistol. - -Paul advanced to the fire-place, and placing his elbow on the marble -mantle-piece, questioned the servant as to the last years of the -Marchioness. - -The account he received shewed that she had remained austere and -melancholy, as was her wont. Remaining secluded and alone at the castle, -her hours were uniformly spent in three different places: her oratory, -the vault in which the body of her husband had been buried, and the -spot sheltered by the oak tree, at the foot of which her lover had been -interred. For eight years after the evening on which Paul had taken -leave of her, she had been seen to wander amid the old corridors of -the castle, and in the gloomy avenues of the Park, slow and pale as a -spectre; then a disease of the heart, engendered by the agonies she had -suffered, declared itself, and she daily became weaker. At length, one -evening, when her failing strength no longer permitted her to walk, she -had ordered the servants to carry her to the foot of the oak tree, her -favorite walk, that she might once more see, she said, the sun setting -in the ocean. When they had reached the spot, she desired the servants -to withdraw, and to come back to her in half an hour. On their return -they found her lying fainting on the ground. They immediately bore her -to the castle, but having recovered her senses on the way, she ordered -them, instead of conducting her to her own room, which they usually did, -to take her down into the family vault. There she had still strength -enough to kneel upon the tomb of her husband, and made a sign that she -desired to be left alone. However imprudent their doing so might be, the -servants elbow on the marble withdrew, for she had accustomed them -to obey her in every thing at the first intimation of her will. They, -however, remained at a short distance, concealed behind the corner of a -tomb, that they might be ready to render her assistance, should it be -necessary. In a few minutes they saw her fall down upon the stone on -which she had been praying; they rushed forward, imagining that she had -again fainted. She was dead. - -Paul requested the old servant to conduct him into the vault, and slowly -entered it with uncovered head; and when he had reached the stone -which covered the grave of his mother, he knelt down and prayed. On the -monumental stone were inscribed the following words, and which may still -be seen in one of the chapels of the church of the small town of Auray, -to which it has since been removed. The inscription had been written by -the marchioness herself, and she had desired that it should be placed -upon her tomb. - -"Here lies the very noble and very puissant lady Marguerite Blanche de -Sable, Marchioness of Auray; born the 2nd of August 1729--died the 3rd -September, 1788. - -"Pray for her and for her children." - -Paul raised his eyes to heaven, with an expression of infinite -gratitude, His mother, who during her life, had for so long a time -forgotten him, had remembered him in her funeral inscription. - -Six months after this visit, the National Convention decreed, in solemn -sitting, that they would attend in a body the funeral procession of Paul -Jones, formerly a commodore in the American navy, and whose burial was -to take place in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise. - -They had come to this decision, said the decree, in order to consecrate -the establishment of _religious freedom throughout France_. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL *** - -***** This file should be named 41222.txt or 41222.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/2/2/41222/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere
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-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
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-Title: Captain Paul
-
-Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere
-
-Release Date: October 29, 2012 [EBook #41222]
-Last Updated: November 21, 2016
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- CAPTAIN PAUL
- </h1>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h2>
- By Alexandre Dumas, pere
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> CAPTAIN PAUL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- INTRODUCTION.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The admirers of “The Pilot,” one of the most magnificent of Cooper’s
- novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves
- have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether lose
- sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such intense
- interest, through the narrows of the Devil’s Grip, and the Cloisters of
- St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and in the actions
- of this person, introduced in the first place by the name of John, and
- afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a grief so
- bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every reader
- desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so brave
- and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have more than
- once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of it, it might
- have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for information
- regarding the early career and closing years of this adventurous seaman—information
- which we have vainly searched for in his narrative. I thought that such a
- request would be readily forgiven by him to whom it was addressed, for it
- would have been accompanied by the expression of the most sincere and
- ardent admiration of his work; but I was restrained by the reflection that
- the author himself, perhaps, knew no more of that career, of which, he had
- given us but an episode, than that portion of it which had been
- illuminated by the sun of American Independence: for, in fact, this
- brilliant meteor had passed from the clouds which environed his birth to
- the obscurity of his death in such a manner, that it was quite possible
- the “poet historian,” being far distant from the place where his hero was
- born, and from the country in which he died, knew no more of him than what
- he has transmitted to us. The very mystery which surrounded him, may have
- been the cause of his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals.
- Urged by these considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own
- research, those details which I had so often desired to receive from
- others. I searched through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was
- a copy of the letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined
- the annals of the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at
- the time of his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that
- he was buried in the cemetery of Père la Chaise. This was all the
- information I could gather from my first attempts.
- </p>
- <p>
- I then consulted our living library—Nodier, the learned—Nodier,
- the philosopher—Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few
- moments, he mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself,
- containing memoirs of his life, bearing this motto, “Munera sunt Laudi.” I
- started off to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched
- through libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls—all that I could
- find was an infamous libel, entitled, “<i>Paul Jones, ou Prophétie sur
- l’Amérique, l’Angleterre, la France, l’Espagne et la Hollande</i>” which I
- threw from me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page,
- marvelling that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved,
- whilst we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food—I
- therefore renounced all hope in this quarter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having
- started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l’Orient. Upon my
- arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography of
- Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that port.
- This circumstance had struck me—I had noted down the dates, and had
- only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval
- archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which the
- two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of
- thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming
- there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept the
- register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office without
- further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk who was
- sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in the
- country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me that in
- 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office at Havre,
- had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore in the fleet of
- the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this officer, and his
- extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression upon him, that upon
- his, the clerk’s, return to Brittany, he spoke of him to his father, who
- then had charge of the Chateau d’Auray. Upon hearing the name of Paul
- Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to him to be silent—the
- young man obeyed, though not without astonishment. He frequently
- afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he always refused
- to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death of the
- Marchioness d’Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and the
- dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt himself
- permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious history,
- in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly blended.
- Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father had related
- that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression upon him that he
- repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for word.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have treasured up this history in the recesses of my memory for nearly
- seven years: and it would have still remained buried there, with a mass of
- other recollections, destined never to see the light, had I not about six
- months ago read “The Pilot” for the second time, and even with much
- greater interest than before; for, thanks to the researches I had made,
- the hero was no longer to me an unknown being, appearing only for an
- instant, his face but partially visible, and with merely the portion of a
- name; he had now become a friend, almost a brother, to me—for new
- sympathies had been awakened in my heart besides those which had formerly
- been inspired by the recital of the expedition to Whitehaven. These led me
- to reflect that whatever of interest and disappointment I had experienced
- on reading’ Cooper’s novel, they must have been entertained alike by
- others, and that the anxious desire I had felt to know more of the former
- lover of Alice Dunscombe was not a feeling peculiar to myself, but would
- be participated by all those, and their number must be great, who have
- followed this skilful seaman from the moment of his first meeting
- Lieutenant Barnstaple on the English cliffs, until that in which he
- quitted the Alert to land on the shores of Holland.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have, therefore, gathered up my recollections, and have written this
- history.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- CAPTAIN PAUL.
- </h1>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hoarse o’er her side the rustling cable rings-
- The sails are furled—and anchoring, round she swings;
- And gathering loiterers on the land discern
- Her boat descending from the latticed stern.
- ‘Tis mann’d—the oars keep concert to the strand,
- Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.—Byron.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Toward the close of a fine evening in the month of October, 1779, the most
- inquisitive among the inhabitants of the small town of Fort Louis, had
- assembled on the point of land immediately opposite to that on which
- stands the city of Lorient. The object which attracted their attention,
- and which was the subject of their inquiries, was a noble beautiful
- frigate, carrying 32 guns, which had been anchored for about a week, not
- in the port, but in a small cove in the roadstead, and which had been
- perceived for the first time early one morning, like an ocean flower which
- had suddenly blossomed during the night. From the elegant and coquettish
- appearance of this frigate, it was imagined that this was the first time
- of her putting to sea; she bore the French flag, for the three golden <i>fleur-de-lis</i>
- were seen glittering in the last rays of the setting sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- That which, above all, appeared to excite the curiosity of the admirers of
- this spectacle, so frequent, and notwithstanding, always so interesting in
- a seaport, was the uncertainty as to the country in which this vessel had
- been built; for, having all her sails clewed up and snugly stowed around
- her yards, showed in the setting sun the graceful outline of her hull, and
- a minute elegance as to her running rigging. Some thought they could
- discern in her the bold and taunt masts used by the Americans, but the
- perfection exemplified in the finish which distinguished the rest of her
- construction, was in perfect contrast with the barbarous rudeness of those
- rebellious children of England. Others, deceived by the flag she had
- hoisted, were endeavouring to divine in what port of France she had been
- launched, but their national pride soon gave way to the conviction that
- she was not built in France, for they sought in vain for those heavy
- galleries, ornamented with sculpture, which is the compulsory decoration
- of the stern of every daughter of the ocean, or of the Mediterranean, born
- on the stocks of Brest or of Toulon; others, again, knowing that the flags
- were frequently used as a mask to hide the real face, maintained that the
- lion and the towers of Spain would have more properly been placed upon the
- ensign waving from her peak, than the three <i>fleur-de-lis</i> of France:
- but the latter were asked whether the straight and elegant sides and
- quarters of the frigate all resembled the bulging build of Spanish
- galleons. In short, there were some among them who would have sworn that
- this beautiful fairy of the waters had been brought to life among the
- frogs of Holland, had not the dangerous boldness of her masts and rigging
- fully contradicted the suggestion that she could have been built by those
- old but prudent sweepers of the seas. But, as we have said, for eight
- whole days, and ever since the first appearance of this splendid vision
- upon the coast of Brittany, she had been the constant theme of wonder and
- of conversation, for nothing had happened to give them any positive
- information, as not an individual from the crew had landed from the ship,
- under any pretext whatever. They might, indeed, have doubted whether she
- had a crew or not, had not they now and then seen the head of a sentinel,
- or of the officer of the watch, peering above the bulwarks. It appeared,
- however, that this vessel, although she had not communicated with the
- shore, could not have any hostile intention; her arrival had not seemed to
- give the least uneasiness to the public authorities of Lorient, for she
- had run under the guns of a small fort, which the recent declaration of
- war between England and France had caused to be put in order, and which
- displayed a battery of long guns of heavy calibre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among this crowd of idlers, however, there was a young man, who was
- remarked for the anxious eagerness of his inquiries:—without any one
- being able to devise the cause, it was easily perceived that he felt some
- direct interest in this mysterious vessel. His brilliant uniform was that
- of the <i>mousquetaires</i>, and as these royal guards rarely left the
- capital, he had, at first, directed a portion of the public curiosity to
- himself, but it was soon discovered that this person, whom they thought a
- stranger, was the young Count d’Auray, the last scion of one of the most
- ancient families of Brittany. The castle inhabited by his family rose
- above the shores of the Golf of Morbihan, at six or seven leagues,
- distance from Fort Louis. The family consisted of the Marquis d’Auray, a
- poor insane old man, who for twenty years had never been seen beyond the
- boundaries of his estates; of the Marchioness d’Auray, whose rigid
- morality, and whose ancient nobility, could alone excuse her haughty and
- aristocratic bearing; of the young Marquerite, a sweet girl of seventeen
- or eighteen years of age, delicate and pale as the flower whose name she
- bore; and of Count Emanuel, whom we have mentioned above, and around whom
- the crowd had gathered, carried away, as it always is, by a sounding
- title, a brilliant uniform, and noble and lordly manners.
- </p>
- <p>
- However eager might have been the desire of those he addressed to satisfy
- his curiosity, they could only answer his questions in a vague and
- undecided manner; all they knew of the frigate being mere conjecture. The
- count was about retiring from the jetty, when he perceived a six-oared
- boat approaching it. At a moment when curiosity had been so much excited,
- this incident could not fail to attract all eyes. In the stern of the boat
- sat a young man, who appeared to be from twenty to twenty-two years of
- age, and who was dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the royal navy—he
- was sitting, or rather lying, upon a bearskin, one hand reclining
- carelessly on the tiller of the small boat, while the coxswain, who,
- thanks to the caprice of his officer, had nothing to do, was sitting in
- the bow. From the moment that it first made its appearance, every eye was
- directed towards it, as if it contained the means of solving the mystery
- which had so much puzzled them. The boat, urged on by the last efforts of
- its oarsmen, took the ground at eight or ten feet distance from the beach,
- there being too little water in that place to allow it to come nearer. Two
- of the sailors jumped into the sea up to their knees. The young lieutenant
- then rose up in a careless way, walked to the bow of the boat, and allowed
- the two sailors to carry him in their arms to the beach, so that not a
- drop of salt water should soil his elegant uniform. He then ordered his
- men to double the point of land which advanced about three hundred feet
- into the sea, and to go and wait for him on the opposite side of the
- battery. As for himself, he stopped a moment on the beach to arrange his
- dress, which had been a little disordered by the rough mode of transport
- he had been compelled to adopt, and then he advanced, humming a French
- air, towards the gate of a small fort, which he passed, after having
- slightly returned the military salute of the sentinel on duty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although nothing could, in a seaport, be more natural than that a naval
- officer should cross the roads and walk into a fort, the minds of the
- lookers-on had been so much occupied with the foreign vessel, that there
- was hardly one among the crowd who did not imagine that this visit to the
- commandant of the fort had some relation to her, so that when the young
- officer issued from it, he found himself surrounded so closely by the
- crowd, that for a moment he appeared half inclined to use the rattan which
- he carried in his hand, to make way through it. However after having
- flourished it with impertinent affectation above the heads of those who
- were nearest him, he appeared all at once to change his mind, and
- perceiving Count Emanuel, whose distinguished appearance, and elegant
- uniform, contrasted strikingly with the vulgar air and habiliments of the
- persons who surrounded him, he made a few steps towards him at the same
- moment that the count had advanced to meet him. The two officers merely
- exchanged a rapid glance, but that look at once assured both that they
- were persons of rank and station. They immediately saluted each other with
- that easy grace and affable politeness which characterized the young
- nobility of that period.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By Heaven!” exclaimed the young midshipman; “my dear countryman, for I
- suppose that like myself you are a Frenchman, although I meet you in a
- seemingly hyperborean land, and in regions which, if not absolutely
- savage, appear sufficiently barbarous—will you have the goodness to
- tell me what there is so extraordinary about me, that I seem to cause
- quite a revolution in the country? Or is the appearance of an officer of
- the navy an event so rare and so extraordinary at Lorient, that his mere
- presence excites, in so singular a degree, the curiosity of the natives of
- Lower Brittany? By solving this mystery, you will render me a service
- which I shall be happy to reciprocate, should any opportunity present
- itself in which I can be useful to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This will be so much the more easy,” replied Count Emanuel, “as this
- curiosity is not founded in any feeling which you would consider offensive
- to your uniform or hostile to your person—and the proof of this is,
- my dear comrade—for I see by your epaulettes that we are of equal
- rank in the service of his majesty—that I participate with these
- honest Britons in the curiosity which they evince, although, perhaps, my
- motives are more weighty than theirs, in endeavouring to obtain a solution
- of the problem which has occupied us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I can be of any assistance to you, in the inquiries which you have
- undertaken, I place all the algebra I possess at your disposal. Only the
- position we are in is not a comfortable one to carry out mathematical
- demonstrations. Will it please you to remove to a small distance from
- these honest people, whose presence would only tend to confuse our
- calculations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” replied the mousquetaire, “and the more readily, as, if I do
- not deceive myself, by walking this way I shall lead you nearer to your
- boat and your sailors.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! that is not of the slightest consequence; should this path not be
- convenient to you we can take another. I have plenty of time; and my men
- are less eager to, return on board than I am. Therefore, we will about
- ship, if such is your good pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all; on the contrary, let us go on, the nearer we are to the beach
- the better we can discuss the matter in question. Let us, therefore, walk
- upon this strip of land as far as we can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young seamen, without replying a word, conti-nued to walk on, like a
- man to whom the direction he was to take was perfectly indifferent, and
- these two young men, who had thus met for the first time, walked arm in
- arm, as though they had been friends from infancy, towards the end of the
- promontory. When they had reached the extreme point, Count Emanuel paused,
- and pointed towards the frigate, saying, “Do you know what ship that is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young seaman threw a rapid and scrutinizing glance upon the
- mousquetaire, and then looked towards the ship: “Yes,” replied he,
- negligently, “it is a pretty frigate carrying two and thirty guns, with
- her sails bent and her starboard anchor atrip, ready to sail at the first
- signal given.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excuse me,” replied Emanuel, smiling; “that is not what I ask of you. It
- signifies little to me how many guns she carries, or by what anchor she is
- holding—is not that your technical mode of speaking?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant smiled: in turn. “But,” continued Emanuel, “what I wish to
- know is, to what nation she actually belongs, the port, that she is bound
- to, and the name of her captain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to the nation she belongs to,” replied the lieutenant,
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has taken care to give us that information herself, or she is, an
- outrageous liar; Do you not see her flag flying from her peak? It is the
- flag without a stain, rather worn out from being too much used that’s all.
- As to the place she is bound to, it is as the commandant of the fort told
- you, when, you asked him,—Mexico.” Emanuel looked with astonishment
- at the young lieutenant. “And finally, as to her captain, that is a much
- more difficult matter.. There are some people who would swear he is a
- young man about my own age or yours, for; I, believe we left the cradle
- pretty closely the one after, the other, although the professions we
- follow may place a long interval between our graves. There are others who
- pretend he is of the same age with my uncle the Count d’Estaing, who as
- you doubtless know, has just been made an admiral, and who is at: this
- moment affording every assistance to the rebels of America, as some
- people, even in France, still call them. But, in short, as to his name,
- that is quite another thing; it is said he does not know it himself; and
- until some fortunate occurrence shall apprise him of it, he calls himself
- Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Captain Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul, what?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul, of the <i>Providence</i>, of the <i>Banger</i>, of the <i>Alliance</i>,
- according to the name of the ship he commands. Are there not also in
- France some of our young nobles, who, finding their family name too short,
- lengthen it out by the name of an estate, and surmount the whole with a
- knight’s casque, or a baron’s coronet: so that their seals or their
- carriages bear the evidence of belonging to some ancient family, quite
- delightful to reflect upon? Well! so it is with him. At this moment he
- calls himself, I believe, Paul, of the <i>Indienne</i>, and he is proud of
- the appellation; if I may judge front my naval sympathies, I do not think
- he would exchange his frigate for the finest estate to be found between
- the Port of Brest and the mouth of the Rhone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, tell me,” rejoined Emanuel, after reflecting for a moment on the
- singular mixture of simplicity and sarcasm which pervaded the answers of
- his companion; “what is the character of this man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His character—but, my dear baron—count—marquis”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count,” replied Emanuel, bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my dear count, then, I was about to say that you pursued me from
- one abstraction to another, and that when I placed at you disposal all my
- knowledge in algebra, I did not intend that we should enter into a
- research of the unknown. His character! good heaven, my dear count, who
- can speak knowingly of the character of a man, unless it be himself—and
- even then—but hold—I, myself, as you now see me, have ploughed
- for twenty years, at one time with the keel of a brig, at another with
- that of a frigate, this vast expanse, which now extends itself before us.
- My eyes, for so I may express myself, discerned the ocean almost at the
- same moment that they saw the sky above it; since my tongue was able to
- join two words together, or my comprehension could combine two ideas, I
- have interrogated and studied the caprices of the ocean, and yet I do not,
- even to this time, know its character—and there are only four
- principal winds and thirty-two breezes which agitate it—that’s all.
- How, then, can you expect that I should judge of man, torn as he is by his
- thousand passions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor did I ask you, my dear—duke—marquis—count?”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lieutenant,” replied the young sailor, bowing, as Emanuel had done
- before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was about to say, then, my dear lieutenant, I do not ask a
- physiological lecture on the passions of Captain Paul. I only wish to
- inform myself upon two points. Firstly, whether you consider him a man of
- honor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must first of all understand each other as to the meaning of words, my
- dear count—what is your precise definition of the word honor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Permit me to remark, my dear lieutenant, that this question is a most
- singular one. Honor! Why, honor—is—honor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s it precisely—a word without a definition, like the word God!
- God—is God! and every one creates a God after his own fashion. The
- Egyptians adored him under the form of a scorpion—the Israelites,
- under that of a golden calf. So it is with honor. There is the honor of
- Camillus, and that of Coriolanus—that of the Cid, and that of Count
- Julian. Define your question better if you wish me to reply to it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ask, then, whether his word may be relied upon?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not believe he ever failed in that regard. His enemies—and no
- one can arrive to his station without having them—even his enemies,
- I say, have never doubted that he would keep, even unto death, an oath
- which he had sworn to. This point is, therefore, believe me, fully
- settled. In this respect, he is a man of <i>honor</i>. Let us pass,
- therefore, to your second question, for if I do not deceive myself, you
- wish to know something farther.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I wish to know whether he would faithfully obey an order given by
- his Majesty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What Majesty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Really, my dear lieutenant, you affect a difficulty of comprehension
- which would better suit the gown of a sophist, than a naval uniform.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why so? You accuse me of cavilling, because, before replying, I wish to
- know precisely what I have to answer. We have, at this? present time,
- eight or ten majesties, seated securely or otherwise, upon the different
- thrones of Europe. We have his Catholic Majesty—a feeble majesty,
- who allows the inheritance, left him by Charles, the Fifth, to be torn
- from him piece by piece;—we have his Britannic Majesty—a
- headstrong majesty, who clings to his America, as Cyingetus to the Persian
- ship, and whose hands we shall cut off, if he does not loose his hold;—we
- have his Christian Majesty, whom I venerate and honor”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—it is of him I wish to speak,” said Emanuel,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you believe that Captain Paul would feel disposed to obey an order
- which I should deliver from him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Captain Paul,” replied the lieutenant, “would, as every captain ought to
- do, obey every order emanating from a power which has the right of
- commanding him—unless indeed he be an accursed pirate, or some
- damned privateersman, some buccaneer, who owes no allegiance, and which I
- should doubt from the appearance of the frigate he commands, and from the
- way she is fitted. He must have then in some drawer of his cabin, a
- commission signed by some power or other. Well! should this commission
- bear the name of Louis, and be sealed with the fleur-de-lis of France,
- there can be no doubt that he would obey any order sealed, and signed by
- the same name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is all then that I wish to be informed of,” replied the young
- mousquetaire, who began to grow impatient at the strange and evasive
- answers given by his companion. “I will only ask you one more question.”
- “I am ready to obey your wishes in that, as I have in the rest, count,”
- returned the lieutenant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know any way of getting on board of that ship?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is one,” replied the lieutenant, pointing towards his own boat,
- which lay rocked, by the waves, in a small creek close to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That boat! why, is it yours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! I will take you on board.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know this Captain Paul, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally
- acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the
- hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides which,
- we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic language, by
- which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of the ocean we may
- meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the same frankness in
- which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at your disposal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do me this service, then,” said Emanuel, “and”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations,
- will you not?” said the lieutenant. “You cannot be surprised at it,”
- continued he smiling, “my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman’s life
- has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During a
- calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and
- during the night we address ourselves to God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with
- that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread over
- his features every time he had become the object of investigation, to the
- mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of contempt for
- human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of God. But finding
- that this singular man was disposed to render him, although in a strange
- manner, the service he had asked of him, he accepted his proffered
- assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two young men were advancing
- towards the unknown vessel with as much rapidity as the vigor of six stout
- rowers could give to the light bark in which they were seated. Their oars
- rose and fell with so regular a movement, that it appeared rather impelled
- by some powerful machine, than by the combination of human strength.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- And oh! the little warlike world within!
- The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy;
- The hoarse command, the busy humming din-
- When, at a word, the tops are mann’d on high,
- Hark to the boatswain’s call, the cheering cry;
- While through the seaman’s hands the tackle glides:
- Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by,
- Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,
- And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.—Byron.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more
- clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him
- to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck by
- the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of her
- masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood out
- against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be composed
- of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. There was not,
- however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, which seemed,
- either from inattention or contempt, to care but little for the visit she
- was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, however, at one
- moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping out of one of the
- port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was pointed towards the
- boat; but the ship being gently moved round by the quiet heaving of the
- waves, presented her prow toward them, his attention was attracted by the
- figure-head which generally bears some allusion to the name of the vessel
- that it decorates: it was a representation of one of the daughters of
- America, discovered by Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a
- head-dress of many colored feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with
- a coral necklace. As to the remainder of the figure, it was a curious
- combination, half syren, half serpent, attached to the fore part of the
- ship in a graceful though fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached
- the ship, the more did the attention of the count appear attracted by this
- figure. It was, in fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but
- very remarkable from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to
- perceive, that it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by
- a superior artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a
- seaman, the increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the
- soldier; and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the
- figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that the
- latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did not
- give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its beauties,
- he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question his young
- companion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, count,” said he, concealing the interest which he took in his reply
- under an apparent gaiety, “what do you think of this master-piece?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think,” replied Emanuel, “that comparing it with works of the same
- description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have
- given it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the lieutenant, carelessly, “it is the last work of William
- Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of
- his pupils, named Duprè, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is
- obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of
- ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See,” said he,
- giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, “it is
- a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls that are
- hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond worth a
- hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, besides the
- honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to offer to his
- bride.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What an odd caprice,” exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the singularity
- of the object he was gazing at, “to ornament a ship in the same way that
- one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable sums to the chances
- of a battle, or the dangers of a storm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should this astonish you?” said the lieutenant with an accent of
- indescribable melancholy; “we seamen have no other family than our
- sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the
- tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to
- something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, who
- are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an imaginary
- love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady island, and
- every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the ocean like a
- flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a bird, when
- returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star from out the
- firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the Atlantic, every
- time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it approaches nearer to
- him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There are others, and they
- are the greater number, who attach themselves to their frigate as to a
- well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the tempest tears away any part
- of her, at every wound given by the shot that strikes her, and when she is
- at length sunk by the tempest or the combat, prefer to perish with her,
- rather than to save themselves without her, giving to landsmen a holy
- example of fidelity. Captain Paul is one of the latter class, that’s all,
- and he has given to his frigate the wedding present which he had intended
- for his bride. Ah? I see they are waking up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boat ahoy?” cried some one from on board the frigate, “what boat’s that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We want to come on board,” replied Emanuel; “throw us a rope that we may
- catch hold of.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were
- going up the ship’s side. The officer of the watch came forward with an
- eagerness which appeared in Emanuel’s mind to promise well.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same
- uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, “this is my
- friend, the Count —— By the by, I forgot to ask your name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count Emanuel d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d’Auray, who
- anxiously desires to speak to Captain Paul. Is he on board?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has just this moment arrived,” replied the officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case I will go below and prepare him to receive you, my dear
- count. In the meantime, this is Mr. Walter, who will have the pleasure of
- showing you through the ship. It is an interesting sight for a land
- officer, and the more so, as I doubt whether you would find many ships
- kept in such order as this is. The people are at supper just now, I
- believe?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case it will be the more curious sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” observed the officer, hesitating a little, “it is my watch on
- deck.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! you can easily find one of your brother officers who will relieve
- you for a short time. I will endeavour to manage so that the captain shall
- not make you kick your heels too long in the ante-room. Adieu, till I meet
- you again, count: I shall recommend you in such a way as will insure a
- good reception for you.” With these words, the young lieutenant
- disappeared down the companion ladder, while the one who remained with
- Emanuel to show him over the ship, took him into the ‘tween decks.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the lieutenant had presumed, the crew of the frigate were at their
- supper. It was the first time that the young count had been present at
- such a repast; and however much he desired to speak immediately to the
- captain, he felt so curious to observe what was going on, that he examined
- everything with eager attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- Between every two guns, a table and benches were prepared, not standing on
- their feet, but slung by ropes from above. Four men were seated upon each
- of the benches, taking their portion of pieces of beef, which seemed to
- resist the action of their knives, but which had to do with hearty fellows
- who did not appear at all disposed to be daunted by its toughness. At
- every table there were two cans of wine, that is to say, about a pint for
- each man. As to the bread, it did not appear to be distributed by rations,
- but they could take as much as they wanted. The most profound silence
- reigned throughout the crew, which, was composed of of more than from one
- hundred and eighty to two hundred men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although none of those seated at the table, opened their mouths for any
- other purpose than to eat, Emanuel perceived, with some surprise, that
- they were composed of many different nations, which was easily discernible
- from the contour of their countenances. His <i>cicerone</i> remarked his
- astonishment, and replying to his thought before he had given utterance to
- it, said, with an American accent, which Emanuel had already observed, and
- which proved that he who spoke to him was born on the other side of the
- Atlantic: “Yes, yes, we have a tolerably pretty sample of every nation in
- the world, and if all at once a good deluge should carry off the children
- of Noah, as it formerly did those of Adam, our ark could furnish people
- who speak every language. Do you observe those three fellows who are
- exchanging a piece of roast beef for a clove of garlick, they are lads
- from Galicia, whom we picked up at Cape Ortegal, and who would not go into
- action without having said a prayer to St Jago, of Corapostello, but who,
- when once their prayer is over, would rather allow themselves to be cut in
- pieces, like martyrs, than retreat a single step. Those two who are
- polishing their table at the expense of their jacket-sleeves, are honest
- Dutchmen, who still complain: of the injury done to their commerce by the
- discovery of the Cape of Good Hope. You see them—at first sight they
- look like very beer-pots. Well, those brave fellows, the moment they hear
- the drum beat to quarters, become as active as monkeys; Go near them, and
- they will talk to you about their ancestors; they will tell you they
- descend from those famous sweepers of the sea, who when going into action,
- hoisted a broom instead of a flag; but they will take good care not to
- inform you that one fine morning the English took their broom, and made
- rods of it to whip them with. That whole table, where they are chattering
- together at such a rate, but in an under tone, is occupied by Frenchmen,
- who would talk louder if they dared. The seat of honor is occupied by a
- chief, elected by themselves; he is a Parisian by birth, a cosmopolite
- from taste, a great master at the small sword, singlestick, and a
- dancing-master to boot. Always gay and contented, he sings when he is on
- duty, sings when he is fighting, and will die singing, unless a hemp
- cravat should stop his voice, which may very likely happen to him should
- he have the misfortune to fall into the hands of John Bull. Turn your eyes
- to the other side now, and observe that row of square and idle heads.
- These are strange faces to you, are they not? but which every American
- born between Hudson’s Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, would recognize at once
- for bears born on: the borders of Lake Erie, or seals from Nova Scotia..
- There are three, or four of them who are one eyed—this arises from,
- their peculiar mode of fighting; they twist their fingers in the hair of
- their antagonist, and gouge out his eye with their thumbs. There are some
- of them who are very expert at this exercise, and who never miss their
- mark. So that when they are boarding a ship, they almost invariable throw
- away their boarding, pikes, or their cutlass, and seizing the first
- Englishman they can catch hold of, they uneye him with a dexterity and
- quickness quite delightful to behold. You will now comprehend that I did
- not deceive you in what I said, and that our collection is complete.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” asked Emanuel, who had listened to this long enumeration with a
- certain degree of interest, “how does your captain manage to make himself
- understood by men brought together from such distant nations?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “First of all our captain understands all languages—and although in
- battle and during stormy weather he speaks his mother tongue, he; gives
- such an accent to it that every one understands him and obeys: him. But
- see, the larboard cabin door is opening, and I doubt not he is ready
- to-receive you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And instantly a boy dressed in a midshipman’s uniform came up to the two
- officers, and asked Emanuel if he did not call himself the Count d’Auray;
- and on his receiving an affirmative reply, he requested him to follow him;
- and the officer who had so conscientiously sustained the part of a
- cicerone, immediately went on deck to resume his duties there. As to
- Emanuel, he advanced towards the cabin with a mixed feeling of anxiety and
- curiosity, He was at last about to be ushered in the presence of Captain
- Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a man who appeared to be between fifty and fifty-five years of age,
- and to whom the habit of walking between decks had given him a stoop
- rather than age. He wore the uniform of the French navy, accord-ing to its
- strictest regulations. It was a blue coat with scarlet facings, a red
- waistcoat, and breeches of the same color, grey stockings, with frilled
- shirt and’ ruffles. His hair, rolled up in large curls, and powdered quite
- white, was tied into a queue by a ribbon, the ends of which floated upon
- his shoulders. His cocked hat and his sword were lying upon a table beside
- him. At the moment Emanuel entered the door, he was sitting upon the
- carriage of a gun, but when he perceived him, he rose up to receive him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young count felt intimidated by the aspect of this man: there was in
- his eye a searching look which appeared to peer into the very soul of the
- person whom he gazed upon. Perhaps, also, this impression was the more
- powerful, that he presented himself before him with a conscience that
- reproached him with the act he was endeavouring to accomplish, and of
- which he was about to render the captain, if not an accomplice, at all
- events the executioner. These two men, as though they felt a secret
- repulsion, the one towards the other, saluted each other with politeness,
- but with cold reserve.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the Count d’Auray that I have the honor of addressing,” said the
- old officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I Captain Paul, I believe,” replied the young mousquetaire; they both
- bowed a second time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I know to what fortunate chance I owe the honor,” rejoined the
- captain, “of the visit which is now paid to me by the heir of one of the
- oldest and greatest families in Brittany?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel bowed again by way of thanks for this compliment, and then, after
- hesitating for a moment as if he found it difficult to open the
- conversation, he observed: “I am told, Captain Paul, that you are bound to
- the Gulf of Mexico?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have not been deceived, sir; I purpose sailing for New Orleans,
- calling on my way at Cayenne, and at the Havannah.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This falls out very fortunately, captain, and you will not have to alter
- your course, in case you should be willing to undertake the execution of
- the order of which I am the bearer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have an order to communicate to me, sir, and from whom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From the Minister of Marine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An order addressed to me personally?” reiterated the captain, doubtingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not personally to you, sir; but to any captain of the royal navy, who may
- be about to sail for South America.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what nature is it, count?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A state prisoner to be transported to Cayenne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have the order with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here it is,” replied Emanuel, taking it from his pocket, and presenting
- it to the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took the paper, and going near the cabin window, that he might avail
- himself of the last gleam of daylight, he read aloud:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Ministers of Marine and of the Colonies, orders any captain or
- lieutenant, commanding a government vessel, who may be about to sail for
- South America, or for the Gulf of Mexico, to take on board his ship and to
- land at Cayenne, the person named Lusignan, condemned to transportation
- for life. During the passage the convict shall take his meals in his own
- cabin, and shall not be allowed to have any communication with the ship’s
- company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the order in due form?” asked Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfectly, sir,” replied the captain. “And are you disposed to execute
- it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Am I not under the orders of the Minister of Marine?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The prisoner may then be sent to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whenever you will; but it had better be this evening, or as soon as
- possible, as I do not expect to be long in these roads.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will take care that due diligence shall be used.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this all that you have to say to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing further, excepting to add my thanks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not add anything, sir. The minister orders, and I obey, that’s all. It
- is a duty which I fulfil, and not a service that I am rendering.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon these words, the captain and the count bowed to each other and
- separated, more coldly even than they had met.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he reached the deck, Emanuel asked the officer of the watch for his
- friend who had accompanied him on board, but was informed he had been
- detained by Captain Paul to sup with him, and that being anxious to oblige
- the count, he had placed his boat as his disposal.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was waiting alongside the ship, and the sailors were in readiness to
- accompany him. Emanuel had scarcely got into her when they rowed him away
- with a rapidity equal to that with which they had conducted him on board.
- But this time she proceeded in sorrowful silence, for the young lieutenant
- was no longer there to animate the count with his practical philosophy.
- </p>
- <p>
- That same night the prisoner was conducted on board the <i>Indienne</i>,
- and the next morning at day-break the inquisitive inhabitants of the coast
- no longer discerned the frigate which had given rise to so many
- conjectures, and whose unexpected arrival, her remaining there without any
- apparent object, and her spontaneous departure, remained an inexplicable
- mystery to the inhabitants of Fort Louis.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- The gallant vessels side by side did lie,
- Yard-arm and yard-arm, and the murd’rous guns
- Belch’d forth their flame and shot, ‘till the white decks
- Ran like a sea with blood. Uncertain still
- The victory stood, ‘till Perry, waving
- His bright sword o’er his head, cried, “Follow me!”
- A hundred shouts responded to this call,
- Then with one spring he bounded on the deck
- Of his determined foe.—Oxd Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As the motives which had induced Captain Paul to visit the coast of
- Brittany had no relation with our history, excepting as far as regards the
- events which we have related, we shall leave our readers in the same state
- of uncertainty as were the inhabitants of Fort Louis; and although our’
- vocation and our sympathies naturally incline us to terra-firma, we must
- follow our hero for a few days in his adventurous course upon the ocean.
- The weather was as beautiful as it generally is on the western coast of
- France, at the commencement of autumn. The <i>Indienne</i> sailed gaily on
- with as fair a wind as could blow for her. The ship’s crew, excepting
- those actually employed in manoeuvring the vessel, were availing
- themselves of the fine weather and occupied in their own matters, as
- caprice directed them, or were idly lounging about the ship, when all at
- once a voice which appeared to descend from the sky, called out, “Below,
- there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hullo, there!” replied the quarter-master, who was standing near the
- helm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sail, ho!” cried the seaman who was on the lookout, at the head-mast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sail, ho!” repeated the quarter-master. “Officer of the deck, be so good
- as to inform the captain there is a sail in sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sail! a sail!” re-echoed the crew from different parts of the deck; for
- at that moment a wave, having raised the vessel which appeared upon the
- horizon, had for an instant rendered her visible to the eyes of the ship’s
- company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sail!” exclaimed a young man of five-and-twenty, springing upon the
- quarter deck from the cabin stairs; “ask Mr Arthur what he thinks of her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mast head, there!” cried the lieutenant, using his speaking trumpet; “the
- captain wants to know, Mr. Arthur, what you make of the strange sail.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Arthur, the young midshipman, had gone aloft immediately upon hearing a
- sail announced. He replied, “She looks like a large square-rigged vessel,
- close hauled, and steering for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said the young man, to whom Walter had given the title of
- captain, “she has as good eyes as we have, and she has seen us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, if she wishes for a little chat, she will find us ready to
- talk to her. Besides, our guns must be almost choked from having their
- mouths stopped so long.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After some little time, the midshipman again hailed the officer on deck,
- and told him that the strange ship had just set her mainsail, and had
- altered her course a little, so as to cross their bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the captain, addressing the lieutenant, “get ready to beat to
- quarters, we must prepare for this fellow; he looks rather suspicious.”
- And then calling out to the midshipman, “How does the ship seem to sail,
- Mr. Arthur? what do you think of her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She seems to be a fast sailer, and is a man-of-war, I should think, by
- the squareness of her yards; and although I cannot see her flag, I would
- wager that she bears King George’s commission.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should not wonder,” observed the captain to the first lieutenant, “and
- that she has orders to give chase to a certain frigate called the
- Indienne, and that her commander is promised good promotion should he
- succeed in capturing her. Ha! ha! now she is loosing her top gallant
- sails. The blood hound has scented us, and is decidedly about to give us
- chase. Set our top gallant sails, too, Mr. Walter, and let us keep our
- course without varying a point. We shall see whether they will dare to
- come athwart our hawse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain’s orders were instantly repeated by the lieutenant, and in a
- few minutes the ship which had been running under her top sails, felt the
- influence of her top gallant sails, heeled over under this new pressure
- and bounded along as if animated by the sight of an enemy, and dashing
- away the spray from either bow with eager impetuosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some time there was hardly a word uttered on board. Every one appeared
- to wait anxiously the termination of this state of suspense, and we shall
- profit by this momentary quiet, to call the attention of our readers to
- the person of the officer to whom the lieutenant had given the title of
- captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was no longer either the young and sceptical lieutenant whom we have
- seen accompanying the Count d’Auray on board the ship, nor the old
- sea-wolf with his stooping gait, and harsh and snappish answers, who had
- received him in the cabin. He was a handsome young man, from twenty to
- twenty-five years of age, as we have said before, who, having thrown off
- all disguise, appeared at length in his own person, and dressed in the
- fanciful uniform which he always wore when upon the wide ocean. It was a
- sort of great coat of black velvet, with gold shoulder knots and fastened
- with hooks and eyes of the same metal. Round his waist he wore a Turkish
- belt, in which was placed a pair of elegant duelling pistols, richly
- inlaid and ornamented, apparently more for show than defence. His
- pantaloons were of white kerseymere, with boots which reached nearly to
- his knees. Round his neck, a cravat of transparent India muslin,
- embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, was loosely tied; his
- hair, no longer disfigured by powder, and black as ebony, flowed about his
- cheeks, which were tanned by exposure to the sun; his eyes beamed with
- hope and animation. Near him, upon a gun, was placed a steel helmet which
- fastened by a curb chain under the chin. This was his battle dress, and
- the only defensive armour which he wore. Some deep indentations in his
- helmet proved that it had more than once-saved the head which it protected
- from those severe wounds inflicted by those terrible cutlasses used by
- seamen when boarding. As to the ship’s company, they wore the elegant
- though plain uniform of the French navy.
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time, the vessel which had been described by the man at the
- mast head, and which had then appeared like a white speck upon the
- horizon, had become, little by little, a pyramid of sails and rigging. All
- eyes were fixed upon her, and although no order had been actually given,
- every one of the crew had taken the position which individually belonged
- to him, as though it had been determined that a combat should take place.
- There reigned then on board the Indienne that solemn and profound silence,
- which in a ship of war always precedes the decisive orders of the captain.
- Finally, the hull of the strange sail appeared rising out of the water, as
- her sails had successively done before. It was then clearly discernible
- that she was a larger ship than the Indienne, and that she carried
- thirty-six guns. She, however, showed no colors, and as her crew were
- carefully and completely concealed behind her bulwarks, it was impossible
- to ascertain, unless by some particular indications, to what nation she
- belonged. These two observations were made almost at the same moment by
- Captain Paul; the last, however, seemed to strike him the most forcibly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears,” said he, addressing his lieutenant, “that we are going to
- have a scene of a masked ball. Order Arthur to bring us a few flags, and
- let us prove to this unknown, that the Indienne has several disguises at
- her disposal. And then, Mr. Walter, give orders that cutlasses and
- boarding pikes be distributed, for we can hardly expect, in these seas, to
- meet with any but enemy’s ships.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The two orders were executed; as soon as given. In an instant the young
- midshipman had brought on deck a dozen flags of different nations, and
- Lieutenant Walter, having had the arm chest opened, had boarding pikes
- piled in different positions throughout the ship, and had distributed
- cutlasses and axes to the ship’s company, he then returned to his place by
- the Captain’s side. Every man again resumed his post by instinct rather
- than by order, for they had not yet beat to quarters; so that the apparent
- confusion which had existed for a moment ceased at once, and the frigate
- became once more, as it were, silent and attentive.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the two ships following their converging directions, continued to
- approach each other. When they were about the distance of three gun shots,
- “Mr. Walter,” said the Captain, “I think it is time we should begin to
- mistify our good friend here. Let us show him the old Scotch flag.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant gave a sign to the quartermaster, and the red Lion of
- Scotland, on a blue field, rose like a flame to the peak of the <i>Indienne</i>;
- but nothing on board the enemy’s ship gave evidence of their paying the
- slightest attention to this manouvre.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” murmured the captain, “the three leopards of England have so
- well filed the teeth and pared the claws of the Scottish lion, that they
- pay no attention to him, believing that he is tamed because he is
- defenceless. Show him some other color, Mr. Walter, and perhaps we shall
- succeed in loosening his tongue.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What flag shall I hoist, captain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the first one that comes; chance may perhaps favor us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This order was scarcely given, when the Scotch flag was hauled down, and
- that of Sardinia took its place. The ship still remained mute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, well,” said the captain, jestingly, “it appears that His Majesty,
- King George, is on good terms with his brother of Cyprus and Jerusalem. Do
- not let us bring them to loggerheads by carrying our joke farther, Mr.
- Walter, let us show the American flag, and prove that it is really the
- right one, by firing an unshotted gun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The same manouvre was repeated. The Sardinian flag was hauled down, and
- the stars of the United States rose slowly towards the sky, and were
- certified by firing a gun.
- </p>
- <p>
- What the captain had foreseen then happened immediately on the display of
- this symbol of rebellion rising insolently in the air. The unknown ship
- immediately betrayed its incognita by hoisting the British flag. At the
- same moment a cloud of smoke was seen issuing from the side of the
- royalist ship, and before the report was heard, a cannon ball was seen
- tipping from wave to wave, and fell about a hundred yards short of the
- Indienne.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beat to quarters, Mr. Walter, for you see we have guessed rightly. Come,
- my boys,” cried he, to the crew, “hurrah for America! and death to
- England!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was answered by a general shout, and had not ceased, when they heard
- them beating to quarters on board the <i>Drake</i>, for that was the name
- of the English ship. The drums of the Indienne immediately replied, and
- every man ran to his post:—the gunners to their guns, the officers
- to their stations, and the sailors to their running rigging. As to the
- captain, he jumped upon the top of the companion, his speaking trumpet in
- his hand—the supreme symbol, the sceptre of nautical royalty, which
- the commander always wields in the hour of combat or during the raging of
- the tempest.
- </p>
- <p>
- They now seem to have made an exchange of parts, for the English appeared
- impatient, and the Americans affected calmness. The ships were hardly
- within gun shot, when a long line of smoke was seen issuing from the side
- of the English vessel, and a report similar to loud thunder was heard, and
- the iron messengers sent to deal death among the rebels, having in their
- impetuosity, miscalculated the distance, fell harmless before reaching the
- sides of the frigate. The latter, however, as if refusing to reply to so
- premature an attack, continued to haul to the wind, as if to spare the
- enemy too long a course.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this moment the captain turned, as if to give a last look round his
- ship, and his astonished gaze was attracted by the appearance of a new
- personage on the deck, who had selected this dangerous and exciting moment
- to make his entrance upon the scene.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a young man, somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three years of
- age. His face was pale and mild; he was plainly, but elegantly dressed,
- and whom the captain had not before seen on board. He was leaning against
- the mizen-mast, his arms folded over his chest, and looking with
- melancholy indifference at the English vessel which was approaching them
- under a heavy press of canvas. The calmness at such a moment, and in a man
- who appeared a stranger to nautical combats, forcibly struck the captain.
- He then remembered the prisoner, whom the Count d’Auray had announced to
- him, and who had been brought on board during the last night he had passed
- at the anchorage of Port Louis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who allowed you to come on deck, sir?” said he, softening as much as
- possible, the tone of his enquiry, so that it would have been difficult to
- ascertain whether this was addressed as a mere question, or as a reproach.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one, sir,” replied the prisoner, in a soft and sorrowful voice; “but I
- had hoped that under the present circumstances, you would less severely
- observe the orders by which I became your prisoner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you forgotten that you were forbidden to hold any communication with
- the ship’s company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not come here for the purpose of holding communication with the
- ship’s company, sir; I came to see whether some friendly cannon ball would
- do me a good’ turn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may, but too soon, have your desire accomplished, if you remain where
- you are now standing; therefore, believe me, you had better remain below.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this your advice; or an order, captain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have full liberty to construe it as you please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case,” replied the young man, “I thank you—I will remain
- here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At this instant, another loud report was heard; but the two ships had by
- this time neared each other so much, that they were within gun-shot, and
- the whole tempest of shot passed through the sails of the Indienne. Two
- splinters fell from the masts; and the groans and stifled cries of some of
- the ship’s company were heard. The captain, at that moment, had his eyes
- fixed upon the prisoner, above whose head, a cannon ball had passed within
- two feet, grazing the mizen mast, against which he was leaning; but
- notwithstanding this death warning, he remained calm and unmoved, in the
- same attitude as if he had not felt the wing of the exterminating angel
- waft above his head. The captain knew how to appreciate courage—this
- incident was sufficient to assure him of the undaunted bravery of the man
- who stood before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tis well, sir,” said he to him; “remain where you are, and when we come
- to boarding, if you should be tired of remaining with your arms crossed,
- take up a cutlass, or an axe, and give us a helping hand. You will excuse
- me not payings you more attention at this moment, for I have other things
- to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire!” cried he, in a voice of thunder, through his speaking trumpet,
- “now, give it her: fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire!” repeated the officers like an echo, at their different stations.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the instant, the Indienne trembled from her keel, to her royal mast
- head, as she poured her broadside into the enemy—a cloud of smoke
- spread itself like a veil, along the starboard-side, which was soon
- carried to leeward. The captain, standing upon the companion, impatiently
- awaited its clearing off, that he might ascertain the effect which the
- broadside had produced upon the enemy’s vessel. When his gaze could
- penetrate through the smoke, he perceived that the enemy’s main top mast
- had fallen, and had, with its sails, encumbered the after-part of the
- Drake’s deck, and that her other sails were cut to ribbons. Then putting
- his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he cried—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done! my lads. Now watch her closely. They will be too busy in
- clearing away the wreck of their mast, to think of raking us—fire—as
- you can—and this time shave close!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The crew hastened to obey this order—the frigate veered round, and
- as the guns were brought to bear upon the enemy, they were discharged with
- terrible effect; and, as the captain had imagined, without any hindrance
- from the Drake. The Indienne once more trembled like a volcano, and, as a
- volcano, vomited forth her flame and smoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- This time the gunners had followed the orders of their captain to the
- letter, (and the broadside had been fired point blank) striking the hull
- and the lower masts. Both her masts were still standing; but on all sides
- the sails were hanging in tatters. It appeared that some more considerable
- damage had been done, which it was impossible to ascertain at that
- distance; for some time, the broadside was not returned; at length it was,
- and instead of raking the <i>Indienne</i>, it struck her in a diagonal
- direction. It was not the less terrible, for it swept off many a brave
- fellow from the deck; but by a chance which appeared positively magical,
- touched neither of the masts. Some of the running rigging was cut, but
- nothing that prevented her manoeuvring as before. At one glance, Paul
- ascertained that he had only lost some men. His heart bounded with joy. He
- once more placed the speaking-trumpet to his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Larboard the helm,” cried he, “and board her on the larboard side!
- Boarders, to your stations—be ready! Give her one more broadside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the first movement of the <i>Indienne</i>, the enemy at once perceived
- the intention, and endeavoured to neutralize it by it similar movement,
- but at the instant of attempting to execute it, a dreadful crash was heard
- on board her, and the mainmast, which had been nearly cut through by the
- last discharge from the <i>Indienne</i>, trembled, for a few seconds like
- an uprooted tree, and fell forward, covering the deck with the mainsail
- and the rigging. Captain Paul at once comprehended what had delayed the
- return of the broadside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, she is ours, my lads!” cried he; “we have only to take her. One last
- broadside within pistol shot, and then we’ll board her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The <i>Indienne</i> obeyed her helm, as does a well trained horse the
- bridle, and unopposed, advanced towards her enemy, for the latter had no
- steerage-way upon her, and her guns were consequently useless. The Drake
- was therefore at the mercy of her adversary, who by remaining at a
- distance and playing at long bowls, might have riddled her and sunk her,
- but disdaining this too easy victory, sent in a last broadside; and then,
- before seeing the effect it had produced, the frigate ran in upon her
- larboard quarter, and threw her grappling-irons on board. On the instant,
- the tops and forecastle of the Indienne blazed as with fireworks on a
- holiday, and flaming grenades were showered upon the deck of the Drake
- with the rapidity of hailstones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage, my lads, courage, lash the bowsprit to her quarter rails. Well
- done! now, to your two forecastle carronades—fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- All these orders were executed with magical celerity: the two ships were
- as securely lashed together as if by iron chains—the two carronades
- which had not been fired during the combat, thundered in there turn, and
- swept the enemy’s deck with a cloud of grape shot, and then another cry
- was heard, uttered by the same stentorian voice—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, board her!!!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And, adding example to precept, the captain of the <i>Indienne</i> threw
- aside his speaking trumpet, now of no longer use, placed his helmet on his
- head, fastening the clasp beneath his chin; placed the sabre which he
- usually wore in his belt between his teeth, and rushed upon the bowsprit
- to jump thence upon the deck of the enemy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although this movement followed the order he had given with as great
- rapidity as the thunder succeeds the lightning, he was only the second
- upon the English deck: he was preceded by the young prisoner with whom he
- had conversed, who had thrown aside his coat, and armed only with a
- hatchet, was the first to encounter death or victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not conversant with the discipline of my ship,” said Paul,
- laughing; “it is my place to be the first to board a ship I am attacking.
- I forgive you this time, but take care it does not again happen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same instant, the seamen of the <i>Indienne</i> rushed from their
- own ship to the enemy’s, taking advantage of every point of contact, some
- from the bowsprit, others from the end of the yards, and nettings, and
- fell upon the deck like ripe fruit falling from a tree when shaken by the
- wind. Then the English, who had retreated to their forecastle, unmasked a
- carronade which they had had time to turn upon their enemy. A volley of
- fire and iron was vomited forth on the assailants. One fourth of the crew
- of the <i>Indienne</i> fell killed or mutilated on the enemy’s deck, in
- the midst of cries and maledictions. But above the cries and blasphemous
- oaths, a voice resounded, crying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forward—all of you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then ensued a scene of appalling confusion—a combat hand to hand—a
- general duel. To the roar of cannon, to the report of musketry, to the
- explosion of hand grenades, had succeeded the struggle with cold steel,
- less noisy but more sure, above all with seamen, who have retained for
- their sole use this inheritance from the giants, proscribed for more than
- two centuries on the field of battle. It was with hatchets that they
- cleaved each other’s sculls; it was with cutlasses they wounded each
- other’s breasts; it was with boarding-pikes that they nailed each other to
- the deck and masts. From time to time, in the midst of this mute carnage,
- a stray pistol shot was heard, but isolated, and as if ashamed of taking
- part in such a butchery. It lasted nearly a quarter of an hour, and amidst
- a confusion it would be impossible to describe. And then the British flag
- was lowered, and the crew of the Drake being driven below, there remained
- on deck only the conquerors, the wounded and the dead; in the midst of
- whom was the captain of the <i>Indienne</i>, surrounded by his crew, with
- his foot upon the breast of the captain of the enemy’s ship, having on his
- right his first lieutenant, Walter, and on his left his young prisoner,
- whose shirt, steeped in blood, witnessed the share he had in the victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, all is over,” said Paul, stretching out his hand; “and he who
- strikes another blow will have to deal with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then holding out his hand to his young prisoner, “Sir,” said he, “you will
- relate to me, to-night, how it was that you were made my prisoner, will
- you not! For there must be some cowardly machination in this affair. The
- infamous only are transported to Cayenne, and you are too brave to be
- infamous.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth,
- And of most royal presence—but sad thoughts
- Seemed to possess her wholly—her children, even,
- Seldom approached her, and when they did,
- No soft affection, motherly caress,
- Was e’er accorded to them—stern and cold,
- She looked a moving statue.—Old Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just related,
- and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise, whose wheels
- and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified that it had
- performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along, although two powerful
- horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between Vanness and Auray. The
- traveller it contained, and who was roughly jolted in traversing the
- cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count Emanuel, whom we saw open
- the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was coming from Paris with all
- haste, and proceeding to his ancient family mansion, with regard to which
- it is now necessary to give some more precise and circumstantial details.
- </p>
- <p>
- Count Emanuel d’Auray was descended from one of the oldest families in
- Brittany—one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy
- Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor, had
- been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in its
- victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d’Auray, Chevalier of the
- order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and Grand Cross
- of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of Louis XV., in
- which he filled the post of high steward, that high distinction to which
- his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit, truly entitled him. His
- influence there had been increased by his marriage with Mademoiselle de
- Sable, who was his equal in every thing that regarded family or credit at
- court: so that a brilliant future was opened to the ambition of the young
- people, when, after being married five years, a report was suddenly spread
- about the court, that the Marquis d’Auray had become insane during a
- journey he had made to his estates. This report was for a long time
- disbelieved. At length the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his
- wife made their appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him
- another year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason,
- refused to appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and
- even the marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In
- France people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which
- even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of
- indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old
- chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting
- or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of a
- son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d’Aurays, therefore,
- continued to figure among the names of the French nobility; but not having
- mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in court intrigues
- or in political affairs, not having sided either with a Pampadour or a Du
- Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the victories of the
- Maréchal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count Clermont—in
- short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been completely forgotten.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the ancient name of the lords of d’Auray had been twice
- pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first time
- on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel’s being admitted in 1769, as
- one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after having served
- his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires of the young
- King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted with the Baron
- de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who was favorably
- disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable degree of influence
- with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to his old courtier, who
- having been informed that the Count d’Auray had a sister, one day let fall
- a few words upon the possibility of an union between the two families.
- Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied with struggling beneath the
- veil which had obscured his family name, saw in this marriage a means of
- regaining the position which his father had occupied at court under the
- late king, and had eagerly caught at the first overtures for this
- alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under the pretext of uniting
- himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood, to his young friend, had
- urged his suit with an eagerness which was so much the more flattering to
- Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand of his sister had never seen
- her. The Marchioness d’Auray had listened the more readily to this
- proposal, as it opened to her son the road to royal favor, and the
- marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two young people, at all
- events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded M. de Lectoure three or
- four days only, had hastened into the country to inform his mother that
- everything had been arranged according to her desire. As to Marguerite,
- the intended wife, they contented themselves with informing her of the
- resolution they had taken without thinking it necessary to ask her consent
- to it, in about the same way that a criminal is informed of the sentence
- which condemns him to the scaffold.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of future
- exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated projects of
- ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy castle of his
- family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards, overgrown with
- grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden hopes that agitated
- him. The castle was a league and a half distant from any other dwelling.
- The principal facade overlooked that part of the ocean, which being so
- constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name of “the Wild Sea.” The
- other looked toward an immense park, which, being for twenty years
- abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete forest. As to the
- apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with the exception of
- those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had been renewed
- during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of a numerous
- household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which the more
- modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more elegant, was
- less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops of Boule, the
- appointed upholsterer of the court.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney
- pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was ushered
- on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to communicate to his
- mother the happy news of which he was the bearer, that without taking the
- time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his gloves, and travelling
- pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant to inform the marchioness
- of his arrival, and to ask her permission to present himself, saying that
- he would await it in that room; for such in this old family was the
- respect paid to parents, that the son, after an absence of five months,
- did not dare to present himself to his mother, without in the first place
- consulting her desires upon the subject. As to the Marquis d’Auray, his
- children could not remember having seen him more than two or three times,
- and then it was by stealth: for his insanity was of a nature, it was said,
- that certain objects irritated, and they had been always kept from him
- with the greatest precaution. The marchioness alone, a model of conjugal
- virtue, remained always with him, fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not
- only the duties of a wife, but also those of a servant. Consequently, her
- name was revered in the surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose
- devotedness on earth has gained a place in heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the
- marchioness d’Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that the
- count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost
- immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel’s
- mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age, tall
- and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy features
- had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command. She was in
- costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time that her husband
- had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her mourning garments. Her
- long black gown gave to her movements, cold and slow as those of a shadow,
- a solemn appearance, which shed around this extraordinary woman a feeling
- of awe, which even filial affection had never been able to surmount.
- Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started as at the sight of an unexpected
- apparition, and instantly rising, he advanced three steps toward her,
- respectfully went down upon one knee, and kissed the hand she presented to
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rise, sir,” said the marchioness. “I am happy to see you again.” And she
- pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who had been
- absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel obeyed,
- conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated herself,
- and he remained standing before her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I received your letter, count,” she said, “and I congratulate you on your
- skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than for
- military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain an
- embassy for you, rather than a regiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what is
- more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power with
- M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In love with a woman he has never seen?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of
- Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our fortune,
- has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your son and to
- call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that all the
- preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You have
- obtained the publication of the bans, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With the help of God, all will be ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But tell me,” continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her chair,
- and bending toward Emanuel, “has he not questioned you regarding that
- young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of
- deportation?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without
- entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit
- confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world, that
- they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he knows nothing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—but did he know all——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the discovery
- would not in any way influence his determination.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift,” replied the marchioness,
- with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if speaking to
- herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But supposing it should be so,” said Emanuel anxiously, “your resolution
- would be still unchanged, I hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our former
- influence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, there is only my sister——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my
- presence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our
- family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not
- conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having
- been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king
- at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your
- virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him,
- even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason; your
- virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses, but of
- which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in this old
- forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission, which you
- call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they forget you
- (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count six hundred
- years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at court, our name,
- the name of the family d’Auray, was hardly known to their majesties, but
- as an historical recollection.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories,” murmured the
- marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such a
- blasphemy, she rejoined, “I hope that the blessing of God may always
- attend their majesties and France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what can in any way affect their happiness?” replied Emanuel, with
- that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the
- distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility.
- “Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both of
- them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them, Heaven be
- praised, beyond the reach of every evil.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one, my son,” replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head,
- “believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty.
- No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master it,
- firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head, were it
- even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The people, you
- say, are brave and loyal.” The marchioness arose and slowly advanced to
- the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean. “Observe that
- sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this night, in an
- hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the cries of distress
- of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I am separated from the
- world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears, borne as it were by
- invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not exist a sect of
- philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the errors which it
- propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which is detaching itself
- from the mother country, whose children refuse to acknowledge their
- father? Is there not a people who style themselves a nation? Have I not
- heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the ocean, to offer to
- rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but at the call of their
- legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told, moreover, or is it but
- the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI. and the Queen, Marie
- Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are a family of brothers,
- have authorised these armed emigrations, and have given letters of marque
- to I know not what foreign pirate?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All this is true,” said Emanuel, much astonished.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of France!”
- rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room, leaving
- Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw her
- withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant
- character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change
- his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window
- which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence he
- could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between d’Auray
- and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he perceived two
- persons on horseback, following the same road he had just travelled over,
- and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they drew nearer he
- could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his servant. The first,
- dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of that day, that is to
- say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs, stocking-knit breeches,
- and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad brim, and his hair tied
- with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on an English horse of rare
- beauty and great value, which he managed with a grace that proved he had
- made equestrian exercises a profound study. He was followed at a short
- distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery was in perfect harmony
- with the lordly air of the person whom he served. Emanuel imagined for a
- moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards the castle, that it was
- the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his departure from Paris,
- intended to surprise him; but he soon found that he was mistaken; and
- although it appeared to him that it was not the first time he had seen the
- horseman, he could not recollect where or under what circumstances he had
- met him. While he was racking his memory to discover the event in his life
- with which this vague remembrance was connected, the strangers had
- disappeared behind an angle of the castle wall. Five minutes afterwards
- Emanuel heard the sound of their horses’ feet in the court yard, and,
- almost immediately the door was opened; a servant announced, “<i>Mr. Paul!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Woman’s love
- Once given, may break the heart that holds—but never
- Melts into air save with her latest sigh.
-
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain,
-</pre>
- <p>
- The name, as well as the appearance of the person thus announced, awakened
- in their turn in the mind of Emanuel a confused recollection of which he
- could not affix either date or event. The person, preceded by the servant,
- entered the room by a door opposite the one through which the marchioness
- had retired. Although the moment was ill-timed for a visit, and though the
- young count, pre-occupied by his projects for the future, would have
- preferred meditating upon and ripening them, he was compelled, by the
- rules of etiquette, so severe in those days between well-bred people, to
- receive the visitor with courtesy and politeness. The deportment of the
- latter bespoke the man of distinction. After the usual salutations,
- Emanuel, by a gesture, invited the stranger to be seated, who bowed and
- took a chair, and then the conversation commenced with some common-place
- polite observation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am delighted to meet you, count,” said the stranger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Chance has favored me, sir,” replied Emanuel; “an hour sooner you would
- not have found me here: I have just arrived from Paris.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am aware of that, count, for we have been travelling the same road. I
- set out an hour after you, and all along the road I heard of you, by means
- of the postillions who had the honor of driving you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I be bold enough to ask,” said Emanuel, in a tone which began to
- evince a certain degree of dissatisfaction, “to what circumstance I owe
- the interest you appear to evince concerning me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This interest is perfectly natural between old acquaintance, and perhaps.
- I might have reason to complain that it does not appear to be reciprocal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In fact, sir, it does appear to me,” replied Emanuel, “that I have met
- you somewhere; but my recollection serves me but confusedly; will you be
- kind enough to assist it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If what you say be the case, count, your memory must indeed be rather
- fugitive, for within the last six months, on three separate occasions, I
- have the honor of exchanging compliments with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even should I expose myself to further reproach, I am compelled to say
- that I still remain in the same state of uncertainty with regard to your
- person. Pray, therefore, have the goodness to fix my memory, by aid of
- more precise dates, on some event, and remind me under what circumstances
- I had the honor of meeting you for the first time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The first time, count? it was on the jetty of Port Louis. You desired to
- obtain some information with regard to a certain frigate, which I was so
- fortunate as to be able to furnish you. I believe, even, that I
- accompanied you on board. Upon that occasion I wore the uniform of a
- lieutenant in the royal navy, and you that of a mousquetaire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I now well recollect it, sir, and I was obliged to leave the vessel
- without offering the thanks I owed you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, count; I received those thanks during our second
- interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And where did that take place?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On board the very vessel to which I had conducted you—in the cabin.
- I then wore the uniform of the captain of the ship: blue coat, red
- waistcoat and breeches, with grey stockings, a three-cornered hat, and
- curled hair. Only the captain appeared to you some thirty years older than
- the lieutenant, and it was not without motive that I had made myself
- appear so much older, for you would perhaps, not have chosen to confide to
- a young man a secret of such importance as you then communicated to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What you now say is incredible, sir; and yet something tells me that it
- was really so. Yes, yes; I now remember that in the shade in which you
- remained half concealed, I saw eyes sparkling similar to yours. I have not
- forgotten them; but this was only the time before the last, you say, that
- I had the honor of seeing you. Continue, sir, I beg, to assist my memory,
- for I cannot recollect our third interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The last, count, was only a week since, at Paris—at a fencing
- match, at Saint-George’s, in the rue Chanterecin. You remember, do you
- not, an English gentleman, with his hair so red that his powder could
- scarcely conceal its brilliant color—a scarlet coat, and tightly
- fitting pantaloons. I even had the honor of trying a bout with you, and I
- was fortunate enough to hit you three times, while, on the contrary, you
- were not lucky enough to touch me once. On that occasion I called myself
- Jones.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is most singular—it was certainly the same look, but it could
- not be the same man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The will of God has directed that the look should be the only thing which
- cannot be disguised, and this is why he has thrown into the look a spark
- of his own light. Well, then, the lieutenant, the captain, the Englishman,
- were one and the same person.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the present moment, sir, what are you if you please? For, with a man
- who can so perfectly disguise himself, that question you must admit, is
- not altogether unnecessary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the present moment, count, as you see, I have no motive for
- concealment, and, therefore, I have come to you in the simple costume of
- the young nobility, when they visit each other as neighbors in the
- country. I am whatever you may please to consider me; French, English,
- Spanish, or even an American. In which of these languages would you wish
- our conversation to be continued?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Although some of these languages may be as familiar to me as they are to
- you, sir, I prefer the French language; it is that of a plain and concise
- explanations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be it so,” replied Paul, with an expression of profound melancholy; “the
- French is also the language I prefer; I first saw the day upon French
- ground, for the sun of France was that which gladdened my eyes; and
- although I have often seen more fertile climes, and a more brilliant sun,
- there has never been for me but one country and one sun, the sun and the
- country of Franco!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your national enthusiasm,” said Emanuel, interrupting him ironically,
- “causes you to forget the motive to which I am indebted for the honor of
- this visit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, and I will return to it. It was, then, about six
- months ago, while walking on the jetty of Port Louis, you saw in the outer
- roads a fine sharp frigate, with tall masts and square yards, and you said
- to yourself: ‘the captain of that ship must have some motive known only to
- himself, for carrying so much canvas, on masts so slight,’—and from
- that sprung to your mind that he must be some buccaneer, a pirate, a
- corsair”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “And was I mistaken?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I had already expressed to you, count,” replied Paul, with a
- slight tone of irony, “my admiration of the perspicacity with which, at
- the first glance, you sound the depths of men and circumstances”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “A truce to compliments, if you please, sir, and let us to facts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was under this persuasion that you caused yourself to be conducted on
- board the frigate, by a certain lieutenant, and that you found a certain
- captain in the cabin. You were the bearer of a letter from the Minister of
- Marine, ordering any officer, upon your requisition, and whose ship was
- under the French flag and bound for the Gulf of Mexico, to conduct to
- Cayenne a person named Lusignan, guilty of a crime against the state.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I obeyed that order, for I was then ignorant that this great culprit,
- thus transported, had committed no other crime than that of being the
- lover of your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” cried Emanuel, starting up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “These are very fine pistols, count,” carelessly continued Paul, playing
- with the weapons which the Count d’Auray had placed upon the table, on
- alighting from his carriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And they are ready loaded,” said Emanuel, in a tone which was not to be
- mistaken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are they so?” returned Paul, with affected indifference.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a matter of which you can assure yourself, if you will take a
- turn in the park with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is no necessity for going out to do that,” replied Paul, without
- pretending to understand Emanuel’s proposal in the sense which he meant to
- give to it; “here is a mark which is well placed, and at a proper
- distance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, the captain cocked the pistol, and pointed it through
- the open window towards the top of a small tree. A goldfinch was rocking
- himself on the highest branch, singing forth his shrill and joyful notes.
- Paul fired, and the poor bird, cut in two, fell at the foot of the tree.
- Paul coolly replaced the pistol on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were perfectly right, count,” said he, “they are excellent weapons,
- and I advise you not to part with them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have just given me an extraordinary proof of it,” replied Emanuel;
- “and I feel bound to acknowledge that you have a steady hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is nothing extraordinary in that,” rejoined Paul, in that
- melancholy tone which was peculiar to him. “During those long days, when
- not a breath passes over that mirror of the Supreme Being, which is called
- the ocean, we seamen are compelled to seek for amusements to which you
- landsmen are daily accustomed. Then we try our skill upon the sea-gulls,
- which hover over the crest of a wave; or the fish-hawks, which dart down
- upon the imprudent tenant of the deep that rise to its surface; or, again,
- upon the swallows which, fatigued with a long flight, alight upon the
- royal mast-head or on the yards or rigging. It is thus, count, that we
- acquire some dexterity in exercises which may appear so incompatible with
- our profession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go on, sir; and if it be possible, let us return to the subject of our
- conversation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a handsome, brave young man, this Lusignan; he related his whole
- history to me. That being the son of an old friend of your father’s, who
- had died poor, he had been adopted by him some two years before the
- unknown accident occurred which deprived him of his reason. That having
- been brought up with you, he had inspired you with hatred—your
- sister with affection. He told me that, during the long years they passed
- together in the same solitude, they never perceived the isolation from the
- world in which they lived, excepting when they were absent from each
- other. He recounted to me all the details of their youthful love, and how
- Marguerite had one day said to him, in the words of the tender maiden of
- Verona—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- “‘I will be thine, or else I’ll be the tomb’s.’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “She has but too truly kept her word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—has she not? And you virtuous people call that shame and
- dishonour, when a poor child, lost through her own innocence, is carried
- away by love. Your mother, whose duties estranged her from her daughter,
- and perpetually confined her to your father’s room—(for I know the
- virtues of your mother, sir, as well as I know your sister’s weakness: she
- is an austere woman, more severe than one of God’s creatures ought to be,
- whose only advantage over others is, that of never having fallen)—your
- mother, I say, one night heard some stifled cries; she entered your
- sister’s chamber, walked pale and silently up to her bed, and coldly
- snatched from her arms a child which had just been born, and left the room
- without addressing even a reproach to her daughter, but only paler and
- more silent than when she entered it. As to poor Marguerite, she did not
- utter even a cry—she made no complaint. She had fainted away
- immediately on perceiving her mother. Was it so, sir? Have I been rightly
- informed, and is the whole of this dreadful story true?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be acquainted with every detail of it!” exclaimed Emanuel,
- with amazement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is because the whole of these details are given in these letters
- signed by your sister,” replied Paul, opening a pocket-book, “and which
- Lusignan, at the time he was about to be thrown amid robbers and
- assassins, through your instrumentality, confided to me, that I might
- restore them to her who had written them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give them to me, then,” said Emanuel, stretching forth his hand towards
- the pocket-book, “and they shall be faithfully delivered to her who has
- had the imprudence”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “To complain to the only person who loved her in this world—is it
- not so?” said Paul, withdrawing the letters and the pocket-book.
- “Imprudent daughter, whose own mother snatched the child from her heart,
- and who poured her bitter tears into the bosom of the father of her child!
- Imprudent sister, who, not finding any protection from this tyranny in her
- brother, has compromised his noble name by signing with the name he bears,
- letters, which, in the stupid and prejudiced eye of the world, may—how
- is it you term this in your noble class—dishonour her family, is it
- not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” cried Emanuel, reddening with impatience, “since you are aware of
- the terrible tendency of these papers, fulfil the mission which you have
- been charged, by delivering them either to me, to my mother, or my
- sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This was my intention when I landed at Lorient; but about ten or twelve
- days ago, on entering a church—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A church!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And for what purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To pray there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Captain Paul believes in God, then!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did I not believe in him, whom should I invoke during the raging of the
- tempest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in this church, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that church, sir, I heard a priest announce the approaching marriage
- of the noble Marguerite d’Auray with the very high and very potent Baron
- de Lectoure. I immediately inquired for you, and was informed you were at
- Paris, where I was myself compelled to go, to give an account of my
- mission to the king.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To the king!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, to the king—Louis XVI.; to his majesty, in person. I
- immediately set out, intending to return here as soon as you did. I met
- you in Saint George’s rooms, and was informed of your approaching
- departure. I arranged mine in consequence, in order that we might arrive
- here at about the same time, and here I am, sir, with a very different
- resolution to that I had formed before landing in Brittany.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is this new determination? Let me hear it, for we must come to
- some conclusion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, I think that as all the world, and even his mother, seem to
- have forgotten the poor orphan, it is highly necessary that I should
- remember it. In the position in which you are placed, sir, and with the
- disposition you have evinced of becoming allied to the Baron de Lectoure
- (who in your view, is the only person who can assist the realization of
- your ambitious projects), these letters are well worth a hundred thousand
- francs, are they not? and will make but a very trifling breach in the
- income of two hundred thousand francs which your estates afford you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But who will prove to me that this hundred thousand francs—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, and therefore it will be in exchange for a contract
- for an annuity upon the young Hector de Lusignan, that I will deliver up
- these letters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that all, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will also ask, that the child be confided to me, and I will have him
- brought up, thanks to his little fortune, far from the mother who has
- forgotten him, and far from his father whom you caused to be banished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well, sir; had I known that it was for so small a sum, and so
- trifling an interest that you had come, I should not have experienced so
- much anxiety. You will, however, permit me to speak to my mother on the
- subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur le Comte,” said a servant, opening the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not at home to any one. Leave the room.” replied Emanuel,
- impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is your sister, sir, who wishes to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell her to come by and by.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She desires to speak to you this instant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not put yourself out of the way on my account,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But my sister must not see you, sir,—you comprehend it is important
- that she should not see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As you please; but as it is important, also, that I should not leave the
- castle before concluding the affair which brought me here, permit me to go
- into this side room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will do,” said Emanuel, himself opening the door; “but be quick, I
- beg of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul went into the small room, and Emanuel hastily closed the door upon
- him, which was hardly done when Marguerite appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
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- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Look kindly on them; I cannot bear
- Severity;
- My heart’s so tender, should you charge me rough,
- I should but weep and answer you with sobbing;
- But use me gently, like a loving brother,
- And search through all the secrets of my soul.—Otway.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Marguerite d’Auray, whose history the reader has become aquainted with,
- from the conversation between Captain Paul and Emanuel, was one of those
- delicate, pale beauties, who bear impressed upon their features the
- characteristic stamp of high birth. At the first glance, from the soft
- flexibility of her form, the whiteness of her skin, the shape of her hands
- and tapering fingers, with their thin, rosy and transparent nails, could
- be discerned that she was descended from an ancient race. It was evident
- that her feet, so small that both of them could have been placed in the
- foot-mark of most women, had never walked excepting on carpeted saloons or
- on the flowery turf of a park. There was in her movements, graceful as
- they were, a certain degree of haughtiness and pride, the attribute of all
- her family; in fine, she conveyed the impression that her soul, capable of
- making any sacrifice she had resolved upon, was very likely to rebel
- against tyranny; that devotedness was an instinctive virtue of her heart,
- while obedience, in her view, was only an educational duty, so that the
- tempest wind which blew upon her, might make her bend down before it as a
- lily, but not as a reed.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet, when she appeared at the door, her features depicted such
- complete discouragement, her eyes had retained the traces of such burning
- tears, her whole frame seemed weighed down by such an overwhelming
- despair, that Emanuel saw at once, that she must have summoned all her
- strength to assume an appearance of calmness. On seeing him, she made a
- violent effort, and it was with a certain degree of nervous firmness that
- she approached the arm chair on which he was sitting. And then, seeing
- that the features of her brother retained the expression of impatience,
- which they had assumed on being interrupted, she paused, and these two
- children of the same mother, looked at each other as strangers, the one
- with the eyes of ambition, the other with those of fear. By degrees,
- Marguerite resumed her courage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have come at last, Emanuel! I was awaiting your return as the blind
- await the light, and yet from the manner in which you look upon your
- sister, it is easy to perceive that she was wrong in placing her hopes in
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If my sifter has become, as she always ought to have been,” replied
- Emanuel, “that is to say, a submissive and respectful daughter, she will
- have understood what her rank and her position demand of her; she will
- have forgotten past events as things which never should have happened, and
- which consequently she ought not to remember, and she will have prepared
- herself for the new destiny which awaits her. If it is in this disposition
- that she now comes before me, my arms are open to receive her, and my
- sister is still my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen attentively to what I am about to say,” said Marguerite, “and
- above all, consider it as a justification of myself, and not intended as a
- reproach to others. If my mother—and God forbid that I should accuse
- her, for a holy duty keeps her apart from us—if my mother had been,
- I was about to say, toward me as other mothers are towards their
- daughters, I should constantly have opened my heart to her as a book; at
- the first word traced upon it by any stranger hand, she would have warned
- me of my danger and I should have avoided it. Had I been educated in the
- world instead of being brought up like a poor wild flower beneath the
- shade of this old castle, I should have learned from infancy the value of
- the rank and position which you speak of to-day, and I should, perhaps,
- not have infringed the decorum they prescribe, or the duties they impose.
- In short, had I been tutored amidst women of the world, with their
- sparkling wit and frivolous hearts, whom I have so often heard you praise,
- but whom I never knew, had I been guilty of some faults from levity, which
- love has caused me to commit—yes, I can well understand, I might
- then have forgotten the past, have sown upon the surface new recollections
- as flowers are planted upon tombs; and then, forgetting the place where
- they had grown, have formed of them a bouquet for a ball, or a bridal
- wreath. But unfortunately it is not so, Emanuel. I was told to beware,
- when it was too late to avoid the danger. They spoke to me of my rank and
- position in society, when I had already forfeited them, and I am now
- called upon to look forward to joy in the future, when my heart is drowned
- in the tears and misery of the past.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the conclusion of all this,” bitterly rejoined Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The conclusion depends on you alone, Emanuel; it is in your power to
- render it, if not happy, at all events becoming. I cannot have recourse to
- my father. Alas! I know not even if he could recognise his daughter. I
- have no hope in my mother; her glance freezes me, her words are death to
- me. You alone, Emanuel, were left to me, to whom I could say, brother: you
- are now the head of the family; it is to you alone that we are answerable
- for our honor. I have fallen from ignorance, and I have been punished for
- my fault as if it had been a wilful crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! well!”, murmured Emanuel impatiently, “what is it that you ask?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brother, I demand, since a union with the only being I could have loved,
- is said to be impossible, I demand that my punishment be regulated
- according to my strength to bear it. My mother—may heaven pardon
- her!—tore my child from me as if she had never herself been a
- mother, and my child will be brought up far from me, neglected, and in
- obscurity. You, Emanuel, removed the father, as my mother did the child,
- and you were more cruel to him than the case required; I will not say as
- man to man, but even as a judge towards a guilty person. As to myself, you
- have both united to impose upon me a martyrdom more painful still. Well,
- then, Emanuel, I demand in the name of our childhood spent in the same
- cradle, of our youth passed under the same roof, in the name of the tender
- appellations of brother and sister, which nature bestowed upon us—I
- demand that a convent be opened to me, and that its gates should close
- upon me for ever. And in that convent, I swear to you, Emanuel, that every
- day upon my knees, before God, my forehead bent down to the
- stone-pavement, weighed down by my fault, I will entreat the Lord as a
- recompense for all my sufferings, to restore my father to reason, my
- mother to happiness, and to pour on you, Emanuel, honor, and glory and
- fortune. I swear to you, I will do this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; and the world will say that I had a sister whom I sacrificed to my
- fortune, whose property I inherited while she still lived! Why this is
- sheer madness!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, Emanuel,” rejoined Marguerite, supporting herself on the
- back of a chair, near which she was standing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” replied Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When you have pledged your word, you keep it, do you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! look at this bracelet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see it—perfectly—what then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is fastened by a key—the key which opens it is attached to a
- ring, and with that ring, I pledged my word that I would not be released
- from a promise I had made, until the ring should be brought back and
- returned to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he who has the key of it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks to you, and to my mother, Emanuel, he is too far from us to ask it
- of him. He is at Cayenne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before you are married two months,” replied Emanuel, with an ironical
- smile, “that bracelet will be so irksome to you, that you will be the
- first to get rid of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that I had told you it is locked upon my arm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know what people do when they have lost the key and cannot get into
- their house—they send for a locksmith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! in my case, Emanuel,” replied Marguerite, rasing her voice, and
- extending her arm with a solemn gesture, “they must send for the
- executioner then, for this hand shall be cut off before I give it to
- another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! silence!” cried Emanuel, rising hastily, and looking anxiously
- towards the door of the inner room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now I have said all I had to say,” rejoined Marguerite: “my only hope
- was in you, Emanuel; for although you cannot comprehend any deep-seated
- feeling, you are not cruel. I came to you in tears, look at me and you
- will see that it is true—I came to you to say, ‘Brother, this
- marriage is the misfortune, is the misery of my life—I would prefer
- a convent—I would prefer death to it—and you have not listened
- to me, or if you have listened, you have not understood me. Well, then, I
- will address myself to this man—I will appeal to his honor, to his
- delicacy; if that should not be sufficient, I will tell him all; my love
- for another, my weakness, my fault, my crime! I will tell him that I have
- a child; that although he was torn from me, although I have never since
- seen him, although I am ignorant of his abode, still my child exists. A
- child cannot die, without his death striking some chord within its
- mother’s heart. In short I will tell him, should it be necessary, that I
- still love another, that I cannot love him, and that I never will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! tell him all this,” cried Emanuel, irritated by her persistence,
- “and that evening we will sign the contract, and the next day you will be
- Baroness de Lectoure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” replied Marguerite, “then, I shall be truly the most miserable
- woman in existence, for I should then have a brother whom I should no
- longer love, and a husband for whom I should have no esteem. Farewell,
- Emanuel; believe me this contract is not yet signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And after saying these words, Marguerite withdrew with that deep and
- settled despair upon her features, which could not for a moment be
- mistaken. And Emanuel, convinced that he had not, as he had anticipated,
- obtained a victory, but that the struggle was still to be continued, gazed
- after her with an anxiety which was not devoid of tenderness.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a few moments of silence, in which he sat pensive and motionless, he
- turned round and saw Captain Paul, whom he had completely forgotten,
- standing at the door of the study, and then considering the vital
- importance it was to him to get possession of the papers, which the
- captain had offered him, he hurriedly sat down at the table, took a pen
- and paper, and turning towards him, said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, sir, we are again alone, and there is nothing to prevent our at
- once concluding this affair. In what terms do you wish the promise to be
- drawn up? Dictate them, I am ready to write them down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is now useless,” coldly replied the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have changed my mind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is that?” said Emanuel, rising, alarmed at the consequences which he
- perceived might arise from words which he was far from expecting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will give,” replied Paul, with the calmness of a fixed determination,
- “the hundred thousand livres to the child, and I will find a husband for
- your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who are you, then,” said Emanuel, advancing a step towards him, “who are
- you, sir, who thus disposes of a young girl who is my sister, who has
- never seen you, and who does not even know that you exist?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who am I!” replied Paul, smiling; “upon my honor, I know no more upon
- that subject than you do, for my birth is a secret which is only to be
- revealed to me when I have attained my twenty-fifth year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you will attain that age?”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “This evening, sir. I place myself at your disposal from to-morrow
- morning, to give you all the information you may require of me,” and
- saying these words, Paul bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I allow you to depart, sir, but you will understand it is upon the
- condition that we meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was about to propose that condition, count, and I thank you for having
- anticipated me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He then bowed to Emanuel a second time, and left the room. At the castle
- gate, Paul found his horse and servant, and resumed the route to Port
- Louis. When he had got out of sight of the castle, he alighted from his
- horse, and directed his steps towards a fisherman’s hut, built upon the
- beach. At the door of this house, seated upon a bench, and in a sailor’s’
- dress, was a young man so deeply absorbed in thought, that he did not
- observe Paul’s approach. The captain placed his hand upon the young man’s
- shoulder, the other started, looked at him, and became frightfully pale,
- although the open and joyful countenance of Paul, indicated that he was
- far from being the bearer of bad news.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well!” said Paul to him, “I have seen her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who?” demanded the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite, by heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is charming.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not ask you that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She loves you still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed the young man, throwing himself into Paul’s
- arms, and bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
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- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- O good old man; how well in thee appears
- The constant service of the antique world
- When service sweat for duty, not for need!
-
- Thou art not for the fashion of these times
- Where none will sweat but for promotion;
- And having that, do choice their service up
- Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Although our readers must readily comprehend, after that which we have
- just related to them, all that had passed in the six months during which
- we had lost sight of our heroes, some details are, however, necessary, in
- order that they should fully understand the new events about to be
- accomplished.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the evening after the combat between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake,
- and which, notwithstanding our ignorance in naval matters, we have
- attempted to describe to our readers, Lusignan had related to Paul the
- history of his whole life. It was a very simple one, and contained but few
- incidents. Love had formed the principal event in it, and after having
- been its only joy, it had become its greatest grief. The adventurous and
- independent life of Paul, his station, which had placed him beyond the
- trammels of society, his caprice which was superior to all laws, his habit
- of supreme command on board his own ship, had inspired him with too just a
- sense of natural rights to obey the order he had received with regard to
- Lusignan. Moreover, although he had anchored under the French flag, Paul,
- as we have seen, belonged to the navy of America, whose cause he had
- enthusiastically espoused. He continued, therefore, his cruise along the
- shores of England; but finding there was nothing to be done on the sea he
- landed at Whitehaven, a small port in Cumberland, at the head of twenty
- men, among whom was Lusignan, took the fort, spiked the guns, and put to
- sea again, after having burnt the merchant vessels in the roads. Thence he
- sailed for the coast of Scotland, with the intention of carrying off the
- Earl of Selkirk and taking him as a hostage to the United States; but this
- project had miscarried from an unforeseen circumstance, that nobleman
- having unexpectedly gone to London. In this enterprise, as in the other,
- Lusignan had seconded him with the courage we have seen him exhibit in the
- battle between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake; so that Paul
- congratulated himself more than ever upon the chance which had enabled him
- to oppose an injustice. But it was not enough that he had saved Lusignan
- from transportation, it was necessary to restore his honor, and to our
- young adventurer, in whom our readers will doubtless have recognised the
- celebrated privateersman, Paul Jones, it was a more easy matter than to
- any other person; for having letters of marque from Louis XVI., against
- the English, he had to repair to Versailles to give an account of his
- cruize.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul determined upon running into Lorient, and for the second time cast
- anchor there, that he might be within a short distance of the Chateau
- d’Auray. The first answer which the young men received to their enquiries
- regarding that family, was that Marguerite d’Auray was about to be married
- to M. do Lectoure. Lusignan thought himself’ forgotten, and in the first
- paroxysm of his despair, insisted, even at the risk of falling into the
- hands of his former persecutors, on once more seeing Marguerite, if it
- were only to reproach her for infidelity; but Paul, more calm and less
- credulous, made him pledge his word that he would not land until he had
- heard from him; then, being assured that the marriage would not take place
- in less than fifteen days, he set out for Paris, and was received by the
- king, who presented him with a sword, the hilt of which was of gold, and
- decorated him with the order of military merit. Paul had availed himself
- of the kindness of the king towards him to relate to him Lusignan’s
- adventures, and had obtained not only his pardon, but also as a reward for
- his late services, the appointment of Governor of Guadaloupe. All these
- cares had not prevented him from keeping sight of Emanuel. Being informed
- of the count’s intended departure, he left Paris, and having written to
- Lusignan, appointing a place of meeting, he arrived at Auray an hour after
- the young count.
- </p>
- <p>
- After their joyful meeting, Paul and Lusignan remained together until
- nearly twilight. Then Paul, who, as he had told Emanuel, had a personal
- revelation to receive, left his friend and again took the road to Auray.
- But this time he was on foot, and did not enter the castle, but going
- along the park wall, he directed his steps toward an iron gate which
- opened into a wood belonging to the domains of Auray.
- </p>
- <p>
- About an hour before Paul left the fisherman’s hut, where he had found
- Lusignan, a person had preceded him on the road toward the cottage at
- which he was to ask the revelation of the secret of his birth; that person
- was the Marchioness d’Auray, the haughty heiress of the name of Sable. She
- was attired in her usual mourning garments with the addition of a long
- black veil, which enveloped her from head to foot. Moreover, the
- habitation which our young adventurer, with the hesitation of ignorance,
- was seeking for, was to her familiar. It was a sort of keeper’s house,
- situated at a few paces from the entrance to the park, and inhabited by an
- old man, in whose behalf the Marchioness d’Auray had for twenty years
- fulfilled one of those acts of sedulous benevolence which had gained for
- her in that part of Lower Brittany, the reputation of rigid holiness which
- she enjoyed. These attentions to age were given, it is true, with the same
- gloomy and solemn face which we have observed in her, and which the tender
- emotions of pity never softened; but they were nevertheless afforded, and
- all knew it, with careful punctuality.
- </p>
- <p>
- The face of the Marchioness d’Auray was even more grave than it was wont
- to be, while she crossed the park to repair to the dwelling of a man who
- was said to be an old servant of the family. The door was standing open as
- if to allow the last rays of the setting sun to penetrate into the house,
- so sweet and balmy to old people in the month of May. The house was
- however empty. The Marchioness d’Auray entered it, looked around her, and
- then as if certain that the person she was in search of would not be long
- absent, she resolved to await his return. She sat down. She had remained
- there about half an hour, motionless and absorbed in her reflections, when
- she saw, between her and the declining daylight, a shadow cast before the
- door. She slowly raised her eyes and recognised the person she had been
- expecting. They both started as though they had met by chance, and were
- not in the habit of seeing each other every day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is you, Achard,” said the marchioness, who was the first to speak. “I
- have been waiting for you half an hour. Where can you have been?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had your ladyship walked fifty paces farther, you would have found me
- under the large oak, on the edge of the forest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know I never walk that way,” said the marchioness, with a visible
- shudder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are wrong, madam; there is one in heaven who has a right to our
- joint prayers, and who, perhaps, is astonished to hear only those of old
- Achard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how know you that I do not also pray?” said the marchioness, with a
- certain degree of feverish agitation. “Do you believe that the dead
- require we should be constantly kneeling on their tombs?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the old man, with a feeling of profound sorrow; “no, I do
- not believe that the dead are so exacting, madam; but I believe if any
- part of us lives under ground, it would thrill at the noise caused by the
- steps of those whom we have loved during our life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, in a low and hollow tone, “if that love were
- a guilty passion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “However guilty it may have been, madam,” replied the old man, also
- lowering his voice, “do you not believe that blood and tears have
- expatiated it? God was then, believe me, too severe a judge, not to have
- now become an indulgent father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, God has perhaps pardoned it,” murmured the marchioness, “but did the
- world know that which God knows, would it pardon as God has done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The world!” exclaimed the old man; “the world! Yes, there is the great
- word which has again escaped your lips! The world! It is to it, to that
- phantom you have sacrificed everything, madam; your feelings as a lover,
- your feelings as a wife, your feelings as a mother! your own happiness,
- the happiness of others! The world! It is the fear of the world which has
- clothed you in perpetual mourning, beneath which you hope to conceal
- remorse! And in that you are right, for you have succeeded in deceiving
- it, for it has taken your remorse for virtue!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness raised her head with some degree of agitation, and putting
- aside her veil that she might look upon the person who addressed her in
- such extraordinary language; then, after a momentary silence, not being
- able to discover any sinister expression in the calm features of the old
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak to me,” she said to him, “with a bitterness which would lead me
- to believe you have some personal reason for reproaching me. Have I failed
- in any promise I have made? The persons who attend on you by my orders,
- are they wanting in that respect which I have desired them to observe? You
- know, if this should be the case, you have only to say a word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forgive me, madam, it is in sorrow that I speak, not bitterness; it is
- the effect of solitude and of age. You must well know what it is to have
- sorrows that you cannot speak of—tears which we dare not shed, and
- which fall back, drop by drop, upon the heart! No, I have not to complain
- of any one, madam, since first, from a feeling for which I am truly
- grateful, without seeking to know whence it emanated, you have been
- pleased to see personally that my wants were all supplied, and you have
- not for a single day forgotten your promise, but like the old prophet, I
- have sometimes seen an angel come as your messenger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied the marchioness, “I know that Marguerite often accompanies
- the servant who is charged to wait upon you; and I have seen with pleasure
- the attentions she has paid you, and the friendship she feels for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But in my turn, I have not failed either, I trust, in the promises I
- made. For twenty years I have lived far from the habitations of men, I
- have kept away every living being from this dwelling; so much did I fear
- on your account, the delirium of my waking hours, or the indiscretion of
- my dreams.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly! undoubtedly! and happily the secret has been well
- preserved,” said the marchioness, placing her hand upon Achard’s arm; “but
- this is a stronger incentive in my mind not to lose in a single day the
- fruit of twenty years, all more gloomy, more isolated, and more terrible
- than yours have been.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I understand you perfectly; and you have shuddered more than once
- upon suddenly remembering that there is roaming about the world, a man who
- may one day call upon me to reveal that secret, and that I have not the
- right to conceal it from that man. Ah! you tremble at the bare idea, do
- you not? But, tranquilise yourself; that man, when but a boy, fled from
- the school at which we had placed him in Scotland, and for ten years past
- nothing has been heard of him. In short, destined to obscurity, he himself
- rushed forward to meet his fate. He is now lost amid the millions that
- crowd this populous world, and not a soul knows where to find him; this
- poor unit, without a name, is lost for ever. He must have lost his
- father’s letter, have mislaid the token by which I was to recognise him;
- or, better still, perhaps he exists no longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is cruel of you, Achard,” replied the marchioness, “to utter such
- words to a mother. You cannot appreciate the strange feelings and singular
- contradictions contained in the heart of woman. For, in fine, can I not be
- tranquil unless my child be dead! Consider, my old friend; this secret, of
- which he has been ignorant five and twenty years, has it become at the age
- of twenty-five, so necessary to his existence that he cannot live, unless
- it be revealed to him? Believe me, Achard, for himself even it would be
- better he should still remain ignorant of it, as he has been to this day.
- I feel assured that to this day he has been happy—old man, do not
- mar this happiness—do not inspire his mind with thoughts which may
- induce him to commit an evil action. No—tell him, in lieu of the
- dreadful tale you were desired to communicate, that his mother has gone to
- rejoin his father in heaven; and, would to God that it were so! but that
- when dying (for I must see him whatever you may say to the contrary, I
- will even if it be but once, press him to my heart), when dying, as I
- said, his mother had bequeathed him to her friend the Marchioness d’Auray,
- in whom he will find a second mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand you, madam,” said Achard, smiling. “It is not the first time
- you have pointed out this path, in which you wish to lead me astray. Only
- to-day, you speak more openly, and if you dared to do so, or if you knew
- me less, you would offer me some reward to induce me to disobey the last
- injunctions of him who sleeps by us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness made a gesture as if about to interrupt him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, madam,” hastily said the old man, stretching forth his
- hand, “and let my words be considered by you as holy and irrevocable. As
- faithful as I have been to the promise which I made to the Marchioness
- d’Auray, so faithful will I be to that I made to the Count de Morlaix, on
- the day when his son, or your son, shall present himself before me with
- the token of recognition, and shall demand to know the secret. I shall
- reveal it to him, madam. As to the papers which attest it, you are aware
- that they are to be delivered to him only after the death of the Marquis
- d’Auray. The secret is here,” said the old man, placing his hand upon his
- heart; “no human power could have extracted it before the time; no human
- power, that time having arrived, can prevent me from revealing it. The
- papers are there in that closet, the key of which I always have about me,
- and it is only by robbery or by assassination that I can be deprived of
- them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, half rising and supporting herself on the arm
- of her chair, “you might die before my husband, old man; for although he
- is more dangerously ill than you are, you are older than he is, and then
- what would become of those papers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The priest who shall attend my last moments will receive them under the
- seal of confession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! it is that!” cried the marchioness, rising, “and thus this chain of
- fears will be prolonged until my death! and the last link of it will be to
- all eternity rivetted to my tomb. There is in this world a man, the only
- one perhaps, who is as immoveable as a rock; and God has placed him in my
- path, not only as a remorse,’ but as a vengeance also. My secret is in
- your hands, old man,—tis well!—do with it as you will!—you
- are the master, and I am your slave—farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- So saying, the marchioness left the cottage, and returned towards the
- chateau.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- More than ten years have passed since I beheld him,
- The noble boy; now time annuls my oath
- And cancels all his wrongs.
- I took a solemn oath to veil the secret,
- Conceal thy rights, while lived her lord,
- And thus allow’d thy youth to quit my roof.
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain.
-</pre>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the old man, gazing after the marchioness as she withdrew,
- “yes, I know you have a heart of adamant, madam, insensible to every sort
- of fear, with the exception of that which God has placed within your
- breast to supply the place of remorse. But that suffices; and it is dearly
- buying that reputation you have obtained for virtue, to pay the price of
- such eternal terrors. It is true that the virtue of the Marchioness
- d’Auray is so firmly established, that if truth herself were to rise from
- the earth or to descend from heaven to arraign her, she would be treated
- as a calumniator. But God orders all things according to His will, and
- what He does ordain, His wisdom has long before matured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rightly reasoned,” cried a youthful and sonorous voice, replying to the
- religious axiom which the resignation of the old man had led him to utter.
- “Upon my word, good father, you speak like Ecclesiastes.” Achard turned
- round and perceived Paul, who had arrived just as the marchioness left
- him, but who was so absorbed by the scene we have just described, that she
- had not observed the young captain. The latter, seeing the old man alone,
- approached him, and not hearing the last words he had uttered, had spoken
- with his usual good humor. Achard, who was surprised by his unexpected
- appearance, looked at him as if he wished him to repeat that which he had
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say,” resumed Paul, “that there is more grandeur in resignation that
- humbly bows itself, than in philosophy that doubts. That is a maxim of our
- quakers, which, for my eternal welfare, I wish I had less often on my
- tongue, and more frequently in my heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, sir,” said the old man on seeing our adventurer, who
- was fixedly gazing at him, while standing with one foot on the threshold
- of his door. “May I know who you are?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For the moment,” replied Paul, giving, as usual, free course to his
- poetical and heedless gaiety, “I am a child of the republic of Plato,
- having all human kind for brothers, the world for a country, and
- possessing upon this earth only the station I have worked out for myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what are you in search of?” continued the old man, smiling in spite
- of himself at the air of jovial good-nature which was spread over the
- features of the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am seeking,” replied Paul, “at three leagues distance from Lorient, at
- five hundred paces from resembles this one, and in which I am to find an
- old man, whom it is very likely is yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is the name of this old man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Louis Achard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is my name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then may the blessing of heaven descend on your white hairs,” said Paul,
- in a voice which at once changing its tone, assumed that of deep feeling
- and respect; “for here is a letter which I believe was written by my
- father, in which he says that you are an honest man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does not that letter enclose something?” cried d’Auray, and advancing a
- step nearer to the young captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It does,” replied the latter, opening the letter and taking out of it one
- half of a Venetian sequin, which had been broken in two; “it seems to be
- part of a gold coin, of which I have one half, and you ought to be in
- possession of the other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Achard mechanically held out his hand, while gazing with intense interest
- at the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said the old man, and eyes gradually became more and more
- suffused with tears: “yes, this is the true token, and more than that, the
- extraordinary resemblance,” and opening his arms, he cried, “child!—oh!
- my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?” cried Paul, extending his arms to support the old man, who
- was quite overcome by his emotions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! can you not comprehend?” replied the latter, “can you not comprehend
- that you are the living portrait of your father, and that I loved your
- father—loved him so much that I would have shed my blood, have given
- my life to serve him, as I would now for you, young man, were you to
- demand it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Embrace me, then, my old friend,” said Paul, throwing his arms around the
- old man, “for the chain of feeling, believe me, is not broken, which
- extended from the tomb of the father to the cradle of the son. Whatever my
- father may have been, if in order to resemble him it be only necessary to
- have a conscience without reproach, undaunted courage, and a memory which
- never forgets a benefit conferred, although it may sometimes forget an
- injury; if this be so, then am I, as you have said, my father’s living
- portrait, and more so in soul than in form.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he possessed all these,” replied the old man, with solemnity, and
- clasping Paul to his breast, looking at him with affectionate though
- tearful tenderness—“Yes, he had the same commanding voice, the same
- flashing eyes, the same nobleness of heart. But why was it that I have not
- seen you sooner, young man? I have, during my life, passed many gloomy
- hours, which your presence would have brightened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—because this letter told me to seek you out only when I should
- have attained the age of twenty-five, and because it is not long since I
- attained that age, not more than an hour ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man bowed down his head with a pensive air, and remained silent
- for some time, seemingly absorbed by recollections of the past.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be so?” at length ne said, raising his head, “can it be
- twenty-five years ago. Good heaven! it appears to me only yesterday that
- you were born in this house, that you first saw the light in that very
- room:” and the old man raised his head, and pointed to a door which led
- into another room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul, in his turn, appeared to reflect, and then, looking around him, to
- strengthen by the aid of objects which presented themselves to his view,
- the recollections which crowded on his memory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In this cottage, in that room,” he repeated, “and I lived here till I was
- five years old, did I not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” murmured the old man, as if fearful to disturb the feelings which
- were taking possession of the young man’s mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” continued Paul, leaning his head on both his hands, as if to
- concentrate his thoughts, “allow me for one moment to look back, in my
- turn, to the past, for I am recollecting a room which I had thought I had
- seen in a dream—it may be that one. Listen to me! Oh! how strange it
- is—remembrances now rush upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak, my child, speak!” said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It it be that room, there ought to be on the right, as you go in, at the
- end of the room, a bed with green hangings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A crucifix at the head of the bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A closet opposite, in which were books, among the rest a large Bible,
- with numerous engravings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There it is,” said the old man, pointing to the sacred book which was
- lying open on a desk for prayer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! it is that—it is that,” cried Paul, pressing his lips against
- the leaves.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! good and pious heart,” cried the old man, “I thank thee, oh! my God—I
- thank thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” said Paul, rising, “in that room there is a window, from which you
- can discern the sea, and on the sea, three islands?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Houat, Hoedic, and Belle-Ileen-mer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, it is really so,” said Paul, rushing towards the room, and then
- perceiving that the old man was about to follow him, he said: “No, no! I
- must be alone—let me enter it alone—I feel that I must be
- alone,” and he went into the room, closing the door after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then paused a moment, impressed with that holy respect which
- accompanies the remembrance of our infancy. The room was as he had
- described it, for the religious devotedness of the old servant had
- preserved it from any change. Paul, feeling doubtless that the eye of a
- stranger would have interrupted the expression of the feelings he
- experienced, and now certain of being alone, abandoned himself to them He
- slowly advanced, and with clasped hands, towards the ivory crucifix; and
- falling on his knees, which formerly he had the habit of doing, morning
- and evening, he endeavoured to remember one of those simple prayers, in
- which a child, still on the threshold of this life, prays to God for those
- who have opened its gates to him. “What events had succeeded each other in
- the lapse of time which had passed between these genuflexions! Paul
- remained for a considerable time absorbed in thought, and then slowly
- arose, and went to the window. The night was beautiful and calm, the moon
- was shining in the heavens, and tipped the ocean waves with silver. The
- three islands appeared on the horizon, like blue vapor floating on the
- ocean. He remembered how often in his infancy he had leaned against that
- window, gazing upon that same scene, following with his eyes some bark,
- with its snowy sails, which glided silently over the sea, like the wing of
- a night bird. Then his heart swelled with sweet and tender recollection;
- his head fell upon his chest, and silent tears ran down his cheeks. At
- that moment he felt that some one pressed his hands—it was the old
- man—he wished to conceal his emotions; but instantly repenting this
- vain feeling, he turned toward Achard, and frankly let him see his face,
- down which the tears were streaming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You weep, my child,” said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I weep,” replied Paul; “and why should I conceal it? Yea, look at
- me. And yet I have, during my life, witnessed dreadful scenes. I have seen
- the tempest bear my vessel to the summit of a mountain wave, and then sink
- her into an abyss, from which I thought she would never rise again; and I
- felt that she weighed no more upon the wings of the storm than does a
- dried leaf on the evening breeze. I have seen men fall around me like the
- ripe ears of corn before the sickle of the reaper. I have heard the cries
- of distress, and the dying groans of those whose meal I had shared but the
- day before. In order to receive their last sigh, I have walked amid a
- shower of bullets, and grape-shot, upon a plank slippery with blood. And
- yet, amid all this, my soul was calm—my eyes remained unmoistened.
- But this room, see you; this room, of which I had retained so holy a
- remembrance; this room, in which I had received the first caresses of a
- father whom I shall never see again, and the last kisses of a mother who
- perhaps desires no more to see me; this room is sacred as a cradle and as
- a tomb. I cannot thus revisit it without giving vent to my emotions; I
- must weep, or I shall suffocate.” The old man clasped him in his arms.
- Paul leaned his head upon his shoulder, and during some time nothing was
- heard but his sobs. At length the old servant rejoined:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are right; this room is at once a cradle and a tomb; it was
- there that you were born;” he pointed to one corner with his hand; “and it
- was there that you received the last blessing of your father,” continued
- he, pointing to the opposite side of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is then dead?” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must tell me how he died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell you all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Defer it for a moment,” added Paul, as he reached a chair and seated
- himself, “for I am now too weak to listen to you. Let me recover myself.”
- He placed his elbow on the window-sill, leaned his head upon his hand, and
- once more cast his eyes upon the sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a magnificent spectacle is the ocean when the moon shines upon it as
- brightly as it does now,” continued he, with that accent of soft
- melancholy which was habitual to him. “It is as calm as God himself, and
- vast as eternity. I do not believe that a man accustomed to study such a
- scene can be afraid of death. My father met death bravely, did he not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Assuredly!” proudly replied Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It could not be otherwise,” continued Paul, “for I remember my father,
- although I was only four years old when I last saw him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a handsome young man, as you yourself are,” said Achard, looking
- sorrowfully at Paul, “and just as old as you are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What was his name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Count de Moraix.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I also am of an old and noble family. I also have arms and an
- escutcheon as well as those young and insolent nobles who ask me for my
- parchments when I show them my wounds?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, young man, wait; do not allow pride to carry you thus away, for I
- have not yet told you the name of her who gave you being, and you are
- still ignorant of the dreadful secret of your birth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well: be it so. I shall not with the less respect and veneration hear the
- name of my mother. What was my mother’s name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Marchioness d’Auray,” slowly replied the old man, as if regretting
- that he was compelled to mention her name.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it that you tell me!” cried Paul, starting from his chair, and
- seizing the hands of the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The truth!” replied Achard, sorrowfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then Emanuel is my brother—Marguerite is my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you then already know them?” exclaimed the old servant, much
- astounded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you were right, old man,” said Paul, throwing himself into his chair.
- “God orders all things according to His will, and what He does ordain, His
- wisdom has long before matured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They both remained silent for a time, when at length Paul raised his head,
- and resolutely fixing his eyes on the old man’s face, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, I am ready to hear all you have to communicate—you may go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- I shall a tale unfold
- Will harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
- Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres;
- Thy knotted and combined locks to part.
- And each particular hair to stand on end,
- Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The old man seemed to be summoning up his recollections for a time, and
- then began:
- </p>
- <p>
- “They were affianced to each other. I know not what mortal hatred it was
- that arose between the families and separated them. The Count de Morlaix,
- broken hearted, could not remain in France. He sailed for Saint Domingo,
- where his father possessed a large estate; I accompanied him, for the
- Count de Morlaix reposed much confidence in me. I was the son of her who
- had nursed him; I had received the same education as himself; he used to
- call me his brother, and I alone remembered the distance which nature had
- placed between us. The Marquis de Morlaix confided to me the charge of
- watching over his son, for I loved him with all the love of a father. We
- remained two years under a tropical sun; during that two years, your
- father, lost amid the solitude of that magnificent island, a traveller
- without an object and without an aim, an ardent and indefatigable
- sportsman, endeavouring to cure the griefs of the mind, by the fatigues of
- the body; but so far from succeeding, one would have thought that his
- heart became still more inflamed under that ardent sun. At length, after
- two years of trial and incessant struggles, his love conquered. He must
- either see her again or die. I yielded and we set sail for France. Never
- was a voyage more beautiful, or more prosperous. The sea and sky seemed to
- smile upon us; so favourable were they that it would have induced one to
- believe in lucky omens. Six weeks after our departure from Port au Prince,
- we landed at Havre. Mademoiselle de Sablé was married. The Marquis d’Auray
- was at Versailles, fulfilling at the court of Louis XV. the duties of his
- charge, and his wife, who was too much indisposed to follow him, was at
- the old chateau d’Auray, the turrets of which you see from this place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said Paul, “I know it; pray go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to myself,” rejoined the old map, “during our voyage, one of my
- uncles, an old servant of the house of Auray, had died, and left me this
- small house, with a small quantity of land surrounding it. I took
- possession of it. Your father had left me at Vannes, telling me he was
- going to Paris, and for the whole of the first year that I inherited this
- house I did not see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One night,—it is exactly twenty-five years ago,—some one
- knocked at my door; I went to open it and found your father there,
- carrying in his arms a woman whose face was veiled. He brought her into
- this room, and laid her on that bed. And then returning to me in the
- adjoining room, where I was waiting mute and motionless with astonishment,
- he placed his hand upon my shoulder, and looking at me in a supplicating
- manner, although he had the right to command me, said, ‘Louis, you can do
- more than save my life and honor—you can save the life and honor of
- her I love—get on horseback, gallop to the next town, and return
- here in an hour with a doctor.’ He spoke to me in that short and hasty
- tone, which indicated that there was not a moment to be lost. I
- immediately obeyed. The day was beginning to break when we returned. The
- doctor was introduced by the Count de Morlaix into this room, the door of
- which was immediately closed: he remained there during the whole day;
- towards five in the afternoon, the doctor left the house, and at nightfall
- your father also left the house carrying in his arms the mysterious veiled
- lady whom he had brought the previous night. When they had gone, I came
- into this room and found you here—you had just been born.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how did you learn that this woman was the Marchioness d’Auray?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” exclaimed the old man, in a way which was as terrible as it was
- unexpected; “I had offered the Count de Morlaix to keep you here, and he
- accepted my proposal: from time to time he would come to spend an hour
- with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alone?” demanded Paul, with much anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, always; but as he had given me permission to walk with you in the
- park, it would sometimes happen that at the corner of one of the avenues I
- would meet the marchioness, whom chance appeared to have conducted in that
- direction. She would make you a sign to come to her, and she would kiss
- you as people kiss a strange child, because he is handsome. Four years
- passed on in this way, and then one night some one again knocked at this
- door, and it was again your father. He was more calm, but had, perhaps, a
- more gloomy look than on the first occasion. ‘Louis,’ said he, ‘to-morrow,
- at the break of day, I have to meet the Marquis d’Auray. It is a duel in
- which one of us must fall, and you are to be the only witness of it. The
- terms are agreed upon. You must, therefore, give me shelter for this
- night, and let me have materials for writing.’ He sat down at this table,
- on the very chair you are now seated.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul sprang up, but supported himself on the back of the chair, without
- again sitting down upon it. “He sat up all night. At day-break he came
- into my room and found me up—I had not gone to bed. As to you poor
- child, unconscious of the passions and miseries of this life, you were
- quietly sleeping.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,—pray go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your father bent slowly over you, supporting himself by the wall, and
- looking sorrowfully upon you: ‘Louis,’ said he to me, in a hollow voice,
- ‘should I be killed, and which may happen, wo to this child! You will
- deliver him with this letter to Field, my valet de chambre, whom I have
- charged to conduct him to Selkirk, in Scotland, there to leave him in sure
- hands. When he is twenty-five years old, he will bring you the other half
- of this gold coin, and will ask you to reveal to him the secret of his
- birth. You will communicate it; for then, perhaps, his mother will be
- alone and isolated. As to these papers which prove his birth, you will not
- deliver them to him, until after the death of the Marquis d’Auray. Now I
- have said all that is necessary, let us go, for it is the appointed hour.
- He then leaned over your bed, bent down toward you, and although he was a
- man of fortitude, as I have told you, I saw a tear fall upon your cheek.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed,” said Paul, in a voice choked by emotion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The rendezvous was in one of the avenues of the park, about a hundred
- paces from this house. When we reached the place, we found the marquis
- there, he had been waiting for us some minutes. Near him upon a bank were
- pistols ready loaded. The adversaries bowed to each other without
- exchanging a word. The marquis pointed to the weapons—they each took
- one, and then, according to the terms which had been agreed upon, as your
- father had told me, they placed themselves, mute and gloomily, at the
- distance of thirty paces, and then began to walk towards each other. Oh!
- it was a moment ef agony for me, I can assure you,” rejoined the old man,
- almost as much moved as if the scene were then actually passing before
- him, “when I saw the distance gradually diminishing between these two men.
- When they were only about ten paces, the marquis stopped and fired. I
- looked at your father; not a muscle of his face was moved, so that I
- thought him safe and unhurt. He continued to walk on till he came close to
- the marquis, and then placing the muzzle of the pistol to his heart—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He did not kill him, I trust,” cried Paul seizing the old man’s arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He said to him, Your life is in my hands, sir, and I might take it, but I
- wish you to live, that you may pardon me, as I do you. And uttering these
- words, he fell dead at the feet of the marquis, whose ball had passed
- through his chest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father! my father!” cried Paul, wringing his hands. “And the man
- who killed my father—he still lives, does he not? He is still young,
- and has strength enough to wield a sword or raise a pistol? We will go to
- him—to-day—instantly! You will tell him, that it is his son!
- that he must fight with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God has avenged your father,” replied Achard—“that man is mad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is true—I had forgotten that,” murmured Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in his madness that bloody scene is ever before his eyes, and he
- repeats ten times a day the dying words your father addressed to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that must be the reason why the marchioness will not leave him for a
- single moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that is also the reason, under the pretext that he will not see his
- children, that she keeps Emanuel and Marguerite from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor sister,” said Paul, with an accent of undefinable tenderness;
- “and now she wishes to sacrifice her by forcing her to marry that wretch
- Lectoure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but that wretch Lectoure will take Marguerite with him to Paris, and
- give a regiment of dragoons to her brother, so that the marchioness will
- no longer have cause to dread the presence of her children. Her secret,
- therefore, remains henceforward in the breasts of two old men, who
- to-morrow, this night even, may die. The grave is silent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, I—I!”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “You! Does she know that you still exist! Has anything been heard of you
- since you escaped from Selkirk? Could not some accident have prevented you
- from coming to the appointment, which fortunately you have done safely? It
- is certain that she has not forgotten you, but she hopes”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! can you believe that my mother”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, that is true. I do not believe it!” cried Achard, “I
- was wrong; forget what I have said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, let us speak of you, my friend; let us speak of my father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it necessary that I should tell you that his last wishes were
- fulfilled. Field came to fetch you during the day, and took you away with
- him. Twenty-one years have passed since then, and since then not a single
- day has passed without my putting up a prayer that I might see you at the
- appointed time. My prayers have been granted,” continued the old man; “and
- thanks be to God, you are here. Your father lives again in you—I
- once more see him—I am speaking to him. I weep no longer, I am now
- consoled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he died thus, instantly, without a struggle, without a sigh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—I brought him here. I placed him on the bed in which you were
- born—I closed the door that no one might enter the house, and I went
- alone and dug his grave. I passed the whole day in this painful duty; for,
- according to the request of your father, to no one was to be confided this
- dreadful secret. In the evening I returned for the body. The heart of man
- is singularly constituted, and hope which God has planted in it can with
- difficulty be eradicated. I had seen him fall—I had felt his hands
- grow cold—I had kissed his ice-like face—I had left him, to
- hollow out his grave, and that grave being made, that duty being
- accomplished, I returned with a beating heart, for it appeared to me,
- although a miracle would be required for such a change, that during my
- absence life had returned to him, and that he would rise from his bed and
- speak to me. I entered the house—alas! alas! the days of miracles
- had passed away. Lazarus remained lying on his couch—dead! dead!
- dead!” and the old man remained for some time overwhelmed with grief,
- silent and voiceless, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” cried Paul, also bursting into tears; “yes, and you then
- fulfilled your holy mission. Good old man, let me kiss those hands which
- deposited my father in his last home. And you have remained faithful to
- his tomb as you had been to him during life. Poor guardian of the
- sepulchre; you have remained near him that your tears might water the
- grass which grew about the unknown grave. Oh! how little are those who
- think themselves great because their name resounds amid the tempest, and
- the cry of war, louder than the storm or the din of battle, in comparison
- with you, old man, whose devotedness has been mute and noiseless. Oh! give
- me your blessings lay those hallowed hands upon my head, since my father
- is not here to bless me,” continued Paul, throwing himself on his knees
- before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rise to my arms—let me clasp you to my heart, my child, for you
- exaggerate these actions, in themselves so simple and so natural. And
- then, believe me, that which you term my piety has not been a useless
- lesson to me. I have seen how little space a man occupies beneath the
- ground, and how soon he is lost amid the world, should God turn his face
- from him. Your father was young, full of courage, with a brilliant career
- opening before him. Your father was the last descendant of an ancient
- line; he bore a noble name. His path seemed marked with honors and
- distinction; he had a family and powerful friends. Well, he suddenly
- disappeared, as if the earth had opened beneath his feet. I know not if
- some tearful eyes sought for him till they lost all trace of him; but this
- I know, that for one-and-twenty years no one has sought out his tomb—no
- one knows that he lies beneath that spot, where the grass is greener and
- grows more luxuriantly than elsewhere—and yet, vain, glorious, and
- miserable as he is, man considers himself of some value.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! and my mother, has she not visited his grave?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man did not answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! there will be two of us who henceforward will know the spot,
- where he reposes. Come, and show it to me; for I will return to it, I
- promise solemnly, every time my ship returns to the coast of France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying this, he drew Achard into the outer room, but as they opened the
- door they heard a slight noise in the park. It was a servant from the
- castle, who had accompanied Marguerite. Paul hurriedly returned into the
- bedroom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is my sister,” said he to Achard; “leave me alone with her a moment.
- It is necessary that I should speak to her. I have something to
- communicate which will make her pass a happy night. We must have
- compassion for those who watch and weep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reflect,” said Achard, “that the secret I have revealed to you is your
- mother’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fear not—I will speak to her but of that which concerns herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment Marguerite entered the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- This ring I gave him when he parted from me
- To bind him to remember my good will;
- The more shame for him that he sends it to me.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Marguerite had come, as she frequently did, to bring some provisions for
- the old man, and it was not without astonishment that she perceived in the
- outer room, where she usually found Achard, a young and handsome man, who
- looked at her with gladdened eyes, and with a kindly smile. She made a
- sign to the servant to put down the basket in a corner of the room; he
- obeyed, and then went out to wait for his mistress in the park. When he
- had withdrawn, she advanced towards Paul, saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, sir, but I expected to find my old friend, Achard,
- here, and I came, to bring him something from my mother”—
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul pointed to the inner room, to let her know that the person she was
- seeking was within, for he could not reply to her; he felt that the tone
- of his voice would betray the emotions he experienced. The young girl
- thanked him, with a bow, and went into the room to find Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul followed her with his eyes—his hand pressed upon his heart.
- That virgin soul into which love had never penetrated, now expanded with
- fraternal tenderness. Isolated as he had always been, having no friends
- but the rude children of the ocean, all that was soft or tender in his
- heart, he had turned towards God, and although in the eyes of rigid
- Christians, his religion might not have appeared as strictly orthodox, it
- is no less true, that the poetry which overflowed in every word he uttered
- was nothing more than one vast and eternal prayer. It was not, therefore,
- astonishing, that this first feeling which penetrated his heart, although
- purely fraternal, was as extravagant and transporting as the emotions of
- love.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” murmured he, “poor isolated being that I am! How shall I be able to
- restrain my feelings when she returns, and prevent myself from clasping
- her to my heart and saying to her: Marguerite! my sister, no woman has yet
- felt love for me; love me then with sisterly affection. Oh! mother!
- mother! by depriving me of your caresses, you have also deprived me of
- those of this dear angel. May God restore to you in eternity that
- happiness which you have driven from yourself and others.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell!” said Marguerite to the old man, opening the door, “farewell! I
- wished this evening to come myself, for I know not when I may see you
- again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And she went toward the outer door, pensive, and with her eyes cast down,
- without seeing Paul, without remembering that a stranger was in that room.
- Paul remained gazing at her with outstretched arms as if to prevent her
- leaving the house, with palpitating heart and moistened eyes. At length,
- when he saw her placing her hand upon the door-latch, he cried aloud—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned round amazed, but not being able to comprehend this strange
- familiarity, in one who was totally unknown to her, she half-opened the
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” reiterated Paul, advancing a step towards his sister,
- “Marguerite, do you not hear me call you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true that my name is Marguerite, sir,” she replied, with dignity;
- “but I could not imagine that word was addressed to me by a person whom I
- have the honor of knowing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I know you!” exclaimed Paul, going nearer to her, and then closing
- the door he brought her back into the room. “I know that you are unhappy,
- that you have not one friendly heart into which you can pour your sorrows,
- not one arm from which you can ask support.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You forget the one which is on high,” replied Marguerite, raising her
- eyes and hand toward heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Marguerite, I do not forget, for it is He who sends me to offer
- you that which you most need; to tell you when all lips and all hearts are
- closed toward you, ‘I am your friend, devotedly, eternally.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir!” replied Marguerite, “these are sacred and solemn words which
- you have uttered; words, unfortunately, to which it would be difficult for
- me to give credence without proofs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And should I give you one?” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Irrefragable!” continued Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then!” exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which
- doubt began to give place to hope—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! and then”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then—but no, no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know this ring?” said Paul, showing her the one with the key that
- opened the bracelet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed Marguerite, “have mercy upon me! he is dead!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He lives.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he no longer loves me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He loves you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he be living—if he still love me—oh! I shall go mad—what
- was it I was saying? If he be living—if he still love me, how comes
- it that this ring is in your possession?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He confided it to me as a token of recognition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And have I confided this bracelet to any one?” cried Marguerite, pushing
- back the sleeve of her gown—“Look!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but you, Marguerite, you are not proscribed—dishonored, in the
- eyes of the whole world—thrown amongst a condemned race!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what importance is that. Is he not innocent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then, he thought,” continued Paul, wishing to discover the extent of
- the devotedness and love of his sister, “he thought that delicacy
- required, banished as he is for ever from society, that he should offer
- you, if not restore to you, the liberty of disposing of your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When a woman has done for a man that which I have done for him,” replied
- Marguerite, “her only excuse is to love him eternally, and it is that I
- mean to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you are an angel!” exclaimed Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me!” rejoined Marguerite, seizing the young man’s hands, and looking
- at him with a supplicating air—
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you seen him, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am his friend, his brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak to me of him, then?” she exclaimed, giving herself up entirely to
- the recollection of her lover, and forgetting that it was the first time
- she had seen the person to whom she was addressing questions of so
- delicate a nature. “What is he doing? what hope has he? Poor, unhappy
- man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He loves you—and he hopes again to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, then,” stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,—“he
- has told you——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a sudden
- tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual
- paleness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a miracle of devotedness!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do not then despise me, sir?” said Marguerite, Venturing to raise her
- eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” cried Paul, “had I a sister I would pray to heaven that she
- might resemble you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister,” she replied,
- leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps,” said Paul, smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know not, then——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been informed of that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that, too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can I
- apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? My
- brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my
- feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman
- whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will
- inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe that
- others can forget it, and when she has once said, ‘It is my will,’ all
- that remains to do is to bow down one’s head, to weep, and to obey. My
- father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from which he
- has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My father! for
- any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove a resource: but
- you know not that he is insane—that he has lost his reason, and with
- it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, it is ten years since
- I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not pressed his trembling
- hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows not that he has still a
- daughter! he knows not even whether he has a heart, and will not be able
- even to recognize me. And were he but to know me, and took compassion on
- me, my mother would place a pen in his hand and would say, ‘Sign that, it
- is my will!’ and he would sign it—the poor feeble old man! and his
- daughter would be condemned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be
- pacified, that contract never will be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And who can prevent it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who will present you there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the means.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while
- striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother’s person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite.
- Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I believe you, sir, and I implicitly confide in you,” said
- Marguerite, as if overwhelmed by the contending feelings of confidence and
- mistrust which she had till then labored under. “For what advantage could
- you derive from endeavoring to deceive me? What interest could you have to
- betray me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None, undoubtedly; but let us talk of other matters. What line of conduct
- do you intend to pursue with regard to the Baron de Lectoure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell him all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Paul, bowing profoundly, “allow me to adore you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” murmured Marguerite, “sir!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As a sister! as a sister!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are indeed kind and good,” cried Marguerite, “and I believe it
- is God who sent you to my aid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe it,” replied Paul. “Then—to-morrow evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not be astonished, nor alarmed at anything that may occur, only
- contrive to let me know by letter, by a word, a sign, the result of your
- interview with Lectoure!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will endeavor to do so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is now late, and your servant may be surprised at the length of this
- interview. Return to the castle, and say not a word of me to any one.
- Farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell,” reiterated Marguerite; “you to whom I know not what name to
- give.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Call me your brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell, then, brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, my sister! my sister!” cried Paul, clasping her convulsively in his
- arms, “your lips are the first from which I have heard so sweet a word.
- God will reward you for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young girl drew back amazed; and then returning to Paul, she held out
- her hand to him. Paul again pressed it, and Marguerite left the cottage.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man then went to the door of the inner room, and opened it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, good old man,” said he, “conduct me to my father’s grave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hamlet.—Dost thou know this water-fly?
- Horatio.—No, my good lord.
- Hamlet.—Thy state is the more gracious; for ‘tis a vice to know him.
- SHAKESPEARE.
-
- Here on my knees by heaven’s blest nower I swear,
- If you persist, I ne’er henceforth will see you;
- But rather wander through the world a beggar,
- And live on sordid scraps at poor men’s doors.
- For, though to fortune lost, I’ll still inherit
- My mother’s virtues and my father’s honor.—Otway.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The day following that on which Paul had been made acquainted with the
- secret of his birth, the inhabitants of the castle of Auray awoke more
- than ever absorbed in the fears and hopes which their several interests
- had created, for that day must necessarily prove a decisive one to the
- whole of them. The marchioness, whom our readers have ere this discovered,
- was neither perverse or wicked, but a haughty and inflexible woman, saw in
- it the termination of those heart-rending apprehensions, which for so many
- years, had been her daily companions; for it was above all, in the eyes of
- her children, that she wished to preserve that unsullied reputation, the
- usurpation of which had been purchased at such cost. To her, Lectoure was
- not only a fitting son-in-law, being the bearer of a name as noble as her
- own, but more than this, a man, or rather a good genius, who at the same
- moment would bear away not only her daughter, whom he would take with him
- as his wife, but her son also, to whom the minister, thanks to this
- alliance, had promised to give a regiment. Both her children gone, her
- first-born might come, and the secret revealed to him, would find no echo.
- Moreover, there were a thousand methods by which to close his lips. The
- fortune of the marchioness was immense, and gold was one of those
- resources, which, in such a case, she deemed infallible. The more terrible
- her fears, the more ardently did she desire this union; so that she not
- only encouraged the anxiety of Lectoure, but she also excited that of
- Emanuel. As to the latter, tired of living unknown at Paris, or immured in
- Brittany, lost in the crowd of brilliant young men who formed the
- household of the King, or shut up in the antique castle of his ancestors,
- having their portraits as his sole companions, he knocked with impatient
- eagerness at the golden door which his intended brother-in-law was to open
- for him, at Versailles. The grief and tears of his sister had, certainly,
- for a time afflicted him; for he was ambitious, more from a dread of the
- <i>ennui</i>, which would consume him if compelled to live on his estate,
- and from the desire of parading at the head of his regiment, captivating
- the hearts of all the ladies by the richness and good taste of his
- uniform, than from either pride or hardness of heart. Being himself
- incapable of forming any serious attachment, and despite the fatal
- consequences of his sister’s love, he considered that love, merely as a
- childish fancy, which the tumult and pleasure of the world would soon
- efface from her memory, and he really believed that before a year had
- elapsed, she would be the first to thank him for having thus done violence
- to her feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to Marguerite, poor victim, so irrevocably condemned to be immolated to
- the fear of the one, and to the ambition of the other, the scene of the
- preceding day had made a profound impression on her mind. She could not at
- all account to herself for the extraordinary feelings which the young man
- who had transmitted to her the words of Lusignan, had awakened in her
- heart; who had tranquillized her as to the fate of the unhappy exile, and
- had concluded by pressing her to his heart, and calling her his sister. A
- vague and instinctive hope whispered to her heart, that this man, as he
- had told her, had received from heaven the mission to protect her. But as
- she was ignorant of the tie which bound him to her, of the secret which
- made him master of his mother’s will, of the influence he might exercise
- over her future life, she did not dare allow herself to dream of
- happiness, habituated as she had been for six months, to consider death as
- the only term to her misfortunes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis, alone, amid the various emotions which agitated all around
- him, had remained coldly and impassibly indifferent; for to him the world
- had ceased to move since the dreadful day on which reason had abandoned
- him; continually absorbed by one fixed idea, that of his mortal combat,
- without seconds. The only words he ever uttered, were those pronounced by
- the Count de Morlaix, when he forgave him his death. He was an old man,
- weak as an infant, and whom his wife could overawe by a gesture, and who
- received from her cold and continuous will, every impulsion, which, for
- twenty years, the vegetating instinct had received, and which, on him, had
- usurped the place of reason and free will. On this day, however, a great
- change had taken place in his monotonous mode of life. A valet de chambre
- had entered his apartment, and had succeeded to the marchioness in the
- cares of his toilette; he had dressed him in his uniform of steward of the
- household, had decorated his breast with the several orders that had been
- conferred upon him; and then the marchioness, placing a pen in his hand,
- had ordered him to try to sign his name, and he had obeyed, passively and
- negligently, without imagining that he was studying the part of an
- executioner.
- </p>
- <p>
- About three in the afternoon, a postchaise, the sound of whose wheels had
- very differently impressed the hearts of the three persons who were
- expecting it, entered the court-yard of the castle. Emanuel had eagerly
- run down to the vestibule to receive his future brother-in-law, for it was
- he who had arrived. Lectoure sprang lightly from his carriage. He had
- halted for some time at the last post-house, to attire himself in a
- presentable costume, so that he arrived in an elegant court dress of the
- latest fashion. Emanuel smiled at this evidence of his anxiety, for it was
- clearly to be perceived, that Lectoure was determined not to lose the
- advantage of a first favorable impression, by presenting himself in a
- dusty travelling dress. His intercourse with the fair sex had taught him,
- that they almost invariably judge from the first glance, and the effect
- which it produces upon their minds or hearts, let it be favorable or
- unfavorable, is with difficulty removed. Moreover, it is but rendering
- justice to the baron to acknowledge that his person was graceful and
- elegant, and might have been dangerous to any woman whose heart was not
- already occupied by another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Permit me, my dear baron,” said Emanuel, advancing toward him, “in the
- momentary absence of the ladies, to do the honors of the mansion of my
- ancestors. See,” continued he, when they had reached the top of the stone
- steps leading into the hall, and pointing to the turrets and the bastions,
- “these date from the time of Philip Augustus, as to architecture, and from
- Henry IV., in point of ornament.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Upon my honor,” replied the baron, in the affected tone which the young
- men of that day had adopted, “it is a most charming fortress, and throws
- around it, to a distance of at least three leagues, a baronial odour,
- which would perfume even an army contractor. If ever,” continued he, as
- they passed through the hall and entered a gallery ornamented on each side
- with long lines of family portraits, “I should take a fancy to enter into
- a rebellion against his most Christian Majesty, I shall entreat you to
- lend me this jewel of a place; and,” added he, casting his eyes on the
- long rows of ancestors which offered themselves to his view, “the garrison
- with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thirty-three quarters—I will not say in flesh and blood,” replied
- Emanuel, “for they are long since turned to dust—but in painting, as
- you see. They begin with a certain Chevalier Hugues d’Auray, who
- accompanied King Louis VII. to the crusades; that one, it is pretended, is
- my aunt Deborah, whom you see decked out as Judith; and all this
- eventually ends in the male line, in the last member of this illustrious
- family, your very humble and very obedient servant, Emanuel d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is perfectly respectable, and nothing can be more authentic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; but as I do not feel that I have, as yet, become sufficiently a
- patriarch,” rejoined Emanuel, passing before the baron to show him the way
- to the apartment which had been prepared for him, “to spend my days in
- such formidable society, I hope, baron, that you have thought of the means
- by which I can withdraw from it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly, my dear count,” said Lectoure, following him. “I wished even
- to have been myself the bearer of your commission, as my wedding gift to
- you. I knew of a vacancy in the queen’s dragoon’s, and called yesterday on
- M. de Maurepas to solicit it for you, when I heard that it had been
- granted, at the request of I know not what mysterious admiral, a sort of
- corsair, pirate, or fantastic being, whom the queen has made the fashion
- by giving him her hand to kiss, and whom the king has taken a great
- affection to because he beat the English, I know not where—so that
- his majesty has conferred upon him the order of military merit, and
- presented him a sword with a gold hilt, just as he would have done to one
- of the nobility. In short, the game is lost on that side, but do not be
- alarmed, we will turn round to another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” replied Emanuel, “I care not what regiment it may be in; what
- I desire is, that it should be a rank suitable to my name, and a position
- which would be becoming to our wealth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Precisely—you shall have them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how,” said Emanuel, wishing to change the subject of conversation,
- “how did you manage to get rid of the thousand engagements you must have
- had on your hands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” said the baron, with that perfectly free and easy air, which
- belonged only to that distinguished class, and stretching himself upon a
- couch, for they had at length reached the apartment destined for him,
- “why, by frankly stating the fact to them. I announced at the queen’s card
- table, I was going to be married.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! good heaven! Why, this was perfect heroism! Above all, if you
- acknowledged you were about to seek a wife in the depths of Lower
- Brittany.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did acknowledge it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” said Emanuel, smiling, “compassion stifled every angry
- feeling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gad! you will readily comprehend, my dear count,” said Lectoure, putting
- one knee over the other and, balancing his leg with a motion as regular as
- that of a pendulum, “our women of the court believe that the sun rises at
- Paris, and sets at Versailles—all the rest of France, is, in their
- idea, a Lapland, Greenland, Nova Zembla! So that they expect, as you have
- hinted, my dear count, to see me bring back with me from my voyage to the
- pole some large hands, and formidable feet! Fortunately, they are
- mistaken,” he added, with an accent half timorous, half interrogatory; “is
- it not so, Emanuel? for you told me that your sister”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will see her,” replied Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be a dreadful disappointment to that poor Madame de Chaulne—it
- cannot be helped—and she must console herself. What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- This question was induced by the entrance of Emanuel’s valet-de-chambre;
- who had half opened the door, and remained upon the threshold, waiting, as
- was then the custom of all servants in great houses, till his master
- should address him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it? repeated Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’ Auray requests that Monsieur, the Baron de
- Lectoure, will honor her with a private interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me!” said Lectoure, rising from the sofa, “certainly, with the greatest
- pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But no! it is a mistake!” exclaimed Emanuel; “you must be mistaken,
- Celestin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the honor to assure your lordship,” replied the valet de chambre,
- “that I have correctly and faithfully executed the order which was given
- to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” said Emanuel, uneasy to the highest degree, at the step his
- sister had ventured to take: “Baron, if you will be advised by me, you
- will send the little simpleton about her business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means! by no means,” replied Lectoure. “What does this bluebeard of
- a brother mean? Celestin! Did you not call this lad, Celestin?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel impatiently bowed his head in the affirmative. “Well then,
- Celestin, tell my lovely betrothed that I throw myself at her knees, at
- her feet, and that I await her orders either to go to her or to receive
- her here;—and there, take this for the charges of your embassy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw him his purse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you, count,” rejoined Lectoure, “I trust that you have confidence
- enough in me, to permit this <i> tête-à-tête?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is so perfectly absurd!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all,” replied Lectoure; “on the contrary, it is perfectly
- befitting. I am not a crowned head, that I should marry a woman upon her
- portrait, and by proxy. I wish to see her in person. Come, Emanuel,” he
- continued, pushing his friend toward a side door, that he might not meet
- his sister—“Come, now, tell me frankly—in confidence, between
- ourselves—is there any—deformity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, no, by heaven!” replied the young count, “no—on the contrary,
- she is as lovely as an angel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then!” said the baron, “what does all this opposition mean? Come,
- now, begone, or must I call my guards?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; but on my word, I am afraid that this little simpleton, who has not
- the slightest notion of the world, is coming to destroy all that has been
- arranged between us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! if that is all you fear,” replied Lectoure, opening the door, “you
- may be perfectly at ease. I like the brother too well not to look over
- some caprice—some extraordinary fantasies in the sister—and I
- pledge you my word as a gentleman, unless the devil should play us some
- strange trick, (whom, I trust, is at this moment fully occupied in some
- other corner of the world!) that Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, shall be
- Madame the Baroness de Lectoure, and that in a month you shall have your
- regiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This promise appeared in some degree to pacify Emanuel, who allowed
- himself to be pushed out of the door without making further difficulty.
- Lectoure immediately ran to a looking-glass to repair the slight traces of
- disorder, which the jolting over the three last leagues had occasioned in
- his dress. He had scarcely given to his, hair and garments the most
- becoming turn and folds, when the door again opened, and Celestin
- announced—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The baron turned round, and perceived his betrothed standing pale and
- trembling on the threshold of the door. Although the promises of Emanuel
- had inspired him with some degree of hope, a certain residue of doubt had
- still remained on his mind, if not as to the beauty, at all events, with
- regard to the deportment of the lady who was about to become his wife. His
- surprise was therefore unbounded, when he saw that delicate and graceful
- creature standing before him, and whom the most fastidious critic of
- female elegance could only have reproached with being in a slight degree
- too pallid. Marriages, such as the one about to be contracted by Lectoure,
- were by no means rare in an age in which questions as to rank and
- suitableness of fortune in general, decided alliances between noble
- houses; but that which was scarcely found once in a thousand times, was,
- that a man in the baron’s position should meet, immured in a distant
- province, a lady possessed of an immense fortune, and whom, at the first
- glance, he could discern, was worthy, by her demeanor, her elegance, and
- her beauty, to shine in the most brilliant circles of the court. He,
- therefore, advanced toward her, no longer with the feeling of superiority
- as a courtier, addressing a country girl, but with all the respectful ease
- which distinguished good society at that time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon me, mademoiselle,” said he, offering her his hand to conduct her
- to an arm chair, but which she did not accept; “it was to me to solicit
- the favor you have bestowed upon me; and believe me, it was the
- apprehension of being considered indiscreet, which alone has occasioned
- the apparent neglect of allowing myself to be forestalled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I truly appreciate this delicacy, sir,” replied Marguerite, in a
- trembling voice, and retreating one step, she remained standing. “It
- strengthens me still more in the confidence which, without having seen
- you, without knowing you, I had placed in your honor and good faith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whatever aim this confidence may have had, I am honored by it,
- mademoiselle, and I will endeavor to render myself worthy of it. But, good
- heaven, what can so affect you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing, sir, nothing,” replied Marguerite, endeavoring to overcome her
- emotion; “but it is—it is—that I have to tell you that—but—really—I
- am not sufficiently mistress of myself to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She staggered, and appeared as if about to fall; the baron sprang toward
- her to offer his support, but he had scarcely touched her when a flush of
- crimson suffused the cheeks of the young girl, and with a feeling, which
- might be attributed as well to modesty as to repugnance, she disengaged
- herself from his arms. Lectoure had taken her hand, and conducted her to a
- chair, against which she leaned, but would not seat herself in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good God!” exclaimed the baron, still retaining her hand, “it must then
- be something very difficult to utter, that has brought you hither! Or,
- without my at all suspecting it, has my being affianced to you already
- conferred upon me the imposing air of a husband?” Marguerite made another
- effort to withdraw her hand from the baron, and which induced the latter
- to observe it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How!” said he, “not satisfied with having the most adorable of faces, the
- elegant figure of a fairy, but you must have such lovely hands!—hands
- perfectly royal in their shape—why, ‘tis enough to make me expire at
- once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust M. le Baron,” rejoined Marguerite, and making a last effort, she
- withdrew her hand from his grasp, “that the words with which you are now
- addressing me, are merely words of gallantry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, by my soul! they are the sincere truth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, I hope, should it be, which I much doubt, that you really
- think that which you have been pleased to say—I trust, I say, that
- such motives will not lead you to attach a higher value to the union which
- has been projected?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They will, indeed, and that I swear to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet,” continued Marguerite, gasping for breath, so much was her heart
- oppressed, “and yet, sir, you consider marriage as a solemn matter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is as it may happen,” smilingly replied Lectoure; “for example, if I
- were about to marry an old dowager.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In short,” rejoined Marguerite, in a more determined tone, “I beg your
- pardon, sir, if I have been mistaken; I thought, perhaps, that with regard
- to the alliance proposed between us, you had formed some idea of
- reciprocity of feeling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never!” cried Lectoure, interrupting her, for he appeared as eager to
- avoid the frank explanation, which Marguerite desired, as she seemed to
- provoke it. “Never! and above all, since I have seen you, I could not hope
- to be worthy of your love. And yet my name, my position in society,
- notwithstanding I should fail to influence your heart, may yet give me a
- title to your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how, sir,” said Marguerite, timidly, “how can you separate the one
- from the other?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As do three-fourths of the people who get married, mademoiselle,” replied
- Lectoure, with a carelessness which would have at once deterred the
- confidence of a woman less candid than Marguerite. “A man marries in order
- to have a wife, the wife to have a husband; it is a social compact, an
- arrangement of convenience. What can love have to do in a matter of this
- nature?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your pardon, sir; perhaps I have not clearly expressed my meaning,”
- continued Marguerite, making an effort to control her feelings, and to
- conceal from the man upon whom her future fate depended, the impression
- his words had produced upon her mind. “But you must attribute my
- hesitation, sir, to the timidity of a young girl, compelled by imperious
- circumstances to speak on such a subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all, mademoiselle,” replied Lectoure, bowing and giving to his
- voice a tone which nearly approached raillery; “on the contrary, you speak
- like <i>Clarissa Harlowe</i>, and all you say is as clear as daylight. God
- has endowed me with a mind sufficiently quick-sighted perfectly to
- comprehend things which are but hinted at.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How, sir!” cried Marguerite, “you comprehend what I had the intention of
- saying, and you allow me to continue? How would it be if on looking deeply
- into my heart and interrogating all its feelings, I found it impossible to
- love—to love the person who had been presented to me as my future
- husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” replied Lectoure, in the same sarcastic tone in which he had before
- spoken, “in my opinion the best course to pursue would be not to tell him
- of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why not, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because—but—but—because it would really be too simple.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if that avowal were made, not from simplicity but from delicacy? If I
- added, and may the shame of such an avowal fall back on those who compel
- me to make it—if I added sir, that I have loved, that I still love?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! some little romance, is it not so?” said Lectoure, carelessly,
- crossing his leg and playing with the frill of his shirt; “upon my honor,
- the race of little cousins is an accursed race. But fortunately we know
- what these ephemeral attachments are; and there is not a school-girl, who,
- after the holidays, does not return to her convent but with a passion in
- her little heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Unfortunately for me,” replied Marguerite, with, a voice as sorrowful and
- grave as that of the baron was sarcastic and light, “unfortunately, I am
- no longer a school-girl, sir; and although still young, I have long ago
- passed the age of childish games and infantine attachments. When I speak
- to the man who does me the honor to solicit my hand and to offer me his
- name, of my love for another, he ought to understand that I am speaking of
- a serious, profound, and eternal love; of one of those passions, in fine,
- which leave their traces in the heart, and imprint them there for ever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The devil!” exclaimed Lectoure, as if beginning to attach some importance
- to Marguerite’s confession; “why, this is perfectly pastoral. But let us
- see! is it a young man whom one can receive at one’s house?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir,” cried Marguerite, catching at the hope which these words seemed
- to inspire: “oh! believe me, he is the most estimable being, the most
- devoted soul——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I am not asking you to tell me this—I was not speaking of the
- qualities of his heart—he has all these, of course, that’s perfectly
- understood. I ask you whether he is noble? if he is of good race? in
- short, whether a woman of quality could acknowledge him, and that without
- degrading her husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His father, whom he lost when very young, and who was my father’s friend
- from infancy, was a counsellor at the Court of Rennes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobility of the bar!” exclaimed Lectoure, dropping his nether lip with a
- contemptuous shrug; “I would rather it were otherwise—is he a knight
- of Malta, at least?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was educated for a military life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then, we must get a regiment for him, to give him rank and standing
- in society. Well, that’s all arranged, and it is well. Now, listen to me:
- he will absent himself for six months, merely for decency’s sake, will
- obtain leave of absence, no difficult matter now, as we are not at war—he
- will get himself presented to you for form’s sake, by some mutual friend,
- and then all will go on rightly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not understand you, sir,” replied Marguerite, looking at the baron
- with an expression of profound astonishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I have said to you is, notwithstanding, perfectly pellucid,”
- rejoined the latter, with some show of impatience; “you have engagements
- on your side—I have on mine—but that is no reason for
- preventing an union which is perfectly suitable in every respect; and once
- accomplished, why, I think, we are bound to render it as bearable as we
- can. Do you comprehend me now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! pardon me, sir, pardon me,” cried Marguerite, starting back, as
- though these words had outraged her; “I have been very imprudent, very
- culpable perhaps; but whatever I may have been, I did not dream I could
- have merited so gross an insult. Oh! sir, the blush of shame is now
- scorching my cheek, but more for you than for myself. Yes, I understand
- you—an apparent love and a concealed one; the face of vice and the
- mask of virtue; and it is to me—to me, the daughter of the Marquis
- d’Auray, that so shameful, so humiliating, so infamous a bargain is
- proposed. Oh!” continued she, falling into an arm-chair, and hiding her
- face with both her hands, “I must then be a most unfortunate, most
- contemptible lost creature! Oh! my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Emanuel! Emanuel!” cried the baron, opening the door, at which he rightly
- suspected Marguerite’s brother had remained; “come in, my dear friend;
- your sister is attacked with spasms; these things ought to be attended to,
- or they may become chronic; Madame do Moulan died of them. Here, take my
- scent bottle, and let her smell at it. As to myself, I am going down into
- the park. If you have nothing else to do, you can rejoin me there, and
- bring me, if you please, news of your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, the Baron de Lectoure left the room with miraculous
- calmness, leaving Marguerite and Emanuel together.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me,
- It shall not anger me—I tell thee Claudius,
- Thou art enshrined in a holy circle
- My foot can never pass—nor taunt, nor insult
- Can e’er induce this hand to rise against thee.
- Therefore be satisfied—
- Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee.
- —Old Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron de
- Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so diametrically
- opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl, on that day at
- four o’clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the castle. Emanuel
- did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could not leave her
- husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to come down stairs.
- The other guests were the notary, the relations of the family, and the
- witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding the imperturbable
- gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his joyous humor, so
- stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun his own feelings.
- From time to time, indeed, his boisterous liveliness failed all at once,
- like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly extinguished, and then it suddenly
- burst forth again, as doth the flame when it devours its last aliment. At
- seven o’clock they rose from table, and went into the drawing-room. It
- would be difficult to form an idea of the strange aspect which the old
- castle then presented; the vast apartments of which were hung with damask
- draperies, with gothic designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times
- of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the
- presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance
- of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the feeble
- and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to illuminate
- the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the arches of a
- cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to be joined during
- the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the neighbourhood,
- increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the emblazoned columns of
- the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons, the same one in which
- Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from Paris, had received Captain
- Paul, was placed a table prepared with much solemnity, on which was laid a
- closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a stranger ignorant of all that
- was preparing, might as well have enclosed a death warrant as a marriage
- contract. In the midst of these grave aspects and gloomy impressions, from
- time to time a shrill mocking laugh would reach the ears of a group of
- persons whispering to each other. It proceeded from Lectoure, who was
- amusing himself at the expense of some good country gentlemen, without any
- respect for the feelings of Emanuel, upon whom a portion of his raillery
- necessarily recoiled. He would, however, every now and then cast an
- anxious glance around the room, and then a gloomy cloud would pervade his
- features, for he saw not either his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or
- Marguerite enter the room. As we have already stated, that neither of them
- had been present at the dinner table, and his interview with the latter
- had not, however careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some
- uneasiness with regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take
- place during the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and
- he had just determined to go up to his sister’s apartment, when in passing
- through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw
- near.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count,” said he to
- him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country
- gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of
- perfect intimacy; “here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very
- curious things, upon my word! But do you know,” continued he, turning to
- the narrator, “this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also have
- marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to Paris, to
- tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild ducks in this
- way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An immense quantity,” replied the gentleman, and with the accent of
- perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of
- detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?” inquired Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only imagine, my dear friend,” replied Lectoure, with the most complete
- sang froid, “that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,—At
- what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the month of December and January.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying,
- then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool
- over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so
- completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and
- allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As near as I am to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! really?” exclaimed Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I kill them by dozens,” said he, proudly, being enchanted by the
- attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his
- exploits.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of
- ducks,” said Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She adores them,” said M. de Nozay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a
- person,” said Lectoure, bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly baron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear to you,” said Lectoure, “that instantly on my return to Paris, I
- will speak of this sport in the king’s dressing-room, and I am persuaded
- that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his large ponds
- of Versailles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, dear marquis,” said Emanuel, taking Lectoure’s arm,
- and whispering in his ear, “this is one of our country neighbors, whom we
- could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It requires no apology, my dear friend,” said Lectoure, using the same
- precaution not to be heard by the party in question: “you would have been
- decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He is an
- appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been greatly
- chagrined not to have made his acquaintance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur de la Jarry,” said a servant, opening the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sporting companion?” said Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied M. de Nozay; “he is a traveller.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the
- newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had
- hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room,
- muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! my dear La Jarry,” cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and holding
- out his hand to him, “but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, you look
- like the Czar Peter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is,” replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no means
- cold, “because, when one arrives from Naples—perrrrrou!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples,” said Lectoure, joining in the
- conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Direct, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then,”
- continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to the
- volcano, “Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen at
- Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when the wind is
- in the wrong quarter,—and besides Madame La Jarry was dreadfully
- alarmed at the idea of an eruption.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But of course you visited the <i>Grotto del Cane?</i>” continued
- Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To what purpose?” rejoined La Jarry; “to see an animal that has vapors—give
- a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as much. And then,
- Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it would have given her
- pain to witness so cruel an exhibition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself,” said Emanuel,
- bowing, “did not neglect the Solfatara.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who, I—I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine
- what three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which
- is a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the
- odour of sulphur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think of our new friend?” said Emanuel, leading Lectoure into
- the room in which the contract was to be signed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly
- prefer Nozay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, “Monsieur Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh!” exclaimed Emanuel, turning round.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is this?” inquired Lectoure, listlessly, “another country neighbour?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; this is quite another sort of person,” replied Emanuel, with
- agitation. “How does this man dare to present himself here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah! a plebeian—eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I
- suppose. No—a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you,
- Emanuel, that they are beginning to receive this sort of people—that
- accursed philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my
- dear fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it—we have
- come to that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches
- the corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises—they
- converse together on court matters—they jest, they joke, they
- squabble, it is <i>bon ton</i> though decidedly bad taste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, Lectoure,” replied Emanuel; “he is neither poet,
- painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead
- off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours by
- the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting and
- travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely closed
- upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into the room
- he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door—the one led
- to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up on his
- first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between Marguerite and
- Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained there for a moment,
- looking attentively at the two doors, as though he had expected to see one
- of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In a few moments, that of the
- library was opened, and he perceived a white form standing within it; he
- rushed towards it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it you, Marguerite?” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied a trembling voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told him all?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suspected as much—he is a miserable wretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s to be done?” cried the young girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take courage, Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage—oh! it now fails me entirely.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is that which will restore it,” said Paul, handing her a letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this letter contain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name of
- the woman in whose house he has been concealed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son! oh! you are my guardian angel,” cried Marguerite, endeavoring to
- kiss the hand which held the paper to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! someone is coming—whatever may happen, you will find one
- at Achards.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had
- heard: the sound of her brother’s footsteps. Paul turned round, and went
- to meet him, which he did, near the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company,” said
- Emanuel, who was the first to speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears to me that we are alone at this moment,” said Paul, glancing
- around the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an instant
- this room will be full.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But many things may be said in an instant, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more
- than an instant to comprehend them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am listening,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You spoke to me of letters,” rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him, and
- lowering his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true,” said Paul, with the same calmness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You fixed a price upon those letters?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is also true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum
- enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them
- up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, yes,” replied Paul, “the case stood thus, as long as I believed
- your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault she had
- committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was seconding
- your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a sufficiently
- bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without a name and
- without a family, not to allow him to enter it without a fortune also, and
- I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in exchange for the letters
- in my possession. But now the state of things is altered, sir. I saw your
- sister throw herself upon her knees before you, I heard her entreat you
- not to force her into this infamous marriage, and neither prayers, nor
- tears, nor supplications could make any impression on your heart. It is
- now for me, for me who hold your honor, and the honor of your family
- within my hands, it is for me to save the mother from despair, as I would
- have saved the child from penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be
- delivered to you, when you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the
- marriage contract of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of
- Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray with Anatole de Lusignan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, sir, never!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know not any,” coldly replied Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count,” replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under the
- circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, “count, listen to
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you return me those letters, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, or no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” said Paul, calmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or
- rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together,
- and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful
- from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I regret I cannot accept the offer, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side
- that sword, and you refuse a duel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against
- you, count—believe me, I entreat you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot fight with me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot, upon my honor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot fight with me, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At this moment a person who had entered the room without being perceived,
- burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul and Emanuel
- turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, “I can fight with him, for he is a
- miserable and infamous wretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A burning blush passed over Lectoure’s features, like the reflection of a
- flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is well, sir,” said he; “send your second to Emanuel and they can
- arrange this matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred,” said
- Emanuel, to Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence!” replied Paul, “they are announcing your mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure,” added Emanuel, “let
- us go to receive my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he entered
- the small room in which he had before been concealed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Listen to me and heed me!
- If this contract
- Thou holdst me to, abide thou the result!
- Answer to heaven for what I suffer! act!
- Prepare thyself for such calamity
- To fall on me, and those whose evil
- Have linked them with me, as no past mishap,
- However rare and marvellously Sad,
- Can parallel.
-
- Knowles—The Hunchback.
-</pre>
- <p>
- At the moment that Paul went into the study, the marchioness appeared at
- the door of the drawing-room, followed by the notary, and the several
- persons who had been invited to be present at the signing of the contract.
- Notwithstanding the nature of the meeting, the marchioness had not
- considered it proper to lay aside, even for one evening, her mourning
- garments, and dressed in complete black, as she had been always during
- twenty years, she came into the room a few moments before the marquis.
- None of the persons present, not even his son, had seen the marquis for
- many years. Such attention was in those days paid to ancient forms, that
- the marchioness would not allow the marriage contract of her daughter to
- be signed, without the head of the family, although deprived of reason,
- being present; at the ceremony. However little accustomed Lectoure was to
- feel intimidated, the marchioness produced upon him the effect which she
- did on every one that approached her, and on seeing her enter the room
- with so grave and dignified an aspect, he bowed to her with a feeling of
- profound respect.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am grateful to you, gentlemen,” said the marchioness, bowing to the
- persons who accompanied her, “for the honor you have been pleased to
- confer upon me, by being present at the betrothal of Mademoiselle
- Marguerite d’Auray, with the Baron de Lectoure. I, in consequence, was
- desirous that the marquis, although suffering from illness, should also be
- present at this meeting, to thank you at least by his presence, if he
- cannot do so verbally. You are all aware of his unfortunate malady, and
- you will, therefore, not be astonished, should some disjointed words—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, madam,” said Lectoure, interrupting her, “we know the misfortune
- which has befallen him, and we admire the devoted wife, who for twenty
- years has borne half the weight of this sad visitation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see, madam,” said Emanuel, addressing in his turn, and kissing the
- hand of his mother, “all the world bows down in admiration of your
- conjugal piety.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is Marguerite?” murmured the marchioness, in a hair whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was here not a moment ago,” said Emanuel. “Let her know that we are
- all assembled,” rejoined the marchioness, in the same tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- A servant then announced “the Marquis d’Auray.” All present drew to one
- side, so as to leave free passage from the door, and all eyes were
- directed to the spot at which this new personage was to appear. It was not
- long before their curiosity was satisfied; the marquis came in almost
- immediately, supported by two servants.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was an old man, whose countenance, notwithstanding that the traces of
- suffering had deeply furrowed it, still retained that noble and dignified
- appearance which had rendered him one of the most distinguished men of the
- court of Louis XV. His large, hollow, and feverish eyes, glanced around
- the assembly with a strange expression of astonishment. He was dressed in
- his costume of Steward of the Household, wore the order of the Holy Ghost
- suspended from his neck, and that of St. Louis, at his button hole. He
- advanced slowly, and without uttering a word. The two servants led him
- forward amid the most profound silence, to an arm-chair, in which he
- seated himself, and the servants left the room. The marchioness then
- placed herself at his right hand. The notary opened the portfolio, drew
- from it the marriage contract and read it aloud. The marquis and the
- marchioness made over the sum of five hundred thousand francs to Lectoure,
- and gave a like sum to Marguerite, as her dowry.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the whole of the time occupied by the reading of the contract, the
- marchioness, notwithstanding her great self command, had betrayed some
- symptoms of uneasiness. But just at the moment when the notary had placed
- the contract open on the table, Emanuel returned and approached his
- mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Marguerite?” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She will be here instantly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” murmured Marguerite, half opening the door, and clasping her
- hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness pretended not to hear her, and pointed with her finger at
- the pen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Baron, it is you who are first to sign.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lectoure immediately approached the table and signed the contract.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” cried Marguerite, in a tone of supplication, and advancing one
- step toward her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pass the pen to your betrothed, Baron,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Baron walked round the table, and drew near to Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” again cried the latter, with an accent so melancholy, that it
- struck to the heart of every person present, and even the marquis himself
- raised his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sign!” said the marchioness, pointing to the marriage contract.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father! my father!” exclaimed Marguerite throwing herself at the
- feet of the marquis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this mean?” said the marchioness, leaning upon the arm of the
- marquis’ chair, and bending over him, “are you mad, mademoiselle?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father! oh! my father!” again cried Marguerite, throwing her arms
- around him, “my father, have pity, save your daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” murmured the marchioness, in a threatening accent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” replied Marguerite, “I cannot address myself to you—permit
- me, then, to implore my father’s pity; unless,” she added, pointing to the
- notary with a firm and determined gesture, “you would prefer my invoking
- the protection of the law.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, come,” said the marchioness, rising, and in a tone of bitter irony,
- “this is a family scene, and which, although highly interesting to near
- relations, must be sufficiently tedious to strangers. Gentlemen, you will
- find refreshments in the adjoining rooms. My son, conduct these gentlemen,
- and do the honors. Baron, I must beg your pardon for a short time.”
- Emanuel and Lectoure bowed in silence and withdrew, followed by all the
- company. The marchioness remained motionless until the last of them had
- withdrawn, and then she closed all the doors leading into the room, when,
- returning to the marquis, whom Marguerite still held clasped in her arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” said she, “that there is no one present excepting those who
- have the right to lay their commands upon you, sign that paper,
- mademoiselle, or leave the room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For pity’s sake, madam, for pity’s sake, do not compel me to commit so
- infamous an act!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you not heard me?” said the marchioness, giving to her voice an
- imperative tone, which she thought impossible to be resisted, “or must I
- repeat my words? ‘Sign, or leave the room.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father!” cried Marguerite, “mercy! mercy! No, it shall not be
- said, that after having been banished from my father’s presence for ten
- years, I was torn from his arms the first time I again beheld him—and
- that, before he had recognized me, before he has embraced me. Oh! father!
- father!—it is I, it is your daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is that voice that is imploring me?” murmured the marquis. “Who is
- this child who calls me father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That voice,” said the marchioness, seizing the arm of her daughter, “is a
- voice that is raised against the rights of nature. That child is a
- rebellious daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father!” cried Marguerite imploringly, “look at me. Oh! my father,
- save me I defend me! I am Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite? Marguerite?” stammered the marquis, “I had formerly a child
- of that name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I! it is I!” rejoined Marguerite: “I am your child—I am your
- daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are no children but those who obey. Obey! and you will then have
- the right to call yourself our daughter,” rejoined the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To you, my father, yes,—to you I am ready to obey. But you do not
- command this sacrifice! you do not wish that I should be unhappy—unhappy
- even to despair—unhappy even to death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come! come!” said the marquis holding her in his turn, and pressing her
- to his heart. “Oh! this is a delicious and unknown feeling to me. And now—wait!
- wait!” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “It seems to me that I
- recollect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” cried the marchioness, “tell her that she ought to obey; that the
- malediction of God awaits rebellious children. Tell her that, rather than
- to encourage her in her impiety!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis slowly raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his
- wife, and then slowly pronounced the following words: “Take care! madam,
- take care. Have I not told you that I begin to remember!” and then again
- bending down his head to that of Marguerite, so that his grey hairs
- mingled with the dark tresses, of his daughter—“Speak—speak!”
- said he, “what is it that disturbs you, my child—tell me all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I am most unhappy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everybody, then, is unhappy here,” exclaimed the marquis, “whether their
- hair be grey or black—an old man or a child.. Oh! and I also—I
- am unhappy—be assured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, go up stairs into your room again: you must,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that I may again be face to face with you; shut up like a prisoner!
- That may be very well, when I am mad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, my father, you are right. My mother has devoted herself to you
- long enough; it is now time that your daughter should perform that duty.
- Take me with you, father. I will not leave you day or night. You will only
- have to make a sign, to utter a word, and I will serve you on my knees.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you would not have the strength to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, my father, I will—as truly as I am your daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness wrung her hands with impatience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you are my daughter, how is it that I have not seen you for ten
- years?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I was told that you would not see me, my father; because they
- told me that you did not love me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were told that I would not see you—not see that angel face!”
- said he, taking her head between his hands, and looking at her with
- intense auction; “they told you that—they told you that a poor
- condemned soul did not wish for heaven! Who was it, then, that told you a
- father would not see his child? Who has dared to say, child, your father
- loves you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I!——” said the marchioness, again endeavoring to take
- Marguerite from her father’s arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You!” exclaimed the marquis, interrupting her: “it was you? To you then,
- has been confided the fatal mission of deceiving me in all my affections.
- All my griefs, then, must find their source in you? You wish, then, now to
- break the father’s heart, as twenty years ago, you did that of the
- husband.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are delirious, sir,” said the marchioness, loosing the arm of her
- daughter; and going to the right of the marquis, she whispered—“be
- silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, madam, no, I am not now delirious,” replied the marquis, “No! no! Say
- rather, say that,—and it will be the truth,—say that I am now
- between an angel who would recall me to reason, and a demon who wishes me
- again to become insane. No! No! I am not mad. Do you wish that I should
- prove it to you?” He rose, supporting himself on the arms of his chair.
- “Must I speak to you of letters, of adultery, of a duel?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say,” said the marchioness, grasping his arm, “I tell you that you are
- more forsaken by heaven than ever, when you utter such things, without
- reflecting as to whose ears are listening. Cast down your eyes, sir—look
- who is standing yonder, and then dare assert that you are not mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right;” said the marquis, falling back in his chair. “Your mother
- is right,” continued he, addressing Marguerite—“I am mad, and you
- must not believe what I say, but what she says. Your mother is
- devotedness, virtue itself, and therefore, she has not sleepless nights,
- nor remorse, nor madness. What does your mother wish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My misery, father; my everlasting misery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how can I prevent this misery?” said the unhappy old man, with a most
- heart-rending anguish; “how can I, a poor, insane old man, prevent it? who
- thinks he always sees the blood issuing from a wound—who thinks he
- constantly hears a voice proceeding from a tomb!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh you can do all; say but one word and I am saved! They wish me to marry—”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis listlessly reclined his head on the back of his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me! they wish to marry me to a man whom I do not love—do
- you understand me?—to a wretch!—and you have been brought here—placed
- in that arm-chair, before the table—you, you my father! to sign this
- infamous contract—this contract which I now hand to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without consulting me,” said the marquis, taking the contract; “without
- asking me whether I will, or I will not! Do they believe me dead? And if
- they think me dead, do they fear me less than they would a spectre? This
- marriage would cause your misery, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My eternal misery!” exclaimed Marguerite. “The marriage, then, shall not
- take place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have pledged your word and mine,” said the marchioness, and with the
- more energy, that she felt her influence over her husband about to escape
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This marriage, I tell you, shall not take place!” replied the marquis, in
- a tone louder than that of his wife. “It is too dreadful a thing,”
- continued he, in a gloomy sepulchral tone, “to be permitted. A marriage in
- which a wife loves not her husband—why, it causes madness! As to
- myself, the marchioness has always loved me, and loved me faithfully—that
- which drove me mad—oh! that was a different matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A flash of diabolical joy shot from the eyes of the marchioness, for she
- at once saw from the violence of the expressions used by her husband, and
- the terror depicted on his features, that his insanity was about to
- return.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This contract,” said the marquis, and he raised it in his hands as if
- about to tear it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness eagerly caught his hand. Marguerite appeared to be hanging
- by a thread between heaven and hell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That which drives me mad!” reiterated the marquis, “is a tomb which
- widely opens, a spectre that issues from the earth, it is a phantom that
- speaks to me, and says—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your life is in my hands!” murmured the marchioness in his ear, repeating
- the last words of the dying Morlaix: “I could take it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you hear that?” cried the marquis, rising, and as if about to rush
- from the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father! oh! my father! recall your senses; there is no tomb, there is
- no spectre, there is no phantom; those words were uttered by the
- marchioness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I wish you to live,” continued the latter, concluding the sentence
- she had begun, “to forgive me as I forgive you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon, Morlaix, pardon!” cried the marquis, falling back in his
- arm-chair, his hair standing on end with terror, and the perspiration
- streaming from his forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! father! father!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see that your father is altogether deranged,” said the marchioness,
- triumphantly; “say no more to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Marguerite, “God will, I trust perform a miracle! My love, my
- caresses, my tears, will restore him to reason.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make the attempt,” replied the marchioness, coldly, abandoning to her
- care the marquis, who was powerless, speechless, and almost without
- consciousness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my poor father!” exclaimed Marguerite, in a tone of agony.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis remained perfectly impassible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” said the marchioness, in an imperative manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh! eh!” cried the marquis, shuddering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Save me! oh! save me, father!” cried Marguerite, wringing her hands, and
- throwing herself back in despair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take this pen and sign,” said the marchioness, “you must—it is my
- will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, I am lost indeed!” cried Marguerite, overwhelmed with terror, and
- feeling that she had no longer strength to continue the struggle.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at the moment that the marquis, overpowered, had written the first
- letters of his name; when the marchioness was congratulating herself on
- the victory she had obtained, and Marguerite was about to leave the room
- in despair, an unexpected incident suddenly changed the scene. The door of
- the study opened, and Paul, who had been anxiously watching, though
- invisibly, the whole of this terrible conflict, issued from it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said he, “one word before this contract is signed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is it calls me!” said the marchioness, endeavoring to distinguish in
- the distance that separated them, the person who had thus spoken, and who
- stood in a dark corner of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that voice!” exclaimed the marquis, shuddering, as if seared by a
- red-hot iron.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul advanced three paces, and the light from the lustre hanging in the
- centre of the room fell full upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it a spectre?” cried the marchioness, in her turn, struck with the
- resemblance of the youth who stood before her to her former lover.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that face!” cried the marquis, believing that he saw the man whom
- he had killed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God! protect me,” stammered Marguerite, raising her eyes and
- hands to heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Morlaix! Morlaix!” said the marquis, rising and advancing toward Paul,
- “Morlaix!—pardon! mercy!” and he fell at full length upon the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father!” cried Marguerite, rushing to his assistance.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment a servant entered the room, with terror in his looks, and
- addressing the marchioness said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, Achard has sent to request that the priest and the doctor of the
- castle, may instantly be ordered to attend him—he is dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell him,” replied the marchioness, pointing to her husband, whom
- Marguerite was vainly endeavoring to restore to consciousness, “that they
- are both obliged to remain here to attend upon the marquis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
- Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
- Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As has been seen by the end of the preceding chapter, God, by one of those
- extraordinary combinations, which short-sighted man almost always
- attributes to chance, had summoned to his presence, and almost at the same
- moment, the souls of the noble Marquis d’Auray, and the poor low-born
- Achard. We have seen that the former, struck by the sight of Paul, the
- living portrait of his father, as if by a thunderbolt, fell at the feet of
- the young man, who was himself terrified at the effect his appearance had
- produced.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to Achard, the circumstances which had hastened his death, although
- differing in their nature, and from very opposite feelings, had arisen
- from the same fatal causes, and had been brought about by the same
- individual. The sight of Paul had created direful emotions in the breasts
- both of the marquis and Achard. On the former from excess of terror, on
- the latter from excess of joy.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the day which had preceded the intended signing of the contract,
- Achard had felt himself more feeble than usual. Notwithstanding this, he
- had not neglected in the evening to crawl to his master’s grave, there to
- put up his accustomed prayer. Thence he had observed with a devotion more
- profound than ever, that ever new and splendid spectacle, the sun sinking
- into the ocean. He had followed the decline of its enpurpled light, and as
- though the vast torch of the world had drawn his soul toward it, he had
- felt his strength extinguished with its last rays; so that when the
- servant from the castle came in the evening at the accustomed hour to
- receive his orders, not finding him in his house, had sought for him
- without the park, and as it was well known that he generally walked in
- that direction, found him lying extended at the foot of the great oak
- tree, upon the grave of his master, and deprived of consciousness. Thus
- did he remain constant to the last in that religious devotedness he had
- vowed to his master’s tomb, and which had been the exclusive feeling of
- the last years of his life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; and
- then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the
- marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a
- physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the servant
- then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, under the
- pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as the old
- servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at the point of
- death, gave her husband the right of first employing.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the
- moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and
- varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we
- have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul.
- Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible
- from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to whisper
- to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would find him at
- Achard’s cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and winding his way
- amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill of a sear man, who
- reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon reached the house, entered
- it panting from his rapid course, and found Achard just as he was
- recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him in his arms. The delight
- of again seeing him renewed the strength of the old man, who now felt
- certain of having a friendly hand to close his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! it is you—it is you!” exclaimed the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not hope to see you again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of the
- state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your
- assistance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I knew not where to find you—where I could send to tell you
- that I wished once more to see you before I died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously
- ill, and I hastened hither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how was it that you were at the castle?” said the old man, with
- amazement.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul related to him all that had occurred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eternal Providence!” cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his
- recital, “how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after
- twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, and
- hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, thus it happens,” replied Paul, “and it is Providence, also,
- who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse to
- send you the physician and the priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “According to common justice,” rejoined Achard, “they might have made a
- fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the
- physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the
- priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can go on horseback,” said Paul, “and in less than an hour—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In an hour it would be too late,” said the dying man, in an enfeebled
- voice, “a priest! a priest only—I ask but for a priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Father,” replied Paul, “in his sacred functions, I know I cannot supply
- his place; but we can speak of God, of his greatness and his goodness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but let us first finish with the things of this earth, that we may
- then be able to turn our thoughts wholly to those of heaven. You say that,
- like myself, the marquis is dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I left him at the last agony.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know, that immediately after his death, the papers which are
- deposited in that closet, and which prove your birth, are yours by right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?” The old man sat
- up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. “You will take
- that key, you will open the closet—in it you will find a casket. You
- are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket until
- the marquis shall be dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear it,” said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the
- crucifix hanging at the head of the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well,” replied Achard; “now I shall die in peace.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the father
- stretches out his towards you from heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since
- his death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, “I was but too exact in
- following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have taken
- place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, Paul;
- it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is the only
- thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been moments of
- doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as an
- assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only been
- a witness, but an accomplice!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my second father,” replied Paul, “I know not whether the laws of
- earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether honor
- as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the Lord; I
- know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits that the
- injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs inflicted
- upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the judgment of
- heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword’s point. These are questions
- not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, then, my
- conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have done
- precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it also
- misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right than a
- priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, I pardon
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks! thanks!” cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; “thanks,
- for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying man. Remorse is
- a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that there exists no
- God. For without a judge there can be no judgment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me,” said Paul, in that poetic and solemn accent, which was
- peculiar to him: “I also have often doubted in the existence of a God:
- isolated and lost in the wide world, without family, and without a single
- friend, I sought for support in the Lord, and I asked of every thing that
- encircled me, some proof of his existence. Often have I arrested my steps
- at the foot of one of these crosses, erected by the road side, and with my
- eyes fixed upon the Saviour, I demanded, and with tears, to be assured of
- his existence, and divine mission; I prayed that his eyes would deign to
- look upon me: that one drop of blood might fall from his wound, or that a
- sigh might issue from his lips. The crucifix remained motionless, and I
- arose, my heart being overcome with despair, saying—‘did I but know
- where I could find my father’s tomb, I would question him as Hamlet did
- the ghost, and he would perhaps answer me!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then would I enter a church,” continued Paul, “one of those churches of
- the north, gloomy, religious, Christian! And I would feel myself borne
- down with sorrow; but sorrow is not faith! I approached the altar; I threw
- myself upon my knees before the tabernacle, in which God dwells; I bowed
- my head till it touched the marble of the steps; and when I had thus
- remained prostrated for hours and lost in doubt, I raised my head, hoping
- that the God I was seeking would at length manifest his presence to me by
- a ray of his glory, or by some dazzling proof of his power. But the church
- remained gloomy, as the cross had remained motionless. And I would then
- rush from its porches with insensate haste, crying, ‘Lord! Lord! didst
- thou exist, thou would reveal thyself to man. It is thy will, then, that
- men should doubt, since thou canst reveal thyself to them, but dost not.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beware of what you are saying, Paul,” cried the old man: “beware that the
- doubt thy heart contains do not attaint mine! Thou hast time left to thee
- to believe, whereas, I—I am about to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, father, wait!” continued Paul, with softened voice, and placid
- features. “I have not told you all. It was then, that I said to myself,
- ‘the crucifix by the road side, the churches of the cities are but the
- work of man. Let us seek God, in God’s own works.’ From that moment, my
- father, began that wandering life, which will remain an eternal mystery,
- known only to the heavens, the ocean, and myself—it led me into the
- solitary wilds of America, for I thought the newer a world was, the more
- freshly would it retain the impress of God’s hand. I did not deceive
- myself. There, often in those virgin forests, into which I was perhaps the
- first who had ever penetrated; with no shelter, but the heavens, no couch,
- but the earth, absorbed by one sole thought, I have listened to the
- thousand noises of a world about to sleep, and nature when awakening. For
- a long time, did I still remain without comprehending that unknown tongue,
- formed by the mingling of the murmur of rivers, the vapor of the lakes,
- the rustling of the forest, and the perfume of flowers. Finally, the veil
- which had obscured my eyes, and the weight which had oppressed my heart,
- was little by little removed; and from that time, I began to believe that
- these noises of evening, and of approaching day, were but one universal
- hymn, by which created things expressed their gratitude to the Creator.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Almighty God!” cried the dying man, clasping his hands, and raising his
- eyes to heaven, with an expression of holy faith, “I cried to you from the
- bottomless pit, and you heard me in my distress; oh! my God I I thank
- thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” continued Paul, with still increasing enthusiasm, “then, I sought
- upon the ocean, that full conviction which earth had refused to me. The
- earth is but a span—the ocean is immensity! The ocean is, after God
- himself, the grandest, the most powerful object in the universe. I have
- heard the ocean roar like a chafed lion, and then at the voice of its
- master, become tranquil as a submissive dog; I have seen it rise like a
- Titan, to scale the heavens; and then beneath the whip of the tempest,
- moan like a weeping infant. I have seen it dashing its waves to meet the
- lightning, and endeavoring to quench the thunder with its foam; and then
- become smooth as a mirror, and reflect even the smallest star in the
- heavens. Upon the land, I had become convinced of God’s existence, upon
- the ocean, I recognised his power. In the solitary wilds, as Moses, I had
- heard the voice of the Lord, but during the tempest, I saw him, as did
- Ezekiel, riding upon the wings of the storm. Thenceforward, my father,
- thenceforward, all doubt was driven from my mind, and from the evening on
- which I witnessed the first hurricane, I believed, and prayed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth,” said
- the dying man, with ardent faith; and he continued thus the symbol of the
- apostles to the last word.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul listened to him in silence, with his eyes raised to heaven, and when
- he had concluded, said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not thus, that a priest would have spoken to you, my father, for I
- have spoken to you as a seaman, and with a voice more accustomed to
- pronounce words of death than consolation. Forgive me, father, forgive me
- for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have made me pray, and believe as you do,” said the old man; “tell
- me, then, what more could a priest have done? What you have said is plain
- and grand—let me reflect on what you have said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen!” said Paul, shuddering, “What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you not hear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that a voice of some one in distress called to me—there
- again—do you not hear it?—now, again!—It is the voice of
- Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go to her instantly,” replied the old man; “I need to be alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul rushed into the adjoining room, and as he entered it he heard his
- name again repeated, and close to the door of the cottage. Then, running
- to the door he anxiously opened it, and found Marguerite upon the
- threshold, her strength having failed her, and she had fallen upon her
- knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Save me! save me!” she cried, with an expression of profound terror, on
- perceiving Paul, and clasped his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Mercy from him!
- And how can I expect it?
- By what right
- Can I demand he should withhold his claim,
- The proofs once in his power?—Anonymous.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Paul ran to Marguerite, and caught her in his arms; she was pale and icy
- cold. He carried her into the first room, placed her in an arm chair,
- returned to the door which had remained open, and closed it, and then
- hastened back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it that so terrifies you? who is pursuing you? and how does it
- happen that you come here at this unusual hour?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” exclaimed Marguerite, “at any hour, whether by day or night, I
- should have flown as long as the earth would have borne me! I should have
- flown till I had found some heart in which I could have poured forth my
- sorrows, an arm capable of defending me. Paul! Paul! my father is dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child!” said Paul, pressing Marguerite to his heart, “who flies from
- one house of death to fall into another; who leaves death in the castle,
- to find it in the cottage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes!” cried Marguerite rising, still trembling with terror, and
- convulsively pressing Paul’s arm. “Death is yonder, and I find death here!
- but yonder it is attended with despair and fear, while here it is met with
- tranquillity and hope. Oh! Paul! Paul! had you but seen that which I have
- seen!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me all that happened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saw the terrible effect produced by your appearance, and the mere
- sound of your voice?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I saw that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They carried him still fainting and speechless into his own room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was to your mother that I spoke,” said Paul, “and he heard me; I could
- not foresee it would so much have terrified him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You full well know all that had passed, for you must have heard from the
- room in which you were concealed, every word we uttered. My father, my
- poor father, had recognized me, and I, seeing him thus, could, not repress
- my uneasiness: notwithstanding the risk I ran of irritating my mother, I
- went up to his room—the door was locked; I knocked softly at it. He
- had recovered his senses, for I heard a faint voice asking ‘who was
- there?’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And your mother?” said Paul eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother,” replied Marguerite, “was no longer there, and she had locked
- him in as she would have done to a child; but when he had recognized my
- voice, when I had told him that it was his daughter Marguerite who wished
- to see him, he told me that I could get into the room by going down stairs
- again, and that in the study I should find a private staircase which led
- to it. A minute afterwards, I was kneeling by his bedside, and he gave me
- his blessing. Yes, Paul, I received his blessing before he died, his
- paternal benediction, which I trust will bring down the blessing of God
- upon my head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Paul, “God will pardon you; you may now feel tranquil. Weep
- for your father, Marguerite, but weep no longer for yourself, for you are
- saved.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have heard nothing yet, Paul!” exclaimed Marguerite. “Hear me still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the very moment when I was kneeling, kissing the hand of my father,
- and thanking him for the relief he had afforded my afflicted mind, I heard
- my mothers footstep on the staircase. I recognized her voice, and my
- father also recognized it, for he again embraced me, and made a sign to me
- to leave him. I obeyed him, but such was my terror and confusion, that I
- mistook the door, and instead of the staircase by which I had ascended, I
- found myself in a small cabinet which had no issue. I felt all around its
- walls, but could find no door. I was compelled to remain there. I then
- heard my mother, accompanied by the priest, entering my father’s room—I
- restrained my breathing, fearing that she should hear me. I saw then
- through the glass window of the door, and I assure you, Paul, that she was
- paler than my father who was about to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” murmured Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The priest seated himself by the bed-side,” continued Marguerite, so
- terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; “my mother remained
- standing at the foot of the bed—I was there, just opposite to them,
- compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without the
- means of retreat!—a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession
- of her father!—was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my
- eyes that I might not see—praying that I might not hear—and
- yet in spite of myself—and this I swear to you, Paul—I saw and
- I heard—Oh! what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my
- memory—I saw my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him
- with a feverish strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death
- imprinted on his face. I heard him—I heard him pronounce the words,
- a duel—adultery—assassination!—and at each word he
- uttered, I saw my mother turn pale—and paler even than before—and
- I heard her raise her voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying
- man, saying to the priest: ‘believe him not—believe him not,
- reverend father; what he says is false—or rather, he is mad, he
- knows not what he says—believe him not!’ Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful
- spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a cold perspiration stood upon my
- forehead, and I fainted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Justice of Heaven!” cried Paul. “I know not how long I remained without
- consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the
- tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were
- burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my eyes
- on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the sheet
- which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I divined
- that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between the funereal awe
- which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of raising the covering
- to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in his coffin, the
- venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, overcame every other
- feeling—an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror drove me from the
- room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but I believe without
- touching a single step,—I fled across the rooms and through the
- corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I had left the
- castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps were leading
- me, until I remembered you had told me I should find you here. A secret
- instinct—tell me what it was—for I cannot myself comprehend
- it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I was pursued by
- shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the avenues I thought—(had
- I then lost my senses?)—I thought I saw my mother, dressed all in
- black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. Oh! then, then! terror
- lent me wings—I at first fled without knowing whither; after this my
- strength failed me, and it was then you heard my cries. I dragged myself
- along a few more paces, and fell motionless at this door; had you not
- opened it, I should have expired upon the spot, for I was so much
- terrified, that it appeared to me,”—then suddenly pausing,
- Marguerite trembled, and whispered to Paul, “Silence! do you not hear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied Paul, instantly extinguishing the lamp, “yes, yes—footsteps—I
- hear them also.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look! look!” cried Marguerite, concealing herself behind the curtain of
- the window, and throwing them around Paul at the same moment—“look!
- I was not mistaken—it was my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door had been opened, and the marchioness, pale as a spectre, entered
- the room slowly, closed the door after her, and locked it, and then
- without observing Paul and Marguerite, went into the second room where
- Achard was lying. She then walked up to his bed, as she had only a short
- time before to that of the marquis, only that she was not now accompanied
- by a priest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is there?” said Achard, drawing back one of the curtains of his bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I,” replied the marchioness, drawing back the other curtain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You, madam,” cried the old man with terror; “for what purpose have you
- come to the bedside of a dying man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come to make a proposal to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One that will lose his soul! is it not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To save it, on the contrary. There is only one thing in this world,
- Achard, of which you stand in need,” rejoined the marchioness, bending
- down over the bed of the dying man, “and that is a priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You refused to allow the one who is attached to the castle to attend me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In five minutes, if you wish it, he shall be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let him be sent then,” said the old man, “and believe me there is not a
- moment to be lost. He must come quickly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But if I give you the peace of heaven, you will give me in exchange peace
- on earth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can I do for you?” murmured the dying man, closing his eyes, that he
- might not see a woman whose looks chilled him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You stand in need of a priest, that you may die in peace,” said the
- marchioness, “you know the gift I require, in order to exist in
- tranquillity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would close heaven to me by a perjury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would open it to you by a pardon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That pardon I have already received.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And from whom?—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From him who, perhaps, had alone the right to grant it to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has Morlaix then descended from heaven?” asked the marchioness, in a tone
- in which there was almost as much terror as irony.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, madam,” replied he, “but have you forgotten that he left a son upon
- this earth?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you have also seen him,” exclaimed the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have told him all——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the papers which prove his birth?” asked the marchioness, with
- trembling anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The marquis was not dead—the papers are still there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Achard!” cried the marchioness, falling upon her knees, by the bedside.
- “Achard! you will take pity on me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You, on your knees, before me, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, old man,” replied the marchioness, in a supplicating tone, “yes, I
- am on my knees before you—and I beg, I implore you, for you hold in
- your hands the honor of one of the most ancient families in France—my
- past, my future life! Those papers are my heart, my soul—they are
- more than this—they are my name—the name of my forefathers—of
- my children—and you well know all that I have suffered to preserve
- that name unsullied. Do you believe that I had not a heart as other women
- have? the feelings of a lover, of a wife, and of a mother? Well! I have
- overcome them all, one by one, and the struggle has been long. I am twenty
- years younger than you are, old man, I am still in the prime of life, and
- you are on the verge of the grave. Look, then, upon these hairs; they are
- even whiter than your own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What says she?” whispered Marguerite, who had softly crept to the door,
- and could see all that was passing in the inner room. “Gracious heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen, listen, dear child,” said Paul, “it is the Lord who permits that
- all shall be thus revealed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” murmured Achard, who was becoming weaker every moment. “Yes,
- you doubted the goodness of the Lord, you had forgotten that he had
- forgiven the adulterous woman—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but when she met with Christ, men were about to cast stones at her—men,
- who for twenty generations have been accustomed to revere our name, to
- honor our family—did they but learn, that which, thank heaven! has
- heretofore been hidden from them—would hear it uttered with shame
- and with contempt. I have so much suffered, that God will pardon me—but
- man! men are so implacable, that they will not pardon—moreover, am I
- alone exposed to their insults—on either side, the cross I bear,
- have I not a child?—and is not the other that we speak of, the
- first-born? In the eyes of the law, is he not the son of the Marquis
- d’Auray? do you forget that he is the first-born, the head of the family?
- Do you not know, that in order to possess himself of the title, the
- estates, the fortune of the family of Auray, he has only to invoke the
- law? and then what would remain to Emanuel? The cross of the order of
- Malta—and to Marguerite?—a convent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! yes, yes,” whispered Marguerite, and stretching out her arms, toward
- the marchioness, “yes, a convent, in which I would pray for you, my
- mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! silence!” whispered Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you know him not,” said Achard, whose voice was scarcely audible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No! but I know human nature,” replied the marchioness, “he may recover a
- name, he! who has no name—a fortune, he! who has no fortune. And do
- you believe he would renounce that fortune and that name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should you ask it of him, he would.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And by what right could I demand it?” said the marchioness; “by what
- right could I ask him to spare me, to spare Emanuel, to spare Marguerite?
- He would say, ‘I do not know you, madam—I have never seen you—you
- are my mother, and that is all I know.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In his name,” stammered Achard, whose tongue death was beginning to
- benumb, “in his name, madam, I engage, I swear—oh! my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness arose, observing attentively by the old man’s features,
- the approach of death.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You engage, you swear!” she said, “is he here to ratify this engagement—you
- engage! you swear! and on your word, you would, that I should stake the
- years I have yet to live, against the moments which yet remain between you
- and death! I have entreated, I have implored, and again, I entreat and
- implore you to give up those papers to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Those papers now are his.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must have them! I repeat, I must have them,” continued the marchioness,
- gaining strength, as the dying man became more feeble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God! have mercy upon me!” murmured Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one can now come,” rejoined the marchioness “you told me that you wore
- the key of that closet always about you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you wrest it from the hands of a dying man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the marchioness, “I will wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me die in peace,” exclaimed Achard tearing the crucifix from the head
- of his bed, and raising it between, himself and the marchioness, he cried:
- “leave me! leave me; in the name of Jesus Christ!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness fell upon her knees, bowing her head to the ground. The
- old man, for a moment, remained in the same awful attitude; then, by
- degrees, his strength forsook him, and he fell back on his bed, crossed
- his arms, and pressed the image of the Saviour to his breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness seized the lower part of the two curtains, and without
- raising her head, she crossed them in such a manner as to conceal the last
- struggles of the dying man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Horror! horror!” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us kneel, and pray,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- A moment of solemn and dreadful silence then ensued, which was only
- interrupted by the last gasps of the dying man; these gasps became fainter
- by degrees, and then ceased altogether. All was over; the old man was
- dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness slowly raised her head, listened with intense anxiety for
- some minutes, and then, without opening the curtains, passed her hand
- between them, and after some effort, withdrew her hand again—she had
- obtained the key. She then silently arose, and with her face still turned
- toward the bed, walked to the closet. But at the moment she was about to
- unlock it, Paul, who was observing all her movements, rushed into the
- room, and seizing her by the arm, said—?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give me that key, my mother! for the marquis is dead, and those papers
- now belong to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Justice of heaven!” exclaimed the marchioness, starting back with terror,
- and falling into a chair, “justice of heaven! it is my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Merciful heaven!” murmured Marguerite, throwing herself upon her knees in
- the outer room: “merciful heaven! he is my brother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul opened the closet, and took the casket which contained the papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Thou canst save me,
- Thou ought’st! thou must!
- I tell thee at his feet
- I’ll fall a corse, ere mount his bridal bed!
- Go choose betwixt my rescue and my grave.
-
- Knowles.—The hunchbach
-</pre>
- <p>
- Notwithstanding the dreadful nature of the events which had occurred
- during that fatal night, Paul had not forgotten the mortal defiance which
- had been exchanged between himself and Lectoure. As that young gentleman
- would probably not know where to find him, he thought it only decorous to
- save Lectoure the trouble of seeking for him, and about seven in the
- morning, Lieutenant Walter presented himself at the castle, being charged
- on behalf of Paul to arrange the terms of the combat. He found Emanuel in
- Lectoure’s apartment. The latter, on perceiving the officer, withdrew, and
- went down into the park, that the two young men might more freely discuss
- the matter. Walter had received from his commander directions to accede to
- every thing that might be proposed. The preliminary terms were, therefore,
- very speedily arranged; and it was agreed between them, that the meeting
- should take place in the afternoon, at four o’clock. The place of
- rendezvous the sea-side, near the fisherman’s hut, which was about
- half-way between Port Louis and Auray castle. As to the weapons, they were
- to bring their pistols and their swords; it would be decided on the spot
- which they were to use, it being clearly understood that Lectoure, having
- been the party insulted, should have the right to make his choice.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to the marchioness, although in the first instance petrified by the
- unexpected appearance of Paul, she soon recovered all her natural
- firmness, and drawing her veil over her face, she withdrew from the
- chamber, and walked across the outer room which had remained in darkness.
- She did not, therefore, perceive Marguerite, who was kneeling in one
- corner of it, mute from astonishment and terror. She after that crossed
- the park, entered the castle, and repaired to the room in which the scene
- of the contract had taken place. There, by the dying light of the wax
- tapers, with both her elbows resting on the table, her head supported on
- her hands, her eyes riveted to the paper to which Lectoure had already
- affixed his name, and the marquis had signed the half of his, she passed
- the remainder of the night reflecting upon a new determination. Thus she
- awaited the coming day without even thinking of taking the least repose,
- so powerfully did her soul of adamant support the body in which it was
- enclosed. This resolution was to get Emanuel and Marguerite away from the
- castle as speedily as possible, for it was from her children, most
- especially, that she desired to conceal that which was about to take place
- between Paul and herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite, who had been thus most unexpectedly present at the death-bed
- of the marquis and of Achard, through which she had so providentially
- discovered her mother’s secret, rushed into Paul’s arms immediately after
- her mother’s departure from the cottage, exclaiming:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! now you are really my brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her tears choked further utterance, and it was some minutes before Paul
- could tranquillize her agitated spirit, torn by so many and such
- conflicting emotions. Paul then fearing that the marchioness might enquire
- for her daughter, on her arrival at the castle, urged Marguerite to hasten
- thither; and seeing she was still trembling at the recollection of the
- many horrors she had witnessed, led her out of the cottage, of which he
- locked the door, and accompanied her to within a few paces of the castle.
- During this walk, Marguerite had in a certain degree, recovered her
- composure. Paul stood gazing at her till he saw that she had safely
- entered the court yard, and then returned to watch and pray beside the
- body of his father’s faithful servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- At seven o’clock, the marchioness hearing the noise occasioned by
- Lieutenant Walter’s arrival at the castle, reached a bell which was
- standing on the table and rang it. A servant presented himself at the door
- in the grand livery he had worn the previous evening—it was easy to
- perceive that he also had not been in bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Inform Mademoiselle d’Auray, that her mother is waiting for her in the
- drawing room,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant obeyed, and the marchioness resumed, gloomy and motionless,
- her previous attitude. In a few minutes afterward, she heard a slight
- noise behind her, and turned round. It was Marguerite. The young girl,
- with more respect, perhaps, than she had ever before evinced, held out her
- hand toward her mother, that she might give her her hand to kiss. But the
- marchioness remained motionless, as if she had not understood the
- intention of her daughter. Marguerite let fall her hand, and silently
- awaited her mother’s pleasure. She also wore the same dress as the night
- before. Sleep had hovered over the whole world, but had forgotten the
- inhabitants of Auray castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come nearer,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite advanced one step.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why is it that you are thus pale and trembling,” continued the
- marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The death of my father—so sudden—so unexpected,” stammered
- Marguerite; “indeed I have suffered so much this night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on her
- daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: “yes, the
- young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves. The old
- oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, Marguerite,
- and suffered much. I have passed a dreadful night, and yet you see me calm
- and firm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you
- should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others.
- You would destroy them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And therefore is it,” replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall upon
- the table, “that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is dead,
- Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must
- immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I!” exclaimed Marguerite, “I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same
- moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession of
- the father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother!” replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish,
- “it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between
- two ceremonies of so opposite a nature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “True piety,” rejoined the marchioness, “should lead us to fulfil the last
- wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the first
- letters of your father’s name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! madam!” cried Marguerite, “allow me to ask you whether my father,
- when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing,
- was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own free
- will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle,” replied the marchioness, with that
- imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all that
- approached her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made him
- thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as long as
- they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the authority of
- God. Now, God has ordained me to effect things terrible in themselves, and
- I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed
- motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother was
- so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; “madam! it is only
- three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the feet
- of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to
- receive as my husband, and then at my father’s. Neither of them would or
- could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened
- their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, my
- mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are best
- capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I am about
- to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, I would
- make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I must also
- sacrifice my son.—You are a mother, and I also, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A mother!—a mother!” cried the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a
- mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam,
- tell me—for you should better comprehend these things than I—tell
- me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice
- which speaks to our hearts—have not those to whom we have given
- birth a voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each
- other, to which ought we to obey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will never hear the voice of your child.” said the marchioness; “for
- you will never again see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall never again see my son!” exclaimed Marguerite, “and who, madam,
- can assert that positively?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And should he some day discover it?” replied Marguerite; whose respect as
- a daughter was giving way before her mother’s harshness; “if he should
- then come to me and demand an account of his birth—and this may
- happen, madam,”—she took up the pen—“and, with such an
- alternative awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sign it,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers
- upon the contract, “should my husband some day discover the existence of
- this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong
- committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and
- without seconds—a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he
- should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued by
- a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of
- reason—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent!” cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror,
- but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery
- which dictated the words her daughter had employed: “be silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, who had now said too much
- to pause, “you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, and that
- of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure myself with
- a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my sight, and from
- his, every living being, and that I should render my heart iron, that I
- may no longer feel—that my eyes should never shed a tear! You would
- have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, before my husband’s
- death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty years before the
- accustomed time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent! say not another word!” cried the marchioness, in a tone which
- proved that menaces were giving way to fear: “be silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, carried away by the
- bitterness of her grief; “you would have me, then, in order that the
- dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that I
- should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician—you
- would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that I
- might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!” again cried the
- marchioness, wringing her hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” continued Marguerite, “tell me again, my mother, to sign
- this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord will
- be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited upon the
- children, even to the third and fourth generations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! my God! my God!” exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, “am
- I not sufficiently humbled—am I not sufficiently punished?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon! pardon! madam,” cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling by
- the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; “I implore you to
- forgive me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter,” said the
- marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, “you who have wrenched the
- scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied the
- lash even on your mother’s forehead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mercy! mercy!” reiterated Marguerite; “pardon me, my mother. I knew not
- what I said. You had deprived me of reason—-I was mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my God! my God,” said the marchioness, raising both her hands above
- her daughter’s head, “Thou hast heard the words which have issued from my
- daughter’s lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will forget
- them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I have not
- cursed her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, but
- the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance so
- fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite
- dropped the skirt of her mother’s dress, and remained with arms
- outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness had
- disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon the
- ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed that the
- heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Be angry as
- You will, it shall have scope;
- Ah, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
- That carries anger, as the flint bears fire—
- Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
- And straight is cold again.
- And from henceforth
- When you are over earnest with your brother,
- He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
- —Shakespeare
-</pre>
- <p>
- Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent
- manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had
- not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who
- had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together
- with Count d’Auray, had received from his commander directions to make
- every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not
- meet Lectoure until the afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the time
- arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, having
- in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last found himself
- in the position of the head of the family, his life belonged not to
- himself, and that he had not the right to risk it. Moreover, as we have
- seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; and Lectoure, who was
- ignorant of the reason which could have induced his adversary to require
- it, had acceded to it without much difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as soon
- as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present himself to
- the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned
- so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without
- meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the
- apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on
- going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of
- consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must have taken
- place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to Marguerite,
- raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to give her air. The
- state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more from a complete
- prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; and therefore, as
- soon as she felt that assistance was being rendered her, and with a
- kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the person who had
- thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and recognized her
- brother, that living Providence, whom God had sent to sustain her every
- time she felt she was about to succumb.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her
- to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her
- brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away by
- the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her mother
- to perceive that she knew all.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart of
- the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and
- anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had been
- brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to one of
- the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. Therefore,
- compassionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to terminate
- them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview he had come to
- seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to the intentions of that
- son, whose existence she was so unwilling to acknowledge, Marguerite, on
- her side, wished to obtain her mother’s forgiveness; she, therefore,
- undertook to inform the marchioness that the young captain waited her
- orders.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece,
- above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose
- himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of the
- last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the sovereign
- arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly opened, and
- Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On hearing the door
- open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately perceiving the
- young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal expression, which
- reflected in his features the serenity of his soul.
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as
- politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence of
- the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had awakened
- to flush his features, and they instantly assumed a look of fierce
- defiance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir,” said Emanuel,
- placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from
- Paul; “and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you;
- for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have the
- gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me that he
- had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved me the
- trouble I was about to take, in thus anticipating my desire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am happy,” replied Paul, “that my desire in this instance, although
- probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously
- chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here—what do you ask of me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cannot you divine even that, sir?” replied Emanuel, with increasing
- agitation. “In that case—and you will allow me to express my
- astonishment that it should be so—you are but ill-informed as to the
- duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that you
- put upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe me, Emanuel,” rejoined Paul, in a calm tone—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I yesterday called myself the count; to-day I call myself the Marquis
- d’Auray,” said Emanuel, interrupting him with a gesture of haughtiness and
- contempt; “and I beg, sir, that you will not forget it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- An almost imperceptible smile passed over the lips of Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was saying, then,” continued Emanuel, “that you but imperfectly
- comprehend the feelings of a gentleman, if you believed that I would
- permit another to take up, on my behalf, a quarrel which you came here to
- seek. Yes, sir, for it is you who have thrown yourself across my path, and
- not I who have sought you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His lordship, the Marquis d’Auray,” said Paul, smiling, “forgets his
- visit on board the <i>Indienne</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A truce to your cavils, sir, and let us at once proceed to facts.
- Yesterday, I know not from what strange and inexplicable feeling, when I
- proposed to you that, which I will not say every gentleman, every officer,
- but simply, any man of courage would instantly, and without hesitation,
- have acceded to, you refused, sir, and evading my provocation, you went,
- as it were, behind my back to seek an adversary, who, although not
- precisely a stranger to the quarrel, yet good taste should have dictated
- that he ought not to have been drawn into it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe me, that in this, sir,” replied Paul, with the calmness and the
- same candor of manner which had accompanied all he said; I was compelled
- to yield to the exigency of the case, which did not leave me the choice of
- an adversary. You had proposed a duel, which I could not accept, you being
- my adversary, but which was perfectly indifferent to me with any other
- person. I am too much habituated to encounters of this description, and to
- encounters of a far more murderous and mortal nature, to consider an event
- of this kind, but as one of the usual accidents of my adventurous life.
- You will, however, please to remember that it was not I who sought this
- duel; you, yesterday, proposed it to me; but, as I could not, I again
- repeat it, appear as your antagonist, I selected M. de Lectoure, as I
- would have done M. de Nozay or M. la Jarry, because he happened to be
- there, within my reach—and because, if it were absolutely necessary
- that I should kill some one, I preferred killing an useless and insolent
- fop, rather than a good and honest country gentleman, who would consider
- himself dishonored, did he but dream that he had entered into a bargain of
- so vile and despicable a nature as that which the Baron de Lectoure has,
- in reality, proposed to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well, sir,” said Emanuel, jeeringly; “continue to constitute
- yourself as the redresser of wrongs, to dub yourself the knight-errant of
- oppressed princesses, and to shield yourself under the buckler of your
- mysterious replies! As long as this antiquated quixotism does not come in
- collision with my views, my interests, and my engagements, I will fully
- permit it to wander over the whole earth, and ocean also, even from pole
- to pole, and I shall merely smile at it as it passes by me; but whenever
- this madness breaks out against me, as yours has done, sir; whenever, in
- the intimate concerns of a family of which I am the head, I meet a
- stranger, who orders as a master where I alone have the right to raise my
- voice, I shall present myself before him, as I now do before you, should I
- have the happiness to meet him alone as I do you, and then feeling
- assured, that no one will come to interrupt us before I had obtained the
- necessary explanation, I would say to him: ‘You have, if not insulted me,
- at all events wounded my feelings, sir, by coming to my house, and
- injuring me in my in-terests, and my family affections. It is then with
- me, and not with another, that you ought to fight, and you shall fight
- with me.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, Emanuel,” replied Paul; “I will not fight, at all
- events, with you; the thing is impossible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir, the time of enigmas is gone by,” cried Emanuel, impatiently; “we
- live in the midst of a world, in which at every moment we elbow a reality.
- Let us, therefore, leave the poetical and the mysterious, to the authors
- of romances and tragedies. Your presence in this castle has been marked by
- circumstances too fatal to render it necessary to add that which is not,
- to that which is. Lusignan returned, notwithstanding the order which
- condemned him to transportation; my sister, who, for the first time, has
- shown herself rebellious against the orders of her mother; my father,
- killed by your mere presence: these are the disasters by which you have
- been accompanied, which have heralded you from another hemisphere, and
- have formed your funereal escort: for all this, you have to account to me;
- therefore, speak, sir; speak as a man should to a man, in the broad
- daylight, face to face, and not as a phantom gliding in the darkness,
- which escapes under the cloud of night, letting fall some few solemn and
- prophetic words, as if from the other world. Such things are well
- calculated to terrify nurses and children! Speak, sir, speak! Look at me,
- you will see that I am calm. If you have anything to reveal to me I will
- listen to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The secret which you ask of me is not my own,” replied Paul, whose
- perfect calmness strongly contrasted with the feverish excitement of
- Emanuel; “believe what I have said, and do not insist farther. Farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- After pronouncing these words, Paul moved toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Emanuel, rushing between him and the door, to prevent his
- passage; “you shall not leave me thus, sir! I have you now, we are alone
- in this room, without fear of any interruption, into which, it was not I
- that enticed you, but you have come here of your own free will. Therefore,
- hearken to that which I am about to say. The person you have insulted is
- myself! the person to whom you owe satisfaction is myself!
- </p>
- <p>
- “The person with whom you have to fight is——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mad, sir,” tranquilly replied Paul; “I have already told you it
- is impossible. Therefore, allow me to withdraw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take care, sir,” cried Emanuel, stretching out his hand to the box, and
- taking out the pistols; “take care, sir. After having done every thing in
- my power to compel you to act as a gentleman, I may treat you as a
- brigand.—You are here in a house, in which you are a total stranger;
- you have entered it, I know not how, nor for what purpose; if you have not
- come into it to despoil us of our gold and jewels, you have entered it to
- steal the obedience of a daughter to her mother, and to cancel the sacred
- promise given by a friend to a friend. In one case or the other, you are a
- violator, whom I have met at the moment that his hands were about to seize
- a treasure; that treasure, is honor, the most precious of all riches!
- Come, sir, believe me, you will do better to accept this weapon”—Emanuel
- endeavored to thrust one of the pistols into Paul’s hand—“and defend
- yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may kill me, sir,” replied Paul, again placing his elbow on the
- chimney-piece, as if he were continuing an ordinary conversation;
- “although I do not believe that God would permit so great a crime: but you
- shall not force me to fight with you. I have before told you so, and I
- repeat it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the pistol, sir!” cried Emanuel, “take it, sir, I tell you! you
- believe that the threat I am making is but a vain menace; undeceive
- yourself! for three days have you fatigued my patience! for three days
- have you filled my soul with gall and hatred! for three days have I
- familiarised my mind with the idea of ridding myself of you; whether it be
- by a duel or by murder! Do not imagine, that the dread of punishment
- withholds my hand; this castle is isolated, mute, and deaf. The sea is
- there; and before you could be even laid in the tomb, I should be in
- England. Therefore, sir, for the last time, I say to you, take this pistol
- and defend yourself.” Paul, without uttering a word, gently put the pistol
- aside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then!” cried Emanuel, exasperated to the highest degree, by the
- sangfroid of his adversary; “as you will not defend yourself like a man,
- die like a dog!” And so saying, he raised the muzzle of the pistol to the
- level of the captain’s breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment a dreadful shriek was heard; it was Marguerite, who had
- returned from her mother, and who had, at a glance, comprehended all that
- had happened. She rushed upon Emanuel, and at that instant he fired the
- pistol, but the direction of the ball having been changed by the young
- girl’s striking up his arm, it passed two or three inches above Paul’s
- head, and shattered the glass above the chimney-piece.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother!” cried Marguerite, with one bound, springing to were Paul
- stood, and throwing her arms around him: “my brother, are you not
- wounded?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother!” exclaimed Emanuel, letting fall the pistol which was still
- smoking; “your brother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Emanuel!” said Paul, with the same calmness which he had evinced
- during the whole of this painful scene; “do you now comprehend why it was
- I could not fight with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment, the marchioness appeared at the door, pale as a spectre,
- for she had heard the report of the pistol; then looking around her with
- an expression of infinite terror, and seeing that no one was wounded, she
- silently raised her eyes to heaven, as if to ask if its anger was at
- length appeased. She remained thus for some time in an attitude of mental
- thanksgiving. When she again cast down her eyes, Emanuel and Marguerite
- were on their knees before her, each holding one of her hands, and
- covering it with tears and kisses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thank you, my children,” said the marchioness, after a short silence;
- “and now leave me with this young man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite and Emanuel bowed with an expression of the most profound
- respect, and obeyed the command of their mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Oh! my mother!
- You do not know the heart that you have pierced!
- I—I—thy son—thine Arthur—I avenge?
- Never on thee.
-
- Live happy—love my brother—
- Forget that I was born.
- Here, here—these proofs—
- These—these!
-
- Oh! see you where the words are blistered
- With my hot tears?
- I wept—it was for joy—
- I did not think of lands, of name, of birthright—
- I did but think these arms should clasp a’ mother.
-
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The marchioness closed the door as soon as they had withdrawn, advanced
- into the middle of the room, and went without looking at Paul, and leaning
- upon the arm-chair in which the marquis had the night before been seated
- to sign the contract. There she remained standing, with her eyes cast upon
- the ground. Paul for a moment experienced the desire to throw himself upon
- his knees before her, but there was upon the features of the marchioness
- such an expression of severity, that he repressed the yearnings of his
- heart, and stood motionless awaiting her commands. After a few moments of
- ice-like silence, the marchioness addressed him. “You desired to see me,
- sir, and I have come to know your will—you wished to speak to me—I
- am listening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These words were uttered without the marchioness making the least movement—her
- lips trembled, rather than opened—it seemed a marble statue that was
- speaking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, madam,” replied Paul, in a tone of intense feeling, “yes, yes, I
- desired to speak with you; it is long since first this desire was
- cherished in my heart, and it has never left me. Recollections of infancy
- preyed upon the mind of the grown man. I remembered a woman who would
- formerly glide to my cradle, and in my youthful dreams, I thought her the
- guardian angel of my infancy. Since that time, still so fresh in my
- memory, although so distant, more than once, believe me, I have awakened
- with a start, imagining that I had felt upon my forehead the impression of
- a maternal kiss: and then seeing that there was no one near me, I would
- call that person, hoping she would, perhaps, return. It is now twenty
- years since first I thus had called, and this is the first time she has
- replied to me. Can it have been as I have often fearfully imagined, that
- you would have trembled at again beholding me? Can it be true, as I at
- this moment fear, that you have naught to say to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And had I feared your return,” said the marchioness, in a hollow tone,
- “should I have been to blame? You appeared before me only yesterday, sir,
- and now the mystery which ought to have been concealed to all but God and
- myself, is known to both my children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it my fault that God has been pleased to reveal the secret to them?
- Was it I that conducted Marguerite, despairing and in tears, to the
- bedside of her dying father, whose protection she had gone to ask, and
- whose confession she was compelled to hear? Was it I that led her to
- Achard, and was it not you, madam, that followed her thither? As to
- Emanuel, the report you heard, and that shattered glass, attest, that I
- would have preferred death rather than to have saved my life at the
- expense of your secret. No, no, believe me, madam, I am the instrument,
- and not the hand; the effect, and not the cause. No, madam, it is God who
- has brought about all this, that you might see at your feet, as you have
- just now seen them, your two children whom you have so long banished from
- your arms!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there is a third,” said the marchioness, in a voice in which emotion
- began to evince itself, “and I know not what I have to expect from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me accomplish a last duty, madam, and that once fulfilled, he will on
- his knees await your orders.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And of what nature is this duty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is to restore his brother to the rank to which he is entitled, his
- sister to that happiness which she has lost—to his mother that
- tranquillity of mind, which she has so long sought in vain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet, thanks to you,” replied the marchioness, “M. de Maurepas refused
- to M. de Lectoure the regiment he had solicited for my son.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because,” replied Paul, taking the commission from his pocket and laying
- it on the table, “because the king had already granted it to me, for the
- brother of Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness cast her eyes upon the commission, and saw that it was
- made out in the name of Emanuel d’Auray.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet you would give the hand of Marguerite to a man without name,
- without fortune—and what is more, to a man who is banished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, madam; I would give Marguerite to the man she loves. I
- would give Marguerite not to the banished Lusignan, but to the Baron
- Anatole de Lusignan, his majesty’s governor of the Island of Gaudaloupe—there
- is his commission also.” The marchioness looked at the parchment, and saw
- that in this instance, as in the former one, Paul had uttered but the
- truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I acknowledge it,” she replied, “these will satisfy the ambition of
- Emanuel, and confer happiness on Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And at the same time, secures your tranquillity madam; for Emanuel will
- join his regiment, and Marguerite will follow her husband. You will then
- remain here alone, as you have, alas! so frequently desired.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is not this all you desire, or have I deceived myself,” continued Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, “how can I recall the promise given to the
- Baron de Lectoure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The marquis is dead, madam,” replied Paul; “is not the death of a husband
- and a father a sufficient cause for the adjournment of a marriage?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness, without replying, seated herself in the arm-chair, took a
- pen and paper, wrote a few lines, folded the letter, and putting on the
- address the name of the Baron de Lectoure, she rang the bell for the
- servant. After waiting a few moments, during which time, both Paul and
- herself remained silent, a servant came into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In two hours from this time, you will deliver this to the Baron de
- Lectoure,” said the Marchioness. The servant took the letter and withdrew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” continued the marchioness, looking at Paul, “now sir, that you
- have done justice to the innocent, it remains to you to pardon the guilty.
- You have papers which prove your birth, you are the elder—at all
- events, in the eyes of the law. The fortunes of Emanuel and Marguerite are
- yours by right. What do you require in exchange for these papers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul took them from his pocket, and showing them to the marchioness, said,
- “Here are the documents, look at them—they are the letters you wrote
- to my poor father—look here, they are moistened by my tears, for I
- read them last night, while watching by Achard’s corpse.” Then approaching
- the fire-place, he held them over the flaming wood, saying, “permit me
- even but once to call you mother! call me but once your son, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be possible!” exclaimed the marchioness, rising.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak of name, of fortune,” continued Paul, with an expression of
- profound melancholy; “what need have I of them. I have by my own sword
- gained a rank which few men of my age have ever attained—I have
- acquired a name which is pronounced with blessings by one nation, andi
- with terror by another. I could, did it so please me, amass a fortune,
- worthy of being bequeathed to a king. What, then, are your name your
- fortune, and your rank, to me, if you have nothing else to offer me—if
- you do not give me that which I have incessantly, and in every position of
- my life most yearned for—that which I have not the power to create—which
- God had granted to me, but which misfortune wrested from me—that
- which you alone can restore to me—a mother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son!” exclaimed the marchioness, overcome at length, by his tears, and
- supplicating accent, “my son! my son! my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” exclaimed Paul, letting the papers fall into the flames, which
- speedily consumed them, “ah! that missed appellation has at length escaped
- your lips—that tender name so long desired, and which I have so
- unceasingly prayed to hear addressed to me. Merciful heaven! I thank
- thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness had fallen back into her chair, and Paul had thrown
- himself upon his knees, his head leaning upon her bosom. At length the
- marchioness gently raised him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look at me!” she said; “for twenty years, this is the first tear that has
- ever escaped my eyelids, give me your hand!”—she placed it upon her
- heart—“for twenty years this is the first feeling of happiness with
- which my heart has palpitated. Come to my arms! For twenty years this is
- the first caress I have either given or received. These twenty years have
- doubtless been my expiation, since God now pardons me, for he has restored
- to me the power of weeping, of feeling joy, and has permitted me to
- embrace my son. Thanks to G-od! and thanks to thee, my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother!” cried Paul, “my beloved mother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I trembled at the thoughts of seeing you again—I trembled when
- I did see you—I knew not—I could not have imagined that such
- feelings still existed in my heart. Oh! I bless thee! I bless thee!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment, the tolling of the chapel bell was heard: the marchioness
- shuddered. The funeral hour had arrived. The bodies of the noble Marquis
- d’Auray and that of the poor man Achard, were about to be returned to
- earth at the same moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This hour must be consecrated to prayer,” said the marchioness: “I must
- now leave you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must sail to-morrow, my mother,” said Paul; “shall I not once more see
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! yes, yes,” replied the marchioness, “we must meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, my mother, this evening I shall be at the park gate. There is
- a spot which is sacred to me, and to which I must pay a last visit. I
- shall expect to meet you there. It is on that spot, my mother, that we
- should say farewell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will be there,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, my mother, here,” said Paul, “take these commissions: the one for
- Emanuel, and the other for the husband of Marguerite. Let the happiness of
- your children be conferred by yourself. Believe me, mother, you have
- bestowed more on me than I on them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness retired to shut herself up in her oratory. Paul left the
- castle, and proceeded toward the hut of the fisherman.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hark! she has bless’d her son—I bid ye witness,
- Ye listening heavens—thou circumambient air;
- The ocean sighs it back—and with the murmur
- Bustle the happy leaves.
-
- All nature breathes
- Aloud—-aloft—to the Great Parent’s ear,
- The blessing of the mother on her child.
-</pre>
- <p>
- ON approaching the fisherman’s hut, the place appointed with Lectoure,
- Paul perceived Lusignan and Walter, who were waiting for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Precisely at the hour agreed, Lectoure appeared on horseback; he had been
- obliged to find his way as he best could, for he had no guide, and his own
- servant was as much a stranger as himself in that part of the country. On
- seeing him at a distance the young men came out of the hut. The baron
- instantly put his horse into a gallop, to hasten to them. When within a
- few paces of them he alighted from his horse, and threw the rein to his
- servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust you will pardon me, gentlemen,” said he, “that I should have
- approached you thus alone, like a forsaken orphan; but the hour selected
- by that gentleman,” he added, raising his hat to Paul, who returned the
- salutation, “was precisely that fixed upon for the funeral obsequies of
- the marquis; I have therefore left Emanuel to fulfil the duties of a son,
- and have come here without a second, trusting that I had to deal with an
- adversary generous enough to procure some friend of his own to aid me in
- this dilemma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We are entirely at your service, baron,” replied Paul; “here are two
- friends of mine. Select which you please, and he who shall be honored by
- your choice, will instantly become yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no preference, I swear to you,” said Lectoure; “please to
- designate which of these two gentlemen you may desire should reader me
- this service.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Walter,” said Paul, “be so good as to officiate as second to the baron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant assented; the two adversaries again bowed to each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, sir,” continued Paul, “permit me, before our respective seconds,
- to address a few words to you, not of apology, but explanation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your own pleasure, sir, replied Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I uttered the words which have been the cause of your coming hither,
- the events which have since occurred at the castle were hidden in the womb
- of time, and these events might have entailed the misery of a whole
- family. You, sir, had on your side Madame d’Auray, Emanuel, and the
- Marquis—Marguerite had but me alone. Every chance was, therefore, in
- your favor. It was for this reason that I addressed myself directly to
- you, for had I fallen by your hand from circumstances which must for ever
- remain hidden to you, Marguerite could not have married you. If I had
- killed you, the case would have been still more simplified, and requires
- no commentary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This exordium is really most logical, sir,” replied the baron, smiling,
- and tapping his boots with his riding-whip; “let us proceed, if you
- please, to the main body of the discourse.” |
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” continued Paul, bowing in sign of acquiescence, “every circumstance
- has changed; the marquis is dead, Emanuel has received his commission, the
- marchioness renounces your alliance, honorable as it may be, and
- Marguerite marries the Baron Anatole de Lusignan, who, for that reason, I
- did not name your second.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, “then that is the true meaning of the note
- which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave the
- castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an adjournment.
- It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. ‘Tis well, sir, and now to
- the peroration.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know
- you—I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each
- other, and with opposing interests—hence our collision. Then, as I
- have before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make
- sure of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my
- death or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed
- to the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank
- it would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed so
- long a journey,” replied Lectoure: “Not having the honor to espouse
- Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, I should desire, at least, to have the
- honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have
- travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at your
- orders, sir,” continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it saluting
- his adversary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your good pleasure, sir,” replied Paul, and replying to the salutation
- in the same manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two young men then advanced towards each other—their swords
- crossed—at the third parry Lectoure’s sword was twisted from his
- hand, and flew to a distance of twenty yards.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before taking sword in hand,” said Paul, “I had offered an explanation,
- and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this time I will accept it, sir,” said Lectoure, in the same careless
- and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. “Pick up my sword,
- Dick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very tranquilly
- put it into the scabbard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” continued he, “if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for
- Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell the king, sir,” replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing his
- sword, “that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed against
- the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my own
- countrymen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the two young men again bowed to each other. Lectoure remounted
- his horse, and at about a hundred paces from the sea shore, got into the
- high road leading to Vannes, and galloped off; while his servant went to
- the castle to get his travelling carriage, with which Lectoure had ordered
- him to rejoin him speedily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, Mr. Walter,” said Paul, “you must send the long-boat to the
- nearest creek to Auray castle, and have every thing in readiness to set
- sail tonight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant immediately set out for Port Louis, and Paul and Lusignan
- returned into the fisherman’s hut.
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time Emanuel and Marguerite had fulfilled the mournful duty to
- which they had been summoned by the chapel bell. The body of the marquis
- had been deposited in the emblazoned tomb of his ancestors, and Achard’s
- in the humble cemetery outside the chapel, and then the brother and sister
- repaired to their mother’s apartment. The marchioness delivered to Emanuel
- the commission which he so anxiously coveted, and gave to Marguerite her
- unexpected consent to her marriage with Lusignan. She then handed to
- Marguerite the king’s sign manual appointing Lusignan governor of
- Guadaloupe. And then, in order that the emotions which they experienced
- should not be renewed, and which were the more poignant, because they were
- concealed within their own breasts, for neither of them made any allusion
- to past events, the mother and the children embraced each other for the
- last time, each feeling the innate conviction that they should never meet
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The remainder of the day was occupied in the necessary preparations for
- departure. Toward the evening the marchioness left the castle, to meet
- Paul at the place which he had appointed. When passing through the
- court-yard she perceived a carriage, with horses already attached to it,
- standing on one side of it, and the young midshipman, Arthur, with four
- sailors, on the other. Her heart was oppressed by the sight of this
- two-fold preparation. She, however, passed on, and went into the park,
- without giving way to her emotions, so much had her long-continued
- restraint upon natural feelings given her the power of self-command.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, when she had reached a small clearing, from which she could see
- Achard’s house, she paused, for her knees trembled beneath her, and she
- was obliged to lean for support against a tree, while she pressed her hand
- to her breast to restrain the violent beatings of her heart. For there are
- souls which present danger, however imminent, cannot cause to quail, but
- which tremble at the remembrance of perils past; and the marchioness
- recalled to mind the agonizing fears and emotions to which she had been
- for twenty years a prey, and during which time she had daily visited that
- house, now closed never again to be opened. She, however, soon overcame
- this weakness, and reached the park gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- There she again paused. Above all the trees rose the summit of a gigantic
- oak, whose wide spreading branches could be discerned from many places in
- the park. Often had the eyes of the marchioness remained riveted for hours
- upon its verdant dome: but never had she dared to seek repose beneath its
- shade. It was there, however, that she had promised to meet Paul, and
- there Paul was awaiting her. At length she made a last effort, and entered
- the forest.
- </p>
- <p>
- From a distance she perceived a man kneeling upon the ground in the
- attitude of prayer. She slowly approached him, and kneeling down by his
- side, prayed also. When the prayer was concluded, they both rose, and
- without uttering a word, the marchioness placed her arm around Paul’s
- neck, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. After some moments’ silence,
- they heard the noise of the wheels of a carriage at a distance. The
- marchioness shuddered, and made a sign to Paul to listen; it was Emanuel
- setting out to join his regiment. Shortly afterwards Paul pointed in a
- direction opposite to that in which they had heard the noise, and showed
- the marchioness a boat gliding rapidly and silently upon the surface of
- the ocean; it was Marguerite going on board the frigate.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness listened to the noise of the receding wheels as long as
- she could hear it, and followed with anxious eyes the movements of the
- boat, as long as she could distinguish it; then she turned toward Paul,
- and raising her eyes to heaven, for she felt that the moment was
- approaching, when he, whom she was leaning upon, would, in his turn, leave
- her, she exclaimed—
- </p>
- <p>
- “May God bless, as I now bless, the duteous son, who was the last to leave
- his mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, she threw her arms around his neck, pressed him
- convulsively to her heart, and kissed him; then gazing at him intently,
- she seemed to be scanning every outline of his face, and then, again,
- rapturously embraced him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she cried, “in every feature he is the living resemblance of my
- poor lost Morlaix,” then for some moments she seemed to be absorbed in
- thought; at last after a seemingly violent struggle, she continued, “Paul,
- you have refused to accept any portion of that fortune to which you are
- legally entitled, although you know the wealth of the Auray family is
- unbounded—and that the fortune which I inherit in my own right, from
- the family of Sablé, is very large.” Paul shook his head. “Well, then,
- there is one thing that you must receive from your mother, as her parting
- gift. It is twenty years since I have dared to look upon it, and yet I
- have clung to its possession—it is your father’s portrait, presented
- to me when I was authorized to receive it—when, by the assent of
- both our families, he was to have become my husband—take it, my dear
- son, for although it tears my heart to part with it, yet I feel that I
- shall be more tranquil when it is in your possession—to no one but
- yourself would I have given it. You will sometimes look upon it, and you
- will think of your mother, who must now remain for ever isolated from the
- world. But it is better that it should be so—henceforward all my
- moments shall be spent in making my peace with Heaven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While saying these words, she had drawn from her pocket a case, which she
- put into Paul’s hands, and which he had eagerly opened, and gazed with
- intense interest at the features of his father. The miniature was richly
- set in diamonds of great value.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then summoning all her fortitude, the marchioness for the last time kissed
- her son, who was kneeling before her, and tearing herself from his arms,
- she returned alone to the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning the inhabitants of Port Louis vainly sought the frigate
- they had seen only the evening before, and which for fifteen days had
- remained at anchor in the outer roads of Lorient. As on the former
- occasion, she had disappeared without their being able to comprehend the
- cause of her arrival, or the motive of her so sudden departure.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- EPILOGUE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Last scene of all
- That ends this strange, eventful history.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Five years had elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have related.
- The independence of the United States had been recognized; New York, the
- last strong-hold of the English, had been evacuated. The roar of
- cannon,-which had resounded in the Indian seas, as well as in the Gulf of
- Mexico, had ceased to thunder. Washington, in the solemn meeting of
- Congress of the 28th December, 1783, had resigned his commission as
- general-in-chief, and had retired to Mount Vernon, his parental estate,
- without any other recompence than that of being allowed to receive and
- send letters free of charge; and the tranquillity which America had begun
- to enjoy, had extended to the French colonies in the West Indies; for the
- mother country having espoused the American cause, they had been several
- times exposed to the hostile attempts of Great Britain. Among these
- islands, Guadaloupe had been more particularly threatened, in consequence
- of its military and commercial importance; but, thanks to the vigilance of
- its new governor, the attempts of the enemy to land there had always
- failed, and France had not to mourn over any serious discomfiture in this
- important position, so that at the commencement of the year 1784, the
- island, without being altogether denuded of warlike appearance, which was
- maintained in it more from custom than from necessity, the inhabitants
- generally had applied themselves anew to the cultivation of the numerous
- products which form its riches.
- </p>
- <p>
- If our readers will be pleased by a last effort of their complaisance, to
- accompany us to the other side of the Atlantic, and land with us at the
- port of Basseterre, we will conduct them amidst fountains which jet on
- every side, through the street which leads to the promenade, called Champ
- d’Arbaud; then, after having availed ourselves of the cool shade of the
- tamarind trees, planted on each side of it, till we have proceeded about
- two-thirds of its length, we will turn upon the left up a small beaten
- road, which conducts to the gate of a garden, the upper part of which
- commands a view of the whole town.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we have arrived there, we will allow them for a few moments to inhale
- the evening breeze, so refreshingly sweet after the mid-day heat of the
- month of May, and they can cast a glance with us over the luxuriant
- vegetation of the tropics.
- </p>
- <p>
- With our backs turned to the woody and volcanic mountains, which divide
- the western part of the island, and amid which arise, crowned with their
- plumes of smoke and sparks, the two calcined pinnacles of the sulphur
- mountain, we have at our feet, sheltered by the hills, which have been
- named Bellevue, Mont-Désir, Beau Soliel, Espérance and Saint Charles, the
- city gracefully descending towards the sea, the waves of which sparkling
- with the last rays of the setting sun, laves its white walls. The horizon,
- formed by the ocean, lying like a vast and limpid mirror, and to the right
- and left, the most beautiful and richest plantation of the island; large
- square fields of coffee trees, transplanted originally from Arabia, with
- their knotty and flexible branches, covered with dark green glossy leaves,
- of an oblong and pointed form, and bearing clusters of flowers as white as
- snow; long rows of cotton plants, covering with a rich carpet of verdure,
- the dry and stony soil, on which they thrive best, and among which we see,
- like so many colossal ants, negroes occupied in reducing to two or three,
- the thousand shoots which sprout out from each stalk. And then again, but
- in more level and well sheltered spots, in which the soil is richer and
- more argillaceous, we see plantations of cocoa trees, first introduced
- into the West Indies by the Jew, Benjamin Dacosta, with their lofty trunks
- and porous branches, covered with fawn colored bark, from which large
- oblong leaves are pending, among which we see fresh shoots of a soft rose
- color, which contrast strongly with the long, curved and yellow fruit,
- which bends the branches with its weight. And further off, whole fields of
- the plant, discovered at Tabaco, first brought to France by the Ambassador
- of Francis II., who presented it to Catherine de Medicis, from which
- circumstance it derived its name of <i>Herbe-a-là-reine</i>.* This did
- not, however, prevent it from being, like every popular thing, in the
- first instance, excommunicated and proscribed, in Europe and Asia, by the
- two powers who then divided the world, proscribed by the Grand Duke of
- Muscovy, Michael Fedorowich, by the Turkish Sultan Amurath IV., by the
- Emperor of Persia, and excommunicated by Pope Urban VIII. Here and there,
- we see springing up to a height of forty or fifty feet above all the
- shrubs and plants, by which it is surrounded, the banana tree of Paradise,
- of which, according to tradition, the oval leaves, seven or eight feet in
- length, served to form the first garment of the first created woman. And
- finally, elevated above all the rest, and standing forth pre-eminent,
- whether hacked by the azure of the Heavens, or by the dark green tea, the
- cocoa-nut and the palm-tree, those two giants of the Western Archipelago
- graceful and prodigal, as is everything that is powerful. Figure to
- yourselves, then these beautiful hills, intersected by seventy rivers,
- eased in beds, ninety feet in depth; these mountains illuminated during
- the day by a tropical sun, at night, by the volcano of the sulphur
- mountain; that vegetation, which never is arrested, the new leaves of
- which succeed the leaves which fall; this soil so salubrious, and air so
- pure, that notwithstanding the insensate experiments that man, the real
- enemy of himself, has made by transporting serpents from Martinique, and
- Saint Lucie, it was found that they could neither live nor reproduce
- there, and then judge after the sufferings they had endured in Europe, of
- the happiness which Antole de Lusignan and Marguerite d’Auray must have
- enjoyed there.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- * Queen’s Grass.
-</pre>
- <p>
- To a life agitated by the passions, to that struggle of natural rights
- against legal power, to that succession of scenes in which all earthly
- pains, from childbirth even to death, had played their part, had succeeded
- a life of pure delights, each day of which had passed on calmly and
- tranquilly; the only clouds that darkened it, arose from that vague
- uneasiness for distant friends, which as if borne upon the air, and which
- contracts the heart like a painful presentiment. However, from time to
- time, whether by newspapers, or by vessels, touching at the island,
- Anatole and Marguerite had obtained some intelligence of the generous
- being who had so powerfully served them as a protector; they had heard of
- his victories; that after he had left them, he had been appointed to the
- command of a small squadron, and had destroyed the English establishments
- on the coast of Acadia, which had gained for him the title of commodore;
- that, in an engagement with the <i>Serapis</i> and the <i>Countess of
- Scarborough</i>, after a combat yard-arm to yard-arm, which lasted four
- hours, he had obliged the two frigates to strike to him, and that finally,
- as a reward for the services he had rendered to the cause of American
- Independence, he had received the public thanks of Congress, who had voted
- him a gold medal, and had selected him to command the frigate <i>America</i>,
- to which that name had been given as being the finest in the service, and
- the command of which had been conferred on him as the bravest of its
- officers; but this splendid ship had been presented by Congress to the
- King of France, to replace the <i>Magnifique</i>, which had been lost at
- Boston. Paul Jones, after conducting this frigate to Havre, had joined the
- fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil, who had projected an attack upon Jamaica.
- This last intelligence had overjoyed the hearts of Lusignan and
- Marguerite, for this enterprize would bring Paul into their latitude, and
- they hoped at last they should soon see their brother and their friend;
- but peace, as we have before said, had intervened, and from that time,
- they had heard no more of the adventurous seaman.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the evening of the day on which we have transported our readers from
- the wild shores of Brittany to the fertile coast of Guadaloupe, the young
- family were assembled in the very garden which we have entered, and which
- commands a view of the immense panorama we have described; the foreground
- of which is formed by the city, at its feet the ocean, studded with
- islands in the distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite had promptly habituated herself to the soft listlessness of
- Creole life; and her mind now tranquil and full of happiness, she gave
- herself up to the <i>dolce far niente</i>, which renders the sensual
- existence of the colonies a half sleep, the incidents of which appear as
- dreams.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was lying with her daughter in a Peruvian hammock, netted with the
- silken fibres of the aloe, and ornamented with the most brilliant colored
- plumes of the rarest tropical birds; her son was swinging her with a soft
- and regular motion, and Lusignan was holding one of her hands between both
- his. She was still pale, but delicate and graceful as a wild lily. Her
- looks were vacantly wandering over the immense extent of ocean lying
- before her, and she felt her soul and senses enraptured by all the bliss
- which heaven can promise, and all the enjoyments which this earth can
- offer. At that moment, and as if everything concurred to complete the
- magic spectacle which every evening she came there to contemplate, and
- which every succeeding evening she found still more marvellously
- beautiful, there suddenly appeared, doubling the cape <i>Trois Pointes</i>,
- and looking like an ocean king, a large vessel, gliding along the surface
- of the sea without more apparent effort than a swan playing upon the
- tranquil bosom of a lake. Marguerite was the first to perceive it, and
- without speaking, for every action is a fatigue under that burning clime,
- she made a sign with her head to Lusignan, who directed his looks to the
- spot she had indicated, and then, like her, silently followed with his
- eyes the rapid and graceful movements of the vessel. By degrees as she
- approached, and as the elegant and delicate proportions of her masts
- amidst the mass of sails which they sustained, could be discerned, which,
- in the first instance, had seemed a cloud floating upon the horizon—they
- began to discover in one corner of her flag the stars of America, equal in
- number to the States they represent. One same idea shot instantly through
- their minds, and they exchanged a glance, radiant with hope that they
- were, perhaps, about to receive some news of Paul. Lusignan immediately
- ordered a negro to bring a telescope: but before he had returned, a hope
- still more delightful pervaded both their hearts. It appeared to Lusignan
- and Marguerite that they recognized an old friend in the frigate that was
- approaching. To persons, however, unaccustomed, it is so difficult to
- distinguish, at a great distance, signs which speak at once to the eye of
- an experienced seaman, that they did not yet dare to have faith in this
- hope, and which, indeed, was more an instinctive presentiment than
- positive reality. At last the negro brought the so much longed for
- telescope. Lusignan uttered a cry of joy, and then handed it to
- Marguerite: he had recognized the sculpture of Guillaume Costou, upon the
- prow of the vessel, and it was really the <i>Indienne</i> which was
- advancing towards Basseterre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lusignan raised Marguerite from the hammock and placed her on her feet,
- for their first impulse was to hasten to the harbour; but then they
- reflected that Paul had left the <i>Indienne</i> nearly five years, at the
- time that his promotion entitled him to the command of a larger vessel,
- and that she might now be under the orders of another captain, and they
- paused with palpitating hearts and trembling limbs. During this time,
- their son Hector had taken up the telescope, and placing it to his eye,
- looked through it, and soon after exclaimed,—“Father, see there,—upon
- the deck stands an officer, dressed in a black coat, embroidered with
- gold, just like the one in the picture of my dear friend, Paul!” Lusignan
- hastily snatched the glass from his son’s hands, looked through it for a
- few moments, then again passed it to Marguerite, who, after directing it
- toward the vessel, let it fall, and then they threw themselves into each
- other’s arms; they had recognized their friend, who, as he was about to
- visit them, had put on the dress which we have before said he had
- generally worn. At this instant the frigate passed the fort, which it
- saluted with three guns, and the fort returned the salute with an equal
- number.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the moment that Lusignan and Marguerite had acquired the certitude
- that their friend and brother was actually on board the <i>Indienne</i>,
- they had hastened down the mountain, followed by young Hector, towards the
- port, leaving their little Blanche in the hammock. The captain had also
- recognized them, so that at the moment they left the garden he had ordered
- a boat to be lowered, and, thanks to the united strength of ten vigorous
- oarsmen, he had rapidly glided over the distance between the anchorage
- ground and the port, and had sprung upon the jetty at the instant that his
- friends arrived there. Such sensations as then filled their breasts cannot
- be expressed in words; tears are their only interpreter. And thus their
- joy more closely resembled grief, for they all wept, even to the child,
- who wept because he saw them weep.
- </p>
- <p>
- After giving some orders relating to the vessel, the young commodore, with
- his delighted friends, slowly ascended the hill down which they had rushed
- so rapidly to meet him. Paul told them that the expedition of Admiral
- Vaudreuil having failed, he had returned to Philadelphia, and peace having
- been signed, as we have before mentioned, with England, the Congress, as a
- token of gratitude, had presented him with the first ship he had commanded
- as captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon hearing this, Lusignan and Marguerite experienced the most lively
- joy, for they hoped that their brother had come with the intention of
- taking up his abode with them; but the character of the young seaman was
- too adventurous, and stood too much in need of excitement, to sink quietly
- down into the monotonous and unvaried dulness of a life on shore. He
- informed his friends that he had but eight days to remain with them, after
- which he should seek in another quarter of the globe, to follow the
- profession he had adopted.
- </p>
- <p>
- These eight days passed by as rapidly as a dream, and notwithstanding the
- reiterated entreaties of both Lusignan and Marguerite, Paul would not
- consent to delay his departure even for twenty-four hours. He was still
- the same ardent determined being, considering the execution of a
- resolution he had once formed as a positive duty, and more austere with
- regard to himself than toward others.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hour of separation had arrived. Marguerite and Lusignan wished to
- accompany the young commodore on board his ship; but Paul wished not to
- prolong the grief of this leave-taking. When they reached the jetty he
- embraced them for the last time, then jumped into his boat, which was
- rowed away as swiftly as an arrow. Marguerite and Lusignan followed him
- with their eyes until his boat had disappeared on the leeward side of the
- frigate, and they sorrowfully reascended the hill to watch the ship’s
- departure, from the same terrace from which they had before discerned its
- arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the moment they reached it, they observed that activity and bustle on
- board the frigate which always precede the departure of a vessel. The
- sailors had surrounded the capstan, and were employed in getting up the
- anchor, and thanks to the pureness of the atmosphere, the sonorous and
- lively cries of the seamen reached the ears of Lusignan and Marguerite;
- the anchor was soon apeak, and they saw it rising slowly under the ship’s
- bows; then the sails dropped successively from the yards, from the royals
- to the courses, and the ship, seemingly endowed with an instinctive and
- animated feeling, gracefully turned her prow toward the harbour’s mouth,
- and beginning to move, cut through the waves with an easy motion, as if
- merely gliding upon their surface. Then, as if the frigate might be
- abandoned to her own will, they saw the young commodore spring upon the
- stern rails, and devote all his attention to the land he was thus leaving.
- Lusignan took out his handkerchief and made a signal, to which Paul
- replied. And then, when they could no longer perceive each other with the
- naked eye, they had recourse to their telescopes, and, thanks to this
- ingenious invention, they retarded the separation for another hour. They
- all felt a presentiment that this separation would be eternal.
- </p>
- <p>
- The vessel gradually diminished upon the horizon, and darkness was about
- to cover the heavens, when Lusignan ordered a quantity of wood to be
- brought upon the terrace, to form a beacon fire, which was instantly
- ignited, in order that Paul, whose vessel was nearly enshrouded in the
- darkness, might continue to fix his eyes upon that spot until he had
- doubled Cape Trois Pointes. Lusignan and Marguerite had for an hour lost
- sight of the ship, while Paul, thanks to their large brilliant fire, might
- still perceive them, when a bright flame, like to a flash of lightning,
- appeared on the horizon, and in a few seconds the report of a gun, similar
- to the prolonged sound of distant thunder, reached their ears, and all
- again was silent. Lusignan and Marguerite had received Paul’s last
- farewell.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, although the domestic drama which we had undertook to relate,
- has, in fact, terminated here, some of our readers may, perhaps, have felt
- sufficient interest in the young adventurer, of whom we have made the hero
- of this story, to follow him in the second part of his career; to these
- then, after thanking them for the kind attention they have been pleased to
- grant to us, we are about to recount truly and plainly, facts which a most
- minute research have enabled us to lay before them.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the period we have reached, that is to say, in the month of May, 1784,
- the whole of Europe had fallen into that state of torpor, which unthinking
- men imagined to be tranquillity, but which minds more profound, regarded
- as the dull and momentary calm that precedes the tempest. America, by
- obtaining her independence, had prepared France for her revolution. Kings
- and people, mistrustful of each other, were upon their guard. Peter III.,
- who had become odious to the Russians, in consequence of his ignoble
- character, the narrowness of his political views, and above all, for his
- excessive leaning to Prussian manners, and Prussian discipline, had been
- deposed without opposition, and strangled without a struggle. Catherine
- had thus found herself, at the age of thirty-two, mistress of an empire
- which extended over one-seventh part of the globe; her first care was to
- compel the neighbouring powers to accept her as a mediatrix in their
- quarrel, and thus become do-pendent upon her. Thus, had she obliged the
- people of Courland to drive from them their new Duke, Charles of Saxony,
- and to recall Biren; she had sent her ambassadors and her armies to
- Warsaw, there to have crowned by the name of Stanislaus Augustus, her
- former lover, Poniatowski; she had formed an alliance with England; she
- had associated to her policy the Courts of Vienna and Berlin; and
- notwithstanding all these great projects of foreign policy, she had not
- neglected the internal government of her own country, and in the interval
- of her amours, so fickle and so various, she still found time to reward
- industry, to encourage agriculture, to reform the laws, to raise a navy,
- to send Pallas into provinces the productions of which were till then
- unknown—Blumager into the northern Archipelago, and Bel-lings into
- the Indian ocean; in fine, jealous of the literary reputation of her
- brother, the King of Prussia, she wrote with the same hand that had
- ordered the erection of a new city, signed the order for the execution of
- young Ivan, and the dismemberment of Poland, <i>The Refutation of the
- Journey into Siberia</i>, by the Abbé Chappe, a romance of the Czarowich
- Chlose, several plays, among which was a translation into French of Oleg,
- a drama, written by the Russian poet, Dersehawin, so that Voltaire
- proclaimed her the Semiraris of the North, and the King of Prussia, in his
- letters, classed her between Solon and Lycurgus.
- </p>
- <p>
- The effect produced amid this voluptuous and chivalric court by the
- arrival of such a man, as our adventurous seaman, can readily be imagined.
- The reputation for courage, which had rendered him the terror of the
- enemies of France and America, had preceded him to the court of Russia,
- and in exchange for his frigate, which he presented to Catherine, he
- received the rank of Rear-Admiral. Then the flag of Russia, after having
- navigated round one-half the old world, appeared in the Grecian seas, and
- beneath the ruins of Lacedemon and the Parthenon, he, who had assisted in
- establishing the independence of America, dreamt of the re-establishment
- of the Republics of Sparta and of Athens. The old Ottoman empire was
- shaken to its foundations, the defeated Turks signed a treaty of peace at
- Kainardji. Catherine retained Azof, Taganrog, and Kenburr, and Kenburn,
- compelled the Turks to grant to her the free navigation of the Black Sea,
- and the independence of the Crimea; she then desired to visit her new
- possessions. Paul, recalled to St. Petersburgh, accompanied her on this
- journey, the route of which had been drawn up by Potemkin. During the
- whole of it, all the attributes of triumph were offered to the conquering
- Empress and her suite; bonfires were lighted all along the road, cities
- were illuminated with the most fairy-like brilliancy, magnificent palaces
- erected, as if by magic, for one day, amid desert countries, and which the
- next morning disappeared; villages, rising as if beneath the wand of an
- enchanter, in solitudes, in which eight days before the Tartars fed their
- flocks; towns appearing on the horizon of which there existed but the
- exterior walls; in every direction, homage, and songs of welcome, and
- dances of the people: during the day, a numerous population crowded the
- road, and at night, while the Empress was sleeping, they would run to
- station themselves in the way she was to proceed on waking the following
- morning: a king and emperor rode by her side, calling themselves not her
- brothers, not her equals, but her courtiers; finally, a triumphal arch was
- erected at the last halt she was to make on her journey southward, bearing
- the inscription—“<i>This is the road to Byzantium,</i>” which if it
- did not reveal the ambition of Catherine, demonstrated at least, the
- policy of Potemkin. Then Russia became strengthened in her tyranny, as
- America had in her independence. Catherine offered to her Admiral places
- which would have more than satisfied the rapacity of a courtier, honors
- which would have overwhelmed the ambitious, estates which would have
- consoled a deposed king for the loss of his dominions; but it was the deck
- of his ship, it was the sea with its combats and its tempests, it was the
- boundless immensity of ocean for which yearned the heart of our
- adventurous and poetic seaman. He, therefore, left the brilliant court of
- Catherine, as he had left the austere Congress of America, and returned to
- France to seek that, which he could not find elsewhere, that is to say, a
- life of excitement, enemies to combat, a people to defend. Paul arrived in
- Paris in the midst of our European wars and civil struggles; while, with
- one hand, we were seizing a foreign enemy by the throat, with the other,
- we were tearing our own entrails. That king, whom he had seen ten years
- before, beloved, honored, powerful, was then a captive, despised and
- strengthless. All that had been exalted was abased, and great names fell
- as did high-born heads.—It was the reign of equality, and the
- guillotine was the levelling instrument. Paul inquired after Emanuel, and
- was told that he was proscribed. He asked what had become of his mother,
- and was informed that she was dead. Then he felt an irresistible longing
- to revisit once again, before he himself might die, the spot on which,
- twelve years before, he had experienced emotions at once so sweet and
- terrible. He set out for Brittany, left his carriage at Vannes, and
- mounted on horseback, as he had done on the first day he had seen
- Marguerite; but he was no longer the young and enthusiastic seaman, whose
- desires and hopes had no horizon; he was a man bereft of all those,
- brilliant illusions, for he had tasted of all, whether weet or bitter, had
- learnt to appreciate all, both men and things; had known all, glory and
- oblivion. Therefore, did he not come to search a family, but to visit
- tombs.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he came within sight of the castle, he turned his eyes toward
- Achard’s house, and not being able to discover it, he thought he would go
- into the forest, but the forest seemed to have vanished as by enchantment.
- It had been sold as national property to twenty-five or thirty farmers of
- the neighbourhood, who had cleared off the timber, and transformed it into
- a large plain. The gigantic oak had disappeared, and the plough had passed
- over the unknown grave of the Count de Morlaix, and the eyes of his son
- even, could no longer recognize the spot.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he returned through the park toward the castle, now become even more
- gloomy and desolate than when he had last seen it. In it he found only an
- old man, a living ruin amidst these ruins of the past; it was at first
- intended to have pulled down the mansion, but the reputation for holiness
- which the marchioness had left behind her, was regarded with such
- religious veneration throughout the country, that the old walls, which for
- four centuries had been the abode of her ancestors, remained undesecrated.
- Paul went through the apartments, which for three years had remained
- closed, and which were now open for him. He walked through the portrait
- gallery; it was in the same state as he had formerly seen it; no pious
- hand had added to the portrait either of the marquis or the marchioness.
- He went into the study in which he had been concealed—found a book
- lying in it which he had opened and placed upon the very spot on which he
- found it, and read the same passages which he had read so many years
- before. He then pushed open the door which communicated with the contract
- chamber, where had passed the chief scenes of that drama in which he was
- the principal actor. The table was still in the same place and the
- Venetian looking-glass over the chimney-piece was there, shattered as it
- had been by the ball of Emanuels pistol.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul advanced to the fire-place, and placing his elbow on the marble
- mantle-piece, questioned the servant as to the last years of the
- Marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The account he received shewed that she had remained austere and
- melancholy, as was her wont. Remaining secluded and alone at the castle,
- her hours were uniformly spent in three different places: her oratory, the
- vault in which the body of her husband had been buried, and the spot
- sheltered by the oak tree, at the foot of which her lover had been
- interred. For eight years after the evening on which Paul had taken leave
- of her, she had been seen to wander amid the old corridors of the castle,
- and in the gloomy avenues of the Park, slow and pale as a spectre; then a
- disease of the heart, engendered by the agonies she had suffered, declared
- itself, and she daily became weaker. At length, one evening, when her
- failing strength no longer permitted her to walk, she had ordered the
- servants to carry her to the foot of the oak tree, her favorite walk, that
- she might once more see, she said, the sun setting in the ocean. When they
- had reached the spot, she desired the servants to withdraw, and to come
- back to her in half an hour. On their return they found her lying fainting
- on the ground. They immediately bore her to the castle, but having
- recovered her senses on the way, she ordered them, instead of conducting
- her to her own room, which they usually did, to take her down into the
- family vault. There she had still strength enough to kneel upon the tomb
- of her husband, and made a sign that she desired to be left alone. However
- imprudent their doing so might be, the servants elbow on the marble
- withdrew, for she had accustomed them to obey her in every thing at the
- first intimation of her will. They, however, remained at a short distance,
- concealed behind the corner of a tomb, that they might be ready to render
- her assistance, should it be necessary. In a few minutes they saw her fall
- down upon the stone on which she had been praying; they rushed forward,
- imagining that she had again fainted. She was dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul requested the old servant to conduct him into the vault, and slowly
- entered it with uncovered head; and when he had reached the stone which
- covered the grave of his mother, he knelt down and prayed. On the
- monumental stone were inscribed the following words, and which may still
- be seen in one of the chapels of the church of the small town of Auray, to
- which it has since been removed. The inscription had been written by the
- marchioness herself, and she had desired that it should be placed upon her
- tomb.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here lies the very noble and very puissant lady Marguerite Blanche de
- Sablé, Marchioness of Auray; born the 2nd of August 1729—died the
- 3rd September, 1788.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray for her and for her children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul raised his eyes to heaven, with an expression of infinite gratitude,
- His mother, who during her life, had for so long a time forgotten him, had
- remembered him in her funeral inscription.
- </p>
- <p>
- Six months after this visit, the National Convention decreed, in solemn
- sitting, that they would attend in a body the funeral procession of Paul
- Jones, formerly a commodore in the American navy, and whose burial was to
- take place in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had come to this decision, said the decree, in order to consecrate
- the establishment of <i>religious freedom throughout France</i>.
- </p>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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- <head>
- <title>
- Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, pere
- </title>
- <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
-
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- P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
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- .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Paul, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Captain Paul
-
-Author: Alexandre Dumas, Pere
-
-Release Date: October 29, 2012 [EBook #41222]
-Last Updated: November 21, 2016
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PAUL ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- CAPTAIN PAUL
- </h1>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h2>
- By Alexandre Dumas, pere
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> CAPTAIN PAUL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- INTRODUCTION.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The admirers of “The Pilot,” one of the most magnificent of Cooper’s
- novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves
- have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether lose
- sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such intense
- interest, through the narrows of the Devil’s Grip, and the Cloisters of
- St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and in the actions
- of this person, introduced in the first place by the name of John, and
- afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a grief so
- bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every reader
- desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so brave
- and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have more than
- once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of it, it might
- have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for information
- regarding the early career and closing years of this adventurous seaman—information
- which we have vainly searched for in his narrative. I thought that such a
- request would be readily forgiven by him to whom it was addressed, for it
- would have been accompanied by the expression of the most sincere and
- ardent admiration of his work; but I was restrained by the reflection that
- the author himself, perhaps, knew no more of that career, of which, he had
- given us but an episode, than that portion of it which had been
- illuminated by the sun of American Independence: for, in fact, this
- brilliant meteor had passed from the clouds which environed his birth to
- the obscurity of his death in such a manner, that it was quite possible
- the “poet historian,” being far distant from the place where his hero was
- born, and from the country in which he died, knew no more of him than what
- he has transmitted to us. The very mystery which surrounded him, may have
- been the cause of his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals.
- Urged by these considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own
- research, those details which I had so often desired to receive from
- others. I searched through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was
- a copy of the letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined
- the annals of the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at
- the time of his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that
- he was buried in the cemetery of Père la Chaise. This was all the
- information I could gather from my first attempts.
- </p>
- <p>
- I then consulted our living library—Nodier, the learned—Nodier,
- the philosopher—Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few
- moments, he mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself,
- containing memoirs of his life, bearing this motto, “Munera sunt Laudi.” I
- started off to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched
- through libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls—all that I could
- find was an infamous libel, entitled, “<i>Paul Jones, ou Prophétie sur
- l’Amérique, l’Angleterre, la France, l’Espagne et la Hollande</i>” which I
- threw from me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page,
- marvelling that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved,
- whilst we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food—I
- therefore renounced all hope in this quarter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having
- started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l’Orient. Upon my
- arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography of
- Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that port.
- This circumstance had struck me—I had noted down the dates, and had
- only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval
- archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which the
- two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of
- thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming
- there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept the
- register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office without
- further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk who was
- sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in the
- country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me that in
- 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office at Havre,
- had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore in the fleet of
- the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this officer, and his
- extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression upon him, that upon
- his, the clerk’s, return to Brittany, he spoke of him to his father, who
- then had charge of the Chateau d’Auray. Upon hearing the name of Paul
- Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to him to be silent—the
- young man obeyed, though not without astonishment. He frequently
- afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he always refused
- to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death of the
- Marchioness d’Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and the
- dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt himself
- permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious history,
- in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly blended.
- Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father had related
- that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression upon him that he
- repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for word.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have treasured up this history in the recesses of my memory for nearly
- seven years: and it would have still remained buried there, with a mass of
- other recollections, destined never to see the light, had I not about six
- months ago read “The Pilot” for the second time, and even with much
- greater interest than before; for, thanks to the researches I had made,
- the hero was no longer to me an unknown being, appearing only for an
- instant, his face but partially visible, and with merely the portion of a
- name; he had now become a friend, almost a brother, to me—for new
- sympathies had been awakened in my heart besides those which had formerly
- been inspired by the recital of the expedition to Whitehaven. These led me
- to reflect that whatever of interest and disappointment I had experienced
- on reading’ Cooper’s novel, they must have been entertained alike by
- others, and that the anxious desire I had felt to know more of the former
- lover of Alice Dunscombe was not a feeling peculiar to myself, but would
- be participated by all those, and their number must be great, who have
- followed this skilful seaman from the moment of his first meeting
- Lieutenant Barnstaple on the English cliffs, until that in which he
- quitted the Alert to land on the shores of Holland.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have, therefore, gathered up my recollections, and have written this
- history.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- CAPTAIN PAUL.
- </h1>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I—A STRANGE SAIL
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hoarse o’er her side the rustling cable rings-
- The sails are furled—and anchoring, round she swings;
- And gathering loiterers on the land discern
- Her boat descending from the latticed stern.
- ‘Tis mann’d—the oars keep concert to the strand,
- Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.—Byron.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Toward the close of a fine evening in the month of October, 1779, the most
- inquisitive among the inhabitants of the small town of Fort Louis, had
- assembled on the point of land immediately opposite to that on which
- stands the city of Lorient. The object which attracted their attention,
- and which was the subject of their inquiries, was a noble beautiful
- frigate, carrying 32 guns, which had been anchored for about a week, not
- in the port, but in a small cove in the roadstead, and which had been
- perceived for the first time early one morning, like an ocean flower which
- had suddenly blossomed during the night. From the elegant and coquettish
- appearance of this frigate, it was imagined that this was the first time
- of her putting to sea; she bore the French flag, for the three golden <i>fleur-de-lis</i>
- were seen glittering in the last rays of the setting sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- That which, above all, appeared to excite the curiosity of the admirers of
- this spectacle, so frequent, and notwithstanding, always so interesting in
- a seaport, was the uncertainty as to the country in which this vessel had
- been built; for, having all her sails clewed up and snugly stowed around
- her yards, showed in the setting sun the graceful outline of her hull, and
- a minute elegance as to her running rigging. Some thought they could
- discern in her the bold and taunt masts used by the Americans, but the
- perfection exemplified in the finish which distinguished the rest of her
- construction, was in perfect contrast with the barbarous rudeness of those
- rebellious children of England. Others, deceived by the flag she had
- hoisted, were endeavouring to divine in what port of France she had been
- launched, but their national pride soon gave way to the conviction that
- she was not built in France, for they sought in vain for those heavy
- galleries, ornamented with sculpture, which is the compulsory decoration
- of the stern of every daughter of the ocean, or of the Mediterranean, born
- on the stocks of Brest or of Toulon; others, again, knowing that the flags
- were frequently used as a mask to hide the real face, maintained that the
- lion and the towers of Spain would have more properly been placed upon the
- ensign waving from her peak, than the three <i>fleur-de-lis</i> of France:
- but the latter were asked whether the straight and elegant sides and
- quarters of the frigate all resembled the bulging build of Spanish
- galleons. In short, there were some among them who would have sworn that
- this beautiful fairy of the waters had been brought to life among the
- frogs of Holland, had not the dangerous boldness of her masts and rigging
- fully contradicted the suggestion that she could have been built by those
- old but prudent sweepers of the seas. But, as we have said, for eight
- whole days, and ever since the first appearance of this splendid vision
- upon the coast of Brittany, she had been the constant theme of wonder and
- of conversation, for nothing had happened to give them any positive
- information, as not an individual from the crew had landed from the ship,
- under any pretext whatever. They might, indeed, have doubted whether she
- had a crew or not, had not they now and then seen the head of a sentinel,
- or of the officer of the watch, peering above the bulwarks. It appeared,
- however, that this vessel, although she had not communicated with the
- shore, could not have any hostile intention; her arrival had not seemed to
- give the least uneasiness to the public authorities of Lorient, for she
- had run under the guns of a small fort, which the recent declaration of
- war between England and France had caused to be put in order, and which
- displayed a battery of long guns of heavy calibre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among this crowd of idlers, however, there was a young man, who was
- remarked for the anxious eagerness of his inquiries:—without any one
- being able to devise the cause, it was easily perceived that he felt some
- direct interest in this mysterious vessel. His brilliant uniform was that
- of the <i>mousquetaires</i>, and as these royal guards rarely left the
- capital, he had, at first, directed a portion of the public curiosity to
- himself, but it was soon discovered that this person, whom they thought a
- stranger, was the young Count d’Auray, the last scion of one of the most
- ancient families of Brittany. The castle inhabited by his family rose
- above the shores of the Golf of Morbihan, at six or seven leagues,
- distance from Fort Louis. The family consisted of the Marquis d’Auray, a
- poor insane old man, who for twenty years had never been seen beyond the
- boundaries of his estates; of the Marchioness d’Auray, whose rigid
- morality, and whose ancient nobility, could alone excuse her haughty and
- aristocratic bearing; of the young Marquerite, a sweet girl of seventeen
- or eighteen years of age, delicate and pale as the flower whose name she
- bore; and of Count Emanuel, whom we have mentioned above, and around whom
- the crowd had gathered, carried away, as it always is, by a sounding
- title, a brilliant uniform, and noble and lordly manners.
- </p>
- <p>
- However eager might have been the desire of those he addressed to satisfy
- his curiosity, they could only answer his questions in a vague and
- undecided manner; all they knew of the frigate being mere conjecture. The
- count was about retiring from the jetty, when he perceived a six-oared
- boat approaching it. At a moment when curiosity had been so much excited,
- this incident could not fail to attract all eyes. In the stern of the boat
- sat a young man, who appeared to be from twenty to twenty-two years of
- age, and who was dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the royal navy—he
- was sitting, or rather lying, upon a bearskin, one hand reclining
- carelessly on the tiller of the small boat, while the coxswain, who,
- thanks to the caprice of his officer, had nothing to do, was sitting in
- the bow. From the moment that it first made its appearance, every eye was
- directed towards it, as if it contained the means of solving the mystery
- which had so much puzzled them. The boat, urged on by the last efforts of
- its oarsmen, took the ground at eight or ten feet distance from the beach,
- there being too little water in that place to allow it to come nearer. Two
- of the sailors jumped into the sea up to their knees. The young lieutenant
- then rose up in a careless way, walked to the bow of the boat, and allowed
- the two sailors to carry him in their arms to the beach, so that not a
- drop of salt water should soil his elegant uniform. He then ordered his
- men to double the point of land which advanced about three hundred feet
- into the sea, and to go and wait for him on the opposite side of the
- battery. As for himself, he stopped a moment on the beach to arrange his
- dress, which had been a little disordered by the rough mode of transport
- he had been compelled to adopt, and then he advanced, humming a French
- air, towards the gate of a small fort, which he passed, after having
- slightly returned the military salute of the sentinel on duty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although nothing could, in a seaport, be more natural than that a naval
- officer should cross the roads and walk into a fort, the minds of the
- lookers-on had been so much occupied with the foreign vessel, that there
- was hardly one among the crowd who did not imagine that this visit to the
- commandant of the fort had some relation to her, so that when the young
- officer issued from it, he found himself surrounded so closely by the
- crowd, that for a moment he appeared half inclined to use the rattan which
- he carried in his hand, to make way through it. However after having
- flourished it with impertinent affectation above the heads of those who
- were nearest him, he appeared all at once to change his mind, and
- perceiving Count Emanuel, whose distinguished appearance, and elegant
- uniform, contrasted strikingly with the vulgar air and habiliments of the
- persons who surrounded him, he made a few steps towards him at the same
- moment that the count had advanced to meet him. The two officers merely
- exchanged a rapid glance, but that look at once assured both that they
- were persons of rank and station. They immediately saluted each other with
- that easy grace and affable politeness which characterized the young
- nobility of that period.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By Heaven!” exclaimed the young midshipman; “my dear countryman, for I
- suppose that like myself you are a Frenchman, although I meet you in a
- seemingly hyperborean land, and in regions which, if not absolutely
- savage, appear sufficiently barbarous—will you have the goodness to
- tell me what there is so extraordinary about me, that I seem to cause
- quite a revolution in the country? Or is the appearance of an officer of
- the navy an event so rare and so extraordinary at Lorient, that his mere
- presence excites, in so singular a degree, the curiosity of the natives of
- Lower Brittany? By solving this mystery, you will render me a service
- which I shall be happy to reciprocate, should any opportunity present
- itself in which I can be useful to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This will be so much the more easy,” replied Count Emanuel, “as this
- curiosity is not founded in any feeling which you would consider offensive
- to your uniform or hostile to your person—and the proof of this is,
- my dear comrade—for I see by your epaulettes that we are of equal
- rank in the service of his majesty—that I participate with these
- honest Britons in the curiosity which they evince, although, perhaps, my
- motives are more weighty than theirs, in endeavouring to obtain a solution
- of the problem which has occupied us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I can be of any assistance to you, in the inquiries which you have
- undertaken, I place all the algebra I possess at your disposal. Only the
- position we are in is not a comfortable one to carry out mathematical
- demonstrations. Will it please you to remove to a small distance from
- these honest people, whose presence would only tend to confuse our
- calculations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” replied the mousquetaire, “and the more readily, as, if I do
- not deceive myself, by walking this way I shall lead you nearer to your
- boat and your sailors.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! that is not of the slightest consequence; should this path not be
- convenient to you we can take another. I have plenty of time; and my men
- are less eager to, return on board than I am. Therefore, we will about
- ship, if such is your good pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all; on the contrary, let us go on, the nearer we are to the beach
- the better we can discuss the matter in question. Let us, therefore, walk
- upon this strip of land as far as we can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young seamen, without replying a word, conti-nued to walk on, like a
- man to whom the direction he was to take was perfectly indifferent, and
- these two young men, who had thus met for the first time, walked arm in
- arm, as though they had been friends from infancy, towards the end of the
- promontory. When they had reached the extreme point, Count Emanuel paused,
- and pointed towards the frigate, saying, “Do you know what ship that is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young seaman threw a rapid and scrutinizing glance upon the
- mousquetaire, and then looked towards the ship: “Yes,” replied he,
- negligently, “it is a pretty frigate carrying two and thirty guns, with
- her sails bent and her starboard anchor atrip, ready to sail at the first
- signal given.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excuse me,” replied Emanuel, smiling; “that is not what I ask of you. It
- signifies little to me how many guns she carries, or by what anchor she is
- holding—is not that your technical mode of speaking?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant smiled: in turn. “But,” continued Emanuel, “what I wish to
- know is, to what nation she actually belongs, the port, that she is bound
- to, and the name of her captain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to the nation she belongs to,” replied the lieutenant,
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has taken care to give us that information herself, or she is, an
- outrageous liar; Do you not see her flag flying from her peak? It is the
- flag without a stain, rather worn out from being too much used that’s all.
- As to the place she is bound to, it is as the commandant of the fort told
- you, when, you asked him,—Mexico.” Emanuel looked with astonishment
- at the young lieutenant. “And finally, as to her captain, that is a much
- more difficult matter.. There are some people who would swear he is a
- young man about my own age or yours, for; I, believe we left the cradle
- pretty closely the one after, the other, although the professions we
- follow may place a long interval between our graves. There are others who
- pretend he is of the same age with my uncle the Count d’Estaing, who as
- you doubtless know, has just been made an admiral, and who is at: this
- moment affording every assistance to the rebels of America, as some
- people, even in France, still call them. But, in short, as to his name,
- that is quite another thing; it is said he does not know it himself; and
- until some fortunate occurrence shall apprise him of it, he calls himself
- Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Captain Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul, what?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Paul, of the <i>Providence</i>, of the <i>Banger</i>, of the <i>Alliance</i>,
- according to the name of the ship he commands. Are there not also in
- France some of our young nobles, who, finding their family name too short,
- lengthen it out by the name of an estate, and surmount the whole with a
- knight’s casque, or a baron’s coronet: so that their seals or their
- carriages bear the evidence of belonging to some ancient family, quite
- delightful to reflect upon? Well! so it is with him. At this moment he
- calls himself, I believe, Paul, of the <i>Indienne</i>, and he is proud of
- the appellation; if I may judge front my naval sympathies, I do not think
- he would exchange his frigate for the finest estate to be found between
- the Port of Brest and the mouth of the Rhone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, tell me,” rejoined Emanuel, after reflecting for a moment on the
- singular mixture of simplicity and sarcasm which pervaded the answers of
- his companion; “what is the character of this man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His character—but, my dear baron—count—marquis”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count,” replied Emanuel, bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my dear count, then, I was about to say that you pursued me from
- one abstraction to another, and that when I placed at you disposal all my
- knowledge in algebra, I did not intend that we should enter into a
- research of the unknown. His character! good heaven, my dear count, who
- can speak knowingly of the character of a man, unless it be himself—and
- even then—but hold—I, myself, as you now see me, have ploughed
- for twenty years, at one time with the keel of a brig, at another with
- that of a frigate, this vast expanse, which now extends itself before us.
- My eyes, for so I may express myself, discerned the ocean almost at the
- same moment that they saw the sky above it; since my tongue was able to
- join two words together, or my comprehension could combine two ideas, I
- have interrogated and studied the caprices of the ocean, and yet I do not,
- even to this time, know its character—and there are only four
- principal winds and thirty-two breezes which agitate it—that’s all.
- How, then, can you expect that I should judge of man, torn as he is by his
- thousand passions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor did I ask you, my dear—duke—marquis—count?”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lieutenant,” replied the young sailor, bowing, as Emanuel had done
- before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was about to say, then, my dear lieutenant, I do not ask a
- physiological lecture on the passions of Captain Paul. I only wish to
- inform myself upon two points. Firstly, whether you consider him a man of
- honor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must first of all understand each other as to the meaning of words, my
- dear count—what is your precise definition of the word honor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Permit me to remark, my dear lieutenant, that this question is a most
- singular one. Honor! Why, honor—is—honor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s it precisely—a word without a definition, like the word God!
- God—is God! and every one creates a God after his own fashion. The
- Egyptians adored him under the form of a scorpion—the Israelites,
- under that of a golden calf. So it is with honor. There is the honor of
- Camillus, and that of Coriolanus—that of the Cid, and that of Count
- Julian. Define your question better if you wish me to reply to it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ask, then, whether his word may be relied upon?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not believe he ever failed in that regard. His enemies—and no
- one can arrive to his station without having them—even his enemies,
- I say, have never doubted that he would keep, even unto death, an oath
- which he had sworn to. This point is, therefore, believe me, fully
- settled. In this respect, he is a man of <i>honor</i>. Let us pass,
- therefore, to your second question, for if I do not deceive myself, you
- wish to know something farther.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I wish to know whether he would faithfully obey an order given by
- his Majesty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What Majesty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Really, my dear lieutenant, you affect a difficulty of comprehension
- which would better suit the gown of a sophist, than a naval uniform.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why so? You accuse me of cavilling, because, before replying, I wish to
- know precisely what I have to answer. We have, at this? present time,
- eight or ten majesties, seated securely or otherwise, upon the different
- thrones of Europe. We have his Catholic Majesty—a feeble majesty,
- who allows the inheritance, left him by Charles, the Fifth, to be torn
- from him piece by piece;—we have his Britannic Majesty—a
- headstrong majesty, who clings to his America, as Cyingetus to the Persian
- ship, and whose hands we shall cut off, if he does not loose his hold;—we
- have his Christian Majesty, whom I venerate and honor”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—it is of him I wish to speak,” said Emanuel,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you believe that Captain Paul would feel disposed to obey an order
- which I should deliver from him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Captain Paul,” replied the lieutenant, “would, as every captain ought to
- do, obey every order emanating from a power which has the right of
- commanding him—unless indeed he be an accursed pirate, or some
- damned privateersman, some buccaneer, who owes no allegiance, and which I
- should doubt from the appearance of the frigate he commands, and from the
- way she is fitted. He must have then in some drawer of his cabin, a
- commission signed by some power or other. Well! should this commission
- bear the name of Louis, and be sealed with the fleur-de-lis of France,
- there can be no doubt that he would obey any order sealed, and signed by
- the same name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is all then that I wish to be informed of,” replied the young
- mousquetaire, who began to grow impatient at the strange and evasive
- answers given by his companion. “I will only ask you one more question.”
- “I am ready to obey your wishes in that, as I have in the rest, count,”
- returned the lieutenant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know any way of getting on board of that ship?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is one,” replied the lieutenant, pointing towards his own boat,
- which lay rocked, by the waves, in a small creek close to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That boat! why, is it yours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! I will take you on board.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know this Captain Paul, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I? not in the least! But as nephew of an admiral, I am naturally
- acquainted with every officer of a ship, from a boatswain, who pipes the
- hands aloft, to the rear admiral, who commands a squadron. Besides which,
- we sailors have secret signs among us, a certain masonic language, by
- which we know one another as brothers in whatever part of the ocean we may
- meet. You may, therefore, accept my proposal with the same frankness in
- which I offer it. I, my rowers, and my boat, are at your disposal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do me this service, then,” said Emanuel, “and”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will forgive me the annoyance I have caused by my tergiversations,
- will you not?” said the lieutenant. “You cannot be surprised at it,”
- continued he smiling, “my dear count, the solicitude of a seaman’s life
- has given to us children of the sea, the habit of soliloquising. During a
- calm, we invoke the winds! During the tempest, we invoke the calm; and
- during the night we address ourselves to God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel again looked doubtingly at his companion, who met his gaze with
- that apparent good tempered simplicity, which had appeared to spread over
- his features every time he had become the object of investigation, to the
- mousquetaire. The latter was surprised at this mixture of contempt for
- human things, and of poetic feeling toward the works of God. But finding
- that this singular man was disposed to render him, although in a strange
- manner, the service he had asked of him, he accepted his proffered
- assistance. Five minutes afterwards, the two young men were advancing
- towards the unknown vessel with as much rapidity as the vigor of six stout
- rowers could give to the light bark in which they were seated. Their oars
- rose and fell with so regular a movement, that it appeared rather impelled
- by some powerful machine, than by the combination of human strength.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.—THE FRIGATE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- And oh! the little warlike world within!
- The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy;
- The hoarse command, the busy humming din-
- When, at a word, the tops are mann’d on high,
- Hark to the boatswain’s call, the cheering cry;
- While through the seaman’s hands the tackle glides:
- Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by,
- Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,
- And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.—Byron.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As they advanced, the graceful form of the ship became more and more
- clearly defined, and although the vocation of the count did not lead him
- to admire beauty under such a form, yet he could not avoid being struck by
- the graceful model of her construction, the loftiness and strength of her
- masts, and the elegance of her rigging, which appeared, as it stood out
- against the richly tinted sky, reddened by the setting sun, to be composed
- of flexible and silky fibres, spun by some gigantic spider. There was not,
- however, any appearance of movement on board the ship, which seemed,
- either from inattention or contempt, to care but little for the visit she
- was about to receive. The young mousquetaire thought, however, at one
- moment, that he perceived the end of a telescope peeping out of one of the
- port-holes, near the muzzle of a gun, and which was pointed towards the
- boat; but the ship being gently moved round by the quiet heaving of the
- waves, presented her prow toward them, his attention was attracted by the
- figure-head which generally bears some allusion to the name of the vessel
- that it decorates: it was a representation of one of the daughters of
- America, discovered by Columbus, and conquered by Cortez, with a
- head-dress of many colored feathers, her bosom naked, and ornamented with
- a coral necklace. As to the remainder of the figure, it was a curious
- combination, half syren, half serpent, attached to the fore part of the
- ship in a graceful though fantastic form. The nearer the boat approached
- the ship, the more did the attention of the count appear attracted by this
- figure. It was, in fact, a sculpture, not only singular as to form, but
- very remarkable from the finish of its execution; and it was easy to
- perceive, that it was not the work of vulgar hands, but had been carved by
- a superior artist. The lieutenant remarked, with the satisfaction of a
- seaman, the increasing admiration which appeared in the countenance of the
- soldier; and at last perceiving that his attention was concentrated in the
- figure-head we have described, he seemed to wait with impatience that the
- latter should express his opinion upon it; but finding that he did not
- give any, although they were near enough not to lose any of its beauties,
- he took upon himself to be the first to speak, and to question his young
- companion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, count,” said he, concealing the interest which he took in his reply
- under an apparent gaiety, “what do you think of this master-piece?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think,” replied Emanuel, “that comparing it with works of the same
- description, which I have seen, it merits the appellation which you have
- given it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the lieutenant, carelessly, “it is the last work of William
- Coustou, who died before he had completed it: it was finished by one of
- his pupils, named Duprè, a man of genius, who is starving, and who is
- obliged to carve wood for want of marble, and to cut figure-heads of
- ships, when he ought to be employed in sculpturing statues. See,” said he,
- giving an impulsion to the rudder which laid then across her bows, “it is
- a real necklace of coral that she wears, and they are real pearls that are
- hanging from her ears. As to her eyes, each pupil is a diamond worth a
- hundred guineas. The captain who takes this frigate, will, besides the
- honor of capturing her, have a splendid wedding present to offer to his
- bride.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What an odd caprice,” exclaimed Emanuel, carried away by the singularity
- of the object he was gazing at, “to ornament a ship in the same way that
- one would an animated, being, and to risk considerable sums to the chances
- of a battle, or the dangers of a storm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should this astonish you?” said the lieutenant with an accent of
- indescribable melancholy; “we seamen have no other family than our
- sailors, no other country but the ocean, no gorgeous pageants but the
- tempest, no amusements but the battle. We must attach ourselves to
- something, having no real mistresses, for who would love us sea-gulls, who
- are always on the wing? We must therefore shape to ourselves an imaginary
- love. The one becomes enamoured of some verdant and shady island, and
- every time he perceives one in the distance, rising from the ocean like a
- flower garden, his heart becomes as joyous as that of a bird, when
- returning to its nest. Another selects some favorite star from out the
- firmament, and during the long and lovely nights on the Atlantic, every
- time he passes the equator, it appears to him that it approaches nearer to
- him, and salutes him with a more vivid light. There are others, and they
- are the greater number, who attach themselves to their frigate as to a
- well beloved daughter, who groan whenever the tempest tears away any part
- of her, at every wound given by the shot that strikes her, and when she is
- at length sunk by the tempest or the combat, prefer to perish with her,
- rather than to save themselves without her, giving to landsmen a holy
- example of fidelity. Captain Paul is one of the latter class, that’s all,
- and he has given to his frigate the wedding present which he had intended
- for his bride. Ah? I see they are waking up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boat ahoy?” cried some one from on board the frigate, “what boat’s that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We want to come on board,” replied Emanuel; “throw us a rope that we may
- catch hold of.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go round to the starboard side, and you will find the gangway ladder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sailors pulled round, and in a few seconds the two young men were
- going up the ship’s side. The officer of the watch came forward with an
- eagerness which appeared in Emanuel’s mind to promise well.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the lieutenant to a young man who was dressed in the same
- uniform as himself, and appeared to be of the same rank, “this is my
- friend, the Count —— By the by, I forgot to ask your name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count Emanuel d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was saying then, that this is my friend, the Count Emanuel d’Auray, who
- anxiously desires to speak to Captain Paul. Is he on board?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has just this moment arrived,” replied the officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case I will go below and prepare him to receive you, my dear
- count. In the meantime, this is Mr. Walter, who will have the pleasure of
- showing you through the ship. It is an interesting sight for a land
- officer, and the more so, as I doubt whether you would find many ships
- kept in such order as this is. The people are at supper just now, I
- believe?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case it will be the more curious sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” observed the officer, hesitating a little, “it is my watch on
- deck.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! you can easily find one of your brother officers who will relieve
- you for a short time. I will endeavour to manage so that the captain shall
- not make you kick your heels too long in the ante-room. Adieu, till I meet
- you again, count: I shall recommend you in such a way as will insure a
- good reception for you.” With these words, the young lieutenant
- disappeared down the companion ladder, while the one who remained with
- Emanuel to show him over the ship, took him into the ‘tween decks.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the lieutenant had presumed, the crew of the frigate were at their
- supper. It was the first time that the young count had been present at
- such a repast; and however much he desired to speak immediately to the
- captain, he felt so curious to observe what was going on, that he examined
- everything with eager attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- Between every two guns, a table and benches were prepared, not standing on
- their feet, but slung by ropes from above. Four men were seated upon each
- of the benches, taking their portion of pieces of beef, which seemed to
- resist the action of their knives, but which had to do with hearty fellows
- who did not appear at all disposed to be daunted by its toughness. At
- every table there were two cans of wine, that is to say, about a pint for
- each man. As to the bread, it did not appear to be distributed by rations,
- but they could take as much as they wanted. The most profound silence
- reigned throughout the crew, which, was composed of of more than from one
- hundred and eighty to two hundred men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although none of those seated at the table, opened their mouths for any
- other purpose than to eat, Emanuel perceived, with some surprise, that
- they were composed of many different nations, which was easily discernible
- from the contour of their countenances. His <i>cicerone</i> remarked his
- astonishment, and replying to his thought before he had given utterance to
- it, said, with an American accent, which Emanuel had already observed, and
- which proved that he who spoke to him was born on the other side of the
- Atlantic: “Yes, yes, we have a tolerably pretty sample of every nation in
- the world, and if all at once a good deluge should carry off the children
- of Noah, as it formerly did those of Adam, our ark could furnish people
- who speak every language. Do you observe those three fellows who are
- exchanging a piece of roast beef for a clove of garlick, they are lads
- from Galicia, whom we picked up at Cape Ortegal, and who would not go into
- action without having said a prayer to St Jago, of Corapostello, but who,
- when once their prayer is over, would rather allow themselves to be cut in
- pieces, like martyrs, than retreat a single step. Those two who are
- polishing their table at the expense of their jacket-sleeves, are honest
- Dutchmen, who still complain: of the injury done to their commerce by the
- discovery of the Cape of Good Hope. You see them—at first sight they
- look like very beer-pots. Well, those brave fellows, the moment they hear
- the drum beat to quarters, become as active as monkeys; Go near them, and
- they will talk to you about their ancestors; they will tell you they
- descend from those famous sweepers of the sea, who when going into action,
- hoisted a broom instead of a flag; but they will take good care not to
- inform you that one fine morning the English took their broom, and made
- rods of it to whip them with. That whole table, where they are chattering
- together at such a rate, but in an under tone, is occupied by Frenchmen,
- who would talk louder if they dared. The seat of honor is occupied by a
- chief, elected by themselves; he is a Parisian by birth, a cosmopolite
- from taste, a great master at the small sword, singlestick, and a
- dancing-master to boot. Always gay and contented, he sings when he is on
- duty, sings when he is fighting, and will die singing, unless a hemp
- cravat should stop his voice, which may very likely happen to him should
- he have the misfortune to fall into the hands of John Bull. Turn your eyes
- to the other side now, and observe that row of square and idle heads.
- These are strange faces to you, are they not? but which every American
- born between Hudson’s Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, would recognize at once
- for bears born on: the borders of Lake Erie, or seals from Nova Scotia..
- There are three, or four of them who are one eyed—this arises from,
- their peculiar mode of fighting; they twist their fingers in the hair of
- their antagonist, and gouge out his eye with their thumbs. There are some
- of them who are very expert at this exercise, and who never miss their
- mark. So that when they are boarding a ship, they almost invariable throw
- away their boarding, pikes, or their cutlass, and seizing the first
- Englishman they can catch hold of, they uneye him with a dexterity and
- quickness quite delightful to behold. You will now comprehend that I did
- not deceive you in what I said, and that our collection is complete.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” asked Emanuel, who had listened to this long enumeration with a
- certain degree of interest, “how does your captain manage to make himself
- understood by men brought together from such distant nations?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “First of all our captain understands all languages—and although in
- battle and during stormy weather he speaks his mother tongue, he; gives
- such an accent to it that every one understands him and obeys: him. But
- see, the larboard cabin door is opening, and I doubt not he is ready
- to-receive you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And instantly a boy dressed in a midshipman’s uniform came up to the two
- officers, and asked Emanuel if he did not call himself the Count d’Auray;
- and on his receiving an affirmative reply, he requested him to follow him;
- and the officer who had so conscientiously sustained the part of a
- cicerone, immediately went on deck to resume his duties there. As to
- Emanuel, he advanced towards the cabin with a mixed feeling of anxiety and
- curiosity, He was at last about to be ushered in the presence of Captain
- Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a man who appeared to be between fifty and fifty-five years of age,
- and to whom the habit of walking between decks had given him a stoop
- rather than age. He wore the uniform of the French navy, accord-ing to its
- strictest regulations. It was a blue coat with scarlet facings, a red
- waistcoat, and breeches of the same color, grey stockings, with frilled
- shirt and’ ruffles. His hair, rolled up in large curls, and powdered quite
- white, was tied into a queue by a ribbon, the ends of which floated upon
- his shoulders. His cocked hat and his sword were lying upon a table beside
- him. At the moment Emanuel entered the door, he was sitting upon the
- carriage of a gun, but when he perceived him, he rose up to receive him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young count felt intimidated by the aspect of this man: there was in
- his eye a searching look which appeared to peer into the very soul of the
- person whom he gazed upon. Perhaps, also, this impression was the more
- powerful, that he presented himself before him with a conscience that
- reproached him with the act he was endeavouring to accomplish, and of
- which he was about to render the captain, if not an accomplice, at all
- events the executioner. These two men, as though they felt a secret
- repulsion, the one towards the other, saluted each other with politeness,
- but with cold reserve.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the Count d’Auray that I have the honor of addressing,” said the
- old officer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I Captain Paul, I believe,” replied the young mousquetaire; they both
- bowed a second time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I know to what fortunate chance I owe the honor,” rejoined the
- captain, “of the visit which is now paid to me by the heir of one of the
- oldest and greatest families in Brittany?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel bowed again by way of thanks for this compliment, and then, after
- hesitating for a moment as if he found it difficult to open the
- conversation, he observed: “I am told, Captain Paul, that you are bound to
- the Gulf of Mexico?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have not been deceived, sir; I purpose sailing for New Orleans,
- calling on my way at Cayenne, and at the Havannah.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This falls out very fortunately, captain, and you will not have to alter
- your course, in case you should be willing to undertake the execution of
- the order of which I am the bearer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have an order to communicate to me, sir, and from whom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From the Minister of Marine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An order addressed to me personally?” reiterated the captain, doubtingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not personally to you, sir; but to any captain of the royal navy, who may
- be about to sail for South America.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what nature is it, count?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A state prisoner to be transported to Cayenne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have the order with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here it is,” replied Emanuel, taking it from his pocket, and presenting
- it to the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took the paper, and going near the cabin window, that he might avail
- himself of the last gleam of daylight, he read aloud:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Ministers of Marine and of the Colonies, orders any captain or
- lieutenant, commanding a government vessel, who may be about to sail for
- South America, or for the Gulf of Mexico, to take on board his ship and to
- land at Cayenne, the person named Lusignan, condemned to transportation
- for life. During the passage the convict shall take his meals in his own
- cabin, and shall not be allowed to have any communication with the ship’s
- company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the order in due form?” asked Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfectly, sir,” replied the captain. “And are you disposed to execute
- it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Am I not under the orders of the Minister of Marine?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The prisoner may then be sent to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whenever you will; but it had better be this evening, or as soon as
- possible, as I do not expect to be long in these roads.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will take care that due diligence shall be used.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this all that you have to say to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing further, excepting to add my thanks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not add anything, sir. The minister orders, and I obey, that’s all. It
- is a duty which I fulfil, and not a service that I am rendering.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon these words, the captain and the count bowed to each other and
- separated, more coldly even than they had met.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he reached the deck, Emanuel asked the officer of the watch for his
- friend who had accompanied him on board, but was informed he had been
- detained by Captain Paul to sup with him, and that being anxious to oblige
- the count, he had placed his boat as his disposal.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was waiting alongside the ship, and the sailors were in readiness to
- accompany him. Emanuel had scarcely got into her when they rowed him away
- with a rapidity equal to that with which they had conducted him on board.
- But this time she proceeded in sorrowful silence, for the young lieutenant
- was no longer there to animate the count with his practical philosophy.
- </p>
- <p>
- That same night the prisoner was conducted on board the <i>Indienne</i>,
- and the next morning at day-break the inquisitive inhabitants of the coast
- no longer discerned the frigate which had given rise to so many
- conjectures, and whose unexpected arrival, her remaining there without any
- apparent object, and her spontaneous departure, remained an inexplicable
- mystery to the inhabitants of Fort Louis.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.—THE SEA FIGHT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- The gallant vessels side by side did lie,
- Yard-arm and yard-arm, and the murd’rous guns
- Belch’d forth their flame and shot, ‘till the white decks
- Ran like a sea with blood. Uncertain still
- The victory stood, ‘till Perry, waving
- His bright sword o’er his head, cried, “Follow me!”
- A hundred shouts responded to this call,
- Then with one spring he bounded on the deck
- Of his determined foe.—Oxd Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As the motives which had induced Captain Paul to visit the coast of
- Brittany had no relation with our history, excepting as far as regards the
- events which we have related, we shall leave our readers in the same state
- of uncertainty as were the inhabitants of Fort Louis; and although our’
- vocation and our sympathies naturally incline us to terra-firma, we must
- follow our hero for a few days in his adventurous course upon the ocean.
- The weather was as beautiful as it generally is on the western coast of
- France, at the commencement of autumn. The <i>Indienne</i> sailed gaily on
- with as fair a wind as could blow for her. The ship’s crew, excepting
- those actually employed in manoeuvring the vessel, were availing
- themselves of the fine weather and occupied in their own matters, as
- caprice directed them, or were idly lounging about the ship, when all at
- once a voice which appeared to descend from the sky, called out, “Below,
- there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hullo, there!” replied the quarter-master, who was standing near the
- helm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sail, ho!” cried the seaman who was on the lookout, at the head-mast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sail, ho!” repeated the quarter-master. “Officer of the deck, be so good
- as to inform the captain there is a sail in sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sail! a sail!” re-echoed the crew from different parts of the deck; for
- at that moment a wave, having raised the vessel which appeared upon the
- horizon, had for an instant rendered her visible to the eyes of the ship’s
- company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sail!” exclaimed a young man of five-and-twenty, springing upon the
- quarter deck from the cabin stairs; “ask Mr Arthur what he thinks of her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mast head, there!” cried the lieutenant, using his speaking trumpet; “the
- captain wants to know, Mr. Arthur, what you make of the strange sail.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Arthur, the young midshipman, had gone aloft immediately upon hearing a
- sail announced. He replied, “She looks like a large square-rigged vessel,
- close hauled, and steering for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said the young man, to whom Walter had given the title of
- captain, “she has as good eyes as we have, and she has seen us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, if she wishes for a little chat, she will find us ready to
- talk to her. Besides, our guns must be almost choked from having their
- mouths stopped so long.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After some little time, the midshipman again hailed the officer on deck,
- and told him that the strange ship had just set her mainsail, and had
- altered her course a little, so as to cross their bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the captain, addressing the lieutenant, “get ready to beat to
- quarters, we must prepare for this fellow; he looks rather suspicious.”
- And then calling out to the midshipman, “How does the ship seem to sail,
- Mr. Arthur? what do you think of her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She seems to be a fast sailer, and is a man-of-war, I should think, by
- the squareness of her yards; and although I cannot see her flag, I would
- wager that she bears King George’s commission.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should not wonder,” observed the captain to the first lieutenant, “and
- that she has orders to give chase to a certain frigate called the
- Indienne, and that her commander is promised good promotion should he
- succeed in capturing her. Ha! ha! now she is loosing her top gallant
- sails. The blood hound has scented us, and is decidedly about to give us
- chase. Set our top gallant sails, too, Mr. Walter, and let us keep our
- course without varying a point. We shall see whether they will dare to
- come athwart our hawse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain’s orders were instantly repeated by the lieutenant, and in a
- few minutes the ship which had been running under her top sails, felt the
- influence of her top gallant sails, heeled over under this new pressure
- and bounded along as if animated by the sight of an enemy, and dashing
- away the spray from either bow with eager impetuosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some time there was hardly a word uttered on board. Every one appeared
- to wait anxiously the termination of this state of suspense, and we shall
- profit by this momentary quiet, to call the attention of our readers to
- the person of the officer to whom the lieutenant had given the title of
- captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was no longer either the young and sceptical lieutenant whom we have
- seen accompanying the Count d’Auray on board the ship, nor the old
- sea-wolf with his stooping gait, and harsh and snappish answers, who had
- received him in the cabin. He was a handsome young man, from twenty to
- twenty-five years of age, as we have said before, who, having thrown off
- all disguise, appeared at length in his own person, and dressed in the
- fanciful uniform which he always wore when upon the wide ocean. It was a
- sort of great coat of black velvet, with gold shoulder knots and fastened
- with hooks and eyes of the same metal. Round his waist he wore a Turkish
- belt, in which was placed a pair of elegant duelling pistols, richly
- inlaid and ornamented, apparently more for show than defence. His
- pantaloons were of white kerseymere, with boots which reached nearly to
- his knees. Round his neck, a cravat of transparent India muslin,
- embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, was loosely tied; his
- hair, no longer disfigured by powder, and black as ebony, flowed about his
- cheeks, which were tanned by exposure to the sun; his eyes beamed with
- hope and animation. Near him, upon a gun, was placed a steel helmet which
- fastened by a curb chain under the chin. This was his battle dress, and
- the only defensive armour which he wore. Some deep indentations in his
- helmet proved that it had more than once-saved the head which it protected
- from those severe wounds inflicted by those terrible cutlasses used by
- seamen when boarding. As to the ship’s company, they wore the elegant
- though plain uniform of the French navy.
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time, the vessel which had been described by the man at the
- mast head, and which had then appeared like a white speck upon the
- horizon, had become, little by little, a pyramid of sails and rigging. All
- eyes were fixed upon her, and although no order had been actually given,
- every one of the crew had taken the position which individually belonged
- to him, as though it had been determined that a combat should take place.
- There reigned then on board the Indienne that solemn and profound silence,
- which in a ship of war always precedes the decisive orders of the captain.
- Finally, the hull of the strange sail appeared rising out of the water, as
- her sails had successively done before. It was then clearly discernible
- that she was a larger ship than the Indienne, and that she carried
- thirty-six guns. She, however, showed no colors, and as her crew were
- carefully and completely concealed behind her bulwarks, it was impossible
- to ascertain, unless by some particular indications, to what nation she
- belonged. These two observations were made almost at the same moment by
- Captain Paul; the last, however, seemed to strike him the most forcibly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears,” said he, addressing his lieutenant, “that we are going to
- have a scene of a masked ball. Order Arthur to bring us a few flags, and
- let us prove to this unknown, that the Indienne has several disguises at
- her disposal. And then, Mr. Walter, give orders that cutlasses and
- boarding pikes be distributed, for we can hardly expect, in these seas, to
- meet with any but enemy’s ships.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The two orders were executed; as soon as given. In an instant the young
- midshipman had brought on deck a dozen flags of different nations, and
- Lieutenant Walter, having had the arm chest opened, had boarding pikes
- piled in different positions throughout the ship, and had distributed
- cutlasses and axes to the ship’s company, he then returned to his place by
- the Captain’s side. Every man again resumed his post by instinct rather
- than by order, for they had not yet beat to quarters; so that the apparent
- confusion which had existed for a moment ceased at once, and the frigate
- became once more, as it were, silent and attentive.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the two ships following their converging directions, continued to
- approach each other. When they were about the distance of three gun shots,
- “Mr. Walter,” said the Captain, “I think it is time we should begin to
- mistify our good friend here. Let us show him the old Scotch flag.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant gave a sign to the quartermaster, and the red Lion of
- Scotland, on a blue field, rose like a flame to the peak of the <i>Indienne</i>;
- but nothing on board the enemy’s ship gave evidence of their paying the
- slightest attention to this manouvre.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” murmured the captain, “the three leopards of England have so
- well filed the teeth and pared the claws of the Scottish lion, that they
- pay no attention to him, believing that he is tamed because he is
- defenceless. Show him some other color, Mr. Walter, and perhaps we shall
- succeed in loosening his tongue.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What flag shall I hoist, captain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the first one that comes; chance may perhaps favor us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This order was scarcely given, when the Scotch flag was hauled down, and
- that of Sardinia took its place. The ship still remained mute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, well,” said the captain, jestingly, “it appears that His Majesty,
- King George, is on good terms with his brother of Cyprus and Jerusalem. Do
- not let us bring them to loggerheads by carrying our joke farther, Mr.
- Walter, let us show the American flag, and prove that it is really the
- right one, by firing an unshotted gun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The same manouvre was repeated. The Sardinian flag was hauled down, and
- the stars of the United States rose slowly towards the sky, and were
- certified by firing a gun.
- </p>
- <p>
- What the captain had foreseen then happened immediately on the display of
- this symbol of rebellion rising insolently in the air. The unknown ship
- immediately betrayed its incognita by hoisting the British flag. At the
- same moment a cloud of smoke was seen issuing from the side of the
- royalist ship, and before the report was heard, a cannon ball was seen
- tipping from wave to wave, and fell about a hundred yards short of the
- Indienne.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beat to quarters, Mr. Walter, for you see we have guessed rightly. Come,
- my boys,” cried he, to the crew, “hurrah for America! and death to
- England!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was answered by a general shout, and had not ceased, when they heard
- them beating to quarters on board the <i>Drake</i>, for that was the name
- of the English ship. The drums of the Indienne immediately replied, and
- every man ran to his post:—the gunners to their guns, the officers
- to their stations, and the sailors to their running rigging. As to the
- captain, he jumped upon the top of the companion, his speaking trumpet in
- his hand—the supreme symbol, the sceptre of nautical royalty, which
- the commander always wields in the hour of combat or during the raging of
- the tempest.
- </p>
- <p>
- They now seem to have made an exchange of parts, for the English appeared
- impatient, and the Americans affected calmness. The ships were hardly
- within gun shot, when a long line of smoke was seen issuing from the side
- of the English vessel, and a report similar to loud thunder was heard, and
- the iron messengers sent to deal death among the rebels, having in their
- impetuosity, miscalculated the distance, fell harmless before reaching the
- sides of the frigate. The latter, however, as if refusing to reply to so
- premature an attack, continued to haul to the wind, as if to spare the
- enemy too long a course.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this moment the captain turned, as if to give a last look round his
- ship, and his astonished gaze was attracted by the appearance of a new
- personage on the deck, who had selected this dangerous and exciting moment
- to make his entrance upon the scene.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a young man, somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three years of
- age. His face was pale and mild; he was plainly, but elegantly dressed,
- and whom the captain had not before seen on board. He was leaning against
- the mizen-mast, his arms folded over his chest, and looking with
- melancholy indifference at the English vessel which was approaching them
- under a heavy press of canvas. The calmness at such a moment, and in a man
- who appeared a stranger to nautical combats, forcibly struck the captain.
- He then remembered the prisoner, whom the Count d’Auray had announced to
- him, and who had been brought on board during the last night he had passed
- at the anchorage of Port Louis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who allowed you to come on deck, sir?” said he, softening as much as
- possible, the tone of his enquiry, so that it would have been difficult to
- ascertain whether this was addressed as a mere question, or as a reproach.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one, sir,” replied the prisoner, in a soft and sorrowful voice; “but I
- had hoped that under the present circumstances, you would less severely
- observe the orders by which I became your prisoner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you forgotten that you were forbidden to hold any communication with
- the ship’s company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not come here for the purpose of holding communication with the
- ship’s company, sir; I came to see whether some friendly cannon ball would
- do me a good’ turn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may, but too soon, have your desire accomplished, if you remain where
- you are now standing; therefore, believe me, you had better remain below.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this your advice; or an order, captain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have full liberty to construe it as you please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case,” replied the young man, “I thank you—I will remain
- here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At this instant, another loud report was heard; but the two ships had by
- this time neared each other so much, that they were within gun-shot, and
- the whole tempest of shot passed through the sails of the Indienne. Two
- splinters fell from the masts; and the groans and stifled cries of some of
- the ship’s company were heard. The captain, at that moment, had his eyes
- fixed upon the prisoner, above whose head, a cannon ball had passed within
- two feet, grazing the mizen mast, against which he was leaning; but
- notwithstanding this death warning, he remained calm and unmoved, in the
- same attitude as if he had not felt the wing of the exterminating angel
- waft above his head. The captain knew how to appreciate courage—this
- incident was sufficient to assure him of the undaunted bravery of the man
- who stood before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tis well, sir,” said he to him; “remain where you are, and when we come
- to boarding, if you should be tired of remaining with your arms crossed,
- take up a cutlass, or an axe, and give us a helping hand. You will excuse
- me not payings you more attention at this moment, for I have other things
- to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire!” cried he, in a voice of thunder, through his speaking trumpet,
- “now, give it her: fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire!” repeated the officers like an echo, at their different stations.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the instant, the Indienne trembled from her keel, to her royal mast
- head, as she poured her broadside into the enemy—a cloud of smoke
- spread itself like a veil, along the starboard-side, which was soon
- carried to leeward. The captain, standing upon the companion, impatiently
- awaited its clearing off, that he might ascertain the effect which the
- broadside had produced upon the enemy’s vessel. When his gaze could
- penetrate through the smoke, he perceived that the enemy’s main top mast
- had fallen, and had, with its sails, encumbered the after-part of the
- Drake’s deck, and that her other sails were cut to ribbons. Then putting
- his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he cried—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done! my lads. Now watch her closely. They will be too busy in
- clearing away the wreck of their mast, to think of raking us—fire—as
- you can—and this time shave close!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The crew hastened to obey this order—the frigate veered round, and
- as the guns were brought to bear upon the enemy, they were discharged with
- terrible effect; and, as the captain had imagined, without any hindrance
- from the Drake. The Indienne once more trembled like a volcano, and, as a
- volcano, vomited forth her flame and smoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- This time the gunners had followed the orders of their captain to the
- letter, (and the broadside had been fired point blank) striking the hull
- and the lower masts. Both her masts were still standing; but on all sides
- the sails were hanging in tatters. It appeared that some more considerable
- damage had been done, which it was impossible to ascertain at that
- distance; for some time, the broadside was not returned; at length it was,
- and instead of raking the <i>Indienne</i>, it struck her in a diagonal
- direction. It was not the less terrible, for it swept off many a brave
- fellow from the deck; but by a chance which appeared positively magical,
- touched neither of the masts. Some of the running rigging was cut, but
- nothing that prevented her manoeuvring as before. At one glance, Paul
- ascertained that he had only lost some men. His heart bounded with joy. He
- once more placed the speaking-trumpet to his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Larboard the helm,” cried he, “and board her on the larboard side!
- Boarders, to your stations—be ready! Give her one more broadside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the first movement of the <i>Indienne</i>, the enemy at once perceived
- the intention, and endeavoured to neutralize it by it similar movement,
- but at the instant of attempting to execute it, a dreadful crash was heard
- on board her, and the mainmast, which had been nearly cut through by the
- last discharge from the <i>Indienne</i>, trembled, for a few seconds like
- an uprooted tree, and fell forward, covering the deck with the mainsail
- and the rigging. Captain Paul at once comprehended what had delayed the
- return of the broadside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, she is ours, my lads!” cried he; “we have only to take her. One last
- broadside within pistol shot, and then we’ll board her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The <i>Indienne</i> obeyed her helm, as does a well trained horse the
- bridle, and unopposed, advanced towards her enemy, for the latter had no
- steerage-way upon her, and her guns were consequently useless. The Drake
- was therefore at the mercy of her adversary, who by remaining at a
- distance and playing at long bowls, might have riddled her and sunk her,
- but disdaining this too easy victory, sent in a last broadside; and then,
- before seeing the effect it had produced, the frigate ran in upon her
- larboard quarter, and threw her grappling-irons on board. On the instant,
- the tops and forecastle of the Indienne blazed as with fireworks on a
- holiday, and flaming grenades were showered upon the deck of the Drake
- with the rapidity of hailstones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage, my lads, courage, lash the bowsprit to her quarter rails. Well
- done! now, to your two forecastle carronades—fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- All these orders were executed with magical celerity: the two ships were
- as securely lashed together as if by iron chains—the two carronades
- which had not been fired during the combat, thundered in there turn, and
- swept the enemy’s deck with a cloud of grape shot, and then another cry
- was heard, uttered by the same stentorian voice—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, board her!!!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And, adding example to precept, the captain of the <i>Indienne</i> threw
- aside his speaking trumpet, now of no longer use, placed his helmet on his
- head, fastening the clasp beneath his chin; placed the sabre which he
- usually wore in his belt between his teeth, and rushed upon the bowsprit
- to jump thence upon the deck of the enemy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Although this movement followed the order he had given with as great
- rapidity as the thunder succeeds the lightning, he was only the second
- upon the English deck: he was preceded by the young prisoner with whom he
- had conversed, who had thrown aside his coat, and armed only with a
- hatchet, was the first to encounter death or victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not conversant with the discipline of my ship,” said Paul,
- laughing; “it is my place to be the first to board a ship I am attacking.
- I forgive you this time, but take care it does not again happen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same instant, the seamen of the <i>Indienne</i> rushed from their
- own ship to the enemy’s, taking advantage of every point of contact, some
- from the bowsprit, others from the end of the yards, and nettings, and
- fell upon the deck like ripe fruit falling from a tree when shaken by the
- wind. Then the English, who had retreated to their forecastle, unmasked a
- carronade which they had had time to turn upon their enemy. A volley of
- fire and iron was vomited forth on the assailants. One fourth of the crew
- of the <i>Indienne</i> fell killed or mutilated on the enemy’s deck, in
- the midst of cries and maledictions. But above the cries and blasphemous
- oaths, a voice resounded, crying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forward—all of you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then ensued a scene of appalling confusion—a combat hand to hand—a
- general duel. To the roar of cannon, to the report of musketry, to the
- explosion of hand grenades, had succeeded the struggle with cold steel,
- less noisy but more sure, above all with seamen, who have retained for
- their sole use this inheritance from the giants, proscribed for more than
- two centuries on the field of battle. It was with hatchets that they
- cleaved each other’s sculls; it was with cutlasses they wounded each
- other’s breasts; it was with boarding-pikes that they nailed each other to
- the deck and masts. From time to time, in the midst of this mute carnage,
- a stray pistol shot was heard, but isolated, and as if ashamed of taking
- part in such a butchery. It lasted nearly a quarter of an hour, and amidst
- a confusion it would be impossible to describe. And then the British flag
- was lowered, and the crew of the Drake being driven below, there remained
- on deck only the conquerors, the wounded and the dead; in the midst of
- whom was the captain of the <i>Indienne</i>, surrounded by his crew, with
- his foot upon the breast of the captain of the enemy’s ship, having on his
- right his first lieutenant, Walter, and on his left his young prisoner,
- whose shirt, steeped in blood, witnessed the share he had in the victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, all is over,” said Paul, stretching out his hand; “and he who
- strikes another blow will have to deal with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then holding out his hand to his young prisoner, “Sir,” said he, “you will
- relate to me, to-night, how it was that you were made my prisoner, will
- you not! For there must be some cowardly machination in this affair. The
- infamous only are transported to Cayenne, and you are too brave to be
- infamous.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.—THE MARCHIONESS.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth,
- And of most royal presence—but sad thoughts
- Seemed to possess her wholly—her children, even,
- Seldom approached her, and when they did,
- No soft affection, motherly caress,
- Was e’er accorded to them—stern and cold,
- She looked a moving statue.—Old Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just related,
- and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise, whose wheels
- and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified that it had
- performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along, although two powerful
- horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between Vanness and Auray. The
- traveller it contained, and who was roughly jolted in traversing the
- cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count Emanuel, whom we saw open
- the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was coming from Paris with all
- haste, and proceeding to his ancient family mansion, with regard to which
- it is now necessary to give some more precise and circumstantial details.
- </p>
- <p>
- Count Emanuel d’Auray was descended from one of the oldest families in
- Brittany—one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy
- Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor, had
- been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in its
- victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d’Auray, Chevalier of the
- order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and Grand Cross
- of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of Louis XV., in
- which he filled the post of high steward, that high distinction to which
- his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit, truly entitled him. His
- influence there had been increased by his marriage with Mademoiselle de
- Sable, who was his equal in every thing that regarded family or credit at
- court: so that a brilliant future was opened to the ambition of the young
- people, when, after being married five years, a report was suddenly spread
- about the court, that the Marquis d’Auray had become insane during a
- journey he had made to his estates. This report was for a long time
- disbelieved. At length the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his
- wife made their appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him
- another year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason,
- refused to appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and
- even the marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In
- France people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which
- even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of
- indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old
- chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting
- or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of a
- son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d’Aurays, therefore,
- continued to figure among the names of the French nobility; but not having
- mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in court intrigues
- or in political affairs, not having sided either with a Pampadour or a Du
- Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the victories of the
- Maréchal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count Clermont—in
- short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been completely forgotten.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the ancient name of the lords of d’Auray had been twice
- pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first time
- on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel’s being admitted in 1769, as
- one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after having served
- his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires of the young
- King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted with the Baron
- de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who was favorably
- disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable degree of influence
- with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to his old courtier, who
- having been informed that the Count d’Auray had a sister, one day let fall
- a few words upon the possibility of an union between the two families.
- Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied with struggling beneath the
- veil which had obscured his family name, saw in this marriage a means of
- regaining the position which his father had occupied at court under the
- late king, and had eagerly caught at the first overtures for this
- alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under the pretext of uniting
- himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood, to his young friend, had
- urged his suit with an eagerness which was so much the more flattering to
- Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand of his sister had never seen
- her. The Marchioness d’Auray had listened the more readily to this
- proposal, as it opened to her son the road to royal favor, and the
- marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two young people, at all
- events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded M. de Lectoure three or
- four days only, had hastened into the country to inform his mother that
- everything had been arranged according to her desire. As to Marguerite,
- the intended wife, they contented themselves with informing her of the
- resolution they had taken without thinking it necessary to ask her consent
- to it, in about the same way that a criminal is informed of the sentence
- which condemns him to the scaffold.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of future
- exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated projects of
- ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy castle of his
- family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards, overgrown with
- grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden hopes that agitated
- him. The castle was a league and a half distant from any other dwelling.
- The principal facade overlooked that part of the ocean, which being so
- constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name of “the Wild Sea.” The
- other looked toward an immense park, which, being for twenty years
- abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete forest. As to the
- apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with the exception of
- those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had been renewed
- during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of a numerous
- household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which the more
- modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more elegant, was
- less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops of Boule, the
- appointed upholsterer of the court.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney
- pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was ushered
- on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to communicate to his
- mother the happy news of which he was the bearer, that without taking the
- time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his gloves, and travelling
- pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant to inform the marchioness
- of his arrival, and to ask her permission to present himself, saying that
- he would await it in that room; for such in this old family was the
- respect paid to parents, that the son, after an absence of five months,
- did not dare to present himself to his mother, without in the first place
- consulting her desires upon the subject. As to the Marquis d’Auray, his
- children could not remember having seen him more than two or three times,
- and then it was by stealth: for his insanity was of a nature, it was said,
- that certain objects irritated, and they had been always kept from him
- with the greatest precaution. The marchioness alone, a model of conjugal
- virtue, remained always with him, fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not
- only the duties of a wife, but also those of a servant. Consequently, her
- name was revered in the surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose
- devotedness on earth has gained a place in heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the
- marchioness d’Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that the
- count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost
- immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel’s
- mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age, tall
- and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy features
- had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command. She was in
- costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time that her husband
- had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her mourning garments. Her
- long black gown gave to her movements, cold and slow as those of a shadow,
- a solemn appearance, which shed around this extraordinary woman a feeling
- of awe, which even filial affection had never been able to surmount.
- Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started as at the sight of an unexpected
- apparition, and instantly rising, he advanced three steps toward her,
- respectfully went down upon one knee, and kissed the hand she presented to
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rise, sir,” said the marchioness. “I am happy to see you again.” And she
- pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who had been
- absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel obeyed,
- conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated herself,
- and he remained standing before her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I received your letter, count,” she said, “and I congratulate you on your
- skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than for
- military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain an
- embassy for you, rather than a regiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what is
- more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power with
- M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In love with a woman he has never seen?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of
- Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our fortune,
- has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your son and to
- call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that all the
- preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You have
- obtained the publication of the bans, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With the help of God, all will be ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But tell me,” continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her chair,
- and bending toward Emanuel, “has he not questioned you regarding that
- young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of
- deportation?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without
- entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit
- confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world, that
- they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he knows nothing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—but did he know all——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the discovery
- would not in any way influence his determination.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift,” replied the marchioness,
- with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if speaking to
- herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But supposing it should be so,” said Emanuel anxiously, “your resolution
- would be still unchanged, I hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our former
- influence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, there is only my sister——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my
- presence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our
- family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not
- conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having
- been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king
- at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your
- virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him,
- even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason; your
- virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses, but of
- which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in this old
- forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission, which you
- call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they forget you
- (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count six hundred
- years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at court, our name,
- the name of the family d’Auray, was hardly known to their majesties, but
- as an historical recollection.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories,” murmured the
- marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such a
- blasphemy, she rejoined, “I hope that the blessing of God may always
- attend their majesties and France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what can in any way affect their happiness?” replied Emanuel, with
- that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the
- distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility.
- “Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both of
- them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them, Heaven be
- praised, beyond the reach of every evil.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one, my son,” replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head,
- “believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty.
- No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master it,
- firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head, were it
- even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The people, you
- say, are brave and loyal.” The marchioness arose and slowly advanced to
- the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean. “Observe that
- sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this night, in an
- hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the cries of distress
- of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I am separated from the
- world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears, borne as it were by
- invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not exist a sect of
- philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the errors which it
- propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which is detaching itself
- from the mother country, whose children refuse to acknowledge their
- father? Is there not a people who style themselves a nation? Have I not
- heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the ocean, to offer to
- rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but at the call of their
- legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told, moreover, or is it but
- the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI. and the Queen, Marie
- Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are a family of brothers,
- have authorised these armed emigrations, and have given letters of marque
- to I know not what foreign pirate?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All this is true,” said Emanuel, much astonished.
- </p>
- <p>
- “May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of France!”
- rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room, leaving
- Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw her
- withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant
- character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change
- his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window
- which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence he
- could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between d’Auray
- and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he perceived two
- persons on horseback, following the same road he had just travelled over,
- and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they drew nearer he
- could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his servant. The first,
- dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of that day, that is to
- say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs, stocking-knit breeches,
- and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad brim, and his hair tied
- with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on an English horse of rare
- beauty and great value, which he managed with a grace that proved he had
- made equestrian exercises a profound study. He was followed at a short
- distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery was in perfect harmony
- with the lordly air of the person whom he served. Emanuel imagined for a
- moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards the castle, that it was
- the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his departure from Paris,
- intended to surprise him; but he soon found that he was mistaken; and
- although it appeared to him that it was not the first time he had seen the
- horseman, he could not recollect where or under what circumstances he had
- met him. While he was racking his memory to discover the event in his life
- with which this vague remembrance was connected, the strangers had
- disappeared behind an angle of the castle wall. Five minutes afterwards
- Emanuel heard the sound of their horses’ feet in the court yard, and,
- almost immediately the door was opened; a servant announced, “<i>Mr. Paul!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.—DEVOTED LOVE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Woman’s love
- Once given, may break the heart that holds—but never
- Melts into air save with her latest sigh.
-
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain,
-</pre>
- <p>
- The name, as well as the appearance of the person thus announced, awakened
- in their turn in the mind of Emanuel a confused recollection of which he
- could not affix either date or event. The person, preceded by the servant,
- entered the room by a door opposite the one through which the marchioness
- had retired. Although the moment was ill-timed for a visit, and though the
- young count, pre-occupied by his projects for the future, would have
- preferred meditating upon and ripening them, he was compelled, by the
- rules of etiquette, so severe in those days between well-bred people, to
- receive the visitor with courtesy and politeness. The deportment of the
- latter bespoke the man of distinction. After the usual salutations,
- Emanuel, by a gesture, invited the stranger to be seated, who bowed and
- took a chair, and then the conversation commenced with some common-place
- polite observation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am delighted to meet you, count,” said the stranger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Chance has favored me, sir,” replied Emanuel; “an hour sooner you would
- not have found me here: I have just arrived from Paris.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am aware of that, count, for we have been travelling the same road. I
- set out an hour after you, and all along the road I heard of you, by means
- of the postillions who had the honor of driving you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I be bold enough to ask,” said Emanuel, in a tone which began to
- evince a certain degree of dissatisfaction, “to what circumstance I owe
- the interest you appear to evince concerning me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This interest is perfectly natural between old acquaintance, and perhaps.
- I might have reason to complain that it does not appear to be reciprocal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In fact, sir, it does appear to me,” replied Emanuel, “that I have met
- you somewhere; but my recollection serves me but confusedly; will you be
- kind enough to assist it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If what you say be the case, count, your memory must indeed be rather
- fugitive, for within the last six months, on three separate occasions, I
- have the honor of exchanging compliments with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even should I expose myself to further reproach, I am compelled to say
- that I still remain in the same state of uncertainty with regard to your
- person. Pray, therefore, have the goodness to fix my memory, by aid of
- more precise dates, on some event, and remind me under what circumstances
- I had the honor of meeting you for the first time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The first time, count? it was on the jetty of Port Louis. You desired to
- obtain some information with regard to a certain frigate, which I was so
- fortunate as to be able to furnish you. I believe, even, that I
- accompanied you on board. Upon that occasion I wore the uniform of a
- lieutenant in the royal navy, and you that of a mousquetaire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I now well recollect it, sir, and I was obliged to leave the vessel
- without offering the thanks I owed you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, count; I received those thanks during our second
- interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And where did that take place?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On board the very vessel to which I had conducted you—in the cabin.
- I then wore the uniform of the captain of the ship: blue coat, red
- waistcoat and breeches, with grey stockings, a three-cornered hat, and
- curled hair. Only the captain appeared to you some thirty years older than
- the lieutenant, and it was not without motive that I had made myself
- appear so much older, for you would perhaps, not have chosen to confide to
- a young man a secret of such importance as you then communicated to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What you now say is incredible, sir; and yet something tells me that it
- was really so. Yes, yes; I now remember that in the shade in which you
- remained half concealed, I saw eyes sparkling similar to yours. I have not
- forgotten them; but this was only the time before the last, you say, that
- I had the honor of seeing you. Continue, sir, I beg, to assist my memory,
- for I cannot recollect our third interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The last, count, was only a week since, at Paris—at a fencing
- match, at Saint-George’s, in the rue Chanterecin. You remember, do you
- not, an English gentleman, with his hair so red that his powder could
- scarcely conceal its brilliant color—a scarlet coat, and tightly
- fitting pantaloons. I even had the honor of trying a bout with you, and I
- was fortunate enough to hit you three times, while, on the contrary, you
- were not lucky enough to touch me once. On that occasion I called myself
- Jones.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is most singular—it was certainly the same look, but it could
- not be the same man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The will of God has directed that the look should be the only thing which
- cannot be disguised, and this is why he has thrown into the look a spark
- of his own light. Well, then, the lieutenant, the captain, the Englishman,
- were one and the same person.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the present moment, sir, what are you if you please? For, with a man
- who can so perfectly disguise himself, that question you must admit, is
- not altogether unnecessary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the present moment, count, as you see, I have no motive for
- concealment, and, therefore, I have come to you in the simple costume of
- the young nobility, when they visit each other as neighbors in the
- country. I am whatever you may please to consider me; French, English,
- Spanish, or even an American. In which of these languages would you wish
- our conversation to be continued?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Although some of these languages may be as familiar to me as they are to
- you, sir, I prefer the French language; it is that of a plain and concise
- explanations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be it so,” replied Paul, with an expression of profound melancholy; “the
- French is also the language I prefer; I first saw the day upon French
- ground, for the sun of France was that which gladdened my eyes; and
- although I have often seen more fertile climes, and a more brilliant sun,
- there has never been for me but one country and one sun, the sun and the
- country of Franco!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your national enthusiasm,” said Emanuel, interrupting him ironically,
- “causes you to forget the motive to which I am indebted for the honor of
- this visit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, and I will return to it. It was, then, about six
- months ago, while walking on the jetty of Port Louis, you saw in the outer
- roads a fine sharp frigate, with tall masts and square yards, and you said
- to yourself: ‘the captain of that ship must have some motive known only to
- himself, for carrying so much canvas, on masts so slight,’—and from
- that sprung to your mind that he must be some buccaneer, a pirate, a
- corsair”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “And was I mistaken?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I had already expressed to you, count,” replied Paul, with a
- slight tone of irony, “my admiration of the perspicacity with which, at
- the first glance, you sound the depths of men and circumstances”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “A truce to compliments, if you please, sir, and let us to facts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was under this persuasion that you caused yourself to be conducted on
- board the frigate, by a certain lieutenant, and that you found a certain
- captain in the cabin. You were the bearer of a letter from the Minister of
- Marine, ordering any officer, upon your requisition, and whose ship was
- under the French flag and bound for the Gulf of Mexico, to conduct to
- Cayenne a person named Lusignan, guilty of a crime against the state.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I obeyed that order, for I was then ignorant that this great culprit,
- thus transported, had committed no other crime than that of being the
- lover of your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” cried Emanuel, starting up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “These are very fine pistols, count,” carelessly continued Paul, playing
- with the weapons which the Count d’Auray had placed upon the table, on
- alighting from his carriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And they are ready loaded,” said Emanuel, in a tone which was not to be
- mistaken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are they so?” returned Paul, with affected indifference.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a matter of which you can assure yourself, if you will take a
- turn in the park with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is no necessity for going out to do that,” replied Paul, without
- pretending to understand Emanuel’s proposal in the sense which he meant to
- give to it; “here is a mark which is well placed, and at a proper
- distance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, the captain cocked the pistol, and pointed it through
- the open window towards the top of a small tree. A goldfinch was rocking
- himself on the highest branch, singing forth his shrill and joyful notes.
- Paul fired, and the poor bird, cut in two, fell at the foot of the tree.
- Paul coolly replaced the pistol on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were perfectly right, count,” said he, “they are excellent weapons,
- and I advise you not to part with them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have just given me an extraordinary proof of it,” replied Emanuel;
- “and I feel bound to acknowledge that you have a steady hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is nothing extraordinary in that,” rejoined Paul, in that
- melancholy tone which was peculiar to him. “During those long days, when
- not a breath passes over that mirror of the Supreme Being, which is called
- the ocean, we seamen are compelled to seek for amusements to which you
- landsmen are daily accustomed. Then we try our skill upon the sea-gulls,
- which hover over the crest of a wave; or the fish-hawks, which dart down
- upon the imprudent tenant of the deep that rise to its surface; or, again,
- upon the swallows which, fatigued with a long flight, alight upon the
- royal mast-head or on the yards or rigging. It is thus, count, that we
- acquire some dexterity in exercises which may appear so incompatible with
- our profession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go on, sir; and if it be possible, let us return to the subject of our
- conversation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a handsome, brave young man, this Lusignan; he related his whole
- history to me. That being the son of an old friend of your father’s, who
- had died poor, he had been adopted by him some two years before the
- unknown accident occurred which deprived him of his reason. That having
- been brought up with you, he had inspired you with hatred—your
- sister with affection. He told me that, during the long years they passed
- together in the same solitude, they never perceived the isolation from the
- world in which they lived, excepting when they were absent from each
- other. He recounted to me all the details of their youthful love, and how
- Marguerite had one day said to him, in the words of the tender maiden of
- Verona—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- “‘I will be thine, or else I’ll be the tomb’s.’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “She has but too truly kept her word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—has she not? And you virtuous people call that shame and
- dishonour, when a poor child, lost through her own innocence, is carried
- away by love. Your mother, whose duties estranged her from her daughter,
- and perpetually confined her to your father’s room—(for I know the
- virtues of your mother, sir, as well as I know your sister’s weakness: she
- is an austere woman, more severe than one of God’s creatures ought to be,
- whose only advantage over others is, that of never having fallen)—your
- mother, I say, one night heard some stifled cries; she entered your
- sister’s chamber, walked pale and silently up to her bed, and coldly
- snatched from her arms a child which had just been born, and left the room
- without addressing even a reproach to her daughter, but only paler and
- more silent than when she entered it. As to poor Marguerite, she did not
- utter even a cry—she made no complaint. She had fainted away
- immediately on perceiving her mother. Was it so, sir? Have I been rightly
- informed, and is the whole of this dreadful story true?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be acquainted with every detail of it!” exclaimed Emanuel,
- with amazement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is because the whole of these details are given in these letters
- signed by your sister,” replied Paul, opening a pocket-book, “and which
- Lusignan, at the time he was about to be thrown amid robbers and
- assassins, through your instrumentality, confided to me, that I might
- restore them to her who had written them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give them to me, then,” said Emanuel, stretching forth his hand towards
- the pocket-book, “and they shall be faithfully delivered to her who has
- had the imprudence”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “To complain to the only person who loved her in this world—is it
- not so?” said Paul, withdrawing the letters and the pocket-book.
- “Imprudent daughter, whose own mother snatched the child from her heart,
- and who poured her bitter tears into the bosom of the father of her child!
- Imprudent sister, who, not finding any protection from this tyranny in her
- brother, has compromised his noble name by signing with the name he bears,
- letters, which, in the stupid and prejudiced eye of the world, may—how
- is it you term this in your noble class—dishonour her family, is it
- not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” cried Emanuel, reddening with impatience, “since you are aware of
- the terrible tendency of these papers, fulfil the mission which you have
- been charged, by delivering them either to me, to my mother, or my
- sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This was my intention when I landed at Lorient; but about ten or twelve
- days ago, on entering a church—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A church!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And for what purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To pray there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Captain Paul believes in God, then!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did I not believe in him, whom should I invoke during the raging of the
- tempest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in this church, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that church, sir, I heard a priest announce the approaching marriage
- of the noble Marguerite d’Auray with the very high and very potent Baron
- de Lectoure. I immediately inquired for you, and was informed you were at
- Paris, where I was myself compelled to go, to give an account of my
- mission to the king.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To the king!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, to the king—Louis XVI.; to his majesty, in person. I
- immediately set out, intending to return here as soon as you did. I met
- you in Saint George’s rooms, and was informed of your approaching
- departure. I arranged mine in consequence, in order that we might arrive
- here at about the same time, and here I am, sir, with a very different
- resolution to that I had formed before landing in Brittany.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is this new determination? Let me hear it, for we must come to
- some conclusion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, I think that as all the world, and even his mother, seem to
- have forgotten the poor orphan, it is highly necessary that I should
- remember it. In the position in which you are placed, sir, and with the
- disposition you have evinced of becoming allied to the Baron de Lectoure
- (who in your view, is the only person who can assist the realization of
- your ambitious projects), these letters are well worth a hundred thousand
- francs, are they not? and will make but a very trifling breach in the
- income of two hundred thousand francs which your estates afford you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But who will prove to me that this hundred thousand francs—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, and therefore it will be in exchange for a contract
- for an annuity upon the young Hector de Lusignan, that I will deliver up
- these letters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that all, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will also ask, that the child be confided to me, and I will have him
- brought up, thanks to his little fortune, far from the mother who has
- forgotten him, and far from his father whom you caused to be banished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well, sir; had I known that it was for so small a sum, and so
- trifling an interest that you had come, I should not have experienced so
- much anxiety. You will, however, permit me to speak to my mother on the
- subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur le Comte,” said a servant, opening the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not at home to any one. Leave the room.” replied Emanuel,
- impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is your sister, sir, who wishes to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell her to come by and by.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She desires to speak to you this instant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not put yourself out of the way on my account,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But my sister must not see you, sir,—you comprehend it is important
- that she should not see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As you please; but as it is important, also, that I should not leave the
- castle before concluding the affair which brought me here, permit me to go
- into this side room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will do,” said Emanuel, himself opening the door; “but be quick, I
- beg of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul went into the small room, and Emanuel hastily closed the door upon
- him, which was hardly done when Marguerite appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI. BROTHER AND SISTER.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Look kindly on them; I cannot bear
- Severity;
- My heart’s so tender, should you charge me rough,
- I should but weep and answer you with sobbing;
- But use me gently, like a loving brother,
- And search through all the secrets of my soul.—Otway.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Marguerite d’Auray, whose history the reader has become aquainted with,
- from the conversation between Captain Paul and Emanuel, was one of those
- delicate, pale beauties, who bear impressed upon their features the
- characteristic stamp of high birth. At the first glance, from the soft
- flexibility of her form, the whiteness of her skin, the shape of her hands
- and tapering fingers, with their thin, rosy and transparent nails, could
- be discerned that she was descended from an ancient race. It was evident
- that her feet, so small that both of them could have been placed in the
- foot-mark of most women, had never walked excepting on carpeted saloons or
- on the flowery turf of a park. There was in her movements, graceful as
- they were, a certain degree of haughtiness and pride, the attribute of all
- her family; in fine, she conveyed the impression that her soul, capable of
- making any sacrifice she had resolved upon, was very likely to rebel
- against tyranny; that devotedness was an instinctive virtue of her heart,
- while obedience, in her view, was only an educational duty, so that the
- tempest wind which blew upon her, might make her bend down before it as a
- lily, but not as a reed.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet, when she appeared at the door, her features depicted such
- complete discouragement, her eyes had retained the traces of such burning
- tears, her whole frame seemed weighed down by such an overwhelming
- despair, that Emanuel saw at once, that she must have summoned all her
- strength to assume an appearance of calmness. On seeing him, she made a
- violent effort, and it was with a certain degree of nervous firmness that
- she approached the arm chair on which he was sitting. And then, seeing
- that the features of her brother retained the expression of impatience,
- which they had assumed on being interrupted, she paused, and these two
- children of the same mother, looked at each other as strangers, the one
- with the eyes of ambition, the other with those of fear. By degrees,
- Marguerite resumed her courage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have come at last, Emanuel! I was awaiting your return as the blind
- await the light, and yet from the manner in which you look upon your
- sister, it is easy to perceive that she was wrong in placing her hopes in
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If my sifter has become, as she always ought to have been,” replied
- Emanuel, “that is to say, a submissive and respectful daughter, she will
- have understood what her rank and her position demand of her; she will
- have forgotten past events as things which never should have happened, and
- which consequently she ought not to remember, and she will have prepared
- herself for the new destiny which awaits her. If it is in this disposition
- that she now comes before me, my arms are open to receive her, and my
- sister is still my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen attentively to what I am about to say,” said Marguerite, “and
- above all, consider it as a justification of myself, and not intended as a
- reproach to others. If my mother—and God forbid that I should accuse
- her, for a holy duty keeps her apart from us—if my mother had been,
- I was about to say, toward me as other mothers are towards their
- daughters, I should constantly have opened my heart to her as a book; at
- the first word traced upon it by any stranger hand, she would have warned
- me of my danger and I should have avoided it. Had I been educated in the
- world instead of being brought up like a poor wild flower beneath the
- shade of this old castle, I should have learned from infancy the value of
- the rank and position which you speak of to-day, and I should, perhaps,
- not have infringed the decorum they prescribe, or the duties they impose.
- In short, had I been tutored amidst women of the world, with their
- sparkling wit and frivolous hearts, whom I have so often heard you praise,
- but whom I never knew, had I been guilty of some faults from levity, which
- love has caused me to commit—yes, I can well understand, I might
- then have forgotten the past, have sown upon the surface new recollections
- as flowers are planted upon tombs; and then, forgetting the place where
- they had grown, have formed of them a bouquet for a ball, or a bridal
- wreath. But unfortunately it is not so, Emanuel. I was told to beware,
- when it was too late to avoid the danger. They spoke to me of my rank and
- position in society, when I had already forfeited them, and I am now
- called upon to look forward to joy in the future, when my heart is drowned
- in the tears and misery of the past.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the conclusion of all this,” bitterly rejoined Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The conclusion depends on you alone, Emanuel; it is in your power to
- render it, if not happy, at all events becoming. I cannot have recourse to
- my father. Alas! I know not even if he could recognise his daughter. I
- have no hope in my mother; her glance freezes me, her words are death to
- me. You alone, Emanuel, were left to me, to whom I could say, brother: you
- are now the head of the family; it is to you alone that we are answerable
- for our honor. I have fallen from ignorance, and I have been punished for
- my fault as if it had been a wilful crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! well!”, murmured Emanuel impatiently, “what is it that you ask?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brother, I demand, since a union with the only being I could have loved,
- is said to be impossible, I demand that my punishment be regulated
- according to my strength to bear it. My mother—may heaven pardon
- her!—tore my child from me as if she had never herself been a
- mother, and my child will be brought up far from me, neglected, and in
- obscurity. You, Emanuel, removed the father, as my mother did the child,
- and you were more cruel to him than the case required; I will not say as
- man to man, but even as a judge towards a guilty person. As to myself, you
- have both united to impose upon me a martyrdom more painful still. Well,
- then, Emanuel, I demand in the name of our childhood spent in the same
- cradle, of our youth passed under the same roof, in the name of the tender
- appellations of brother and sister, which nature bestowed upon us—I
- demand that a convent be opened to me, and that its gates should close
- upon me for ever. And in that convent, I swear to you, Emanuel, that every
- day upon my knees, before God, my forehead bent down to the
- stone-pavement, weighed down by my fault, I will entreat the Lord as a
- recompense for all my sufferings, to restore my father to reason, my
- mother to happiness, and to pour on you, Emanuel, honor, and glory and
- fortune. I swear to you, I will do this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; and the world will say that I had a sister whom I sacrificed to my
- fortune, whose property I inherited while she still lived! Why this is
- sheer madness!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, Emanuel,” rejoined Marguerite, supporting herself on the
- back of a chair, near which she was standing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” replied Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When you have pledged your word, you keep it, do you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! look at this bracelet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see it—perfectly—what then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is fastened by a key—the key which opens it is attached to a
- ring, and with that ring, I pledged my word that I would not be released
- from a promise I had made, until the ring should be brought back and
- returned to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he who has the key of it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks to you, and to my mother, Emanuel, he is too far from us to ask it
- of him. He is at Cayenne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before you are married two months,” replied Emanuel, with an ironical
- smile, “that bracelet will be so irksome to you, that you will be the
- first to get rid of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that I had told you it is locked upon my arm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know what people do when they have lost the key and cannot get into
- their house—they send for a locksmith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! in my case, Emanuel,” replied Marguerite, rasing her voice, and
- extending her arm with a solemn gesture, “they must send for the
- executioner then, for this hand shall be cut off before I give it to
- another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! silence!” cried Emanuel, rising hastily, and looking anxiously
- towards the door of the inner room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now I have said all I had to say,” rejoined Marguerite: “my only hope
- was in you, Emanuel; for although you cannot comprehend any deep-seated
- feeling, you are not cruel. I came to you in tears, look at me and you
- will see that it is true—I came to you to say, ‘Brother, this
- marriage is the misfortune, is the misery of my life—I would prefer
- a convent—I would prefer death to it—and you have not listened
- to me, or if you have listened, you have not understood me. Well, then, I
- will address myself to this man—I will appeal to his honor, to his
- delicacy; if that should not be sufficient, I will tell him all; my love
- for another, my weakness, my fault, my crime! I will tell him that I have
- a child; that although he was torn from me, although I have never since
- seen him, although I am ignorant of his abode, still my child exists. A
- child cannot die, without his death striking some chord within its
- mother’s heart. In short I will tell him, should it be necessary, that I
- still love another, that I cannot love him, and that I never will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! tell him all this,” cried Emanuel, irritated by her persistence,
- “and that evening we will sign the contract, and the next day you will be
- Baroness de Lectoure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” replied Marguerite, “then, I shall be truly the most miserable
- woman in existence, for I should then have a brother whom I should no
- longer love, and a husband for whom I should have no esteem. Farewell,
- Emanuel; believe me this contract is not yet signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And after saying these words, Marguerite withdrew with that deep and
- settled despair upon her features, which could not for a moment be
- mistaken. And Emanuel, convinced that he had not, as he had anticipated,
- obtained a victory, but that the struggle was still to be continued, gazed
- after her with an anxiety which was not devoid of tenderness.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a few moments of silence, in which he sat pensive and motionless, he
- turned round and saw Captain Paul, whom he had completely forgotten,
- standing at the door of the study, and then considering the vital
- importance it was to him to get possession of the papers, which the
- captain had offered him, he hurriedly sat down at the table, took a pen
- and paper, and turning towards him, said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, sir, we are again alone, and there is nothing to prevent our at
- once concluding this affair. In what terms do you wish the promise to be
- drawn up? Dictate them, I am ready to write them down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is now useless,” coldly replied the captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have changed my mind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is that?” said Emanuel, rising, alarmed at the consequences which he
- perceived might arise from words which he was far from expecting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will give,” replied Paul, with the calmness of a fixed determination,
- “the hundred thousand livres to the child, and I will find a husband for
- your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who are you, then,” said Emanuel, advancing a step towards him, “who are
- you, sir, who thus disposes of a young girl who is my sister, who has
- never seen you, and who does not even know that you exist?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who am I!” replied Paul, smiling; “upon my honor, I know no more upon
- that subject than you do, for my birth is a secret which is only to be
- revealed to me when I have attained my twenty-fifth year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you will attain that age?”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “This evening, sir. I place myself at your disposal from to-morrow
- morning, to give you all the information you may require of me,” and
- saying these words, Paul bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I allow you to depart, sir, but you will understand it is upon the
- condition that we meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was about to propose that condition, count, and I thank you for having
- anticipated me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He then bowed to Emanuel a second time, and left the room. At the castle
- gate, Paul found his horse and servant, and resumed the route to Port
- Louis. When he had got out of sight of the castle, he alighted from his
- horse, and directed his steps towards a fisherman’s hut, built upon the
- beach. At the door of this house, seated upon a bench, and in a sailor’s’
- dress, was a young man so deeply absorbed in thought, that he did not
- observe Paul’s approach. The captain placed his hand upon the young man’s
- shoulder, the other started, looked at him, and became frightfully pale,
- although the open and joyful countenance of Paul, indicated that he was
- far from being the bearer of bad news.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well!” said Paul to him, “I have seen her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who?” demanded the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite, by heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is charming.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not ask you that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She loves you still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed the young man, throwing himself into Paul’s
- arms, and bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.—THE FAITHFUL SERVANT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- O good old man; how well in thee appears
- The constant service of the antique world
- When service sweat for duty, not for need!
-
- Thou art not for the fashion of these times
- Where none will sweat but for promotion;
- And having that, do choice their service up
- Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Although our readers must readily comprehend, after that which we have
- just related to them, all that had passed in the six months during which
- we had lost sight of our heroes, some details are, however, necessary, in
- order that they should fully understand the new events about to be
- accomplished.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the evening after the combat between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake,
- and which, notwithstanding our ignorance in naval matters, we have
- attempted to describe to our readers, Lusignan had related to Paul the
- history of his whole life. It was a very simple one, and contained but few
- incidents. Love had formed the principal event in it, and after having
- been its only joy, it had become its greatest grief. The adventurous and
- independent life of Paul, his station, which had placed him beyond the
- trammels of society, his caprice which was superior to all laws, his habit
- of supreme command on board his own ship, had inspired him with too just a
- sense of natural rights to obey the order he had received with regard to
- Lusignan. Moreover, although he had anchored under the French flag, Paul,
- as we have seen, belonged to the navy of America, whose cause he had
- enthusiastically espoused. He continued, therefore, his cruise along the
- shores of England; but finding there was nothing to be done on the sea he
- landed at Whitehaven, a small port in Cumberland, at the head of twenty
- men, among whom was Lusignan, took the fort, spiked the guns, and put to
- sea again, after having burnt the merchant vessels in the roads. Thence he
- sailed for the coast of Scotland, with the intention of carrying off the
- Earl of Selkirk and taking him as a hostage to the United States; but this
- project had miscarried from an unforeseen circumstance, that nobleman
- having unexpectedly gone to London. In this enterprise, as in the other,
- Lusignan had seconded him with the courage we have seen him exhibit in the
- battle between the <i>Indienne</i> and the Drake; so that Paul
- congratulated himself more than ever upon the chance which had enabled him
- to oppose an injustice. But it was not enough that he had saved Lusignan
- from transportation, it was necessary to restore his honor, and to our
- young adventurer, in whom our readers will doubtless have recognised the
- celebrated privateersman, Paul Jones, it was a more easy matter than to
- any other person; for having letters of marque from Louis XVI., against
- the English, he had to repair to Versailles to give an account of his
- cruize.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul determined upon running into Lorient, and for the second time cast
- anchor there, that he might be within a short distance of the Chateau
- d’Auray. The first answer which the young men received to their enquiries
- regarding that family, was that Marguerite d’Auray was about to be married
- to M. do Lectoure. Lusignan thought himself’ forgotten, and in the first
- paroxysm of his despair, insisted, even at the risk of falling into the
- hands of his former persecutors, on once more seeing Marguerite, if it
- were only to reproach her for infidelity; but Paul, more calm and less
- credulous, made him pledge his word that he would not land until he had
- heard from him; then, being assured that the marriage would not take place
- in less than fifteen days, he set out for Paris, and was received by the
- king, who presented him with a sword, the hilt of which was of gold, and
- decorated him with the order of military merit. Paul had availed himself
- of the kindness of the king towards him to relate to him Lusignan’s
- adventures, and had obtained not only his pardon, but also as a reward for
- his late services, the appointment of Governor of Guadaloupe. All these
- cares had not prevented him from keeping sight of Emanuel. Being informed
- of the count’s intended departure, he left Paris, and having written to
- Lusignan, appointing a place of meeting, he arrived at Auray an hour after
- the young count.
- </p>
- <p>
- After their joyful meeting, Paul and Lusignan remained together until
- nearly twilight. Then Paul, who, as he had told Emanuel, had a personal
- revelation to receive, left his friend and again took the road to Auray.
- But this time he was on foot, and did not enter the castle, but going
- along the park wall, he directed his steps toward an iron gate which
- opened into a wood belonging to the domains of Auray.
- </p>
- <p>
- About an hour before Paul left the fisherman’s hut, where he had found
- Lusignan, a person had preceded him on the road toward the cottage at
- which he was to ask the revelation of the secret of his birth; that person
- was the Marchioness d’Auray, the haughty heiress of the name of Sable. She
- was attired in her usual mourning garments with the addition of a long
- black veil, which enveloped her from head to foot. Moreover, the
- habitation which our young adventurer, with the hesitation of ignorance,
- was seeking for, was to her familiar. It was a sort of keeper’s house,
- situated at a few paces from the entrance to the park, and inhabited by an
- old man, in whose behalf the Marchioness d’Auray had for twenty years
- fulfilled one of those acts of sedulous benevolence which had gained for
- her in that part of Lower Brittany, the reputation of rigid holiness which
- she enjoyed. These attentions to age were given, it is true, with the same
- gloomy and solemn face which we have observed in her, and which the tender
- emotions of pity never softened; but they were nevertheless afforded, and
- all knew it, with careful punctuality.
- </p>
- <p>
- The face of the Marchioness d’Auray was even more grave than it was wont
- to be, while she crossed the park to repair to the dwelling of a man who
- was said to be an old servant of the family. The door was standing open as
- if to allow the last rays of the setting sun to penetrate into the house,
- so sweet and balmy to old people in the month of May. The house was
- however empty. The Marchioness d’Auray entered it, looked around her, and
- then as if certain that the person she was in search of would not be long
- absent, she resolved to await his return. She sat down. She had remained
- there about half an hour, motionless and absorbed in her reflections, when
- she saw, between her and the declining daylight, a shadow cast before the
- door. She slowly raised her eyes and recognised the person she had been
- expecting. They both started as though they had met by chance, and were
- not in the habit of seeing each other every day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is you, Achard,” said the marchioness, who was the first to speak. “I
- have been waiting for you half an hour. Where can you have been?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had your ladyship walked fifty paces farther, you would have found me
- under the large oak, on the edge of the forest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know I never walk that way,” said the marchioness, with a visible
- shudder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are wrong, madam; there is one in heaven who has a right to our
- joint prayers, and who, perhaps, is astonished to hear only those of old
- Achard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how know you that I do not also pray?” said the marchioness, with a
- certain degree of feverish agitation. “Do you believe that the dead
- require we should be constantly kneeling on their tombs?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the old man, with a feeling of profound sorrow; “no, I do
- not believe that the dead are so exacting, madam; but I believe if any
- part of us lives under ground, it would thrill at the noise caused by the
- steps of those whom we have loved during our life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, in a low and hollow tone, “if that love were
- a guilty passion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “However guilty it may have been, madam,” replied the old man, also
- lowering his voice, “do you not believe that blood and tears have
- expatiated it? God was then, believe me, too severe a judge, not to have
- now become an indulgent father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, God has perhaps pardoned it,” murmured the marchioness, “but did the
- world know that which God knows, would it pardon as God has done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The world!” exclaimed the old man; “the world! Yes, there is the great
- word which has again escaped your lips! The world! It is to it, to that
- phantom you have sacrificed everything, madam; your feelings as a lover,
- your feelings as a wife, your feelings as a mother! your own happiness,
- the happiness of others! The world! It is the fear of the world which has
- clothed you in perpetual mourning, beneath which you hope to conceal
- remorse! And in that you are right, for you have succeeded in deceiving
- it, for it has taken your remorse for virtue!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness raised her head with some degree of agitation, and putting
- aside her veil that she might look upon the person who addressed her in
- such extraordinary language; then, after a momentary silence, not being
- able to discover any sinister expression in the calm features of the old
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak to me,” she said to him, “with a bitterness which would lead me
- to believe you have some personal reason for reproaching me. Have I failed
- in any promise I have made? The persons who attend on you by my orders,
- are they wanting in that respect which I have desired them to observe? You
- know, if this should be the case, you have only to say a word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forgive me, madam, it is in sorrow that I speak, not bitterness; it is
- the effect of solitude and of age. You must well know what it is to have
- sorrows that you cannot speak of—tears which we dare not shed, and
- which fall back, drop by drop, upon the heart! No, I have not to complain
- of any one, madam, since first, from a feeling for which I am truly
- grateful, without seeking to know whence it emanated, you have been
- pleased to see personally that my wants were all supplied, and you have
- not for a single day forgotten your promise, but like the old prophet, I
- have sometimes seen an angel come as your messenger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied the marchioness, “I know that Marguerite often accompanies
- the servant who is charged to wait upon you; and I have seen with pleasure
- the attentions she has paid you, and the friendship she feels for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But in my turn, I have not failed either, I trust, in the promises I
- made. For twenty years I have lived far from the habitations of men, I
- have kept away every living being from this dwelling; so much did I fear
- on your account, the delirium of my waking hours, or the indiscretion of
- my dreams.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly! undoubtedly! and happily the secret has been well
- preserved,” said the marchioness, placing her hand upon Achard’s arm; “but
- this is a stronger incentive in my mind not to lose in a single day the
- fruit of twenty years, all more gloomy, more isolated, and more terrible
- than yours have been.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I understand you perfectly; and you have shuddered more than once
- upon suddenly remembering that there is roaming about the world, a man who
- may one day call upon me to reveal that secret, and that I have not the
- right to conceal it from that man. Ah! you tremble at the bare idea, do
- you not? But, tranquilise yourself; that man, when but a boy, fled from
- the school at which we had placed him in Scotland, and for ten years past
- nothing has been heard of him. In short, destined to obscurity, he himself
- rushed forward to meet his fate. He is now lost amid the millions that
- crowd this populous world, and not a soul knows where to find him; this
- poor unit, without a name, is lost for ever. He must have lost his
- father’s letter, have mislaid the token by which I was to recognise him;
- or, better still, perhaps he exists no longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is cruel of you, Achard,” replied the marchioness, “to utter such
- words to a mother. You cannot appreciate the strange feelings and singular
- contradictions contained in the heart of woman. For, in fine, can I not be
- tranquil unless my child be dead! Consider, my old friend; this secret, of
- which he has been ignorant five and twenty years, has it become at the age
- of twenty-five, so necessary to his existence that he cannot live, unless
- it be revealed to him? Believe me, Achard, for himself even it would be
- better he should still remain ignorant of it, as he has been to this day.
- I feel assured that to this day he has been happy—old man, do not
- mar this happiness—do not inspire his mind with thoughts which may
- induce him to commit an evil action. No—tell him, in lieu of the
- dreadful tale you were desired to communicate, that his mother has gone to
- rejoin his father in heaven; and, would to God that it were so! but that
- when dying (for I must see him whatever you may say to the contrary, I
- will even if it be but once, press him to my heart), when dying, as I
- said, his mother had bequeathed him to her friend the Marchioness d’Auray,
- in whom he will find a second mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand you, madam,” said Achard, smiling. “It is not the first time
- you have pointed out this path, in which you wish to lead me astray. Only
- to-day, you speak more openly, and if you dared to do so, or if you knew
- me less, you would offer me some reward to induce me to disobey the last
- injunctions of him who sleeps by us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness made a gesture as if about to interrupt him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me, madam,” hastily said the old man, stretching forth his
- hand, “and let my words be considered by you as holy and irrevocable. As
- faithful as I have been to the promise which I made to the Marchioness
- d’Auray, so faithful will I be to that I made to the Count de Morlaix, on
- the day when his son, or your son, shall present himself before me with
- the token of recognition, and shall demand to know the secret. I shall
- reveal it to him, madam. As to the papers which attest it, you are aware
- that they are to be delivered to him only after the death of the Marquis
- d’Auray. The secret is here,” said the old man, placing his hand upon his
- heart; “no human power could have extracted it before the time; no human
- power, that time having arrived, can prevent me from revealing it. The
- papers are there in that closet, the key of which I always have about me,
- and it is only by robbery or by assassination that I can be deprived of
- them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, half rising and supporting herself on the arm
- of her chair, “you might die before my husband, old man; for although he
- is more dangerously ill than you are, you are older than he is, and then
- what would become of those papers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The priest who shall attend my last moments will receive them under the
- seal of confession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! it is that!” cried the marchioness, rising, “and thus this chain of
- fears will be prolonged until my death! and the last link of it will be to
- all eternity rivetted to my tomb. There is in this world a man, the only
- one perhaps, who is as immoveable as a rock; and God has placed him in my
- path, not only as a remorse,’ but as a vengeance also. My secret is in
- your hands, old man,—tis well!—do with it as you will!—you
- are the master, and I am your slave—farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- So saying, the marchioness left the cottage, and returned towards the
- chateau.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.—THE SECRET.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- More than ten years have passed since I beheld him,
- The noble boy; now time annuls my oath
- And cancels all his wrongs.
- I took a solemn oath to veil the secret,
- Conceal thy rights, while lived her lord,
- And thus allow’d thy youth to quit my roof.
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain.
-</pre>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the old man, gazing after the marchioness as she withdrew,
- “yes, I know you have a heart of adamant, madam, insensible to every sort
- of fear, with the exception of that which God has placed within your
- breast to supply the place of remorse. But that suffices; and it is dearly
- buying that reputation you have obtained for virtue, to pay the price of
- such eternal terrors. It is true that the virtue of the Marchioness
- d’Auray is so firmly established, that if truth herself were to rise from
- the earth or to descend from heaven to arraign her, she would be treated
- as a calumniator. But God orders all things according to His will, and
- what He does ordain, His wisdom has long before matured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rightly reasoned,” cried a youthful and sonorous voice, replying to the
- religious axiom which the resignation of the old man had led him to utter.
- “Upon my word, good father, you speak like Ecclesiastes.” Achard turned
- round and perceived Paul, who had arrived just as the marchioness left
- him, but who was so absorbed by the scene we have just described, that she
- had not observed the young captain. The latter, seeing the old man alone,
- approached him, and not hearing the last words he had uttered, had spoken
- with his usual good humor. Achard, who was surprised by his unexpected
- appearance, looked at him as if he wished him to repeat that which he had
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say,” resumed Paul, “that there is more grandeur in resignation that
- humbly bows itself, than in philosophy that doubts. That is a maxim of our
- quakers, which, for my eternal welfare, I wish I had less often on my
- tongue, and more frequently in my heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, sir,” said the old man on seeing our adventurer, who
- was fixedly gazing at him, while standing with one foot on the threshold
- of his door. “May I know who you are?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For the moment,” replied Paul, giving, as usual, free course to his
- poetical and heedless gaiety, “I am a child of the republic of Plato,
- having all human kind for brothers, the world for a country, and
- possessing upon this earth only the station I have worked out for myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what are you in search of?” continued the old man, smiling in spite
- of himself at the air of jovial good-nature which was spread over the
- features of the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am seeking,” replied Paul, “at three leagues distance from Lorient, at
- five hundred paces from resembles this one, and in which I am to find an
- old man, whom it is very likely is yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is the name of this old man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Louis Achard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is my name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then may the blessing of heaven descend on your white hairs,” said Paul,
- in a voice which at once changing its tone, assumed that of deep feeling
- and respect; “for here is a letter which I believe was written by my
- father, in which he says that you are an honest man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does not that letter enclose something?” cried d’Auray, and advancing a
- step nearer to the young captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It does,” replied the latter, opening the letter and taking out of it one
- half of a Venetian sequin, which had been broken in two; “it seems to be
- part of a gold coin, of which I have one half, and you ought to be in
- possession of the other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Achard mechanically held out his hand, while gazing with intense interest
- at the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said the old man, and eyes gradually became more and more
- suffused with tears: “yes, this is the true token, and more than that, the
- extraordinary resemblance,” and opening his arms, he cried, “child!—oh!
- my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?” cried Paul, extending his arms to support the old man, who
- was quite overcome by his emotions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! can you not comprehend?” replied the latter, “can you not comprehend
- that you are the living portrait of your father, and that I loved your
- father—loved him so much that I would have shed my blood, have given
- my life to serve him, as I would now for you, young man, were you to
- demand it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Embrace me, then, my old friend,” said Paul, throwing his arms around the
- old man, “for the chain of feeling, believe me, is not broken, which
- extended from the tomb of the father to the cradle of the son. Whatever my
- father may have been, if in order to resemble him it be only necessary to
- have a conscience without reproach, undaunted courage, and a memory which
- never forgets a benefit conferred, although it may sometimes forget an
- injury; if this be so, then am I, as you have said, my father’s living
- portrait, and more so in soul than in form.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he possessed all these,” replied the old man, with solemnity, and
- clasping Paul to his breast, looking at him with affectionate though
- tearful tenderness—“Yes, he had the same commanding voice, the same
- flashing eyes, the same nobleness of heart. But why was it that I have not
- seen you sooner, young man? I have, during my life, passed many gloomy
- hours, which your presence would have brightened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—because this letter told me to seek you out only when I should
- have attained the age of twenty-five, and because it is not long since I
- attained that age, not more than an hour ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man bowed down his head with a pensive air, and remained silent
- for some time, seemingly absorbed by recollections of the past.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be so?” at length ne said, raising his head, “can it be
- twenty-five years ago. Good heaven! it appears to me only yesterday that
- you were born in this house, that you first saw the light in that very
- room:” and the old man raised his head, and pointed to a door which led
- into another room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul, in his turn, appeared to reflect, and then, looking around him, to
- strengthen by the aid of objects which presented themselves to his view,
- the recollections which crowded on his memory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In this cottage, in that room,” he repeated, “and I lived here till I was
- five years old, did I not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” murmured the old man, as if fearful to disturb the feelings which
- were taking possession of the young man’s mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” continued Paul, leaning his head on both his hands, as if to
- concentrate his thoughts, “allow me for one moment to look back, in my
- turn, to the past, for I am recollecting a room which I had thought I had
- seen in a dream—it may be that one. Listen to me! Oh! how strange it
- is—remembrances now rush upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak, my child, speak!” said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It it be that room, there ought to be on the right, as you go in, at the
- end of the room, a bed with green hangings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A crucifix at the head of the bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A closet opposite, in which were books, among the rest a large Bible,
- with numerous engravings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There it is,” said the old man, pointing to the sacred book which was
- lying open on a desk for prayer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! it is that—it is that,” cried Paul, pressing his lips against
- the leaves.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! good and pious heart,” cried the old man, “I thank thee, oh! my God—I
- thank thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” said Paul, rising, “in that room there is a window, from which you
- can discern the sea, and on the sea, three islands?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Houat, Hoedic, and Belle-Ileen-mer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, it is really so,” said Paul, rushing towards the room, and then
- perceiving that the old man was about to follow him, he said: “No, no! I
- must be alone—let me enter it alone—I feel that I must be
- alone,” and he went into the room, closing the door after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then paused a moment, impressed with that holy respect which
- accompanies the remembrance of our infancy. The room was as he had
- described it, for the religious devotedness of the old servant had
- preserved it from any change. Paul, feeling doubtless that the eye of a
- stranger would have interrupted the expression of the feelings he
- experienced, and now certain of being alone, abandoned himself to them He
- slowly advanced, and with clasped hands, towards the ivory crucifix; and
- falling on his knees, which formerly he had the habit of doing, morning
- and evening, he endeavoured to remember one of those simple prayers, in
- which a child, still on the threshold of this life, prays to God for those
- who have opened its gates to him. “What events had succeeded each other in
- the lapse of time which had passed between these genuflexions! Paul
- remained for a considerable time absorbed in thought, and then slowly
- arose, and went to the window. The night was beautiful and calm, the moon
- was shining in the heavens, and tipped the ocean waves with silver. The
- three islands appeared on the horizon, like blue vapor floating on the
- ocean. He remembered how often in his infancy he had leaned against that
- window, gazing upon that same scene, following with his eyes some bark,
- with its snowy sails, which glided silently over the sea, like the wing of
- a night bird. Then his heart swelled with sweet and tender recollection;
- his head fell upon his chest, and silent tears ran down his cheeks. At
- that moment he felt that some one pressed his hands—it was the old
- man—he wished to conceal his emotions; but instantly repenting this
- vain feeling, he turned toward Achard, and frankly let him see his face,
- down which the tears were streaming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You weep, my child,” said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I weep,” replied Paul; “and why should I conceal it? Yea, look at
- me. And yet I have, during my life, witnessed dreadful scenes. I have seen
- the tempest bear my vessel to the summit of a mountain wave, and then sink
- her into an abyss, from which I thought she would never rise again; and I
- felt that she weighed no more upon the wings of the storm than does a
- dried leaf on the evening breeze. I have seen men fall around me like the
- ripe ears of corn before the sickle of the reaper. I have heard the cries
- of distress, and the dying groans of those whose meal I had shared but the
- day before. In order to receive their last sigh, I have walked amid a
- shower of bullets, and grape-shot, upon a plank slippery with blood. And
- yet, amid all this, my soul was calm—my eyes remained unmoistened.
- But this room, see you; this room, of which I had retained so holy a
- remembrance; this room, in which I had received the first caresses of a
- father whom I shall never see again, and the last kisses of a mother who
- perhaps desires no more to see me; this room is sacred as a cradle and as
- a tomb. I cannot thus revisit it without giving vent to my emotions; I
- must weep, or I shall suffocate.” The old man clasped him in his arms.
- Paul leaned his head upon his shoulder, and during some time nothing was
- heard but his sobs. At length the old servant rejoined:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are right; this room is at once a cradle and a tomb; it was
- there that you were born;” he pointed to one corner with his hand; “and it
- was there that you received the last blessing of your father,” continued
- he, pointing to the opposite side of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is then dead?” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must tell me how he died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell you all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Defer it for a moment,” added Paul, as he reached a chair and seated
- himself, “for I am now too weak to listen to you. Let me recover myself.”
- He placed his elbow on the window-sill, leaned his head upon his hand, and
- once more cast his eyes upon the sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a magnificent spectacle is the ocean when the moon shines upon it as
- brightly as it does now,” continued he, with that accent of soft
- melancholy which was habitual to him. “It is as calm as God himself, and
- vast as eternity. I do not believe that a man accustomed to study such a
- scene can be afraid of death. My father met death bravely, did he not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Assuredly!” proudly replied Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It could not be otherwise,” continued Paul, “for I remember my father,
- although I was only four years old when I last saw him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a handsome young man, as you yourself are,” said Achard, looking
- sorrowfully at Paul, “and just as old as you are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What was his name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Count de Moraix.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I also am of an old and noble family. I also have arms and an
- escutcheon as well as those young and insolent nobles who ask me for my
- parchments when I show them my wounds?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, young man, wait; do not allow pride to carry you thus away, for I
- have not yet told you the name of her who gave you being, and you are
- still ignorant of the dreadful secret of your birth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well: be it so. I shall not with the less respect and veneration hear the
- name of my mother. What was my mother’s name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Marchioness d’Auray,” slowly replied the old man, as if regretting
- that he was compelled to mention her name.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it that you tell me!” cried Paul, starting from his chair, and
- seizing the hands of the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The truth!” replied Achard, sorrowfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then Emanuel is my brother—Marguerite is my sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you then already know them?” exclaimed the old servant, much
- astounded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you were right, old man,” said Paul, throwing himself into his chair.
- “God orders all things according to His will, and what He does ordain, His
- wisdom has long before matured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They both remained silent for a time, when at length Paul raised his head,
- and resolutely fixing his eyes on the old man’s face, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, I am ready to hear all you have to communicate—you may go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.—FATAL LOVE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- I shall a tale unfold
- Will harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
- Make thy two eyes like stars, start from their spheres;
- Thy knotted and combined locks to part.
- And each particular hair to stand on end,
- Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The old man seemed to be summoning up his recollections for a time, and
- then began:
- </p>
- <p>
- “They were affianced to each other. I know not what mortal hatred it was
- that arose between the families and separated them. The Count de Morlaix,
- broken hearted, could not remain in France. He sailed for Saint Domingo,
- where his father possessed a large estate; I accompanied him, for the
- Count de Morlaix reposed much confidence in me. I was the son of her who
- had nursed him; I had received the same education as himself; he used to
- call me his brother, and I alone remembered the distance which nature had
- placed between us. The Marquis de Morlaix confided to me the charge of
- watching over his son, for I loved him with all the love of a father. We
- remained two years under a tropical sun; during that two years, your
- father, lost amid the solitude of that magnificent island, a traveller
- without an object and without an aim, an ardent and indefatigable
- sportsman, endeavouring to cure the griefs of the mind, by the fatigues of
- the body; but so far from succeeding, one would have thought that his
- heart became still more inflamed under that ardent sun. At length, after
- two years of trial and incessant struggles, his love conquered. He must
- either see her again or die. I yielded and we set sail for France. Never
- was a voyage more beautiful, or more prosperous. The sea and sky seemed to
- smile upon us; so favourable were they that it would have induced one to
- believe in lucky omens. Six weeks after our departure from Port au Prince,
- we landed at Havre. Mademoiselle de Sablé was married. The Marquis d’Auray
- was at Versailles, fulfilling at the court of Louis XV. the duties of his
- charge, and his wife, who was too much indisposed to follow him, was at
- the old chateau d’Auray, the turrets of which you see from this place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” said Paul, “I know it; pray go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to myself,” rejoined the old map, “during our voyage, one of my
- uncles, an old servant of the house of Auray, had died, and left me this
- small house, with a small quantity of land surrounding it. I took
- possession of it. Your father had left me at Vannes, telling me he was
- going to Paris, and for the whole of the first year that I inherited this
- house I did not see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One night,—it is exactly twenty-five years ago,—some one
- knocked at my door; I went to open it and found your father there,
- carrying in his arms a woman whose face was veiled. He brought her into
- this room, and laid her on that bed. And then returning to me in the
- adjoining room, where I was waiting mute and motionless with astonishment,
- he placed his hand upon my shoulder, and looking at me in a supplicating
- manner, although he had the right to command me, said, ‘Louis, you can do
- more than save my life and honor—you can save the life and honor of
- her I love—get on horseback, gallop to the next town, and return
- here in an hour with a doctor.’ He spoke to me in that short and hasty
- tone, which indicated that there was not a moment to be lost. I
- immediately obeyed. The day was beginning to break when we returned. The
- doctor was introduced by the Count de Morlaix into this room, the door of
- which was immediately closed: he remained there during the whole day;
- towards five in the afternoon, the doctor left the house, and at nightfall
- your father also left the house carrying in his arms the mysterious veiled
- lady whom he had brought the previous night. When they had gone, I came
- into this room and found you here—you had just been born.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how did you learn that this woman was the Marchioness d’Auray?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” exclaimed the old man, in a way which was as terrible as it was
- unexpected; “I had offered the Count de Morlaix to keep you here, and he
- accepted my proposal: from time to time he would come to spend an hour
- with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alone?” demanded Paul, with much anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, always; but as he had given me permission to walk with you in the
- park, it would sometimes happen that at the corner of one of the avenues I
- would meet the marchioness, whom chance appeared to have conducted in that
- direction. She would make you a sign to come to her, and she would kiss
- you as people kiss a strange child, because he is handsome. Four years
- passed on in this way, and then one night some one again knocked at this
- door, and it was again your father. He was more calm, but had, perhaps, a
- more gloomy look than on the first occasion. ‘Louis,’ said he, ‘to-morrow,
- at the break of day, I have to meet the Marquis d’Auray. It is a duel in
- which one of us must fall, and you are to be the only witness of it. The
- terms are agreed upon. You must, therefore, give me shelter for this
- night, and let me have materials for writing.’ He sat down at this table,
- on the very chair you are now seated.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul sprang up, but supported himself on the back of the chair, without
- again sitting down upon it. “He sat up all night. At day-break he came
- into my room and found me up—I had not gone to bed. As to you poor
- child, unconscious of the passions and miseries of this life, you were
- quietly sleeping.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,—pray go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your father bent slowly over you, supporting himself by the wall, and
- looking sorrowfully upon you: ‘Louis,’ said he to me, in a hollow voice,
- ‘should I be killed, and which may happen, wo to this child! You will
- deliver him with this letter to Field, my valet de chambre, whom I have
- charged to conduct him to Selkirk, in Scotland, there to leave him in sure
- hands. When he is twenty-five years old, he will bring you the other half
- of this gold coin, and will ask you to reveal to him the secret of his
- birth. You will communicate it; for then, perhaps, his mother will be
- alone and isolated. As to these papers which prove his birth, you will not
- deliver them to him, until after the death of the Marquis d’Auray. Now I
- have said all that is necessary, let us go, for it is the appointed hour.
- He then leaned over your bed, bent down toward you, and although he was a
- man of fortitude, as I have told you, I saw a tear fall upon your cheek.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed,” said Paul, in a voice choked by emotion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The rendezvous was in one of the avenues of the park, about a hundred
- paces from this house. When we reached the place, we found the marquis
- there, he had been waiting for us some minutes. Near him upon a bank were
- pistols ready loaded. The adversaries bowed to each other without
- exchanging a word. The marquis pointed to the weapons—they each took
- one, and then, according to the terms which had been agreed upon, as your
- father had told me, they placed themselves, mute and gloomily, at the
- distance of thirty paces, and then began to walk towards each other. Oh!
- it was a moment ef agony for me, I can assure you,” rejoined the old man,
- almost as much moved as if the scene were then actually passing before
- him, “when I saw the distance gradually diminishing between these two men.
- When they were only about ten paces, the marquis stopped and fired. I
- looked at your father; not a muscle of his face was moved, so that I
- thought him safe and unhurt. He continued to walk on till he came close to
- the marquis, and then placing the muzzle of the pistol to his heart—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He did not kill him, I trust,” cried Paul seizing the old man’s arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He said to him, Your life is in my hands, sir, and I might take it, but I
- wish you to live, that you may pardon me, as I do you. And uttering these
- words, he fell dead at the feet of the marquis, whose ball had passed
- through his chest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father! my father!” cried Paul, wringing his hands. “And the man
- who killed my father—he still lives, does he not? He is still young,
- and has strength enough to wield a sword or raise a pistol? We will go to
- him—to-day—instantly! You will tell him, that it is his son!
- that he must fight with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God has avenged your father,” replied Achard—“that man is mad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is true—I had forgotten that,” murmured Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in his madness that bloody scene is ever before his eyes, and he
- repeats ten times a day the dying words your father addressed to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that must be the reason why the marchioness will not leave him for a
- single moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that is also the reason, under the pretext that he will not see his
- children, that she keeps Emanuel and Marguerite from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor sister,” said Paul, with an accent of undefinable tenderness;
- “and now she wishes to sacrifice her by forcing her to marry that wretch
- Lectoure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but that wretch Lectoure will take Marguerite with him to Paris, and
- give a regiment of dragoons to her brother, so that the marchioness will
- no longer have cause to dread the presence of her children. Her secret,
- therefore, remains henceforward in the breasts of two old men, who
- to-morrow, this night even, may die. The grave is silent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, I—I!”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “You! Does she know that you still exist! Has anything been heard of you
- since you escaped from Selkirk? Could not some accident have prevented you
- from coming to the appointment, which fortunately you have done safely? It
- is certain that she has not forgotten you, but she hopes”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! can you believe that my mother”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, that is true. I do not believe it!” cried Achard, “I
- was wrong; forget what I have said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, let us speak of you, my friend; let us speak of my father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it necessary that I should tell you that his last wishes were
- fulfilled. Field came to fetch you during the day, and took you away with
- him. Twenty-one years have passed since then, and since then not a single
- day has passed without my putting up a prayer that I might see you at the
- appointed time. My prayers have been granted,” continued the old man; “and
- thanks be to God, you are here. Your father lives again in you—I
- once more see him—I am speaking to him. I weep no longer, I am now
- consoled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he died thus, instantly, without a struggle, without a sigh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—I brought him here. I placed him on the bed in which you were
- born—I closed the door that no one might enter the house, and I went
- alone and dug his grave. I passed the whole day in this painful duty; for,
- according to the request of your father, to no one was to be confided this
- dreadful secret. In the evening I returned for the body. The heart of man
- is singularly constituted, and hope which God has planted in it can with
- difficulty be eradicated. I had seen him fall—I had felt his hands
- grow cold—I had kissed his ice-like face—I had left him, to
- hollow out his grave, and that grave being made, that duty being
- accomplished, I returned with a beating heart, for it appeared to me,
- although a miracle would be required for such a change, that during my
- absence life had returned to him, and that he would rise from his bed and
- speak to me. I entered the house—alas! alas! the days of miracles
- had passed away. Lazarus remained lying on his couch—dead! dead!
- dead!” and the old man remained for some time overwhelmed with grief,
- silent and voiceless, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” cried Paul, also bursting into tears; “yes, and you then
- fulfilled your holy mission. Good old man, let me kiss those hands which
- deposited my father in his last home. And you have remained faithful to
- his tomb as you had been to him during life. Poor guardian of the
- sepulchre; you have remained near him that your tears might water the
- grass which grew about the unknown grave. Oh! how little are those who
- think themselves great because their name resounds amid the tempest, and
- the cry of war, louder than the storm or the din of battle, in comparison
- with you, old man, whose devotedness has been mute and noiseless. Oh! give
- me your blessings lay those hallowed hands upon my head, since my father
- is not here to bless me,” continued Paul, throwing himself on his knees
- before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rise to my arms—let me clasp you to my heart, my child, for you
- exaggerate these actions, in themselves so simple and so natural. And
- then, believe me, that which you term my piety has not been a useless
- lesson to me. I have seen how little space a man occupies beneath the
- ground, and how soon he is lost amid the world, should God turn his face
- from him. Your father was young, full of courage, with a brilliant career
- opening before him. Your father was the last descendant of an ancient
- line; he bore a noble name. His path seemed marked with honors and
- distinction; he had a family and powerful friends. Well, he suddenly
- disappeared, as if the earth had opened beneath his feet. I know not if
- some tearful eyes sought for him till they lost all trace of him; but this
- I know, that for one-and-twenty years no one has sought out his tomb—no
- one knows that he lies beneath that spot, where the grass is greener and
- grows more luxuriantly than elsewhere—and yet, vain, glorious, and
- miserable as he is, man considers himself of some value.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! and my mother, has she not visited his grave?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man did not answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! there will be two of us who henceforward will know the spot,
- where he reposes. Come, and show it to me; for I will return to it, I
- promise solemnly, every time my ship returns to the coast of France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying this, he drew Achard into the outer room, but as they opened the
- door they heard a slight noise in the park. It was a servant from the
- castle, who had accompanied Marguerite. Paul hurriedly returned into the
- bedroom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is my sister,” said he to Achard; “leave me alone with her a moment.
- It is necessary that I should speak to her. I have something to
- communicate which will make her pass a happy night. We must have
- compassion for those who watch and weep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reflect,” said Achard, “that the secret I have revealed to you is your
- mother’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fear not—I will speak to her but of that which concerns herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment Marguerite entered the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X.—CONFIDENCE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- This ring I gave him when he parted from me
- To bind him to remember my good will;
- The more shame for him that he sends it to me.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Marguerite had come, as she frequently did, to bring some provisions for
- the old man, and it was not without astonishment that she perceived in the
- outer room, where she usually found Achard, a young and handsome man, who
- looked at her with gladdened eyes, and with a kindly smile. She made a
- sign to the servant to put down the basket in a corner of the room; he
- obeyed, and then went out to wait for his mistress in the park. When he
- had withdrawn, she advanced towards Paul, saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, sir, but I expected to find my old friend, Achard,
- here, and I came, to bring him something from my mother”—
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul pointed to the inner room, to let her know that the person she was
- seeking was within, for he could not reply to her; he felt that the tone
- of his voice would betray the emotions he experienced. The young girl
- thanked him, with a bow, and went into the room to find Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul followed her with his eyes—his hand pressed upon his heart.
- That virgin soul into which love had never penetrated, now expanded with
- fraternal tenderness. Isolated as he had always been, having no friends
- but the rude children of the ocean, all that was soft or tender in his
- heart, he had turned towards God, and although in the eyes of rigid
- Christians, his religion might not have appeared as strictly orthodox, it
- is no less true, that the poetry which overflowed in every word he uttered
- was nothing more than one vast and eternal prayer. It was not, therefore,
- astonishing, that this first feeling which penetrated his heart, although
- purely fraternal, was as extravagant and transporting as the emotions of
- love.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” murmured he, “poor isolated being that I am! How shall I be able to
- restrain my feelings when she returns, and prevent myself from clasping
- her to my heart and saying to her: Marguerite! my sister, no woman has yet
- felt love for me; love me then with sisterly affection. Oh! mother!
- mother! by depriving me of your caresses, you have also deprived me of
- those of this dear angel. May God restore to you in eternity that
- happiness which you have driven from yourself and others.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell!” said Marguerite to the old man, opening the door, “farewell! I
- wished this evening to come myself, for I know not when I may see you
- again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And she went toward the outer door, pensive, and with her eyes cast down,
- without seeing Paul, without remembering that a stranger was in that room.
- Paul remained gazing at her with outstretched arms as if to prevent her
- leaving the house, with palpitating heart and moistened eyes. At length,
- when he saw her placing her hand upon the door-latch, he cried aloud—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned round amazed, but not being able to comprehend this strange
- familiarity, in one who was totally unknown to her, she half-opened the
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” reiterated Paul, advancing a step towards his sister,
- “Marguerite, do you not hear me call you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true that my name is Marguerite, sir,” she replied, with dignity;
- “but I could not imagine that word was addressed to me by a person whom I
- have the honor of knowing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I know you!” exclaimed Paul, going nearer to her, and then closing
- the door he brought her back into the room. “I know that you are unhappy,
- that you have not one friendly heart into which you can pour your sorrows,
- not one arm from which you can ask support.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You forget the one which is on high,” replied Marguerite, raising her
- eyes and hand toward heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Marguerite, I do not forget, for it is He who sends me to offer
- you that which you most need; to tell you when all lips and all hearts are
- closed toward you, ‘I am your friend, devotedly, eternally.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir!” replied Marguerite, “these are sacred and solemn words which
- you have uttered; words, unfortunately, to which it would be difficult for
- me to give credence without proofs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And should I give you one?” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Irrefragable!” continued Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then!” exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which
- doubt began to give place to hope—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! and then”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then—but no, no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know this ring?” said Paul, showing her the one with the key that
- opened the bracelet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” exclaimed Marguerite, “have mercy upon me! he is dead!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He lives.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he no longer loves me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He loves you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he be living—if he still love me—oh! I shall go mad—what
- was it I was saying? If he be living—if he still love me, how comes
- it that this ring is in your possession?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He confided it to me as a token of recognition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And have I confided this bracelet to any one?” cried Marguerite, pushing
- back the sleeve of her gown—“Look!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but you, Marguerite, you are not proscribed—dishonored, in the
- eyes of the whole world—thrown amongst a condemned race!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what importance is that. Is he not innocent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then, he thought,” continued Paul, wishing to discover the extent of
- the devotedness and love of his sister, “he thought that delicacy
- required, banished as he is for ever from society, that he should offer
- you, if not restore to you, the liberty of disposing of your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When a woman has done for a man that which I have done for him,” replied
- Marguerite, “her only excuse is to love him eternally, and it is that I
- mean to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you are an angel!” exclaimed Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me!” rejoined Marguerite, seizing the young man’s hands, and looking
- at him with a supplicating air—
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you seen him, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am his friend, his brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak to me of him, then?” she exclaimed, giving herself up entirely to
- the recollection of her lover, and forgetting that it was the first time
- she had seen the person to whom she was addressing questions of so
- delicate a nature. “What is he doing? what hope has he? Poor, unhappy
- man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He loves you—and he hopes again to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, then,” stammered Marguerite, and drawing back some paces,—“he
- has told you——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” she cried, looking down and concealing her face, over which a sudden
- tinge of red had cast itself, replacing for a moment its habitual
- paleness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul approached her and clasping her to his breast, exclaiming—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a miracle of devotedness!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do not then despise me, sir?” said Marguerite, Venturing to raise her
- eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” cried Paul, “had I a sister I would pray to heaven that she
- might resemble you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! were it so you would have a most unhappy sister,” she replied,
- leaning upon his arm and bursting into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps,” said Paul, smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know not, then——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That Monsieur de Lectoure is to arrive to-morrow morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been informed of that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that to-morrow night the marriage contract is to be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that, too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well! then! what can I hope for in such extremity as this? To whom can I
- apply to prevent this hated union? Who can I interest to aid me? My
- brother? God knows that I forgive him, but he cannot comprehend my
- feelings. My mother? Oh! sir, you do not know my mother. She is a woman
- whose reputation is unsullied, of the most austere virtue, and her will
- inflexible, for never having failed in her duty, she does not believe that
- others can forget it, and when she has once said, ‘It is my will,’ all
- that remains to do is to bow down one’s head, to weep, and to obey. My
- father? Yes, I well know that my father must leave the room from which he
- has never stirred for twenty years, to sign this contract. My father! for
- any one less unhappy and less culpable than I might prove a resource: but
- you know not that he is insane—that he has lost his reason, and with
- it every feeling of paternal affection. And besides, it is ten years since
- I last saw him. For the last ten years I have not pressed his trembling
- hands, nor kissed his snow white hairs. He knows not that he has still a
- daughter! he knows not even whether he has a heart, and will not be able
- even to recognize me. And were he but to know me, and took compassion on
- me, my mother would place a pen in his hand and would say, ‘Sign that, it
- is my will!’ and he would sign it—the poor feeble old man! and his
- daughter would be condemned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes. I know all this as well as you do, my poor child; but be
- pacified, that contract never will be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And who can prevent it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not despair. To-morrow I shall be present at the family council.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who will present you there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the means.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother is violent; and passionate. Oh! good heaven, beware, while
- striving to save me that you do not sink me still deeper in misery?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother’s person is in my eyes as sacred as your own, Marguerite.
- Fear nothing, and rely confidently upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I believe you, sir, and I implicitly confide in you,” said
- Marguerite, as if overwhelmed by the contending feelings of confidence and
- mistrust which she had till then labored under. “For what advantage could
- you derive from endeavoring to deceive me? What interest could you have to
- betray me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None, undoubtedly; but let us talk of other matters. What line of conduct
- do you intend to pursue with regard to the Baron de Lectoure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell him all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Paul, bowing profoundly, “allow me to adore you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” murmured Marguerite, “sir!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As a sister! as a sister!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are indeed kind and good,” cried Marguerite, “and I believe it
- is God who sent you to my aid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe it,” replied Paul. “Then—to-morrow evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not be astonished, nor alarmed at anything that may occur, only
- contrive to let me know by letter, by a word, a sign, the result of your
- interview with Lectoure!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will endeavor to do so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is now late, and your servant may be surprised at the length of this
- interview. Return to the castle, and say not a word of me to any one.
- Farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell,” reiterated Marguerite; “you to whom I know not what name to
- give.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Call me your brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Farewell, then, brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, my sister! my sister!” cried Paul, clasping her convulsively in his
- arms, “your lips are the first from which I have heard so sweet a word.
- God will reward you for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young girl drew back amazed; and then returning to Paul, she held out
- her hand to him. Paul again pressed it, and Marguerite left the cottage.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man then went to the door of the inner room, and opened it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, good old man,” said he, “conduct me to my father’s grave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.—THE COURTIER.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hamlet.—Dost thou know this water-fly?
- Horatio.—No, my good lord.
- Hamlet.—Thy state is the more gracious; for ‘tis a vice to know him.
- SHAKESPEARE.
-
- Here on my knees by heaven’s blest nower I swear,
- If you persist, I ne’er henceforth will see you;
- But rather wander through the world a beggar,
- And live on sordid scraps at poor men’s doors.
- For, though to fortune lost, I’ll still inherit
- My mother’s virtues and my father’s honor.—Otway.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The day following that on which Paul had been made acquainted with the
- secret of his birth, the inhabitants of the castle of Auray awoke more
- than ever absorbed in the fears and hopes which their several interests
- had created, for that day must necessarily prove a decisive one to the
- whole of them. The marchioness, whom our readers have ere this discovered,
- was neither perverse or wicked, but a haughty and inflexible woman, saw in
- it the termination of those heart-rending apprehensions, which for so many
- years, had been her daily companions; for it was above all, in the eyes of
- her children, that she wished to preserve that unsullied reputation, the
- usurpation of which had been purchased at such cost. To her, Lectoure was
- not only a fitting son-in-law, being the bearer of a name as noble as her
- own, but more than this, a man, or rather a good genius, who at the same
- moment would bear away not only her daughter, whom he would take with him
- as his wife, but her son also, to whom the minister, thanks to this
- alliance, had promised to give a regiment. Both her children gone, her
- first-born might come, and the secret revealed to him, would find no echo.
- Moreover, there were a thousand methods by which to close his lips. The
- fortune of the marchioness was immense, and gold was one of those
- resources, which, in such a case, she deemed infallible. The more terrible
- her fears, the more ardently did she desire this union; so that she not
- only encouraged the anxiety of Lectoure, but she also excited that of
- Emanuel. As to the latter, tired of living unknown at Paris, or immured in
- Brittany, lost in the crowd of brilliant young men who formed the
- household of the King, or shut up in the antique castle of his ancestors,
- having their portraits as his sole companions, he knocked with impatient
- eagerness at the golden door which his intended brother-in-law was to open
- for him, at Versailles. The grief and tears of his sister had, certainly,
- for a time afflicted him; for he was ambitious, more from a dread of the
- <i>ennui</i>, which would consume him if compelled to live on his estate,
- and from the desire of parading at the head of his regiment, captivating
- the hearts of all the ladies by the richness and good taste of his
- uniform, than from either pride or hardness of heart. Being himself
- incapable of forming any serious attachment, and despite the fatal
- consequences of his sister’s love, he considered that love, merely as a
- childish fancy, which the tumult and pleasure of the world would soon
- efface from her memory, and he really believed that before a year had
- elapsed, she would be the first to thank him for having thus done violence
- to her feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to Marguerite, poor victim, so irrevocably condemned to be immolated to
- the fear of the one, and to the ambition of the other, the scene of the
- preceding day had made a profound impression on her mind. She could not at
- all account to herself for the extraordinary feelings which the young man
- who had transmitted to her the words of Lusignan, had awakened in her
- heart; who had tranquillized her as to the fate of the unhappy exile, and
- had concluded by pressing her to his heart, and calling her his sister. A
- vague and instinctive hope whispered to her heart, that this man, as he
- had told her, had received from heaven the mission to protect her. But as
- she was ignorant of the tie which bound him to her, of the secret which
- made him master of his mother’s will, of the influence he might exercise
- over her future life, she did not dare allow herself to dream of
- happiness, habituated as she had been for six months, to consider death as
- the only term to her misfortunes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis, alone, amid the various emotions which agitated all around
- him, had remained coldly and impassibly indifferent; for to him the world
- had ceased to move since the dreadful day on which reason had abandoned
- him; continually absorbed by one fixed idea, that of his mortal combat,
- without seconds. The only words he ever uttered, were those pronounced by
- the Count de Morlaix, when he forgave him his death. He was an old man,
- weak as an infant, and whom his wife could overawe by a gesture, and who
- received from her cold and continuous will, every impulsion, which, for
- twenty years, the vegetating instinct had received, and which, on him, had
- usurped the place of reason and free will. On this day, however, a great
- change had taken place in his monotonous mode of life. A valet de chambre
- had entered his apartment, and had succeeded to the marchioness in the
- cares of his toilette; he had dressed him in his uniform of steward of the
- household, had decorated his breast with the several orders that had been
- conferred upon him; and then the marchioness, placing a pen in his hand,
- had ordered him to try to sign his name, and he had obeyed, passively and
- negligently, without imagining that he was studying the part of an
- executioner.
- </p>
- <p>
- About three in the afternoon, a postchaise, the sound of whose wheels had
- very differently impressed the hearts of the three persons who were
- expecting it, entered the court-yard of the castle. Emanuel had eagerly
- run down to the vestibule to receive his future brother-in-law, for it was
- he who had arrived. Lectoure sprang lightly from his carriage. He had
- halted for some time at the last post-house, to attire himself in a
- presentable costume, so that he arrived in an elegant court dress of the
- latest fashion. Emanuel smiled at this evidence of his anxiety, for it was
- clearly to be perceived, that Lectoure was determined not to lose the
- advantage of a first favorable impression, by presenting himself in a
- dusty travelling dress. His intercourse with the fair sex had taught him,
- that they almost invariably judge from the first glance, and the effect
- which it produces upon their minds or hearts, let it be favorable or
- unfavorable, is with difficulty removed. Moreover, it is but rendering
- justice to the baron to acknowledge that his person was graceful and
- elegant, and might have been dangerous to any woman whose heart was not
- already occupied by another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Permit me, my dear baron,” said Emanuel, advancing toward him, “in the
- momentary absence of the ladies, to do the honors of the mansion of my
- ancestors. See,” continued he, when they had reached the top of the stone
- steps leading into the hall, and pointing to the turrets and the bastions,
- “these date from the time of Philip Augustus, as to architecture, and from
- Henry IV., in point of ornament.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Upon my honor,” replied the baron, in the affected tone which the young
- men of that day had adopted, “it is a most charming fortress, and throws
- around it, to a distance of at least three leagues, a baronial odour,
- which would perfume even an army contractor. If ever,” continued he, as
- they passed through the hall and entered a gallery ornamented on each side
- with long lines of family portraits, “I should take a fancy to enter into
- a rebellion against his most Christian Majesty, I shall entreat you to
- lend me this jewel of a place; and,” added he, casting his eyes on the
- long rows of ancestors which offered themselves to his view, “the garrison
- with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thirty-three quarters—I will not say in flesh and blood,” replied
- Emanuel, “for they are long since turned to dust—but in painting, as
- you see. They begin with a certain Chevalier Hugues d’Auray, who
- accompanied King Louis VII. to the crusades; that one, it is pretended, is
- my aunt Deborah, whom you see decked out as Judith; and all this
- eventually ends in the male line, in the last member of this illustrious
- family, your very humble and very obedient servant, Emanuel d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is perfectly respectable, and nothing can be more authentic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; but as I do not feel that I have, as yet, become sufficiently a
- patriarch,” rejoined Emanuel, passing before the baron to show him the way
- to the apartment which had been prepared for him, “to spend my days in
- such formidable society, I hope, baron, that you have thought of the means
- by which I can withdraw from it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly, my dear count,” said Lectoure, following him. “I wished even
- to have been myself the bearer of your commission, as my wedding gift to
- you. I knew of a vacancy in the queen’s dragoon’s, and called yesterday on
- M. de Maurepas to solicit it for you, when I heard that it had been
- granted, at the request of I know not what mysterious admiral, a sort of
- corsair, pirate, or fantastic being, whom the queen has made the fashion
- by giving him her hand to kiss, and whom the king has taken a great
- affection to because he beat the English, I know not where—so that
- his majesty has conferred upon him the order of military merit, and
- presented him a sword with a gold hilt, just as he would have done to one
- of the nobility. In short, the game is lost on that side, but do not be
- alarmed, we will turn round to another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” replied Emanuel, “I care not what regiment it may be in; what
- I desire is, that it should be a rank suitable to my name, and a position
- which would be becoming to our wealth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Precisely—you shall have them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how,” said Emanuel, wishing to change the subject of conversation,
- “how did you manage to get rid of the thousand engagements you must have
- had on your hands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” said the baron, with that perfectly free and easy air, which
- belonged only to that distinguished class, and stretching himself upon a
- couch, for they had at length reached the apartment destined for him,
- “why, by frankly stating the fact to them. I announced at the queen’s card
- table, I was going to be married.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! good heaven! Why, this was perfect heroism! Above all, if you
- acknowledged you were about to seek a wife in the depths of Lower
- Brittany.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did acknowledge it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” said Emanuel, smiling, “compassion stifled every angry
- feeling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gad! you will readily comprehend, my dear count,” said Lectoure, putting
- one knee over the other and, balancing his leg with a motion as regular as
- that of a pendulum, “our women of the court believe that the sun rises at
- Paris, and sets at Versailles—all the rest of France, is, in their
- idea, a Lapland, Greenland, Nova Zembla! So that they expect, as you have
- hinted, my dear count, to see me bring back with me from my voyage to the
- pole some large hands, and formidable feet! Fortunately, they are
- mistaken,” he added, with an accent half timorous, half interrogatory; “is
- it not so, Emanuel? for you told me that your sister”——
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will see her,” replied Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be a dreadful disappointment to that poor Madame de Chaulne—it
- cannot be helped—and she must console herself. What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- This question was induced by the entrance of Emanuel’s valet-de-chambre;
- who had half opened the door, and remained upon the threshold, waiting, as
- was then the custom of all servants in great houses, till his master
- should address him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it? repeated Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’ Auray requests that Monsieur, the Baron de
- Lectoure, will honor her with a private interview.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me!” said Lectoure, rising from the sofa, “certainly, with the greatest
- pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But no! it is a mistake!” exclaimed Emanuel; “you must be mistaken,
- Celestin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the honor to assure your lordship,” replied the valet de chambre,
- “that I have correctly and faithfully executed the order which was given
- to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” said Emanuel, uneasy to the highest degree, at the step his
- sister had ventured to take: “Baron, if you will be advised by me, you
- will send the little simpleton about her business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means! by no means,” replied Lectoure. “What does this bluebeard of
- a brother mean? Celestin! Did you not call this lad, Celestin?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel impatiently bowed his head in the affirmative. “Well then,
- Celestin, tell my lovely betrothed that I throw myself at her knees, at
- her feet, and that I await her orders either to go to her or to receive
- her here;—and there, take this for the charges of your embassy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw him his purse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you, count,” rejoined Lectoure, “I trust that you have confidence
- enough in me, to permit this <i> tête-à-tête?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is so perfectly absurd!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all,” replied Lectoure; “on the contrary, it is perfectly
- befitting. I am not a crowned head, that I should marry a woman upon her
- portrait, and by proxy. I wish to see her in person. Come, Emanuel,” he
- continued, pushing his friend toward a side door, that he might not meet
- his sister—“Come, now, tell me frankly—in confidence, between
- ourselves—is there any—deformity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, no, by heaven!” replied the young count, “no—on the contrary,
- she is as lovely as an angel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then!” said the baron, “what does all this opposition mean? Come,
- now, begone, or must I call my guards?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; but on my word, I am afraid that this little simpleton, who has not
- the slightest notion of the world, is coming to destroy all that has been
- arranged between us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! if that is all you fear,” replied Lectoure, opening the door, “you
- may be perfectly at ease. I like the brother too well not to look over
- some caprice—some extraordinary fantasies in the sister—and I
- pledge you my word as a gentleman, unless the devil should play us some
- strange trick, (whom, I trust, is at this moment fully occupied in some
- other corner of the world!) that Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, shall be
- Madame the Baroness de Lectoure, and that in a month you shall have your
- regiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This promise appeared in some degree to pacify Emanuel, who allowed
- himself to be pushed out of the door without making further difficulty.
- Lectoure immediately ran to a looking-glass to repair the slight traces of
- disorder, which the jolting over the three last leagues had occasioned in
- his dress. He had scarcely given to his, hair and garments the most
- becoming turn and folds, when the door again opened, and Celestin
- announced—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The baron turned round, and perceived his betrothed standing pale and
- trembling on the threshold of the door. Although the promises of Emanuel
- had inspired him with some degree of hope, a certain residue of doubt had
- still remained on his mind, if not as to the beauty, at all events, with
- regard to the deportment of the lady who was about to become his wife. His
- surprise was therefore unbounded, when he saw that delicate and graceful
- creature standing before him, and whom the most fastidious critic of
- female elegance could only have reproached with being in a slight degree
- too pallid. Marriages, such as the one about to be contracted by Lectoure,
- were by no means rare in an age in which questions as to rank and
- suitableness of fortune in general, decided alliances between noble
- houses; but that which was scarcely found once in a thousand times, was,
- that a man in the baron’s position should meet, immured in a distant
- province, a lady possessed of an immense fortune, and whom, at the first
- glance, he could discern, was worthy, by her demeanor, her elegance, and
- her beauty, to shine in the most brilliant circles of the court. He,
- therefore, advanced toward her, no longer with the feeling of superiority
- as a courtier, addressing a country girl, but with all the respectful ease
- which distinguished good society at that time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon me, mademoiselle,” said he, offering her his hand to conduct her
- to an arm chair, but which she did not accept; “it was to me to solicit
- the favor you have bestowed upon me; and believe me, it was the
- apprehension of being considered indiscreet, which alone has occasioned
- the apparent neglect of allowing myself to be forestalled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I truly appreciate this delicacy, sir,” replied Marguerite, in a
- trembling voice, and retreating one step, she remained standing. “It
- strengthens me still more in the confidence which, without having seen
- you, without knowing you, I had placed in your honor and good faith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whatever aim this confidence may have had, I am honored by it,
- mademoiselle, and I will endeavor to render myself worthy of it. But, good
- heaven, what can so affect you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing, sir, nothing,” replied Marguerite, endeavoring to overcome her
- emotion; “but it is—it is—that I have to tell you that—but—really—I
- am not sufficiently mistress of myself to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She staggered, and appeared as if about to fall; the baron sprang toward
- her to offer his support, but he had scarcely touched her when a flush of
- crimson suffused the cheeks of the young girl, and with a feeling, which
- might be attributed as well to modesty as to repugnance, she disengaged
- herself from his arms. Lectoure had taken her hand, and conducted her to a
- chair, against which she leaned, but would not seat herself in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good God!” exclaimed the baron, still retaining her hand, “it must then
- be something very difficult to utter, that has brought you hither! Or,
- without my at all suspecting it, has my being affianced to you already
- conferred upon me the imposing air of a husband?” Marguerite made another
- effort to withdraw her hand from the baron, and which induced the latter
- to observe it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How!” said he, “not satisfied with having the most adorable of faces, the
- elegant figure of a fairy, but you must have such lovely hands!—hands
- perfectly royal in their shape—why, ‘tis enough to make me expire at
- once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust M. le Baron,” rejoined Marguerite, and making a last effort, she
- withdrew her hand from his grasp, “that the words with which you are now
- addressing me, are merely words of gallantry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, by my soul! they are the sincere truth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, I hope, should it be, which I much doubt, that you really
- think that which you have been pleased to say—I trust, I say, that
- such motives will not lead you to attach a higher value to the union which
- has been projected?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They will, indeed, and that I swear to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet,” continued Marguerite, gasping for breath, so much was her heart
- oppressed, “and yet, sir, you consider marriage as a solemn matter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is as it may happen,” smilingly replied Lectoure; “for example, if I
- were about to marry an old dowager.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In short,” rejoined Marguerite, in a more determined tone, “I beg your
- pardon, sir, if I have been mistaken; I thought, perhaps, that with regard
- to the alliance proposed between us, you had formed some idea of
- reciprocity of feeling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never!” cried Lectoure, interrupting her, for he appeared as eager to
- avoid the frank explanation, which Marguerite desired, as she seemed to
- provoke it. “Never! and above all, since I have seen you, I could not hope
- to be worthy of your love. And yet my name, my position in society,
- notwithstanding I should fail to influence your heart, may yet give me a
- title to your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how, sir,” said Marguerite, timidly, “how can you separate the one
- from the other?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As do three-fourths of the people who get married, mademoiselle,” replied
- Lectoure, with a carelessness which would have at once deterred the
- confidence of a woman less candid than Marguerite. “A man marries in order
- to have a wife, the wife to have a husband; it is a social compact, an
- arrangement of convenience. What can love have to do in a matter of this
- nature?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your pardon, sir; perhaps I have not clearly expressed my meaning,”
- continued Marguerite, making an effort to control her feelings, and to
- conceal from the man upon whom her future fate depended, the impression
- his words had produced upon her mind. “But you must attribute my
- hesitation, sir, to the timidity of a young girl, compelled by imperious
- circumstances to speak on such a subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all, mademoiselle,” replied Lectoure, bowing and giving to his
- voice a tone which nearly approached raillery; “on the contrary, you speak
- like <i>Clarissa Harlowe</i>, and all you say is as clear as daylight. God
- has endowed me with a mind sufficiently quick-sighted perfectly to
- comprehend things which are but hinted at.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How, sir!” cried Marguerite, “you comprehend what I had the intention of
- saying, and you allow me to continue? How would it be if on looking deeply
- into my heart and interrogating all its feelings, I found it impossible to
- love—to love the person who had been presented to me as my future
- husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why,” replied Lectoure, in the same sarcastic tone in which he had before
- spoken, “in my opinion the best course to pursue would be not to tell him
- of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why not, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because—but—but—because it would really be too simple.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if that avowal were made, not from simplicity but from delicacy? If I
- added, and may the shame of such an avowal fall back on those who compel
- me to make it—if I added sir, that I have loved, that I still love?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! some little romance, is it not so?” said Lectoure, carelessly,
- crossing his leg and playing with the frill of his shirt; “upon my honor,
- the race of little cousins is an accursed race. But fortunately we know
- what these ephemeral attachments are; and there is not a school-girl, who,
- after the holidays, does not return to her convent but with a passion in
- her little heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Unfortunately for me,” replied Marguerite, with, a voice as sorrowful and
- grave as that of the baron was sarcastic and light, “unfortunately, I am
- no longer a school-girl, sir; and although still young, I have long ago
- passed the age of childish games and infantine attachments. When I speak
- to the man who does me the honor to solicit my hand and to offer me his
- name, of my love for another, he ought to understand that I am speaking of
- a serious, profound, and eternal love; of one of those passions, in fine,
- which leave their traces in the heart, and imprint them there for ever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The devil!” exclaimed Lectoure, as if beginning to attach some importance
- to Marguerite’s confession; “why, this is perfectly pastoral. But let us
- see! is it a young man whom one can receive at one’s house?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir,” cried Marguerite, catching at the hope which these words seemed
- to inspire: “oh! believe me, he is the most estimable being, the most
- devoted soul——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I am not asking you to tell me this—I was not speaking of the
- qualities of his heart—he has all these, of course, that’s perfectly
- understood. I ask you whether he is noble? if he is of good race? in
- short, whether a woman of quality could acknowledge him, and that without
- degrading her husband?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His father, whom he lost when very young, and who was my father’s friend
- from infancy, was a counsellor at the Court of Rennes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobility of the bar!” exclaimed Lectoure, dropping his nether lip with a
- contemptuous shrug; “I would rather it were otherwise—is he a knight
- of Malta, at least?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was educated for a military life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! then, we must get a regiment for him, to give him rank and standing
- in society. Well, that’s all arranged, and it is well. Now, listen to me:
- he will absent himself for six months, merely for decency’s sake, will
- obtain leave of absence, no difficult matter now, as we are not at war—he
- will get himself presented to you for form’s sake, by some mutual friend,
- and then all will go on rightly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not understand you, sir,” replied Marguerite, looking at the baron
- with an expression of profound astonishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I have said to you is, notwithstanding, perfectly pellucid,”
- rejoined the latter, with some show of impatience; “you have engagements
- on your side—I have on mine—but that is no reason for
- preventing an union which is perfectly suitable in every respect; and once
- accomplished, why, I think, we are bound to render it as bearable as we
- can. Do you comprehend me now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! pardon me, sir, pardon me,” cried Marguerite, starting back, as
- though these words had outraged her; “I have been very imprudent, very
- culpable perhaps; but whatever I may have been, I did not dream I could
- have merited so gross an insult. Oh! sir, the blush of shame is now
- scorching my cheek, but more for you than for myself. Yes, I understand
- you—an apparent love and a concealed one; the face of vice and the
- mask of virtue; and it is to me—to me, the daughter of the Marquis
- d’Auray, that so shameful, so humiliating, so infamous a bargain is
- proposed. Oh!” continued she, falling into an arm-chair, and hiding her
- face with both her hands, “I must then be a most unfortunate, most
- contemptible lost creature! Oh! my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Emanuel! Emanuel!” cried the baron, opening the door, at which he rightly
- suspected Marguerite’s brother had remained; “come in, my dear friend;
- your sister is attacked with spasms; these things ought to be attended to,
- or they may become chronic; Madame do Moulan died of them. Here, take my
- scent bottle, and let her smell at it. As to myself, I am going down into
- the park. If you have nothing else to do, you can rejoin me there, and
- bring me, if you please, news of your sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, the Baron de Lectoure left the room with miraculous
- calmness, leaving Marguerite and Emanuel together.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.—THE CHALLENGE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me,
- It shall not anger me—I tell thee Claudius,
- Thou art enshrined in a holy circle
- My foot can never pass—nor taunt, nor insult
- Can e’er induce this hand to rise against thee.
- Therefore be satisfied—
- Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee.
- —Old Play.
-</pre>
- <p>
- On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron de
- Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so diametrically
- opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl, on that day at
- four o’clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the castle. Emanuel
- did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could not leave her
- husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to come down stairs.
- The other guests were the notary, the relations of the family, and the
- witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding the imperturbable
- gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his joyous humor, so
- stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun his own feelings.
- From time to time, indeed, his boisterous liveliness failed all at once,
- like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly extinguished, and then it suddenly
- burst forth again, as doth the flame when it devours its last aliment. At
- seven o’clock they rose from table, and went into the drawing-room. It
- would be difficult to form an idea of the strange aspect which the old
- castle then presented; the vast apartments of which were hung with damask
- draperies, with gothic designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times
- of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the
- presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance
- of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the feeble
- and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to illuminate
- the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the arches of a
- cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to be joined during
- the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the neighbourhood,
- increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the emblazoned columns of
- the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons, the same one in which
- Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from Paris, had received Captain
- Paul, was placed a table prepared with much solemnity, on which was laid a
- closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a stranger ignorant of all that
- was preparing, might as well have enclosed a death warrant as a marriage
- contract. In the midst of these grave aspects and gloomy impressions, from
- time to time a shrill mocking laugh would reach the ears of a group of
- persons whispering to each other. It proceeded from Lectoure, who was
- amusing himself at the expense of some good country gentlemen, without any
- respect for the feelings of Emanuel, upon whom a portion of his raillery
- necessarily recoiled. He would, however, every now and then cast an
- anxious glance around the room, and then a gloomy cloud would pervade his
- features, for he saw not either his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or
- Marguerite enter the room. As we have already stated, that neither of them
- had been present at the dinner table, and his interview with the latter
- had not, however careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some
- uneasiness with regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take
- place during the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and
- he had just determined to go up to his sister’s apartment, when in passing
- through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw
- near.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count,” said he to
- him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country
- gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of
- perfect intimacy; “here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very
- curious things, upon my word! But do you know,” continued he, turning to
- the narrator, “this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also have
- marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to Paris, to
- tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild ducks in this
- way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An immense quantity,” replied the gentleman, and with the accent of
- perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of
- detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?” inquired Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only imagine, my dear friend,” replied Lectoure, with the most complete
- sang froid, “that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,—At
- what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the month of December and January.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying,
- then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool
- over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so
- completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and
- allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As near as I am to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah! really?” exclaimed Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I kill them by dozens,” said he, proudly, being enchanted by the
- attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his
- exploits.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of
- ducks,” said Emanuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She adores them,” said M. de Nozay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a
- person,” said Lectoure, bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly baron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear to you,” said Lectoure, “that instantly on my return to Paris, I
- will speak of this sport in the king’s dressing-room, and I am persuaded
- that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his large ponds
- of Versailles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, dear marquis,” said Emanuel, taking Lectoure’s arm,
- and whispering in his ear, “this is one of our country neighbors, whom we
- could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It requires no apology, my dear friend,” said Lectoure, using the same
- precaution not to be heard by the party in question: “you would have been
- decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He is an
- appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been greatly
- chagrined not to have made his acquaintance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur de la Jarry,” said a servant, opening the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A sporting companion?” said Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied M. de Nozay; “he is a traveller.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the
- newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had
- hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room,
- muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! my dear La Jarry,” cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and holding
- out his hand to him, “but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, you look
- like the Czar Peter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is,” replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no means
- cold, “because, when one arrives from Naples—perrrrrou!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples,” said Lectoure, joining in the
- conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Direct, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then,”
- continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to the
- volcano, “Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen at
- Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when the wind is
- in the wrong quarter,—and besides Madame La Jarry was dreadfully
- alarmed at the idea of an eruption.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But of course you visited the <i>Grotto del Cane?</i>” continued
- Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To what purpose?” rejoined La Jarry; “to see an animal that has vapors—give
- a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as much. And then,
- Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it would have given her
- pain to witness so cruel an exhibition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself,” said Emanuel,
- bowing, “did not neglect the Solfatara.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who, I—I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine
- what three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which
- is a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the
- odour of sulphur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think of our new friend?” said Emanuel, leading Lectoure into
- the room in which the contract was to be signed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly
- prefer Nozay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, “Monsieur Paul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh!” exclaimed Emanuel, turning round.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is this?” inquired Lectoure, listlessly, “another country neighbour?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; this is quite another sort of person,” replied Emanuel, with
- agitation. “How does this man dare to present himself here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah! a plebeian—eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I
- suppose. No—a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you,
- Emanuel, that they are beginning to receive this sort of people—that
- accursed philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my
- dear fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it—we have
- come to that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches
- the corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises—they
- converse together on court matters—they jest, they joke, they
- squabble, it is <i>bon ton</i> though decidedly bad taste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, Lectoure,” replied Emanuel; “he is neither poet,
- painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead
- off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours by
- the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting and
- travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely closed
- upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into the room
- he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door—the one led
- to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up on his
- first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between Marguerite and
- Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained there for a moment,
- looking attentively at the two doors, as though he had expected to see one
- of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In a few moments, that of the
- library was opened, and he perceived a white form standing within it; he
- rushed towards it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it you, Marguerite?” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied a trembling voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told him all?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suspected as much—he is a miserable wretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s to be done?” cried the young girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take courage, Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Courage—oh! it now fails me entirely.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is that which will restore it,” said Paul, handing her a letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this letter contain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name of
- the woman in whose house he has been concealed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son! oh! you are my guardian angel,” cried Marguerite, endeavoring to
- kiss the hand which held the paper to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! someone is coming—whatever may happen, you will find one
- at Achards.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had
- heard: the sound of her brother’s footsteps. Paul turned round, and went
- to meet him, which he did, near the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company,” said
- Emanuel, who was the first to speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears to me that we are alone at this moment,” said Paul, glancing
- around the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an instant
- this room will be full.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But many things may be said in an instant, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more
- than an instant to comprehend them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am listening,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You spoke to me of letters,” rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him, and
- lowering his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true,” said Paul, with the same calmness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You fixed a price upon those letters?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is also true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum
- enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them
- up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir, yes,” replied Paul, “the case stood thus, as long as I believed
- your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault she had
- committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was seconding
- your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a sufficiently
- bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without a name and
- without a family, not to allow him to enter it without a fortune also, and
- I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in exchange for the letters
- in my possession. But now the state of things is altered, sir. I saw your
- sister throw herself upon her knees before you, I heard her entreat you
- not to force her into this infamous marriage, and neither prayers, nor
- tears, nor supplications could make any impression on your heart. It is
- now for me, for me who hold your honor, and the honor of your family
- within my hands, it is for me to save the mother from despair, as I would
- have saved the child from penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be
- delivered to you, when you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the
- marriage contract of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of
- Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray with Anatole de Lusignan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, sir, never!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know not any,” coldly replied Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count,” replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under the
- circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, “count, listen to
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you return me those letters, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, or no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” said Paul, calmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or
- rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together,
- and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful
- from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I regret I cannot accept the offer, count.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side
- that sword, and you refuse a duel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against
- you, count—believe me, I entreat you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot fight with me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot, upon my honor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot fight with me, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At this moment a person who had entered the room without being perceived,
- burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul and Emanuel
- turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, “I can fight with him, for he is a
- miserable and infamous wretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A burning blush passed over Lectoure’s features, like the reflection of a
- flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is well, sir,” said he; “send your second to Emanuel and they can
- arrange this matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred,” said
- Emanuel, to Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence!” replied Paul, “they are announcing your mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure,” added Emanuel, “let
- us go to receive my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he entered
- the small room in which he had before been concealed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII.—THE CONTRACT.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Listen to me and heed me!
- If this contract
- Thou holdst me to, abide thou the result!
- Answer to heaven for what I suffer! act!
- Prepare thyself for such calamity
- To fall on me, and those whose evil
- Have linked them with me, as no past mishap,
- However rare and marvellously Sad,
- Can parallel.
-
- Knowles—The Hunchback.
-</pre>
- <p>
- At the moment that Paul went into the study, the marchioness appeared at
- the door of the drawing-room, followed by the notary, and the several
- persons who had been invited to be present at the signing of the contract.
- Notwithstanding the nature of the meeting, the marchioness had not
- considered it proper to lay aside, even for one evening, her mourning
- garments, and dressed in complete black, as she had been always during
- twenty years, she came into the room a few moments before the marquis.
- None of the persons present, not even his son, had seen the marquis for
- many years. Such attention was in those days paid to ancient forms, that
- the marchioness would not allow the marriage contract of her daughter to
- be signed, without the head of the family, although deprived of reason,
- being present; at the ceremony. However little accustomed Lectoure was to
- feel intimidated, the marchioness produced upon him the effect which she
- did on every one that approached her, and on seeing her enter the room
- with so grave and dignified an aspect, he bowed to her with a feeling of
- profound respect.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am grateful to you, gentlemen,” said the marchioness, bowing to the
- persons who accompanied her, “for the honor you have been pleased to
- confer upon me, by being present at the betrothal of Mademoiselle
- Marguerite d’Auray, with the Baron de Lectoure. I, in consequence, was
- desirous that the marquis, although suffering from illness, should also be
- present at this meeting, to thank you at least by his presence, if he
- cannot do so verbally. You are all aware of his unfortunate malady, and
- you will, therefore, not be astonished, should some disjointed words—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, madam,” said Lectoure, interrupting her, “we know the misfortune
- which has befallen him, and we admire the devoted wife, who for twenty
- years has borne half the weight of this sad visitation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see, madam,” said Emanuel, addressing in his turn, and kissing the
- hand of his mother, “all the world bows down in admiration of your
- conjugal piety.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is Marguerite?” murmured the marchioness, in a hair whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was here not a moment ago,” said Emanuel. “Let her know that we are
- all assembled,” rejoined the marchioness, in the same tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- A servant then announced “the Marquis d’Auray.” All present drew to one
- side, so as to leave free passage from the door, and all eyes were
- directed to the spot at which this new personage was to appear. It was not
- long before their curiosity was satisfied; the marquis came in almost
- immediately, supported by two servants.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was an old man, whose countenance, notwithstanding that the traces of
- suffering had deeply furrowed it, still retained that noble and dignified
- appearance which had rendered him one of the most distinguished men of the
- court of Louis XV. His large, hollow, and feverish eyes, glanced around
- the assembly with a strange expression of astonishment. He was dressed in
- his costume of Steward of the Household, wore the order of the Holy Ghost
- suspended from his neck, and that of St. Louis, at his button hole. He
- advanced slowly, and without uttering a word. The two servants led him
- forward amid the most profound silence, to an arm-chair, in which he
- seated himself, and the servants left the room. The marchioness then
- placed herself at his right hand. The notary opened the portfolio, drew
- from it the marriage contract and read it aloud. The marquis and the
- marchioness made over the sum of five hundred thousand francs to Lectoure,
- and gave a like sum to Marguerite, as her dowry.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the whole of the time occupied by the reading of the contract, the
- marchioness, notwithstanding her great self command, had betrayed some
- symptoms of uneasiness. But just at the moment when the notary had placed
- the contract open on the table, Emanuel returned and approached his
- mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Marguerite?” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She will be here instantly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” murmured Marguerite, half opening the door, and clasping her
- hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness pretended not to hear her, and pointed with her finger at
- the pen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Baron, it is you who are first to sign.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lectoure immediately approached the table and signed the contract.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” cried Marguerite, in a tone of supplication, and advancing one
- step toward her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pass the pen to your betrothed, Baron,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Baron walked round the table, and drew near to Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” again cried the latter, with an accent so melancholy, that it
- struck to the heart of every person present, and even the marquis himself
- raised his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sign!” said the marchioness, pointing to the marriage contract.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father! my father!” exclaimed Marguerite throwing herself at the
- feet of the marquis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this mean?” said the marchioness, leaning upon the arm of the
- marquis’ chair, and bending over him, “are you mad, mademoiselle?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father! oh! my father!” again cried Marguerite, throwing her arms
- around him, “my father, have pity, save your daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite!” murmured the marchioness, in a threatening accent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” replied Marguerite, “I cannot address myself to you—permit
- me, then, to implore my father’s pity; unless,” she added, pointing to the
- notary with a firm and determined gesture, “you would prefer my invoking
- the protection of the law.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, come,” said the marchioness, rising, and in a tone of bitter irony,
- “this is a family scene, and which, although highly interesting to near
- relations, must be sufficiently tedious to strangers. Gentlemen, you will
- find refreshments in the adjoining rooms. My son, conduct these gentlemen,
- and do the honors. Baron, I must beg your pardon for a short time.”
- Emanuel and Lectoure bowed in silence and withdrew, followed by all the
- company. The marchioness remained motionless until the last of them had
- withdrawn, and then she closed all the doors leading into the room, when,
- returning to the marquis, whom Marguerite still held clasped in her arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” said she, “that there is no one present excepting those who
- have the right to lay their commands upon you, sign that paper,
- mademoiselle, or leave the room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For pity’s sake, madam, for pity’s sake, do not compel me to commit so
- infamous an act!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you not heard me?” said the marchioness, giving to her voice an
- imperative tone, which she thought impossible to be resisted, “or must I
- repeat my words? ‘Sign, or leave the room.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my father!” cried Marguerite, “mercy! mercy! No, it shall not be
- said, that after having been banished from my father’s presence for ten
- years, I was torn from his arms the first time I again beheld him—and
- that, before he had recognized me, before he has embraced me. Oh! father!
- father!—it is I, it is your daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is that voice that is imploring me?” murmured the marquis. “Who is
- this child who calls me father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That voice,” said the marchioness, seizing the arm of her daughter, “is a
- voice that is raised against the rights of nature. That child is a
- rebellious daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father!” cried Marguerite imploringly, “look at me. Oh! my father,
- save me I defend me! I am Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marguerite? Marguerite?” stammered the marquis, “I had formerly a child
- of that name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I! it is I!” rejoined Marguerite: “I am your child—I am your
- daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are no children but those who obey. Obey! and you will then have
- the right to call yourself our daughter,” rejoined the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To you, my father, yes,—to you I am ready to obey. But you do not
- command this sacrifice! you do not wish that I should be unhappy—unhappy
- even to despair—unhappy even to death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come! come!” said the marquis holding her in his turn, and pressing her
- to his heart. “Oh! this is a delicious and unknown feeling to me. And now—wait!
- wait!” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “It seems to me that I
- recollect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” cried the marchioness, “tell her that she ought to obey; that the
- malediction of God awaits rebellious children. Tell her that, rather than
- to encourage her in her impiety!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis slowly raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his
- wife, and then slowly pronounced the following words: “Take care! madam,
- take care. Have I not told you that I begin to remember!” and then again
- bending down his head to that of Marguerite, so that his grey hairs
- mingled with the dark tresses, of his daughter—“Speak—speak!”
- said he, “what is it that disturbs you, my child—tell me all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! I am most unhappy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everybody, then, is unhappy here,” exclaimed the marquis, “whether their
- hair be grey or black—an old man or a child.. Oh! and I also—I
- am unhappy—be assured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, go up stairs into your room again: you must,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that I may again be face to face with you; shut up like a prisoner!
- That may be very well, when I am mad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, my father, you are right. My mother has devoted herself to you
- long enough; it is now time that your daughter should perform that duty.
- Take me with you, father. I will not leave you day or night. You will only
- have to make a sign, to utter a word, and I will serve you on my knees.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you would not have the strength to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, my father, I will—as truly as I am your daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness wrung her hands with impatience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you are my daughter, how is it that I have not seen you for ten
- years?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I was told that you would not see me, my father; because they
- told me that you did not love me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were told that I would not see you—not see that angel face!”
- said he, taking her head between his hands, and looking at her with
- intense auction; “they told you that—they told you that a poor
- condemned soul did not wish for heaven! Who was it, then, that told you a
- father would not see his child? Who has dared to say, child, your father
- loves you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I!——” said the marchioness, again endeavoring to take
- Marguerite from her father’s arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You!” exclaimed the marquis, interrupting her: “it was you? To you then,
- has been confided the fatal mission of deceiving me in all my affections.
- All my griefs, then, must find their source in you? You wish, then, now to
- break the father’s heart, as twenty years ago, you did that of the
- husband.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are delirious, sir,” said the marchioness, loosing the arm of her
- daughter; and going to the right of the marquis, she whispered—“be
- silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, madam, no, I am not now delirious,” replied the marquis, “No! no! Say
- rather, say that,—and it will be the truth,—say that I am now
- between an angel who would recall me to reason, and a demon who wishes me
- again to become insane. No! No! I am not mad. Do you wish that I should
- prove it to you?” He rose, supporting himself on the arms of his chair.
- “Must I speak to you of letters, of adultery, of a duel?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say,” said the marchioness, grasping his arm, “I tell you that you are
- more forsaken by heaven than ever, when you utter such things, without
- reflecting as to whose ears are listening. Cast down your eyes, sir—look
- who is standing yonder, and then dare assert that you are not mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right;” said the marquis, falling back in his chair. “Your mother
- is right,” continued he, addressing Marguerite—“I am mad, and you
- must not believe what I say, but what she says. Your mother is
- devotedness, virtue itself, and therefore, she has not sleepless nights,
- nor remorse, nor madness. What does your mother wish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My misery, father; my everlasting misery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how can I prevent this misery?” said the unhappy old man, with a most
- heart-rending anguish; “how can I, a poor, insane old man, prevent it? who
- thinks he always sees the blood issuing from a wound—who thinks he
- constantly hears a voice proceeding from a tomb!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh you can do all; say but one word and I am saved! They wish me to marry—”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis listlessly reclined his head on the back of his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me! they wish to marry me to a man whom I do not love—do
- you understand me?—to a wretch!—and you have been brought here—placed
- in that arm-chair, before the table—you, you my father! to sign this
- infamous contract—this contract which I now hand to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without consulting me,” said the marquis, taking the contract; “without
- asking me whether I will, or I will not! Do they believe me dead? And if
- they think me dead, do they fear me less than they would a spectre? This
- marriage would cause your misery, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My eternal misery!” exclaimed Marguerite. “The marriage, then, shall not
- take place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have pledged your word and mine,” said the marchioness, and with the
- more energy, that she felt her influence over her husband about to escape
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This marriage, I tell you, shall not take place!” replied the marquis, in
- a tone louder than that of his wife. “It is too dreadful a thing,”
- continued he, in a gloomy sepulchral tone, “to be permitted. A marriage in
- which a wife loves not her husband—why, it causes madness! As to
- myself, the marchioness has always loved me, and loved me faithfully—that
- which drove me mad—oh! that was a different matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A flash of diabolical joy shot from the eyes of the marchioness, for she
- at once saw from the violence of the expressions used by her husband, and
- the terror depicted on his features, that his insanity was about to
- return.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This contract,” said the marquis, and he raised it in his hands as if
- about to tear it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness eagerly caught his hand. Marguerite appeared to be hanging
- by a thread between heaven and hell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That which drives me mad!” reiterated the marquis, “is a tomb which
- widely opens, a spectre that issues from the earth, it is a phantom that
- speaks to me, and says—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your life is in my hands!” murmured the marchioness in his ear, repeating
- the last words of the dying Morlaix: “I could take it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you hear that?” cried the marquis, rising, and as if about to rush
- from the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father! oh! my father! recall your senses; there is no tomb, there is
- no spectre, there is no phantom; those words were uttered by the
- marchioness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I wish you to live,” continued the latter, concluding the sentence
- she had begun, “to forgive me as I forgive you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon, Morlaix, pardon!” cried the marquis, falling back in his
- arm-chair, his hair standing on end with terror, and the perspiration
- streaming from his forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! father! father!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see that your father is altogether deranged,” said the marchioness,
- triumphantly; “say no more to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Marguerite, “God will, I trust perform a miracle! My love, my
- caresses, my tears, will restore him to reason.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make the attempt,” replied the marchioness, coldly, abandoning to her
- care the marquis, who was powerless, speechless, and almost without
- consciousness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my poor father!” exclaimed Marguerite, in a tone of agony.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marquis remained perfectly impassible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” said the marchioness, in an imperative manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh! eh!” cried the marquis, shuddering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Save me! oh! save me, father!” cried Marguerite, wringing her hands, and
- throwing herself back in despair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take this pen and sign,” said the marchioness, “you must—it is my
- will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, I am lost indeed!” cried Marguerite, overwhelmed with terror, and
- feeling that she had no longer strength to continue the struggle.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at the moment that the marquis, overpowered, had written the first
- letters of his name; when the marchioness was congratulating herself on
- the victory she had obtained, and Marguerite was about to leave the room
- in despair, an unexpected incident suddenly changed the scene. The door of
- the study opened, and Paul, who had been anxiously watching, though
- invisibly, the whole of this terrible conflict, issued from it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said he, “one word before this contract is signed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is it calls me!” said the marchioness, endeavoring to distinguish in
- the distance that separated them, the person who had thus spoken, and who
- stood in a dark corner of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that voice!” exclaimed the marquis, shuddering, as if seared by a
- red-hot iron.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul advanced three paces, and the light from the lustre hanging in the
- centre of the room fell full upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it a spectre?” cried the marchioness, in her turn, struck with the
- resemblance of the youth who stood before her to her former lover.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that face!” cried the marquis, believing that he saw the man whom
- he had killed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God! protect me,” stammered Marguerite, raising her eyes and
- hands to heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Morlaix! Morlaix!” said the marquis, rising and advancing toward Paul,
- “Morlaix!—pardon! mercy!” and he fell at full length upon the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father!” cried Marguerite, rushing to his assistance.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment a servant entered the room, with terror in his looks, and
- addressing the marchioness said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, Achard has sent to request that the priest and the doctor of the
- castle, may instantly be ordered to attend him—he is dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell him,” replied the marchioness, pointing to her husband, whom
- Marguerite was vainly endeavoring to restore to consciousness, “that they
- are both obliged to remain here to attend upon the marquis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.—RELIGIOUS CONVICTION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
- Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
- Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
-
- Shakespeare.
-</pre>
- <p>
- As has been seen by the end of the preceding chapter, God, by one of those
- extraordinary combinations, which short-sighted man almost always
- attributes to chance, had summoned to his presence, and almost at the same
- moment, the souls of the noble Marquis d’Auray, and the poor low-born
- Achard. We have seen that the former, struck by the sight of Paul, the
- living portrait of his father, as if by a thunderbolt, fell at the feet of
- the young man, who was himself terrified at the effect his appearance had
- produced.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to Achard, the circumstances which had hastened his death, although
- differing in their nature, and from very opposite feelings, had arisen
- from the same fatal causes, and had been brought about by the same
- individual. The sight of Paul had created direful emotions in the breasts
- both of the marquis and Achard. On the former from excess of terror, on
- the latter from excess of joy.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the day which had preceded the intended signing of the contract,
- Achard had felt himself more feeble than usual. Notwithstanding this, he
- had not neglected in the evening to crawl to his master’s grave, there to
- put up his accustomed prayer. Thence he had observed with a devotion more
- profound than ever, that ever new and splendid spectacle, the sun sinking
- into the ocean. He had followed the decline of its enpurpled light, and as
- though the vast torch of the world had drawn his soul toward it, he had
- felt his strength extinguished with its last rays; so that when the
- servant from the castle came in the evening at the accustomed hour to
- receive his orders, not finding him in his house, had sought for him
- without the park, and as it was well known that he generally walked in
- that direction, found him lying extended at the foot of the great oak
- tree, upon the grave of his master, and deprived of consciousness. Thus
- did he remain constant to the last in that religious devotedness he had
- vowed to his master’s tomb, and which had been the exclusive feeling of
- the last years of his life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; and
- then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the
- marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a
- physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the servant
- then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, under the
- pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as the old
- servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at the point of
- death, gave her husband the right of first employing.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the
- moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and
- varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we
- have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul.
- Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible
- from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to whisper
- to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would find him at
- Achard’s cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and winding his way
- amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill of a sear man, who
- reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon reached the house, entered
- it panting from his rapid course, and found Achard just as he was
- recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him in his arms. The delight
- of again seeing him renewed the strength of the old man, who now felt
- certain of having a friendly hand to close his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! it is you—it is you!” exclaimed the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not hope to see you again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of the
- state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your
- assistance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I knew not where to find you—where I could send to tell you
- that I wished once more to see you before I died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously
- ill, and I hastened hither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how was it that you were at the castle?” said the old man, with
- amazement.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul related to him all that had occurred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eternal Providence!” cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his
- recital, “how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after
- twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, and
- hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, thus it happens,” replied Paul, “and it is Providence, also,
- who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse to
- send you the physician and the priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “According to common justice,” rejoined Achard, “they might have made a
- fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the
- physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the
- priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can go on horseback,” said Paul, “and in less than an hour—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In an hour it would be too late,” said the dying man, in an enfeebled
- voice, “a priest! a priest only—I ask but for a priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Father,” replied Paul, “in his sacred functions, I know I cannot supply
- his place; but we can speak of God, of his greatness and his goodness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but let us first finish with the things of this earth, that we may
- then be able to turn our thoughts wholly to those of heaven. You say that,
- like myself, the marquis is dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I left him at the last agony.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know, that immediately after his death, the papers which are
- deposited in that closet, and which prove your birth, are yours by right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I die before the marquis, to whom can I confide them?” The old man sat
- up and pointed to a key hanging at the head of his bed. “You will take
- that key, you will open the closet—in it you will find a casket. You
- are a man of honor. Swear to me that you will not open that casket until
- the marquis shall be dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear it,” said Paul solemnly, and extending his hand towards the
- crucifix hanging at the head of the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well,” replied Achard; “now I shall die in peace.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may do so, for the son holds your hand in this world, and the father
- stretches out his towards you from heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you believe, my child, that he will be satisfied with my fidelity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No king was ever so faithfully obeyed during life, as he has been since
- his death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” murmured the old man, in a gloomy tone, “I was but too exact in
- following his orders. I ought not to have suffered the duel to have taken
- place; I ought to have refused attending it as a witness. Hear me, Paul;
- it is this that I wished to have said to a priest, for it is the only
- thing that weighs upon my conscience: listen: there have been moments of
- doubt, during which, I have regarded this solitary duel as an
- assassination. In that case, Paul, oh! in that case, I have not only been
- a witness, but an accomplice!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my second father,” replied Paul, “I know not whether the laws of
- earth are always in accordance with the laws of heaven, and whether honor
- as it is considered by man, would be a virtue in the eyes of the Lord; I
- know not whether our holy church, an enemy to bloodshed, permits that the
- injured should attempt with his own hands, to avenge the wrongs inflicted
- upon him by attacking his injurer, and if in that case, the judgment of
- heaven directs the pistol ball or the sword’s point. These are questions
- not to be decided by reasoning, but by conscience. Well, then, my
- conscience tells me, that situated as you were, I should have done
- precisely as you did. Should conscience in this case mislead me, it also
- misled you, and in this view of the matter, I have a greater right than a
- priest, to absolve you; and in my name, and in that of my father, I pardon
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks! thanks!” cried the old man, pressing the hands of Paul; “thanks,
- for these words, pour consolation into the soul of a dying man. Remorse is
- a dreadful thing! remorse would lead one to believe that there exists no
- God. For without a judge there can be no judgment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to me,” said Paul, in that poetic and solemn accent, which was
- peculiar to him: “I also have often doubted in the existence of a God:
- isolated and lost in the wide world, without family, and without a single
- friend, I sought for support in the Lord, and I asked of every thing that
- encircled me, some proof of his existence. Often have I arrested my steps
- at the foot of one of these crosses, erected by the road side, and with my
- eyes fixed upon the Saviour, I demanded, and with tears, to be assured of
- his existence, and divine mission; I prayed that his eyes would deign to
- look upon me: that one drop of blood might fall from his wound, or that a
- sigh might issue from his lips. The crucifix remained motionless, and I
- arose, my heart being overcome with despair, saying—‘did I but know
- where I could find my father’s tomb, I would question him as Hamlet did
- the ghost, and he would perhaps answer me!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then would I enter a church,” continued Paul, “one of those churches of
- the north, gloomy, religious, Christian! And I would feel myself borne
- down with sorrow; but sorrow is not faith! I approached the altar; I threw
- myself upon my knees before the tabernacle, in which God dwells; I bowed
- my head till it touched the marble of the steps; and when I had thus
- remained prostrated for hours and lost in doubt, I raised my head, hoping
- that the God I was seeking would at length manifest his presence to me by
- a ray of his glory, or by some dazzling proof of his power. But the church
- remained gloomy, as the cross had remained motionless. And I would then
- rush from its porches with insensate haste, crying, ‘Lord! Lord! didst
- thou exist, thou would reveal thyself to man. It is thy will, then, that
- men should doubt, since thou canst reveal thyself to them, but dost not.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beware of what you are saying, Paul,” cried the old man: “beware that the
- doubt thy heart contains do not attaint mine! Thou hast time left to thee
- to believe, whereas, I—I am about to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, father, wait!” continued Paul, with softened voice, and placid
- features. “I have not told you all. It was then, that I said to myself,
- ‘the crucifix by the road side, the churches of the cities are but the
- work of man. Let us seek God, in God’s own works.’ From that moment, my
- father, began that wandering life, which will remain an eternal mystery,
- known only to the heavens, the ocean, and myself—it led me into the
- solitary wilds of America, for I thought the newer a world was, the more
- freshly would it retain the impress of God’s hand. I did not deceive
- myself. There, often in those virgin forests, into which I was perhaps the
- first who had ever penetrated; with no shelter, but the heavens, no couch,
- but the earth, absorbed by one sole thought, I have listened to the
- thousand noises of a world about to sleep, and nature when awakening. For
- a long time, did I still remain without comprehending that unknown tongue,
- formed by the mingling of the murmur of rivers, the vapor of the lakes,
- the rustling of the forest, and the perfume of flowers. Finally, the veil
- which had obscured my eyes, and the weight which had oppressed my heart,
- was little by little removed; and from that time, I began to believe that
- these noises of evening, and of approaching day, were but one universal
- hymn, by which created things expressed their gratitude to the Creator.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Almighty God!” cried the dying man, clasping his hands, and raising his
- eyes to heaven, with an expression of holy faith, “I cried to you from the
- bottomless pit, and you heard me in my distress; oh! my God I I thank
- thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then,” continued Paul, with still increasing enthusiasm, “then, I sought
- upon the ocean, that full conviction which earth had refused to me. The
- earth is but a span—the ocean is immensity! The ocean is, after God
- himself, the grandest, the most powerful object in the universe. I have
- heard the ocean roar like a chafed lion, and then at the voice of its
- master, become tranquil as a submissive dog; I have seen it rise like a
- Titan, to scale the heavens; and then beneath the whip of the tempest,
- moan like a weeping infant. I have seen it dashing its waves to meet the
- lightning, and endeavoring to quench the thunder with its foam; and then
- become smooth as a mirror, and reflect even the smallest star in the
- heavens. Upon the land, I had become convinced of God’s existence, upon
- the ocean, I recognised his power. In the solitary wilds, as Moses, I had
- heard the voice of the Lord, but during the tempest, I saw him, as did
- Ezekiel, riding upon the wings of the storm. Thenceforward, my father,
- thenceforward, all doubt was driven from my mind, and from the evening on
- which I witnessed the first hurricane, I believed, and prayed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth,” said
- the dying man, with ardent faith; and he continued thus the symbol of the
- apostles to the last word.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul listened to him in silence, with his eyes raised to heaven, and when
- he had concluded, said—
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not thus, that a priest would have spoken to you, my father, for I
- have spoken to you as a seaman, and with a voice more accustomed to
- pronounce words of death than consolation. Forgive me, father, forgive me
- for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have made me pray, and believe as you do,” said the old man; “tell
- me, then, what more could a priest have done? What you have said is plain
- and grand—let me reflect on what you have said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen!” said Paul, shuddering, “What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you not hear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that a voice of some one in distress called to me—there
- again—do you not hear it?—now, again!—It is the voice of
- Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go to her instantly,” replied the old man; “I need to be alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul rushed into the adjoining room, and as he entered it he heard his
- name again repeated, and close to the door of the cottage. Then, running
- to the door he anxiously opened it, and found Marguerite upon the
- threshold, her strength having failed her, and she had fallen upon her
- knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Save me! save me!” she cried, with an expression of profound terror, on
- perceiving Paul, and clasped his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.—THE PAPERS.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Mercy from him!
- And how can I expect it?
- By what right
- Can I demand he should withhold his claim,
- The proofs once in his power?—Anonymous.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Paul ran to Marguerite, and caught her in his arms; she was pale and icy
- cold. He carried her into the first room, placed her in an arm chair,
- returned to the door which had remained open, and closed it, and then
- hastened back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it that so terrifies you? who is pursuing you? and how does it
- happen that you come here at this unusual hour?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” exclaimed Marguerite, “at any hour, whether by day or night, I
- should have flown as long as the earth would have borne me! I should have
- flown till I had found some heart in which I could have poured forth my
- sorrows, an arm capable of defending me. Paul! Paul! my father is dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child!” said Paul, pressing Marguerite to his heart, “who flies from
- one house of death to fall into another; who leaves death in the castle,
- to find it in the cottage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes!” cried Marguerite rising, still trembling with terror, and
- convulsively pressing Paul’s arm. “Death is yonder, and I find death here!
- but yonder it is attended with despair and fear, while here it is met with
- tranquillity and hope. Oh! Paul! Paul! had you but seen that which I have
- seen!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me all that happened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saw the terrible effect produced by your appearance, and the mere
- sound of your voice?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I saw that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They carried him still fainting and speechless into his own room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was to your mother that I spoke,” said Paul, “and he heard me; I could
- not foresee it would so much have terrified him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You full well know all that had passed, for you must have heard from the
- room in which you were concealed, every word we uttered. My father, my
- poor father, had recognized me, and I, seeing him thus, could, not repress
- my uneasiness: notwithstanding the risk I ran of irritating my mother, I
- went up to his room—the door was locked; I knocked softly at it. He
- had recovered his senses, for I heard a faint voice asking ‘who was
- there?’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And your mother?” said Paul eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother,” replied Marguerite, “was no longer there, and she had locked
- him in as she would have done to a child; but when he had recognized my
- voice, when I had told him that it was his daughter Marguerite who wished
- to see him, he told me that I could get into the room by going down stairs
- again, and that in the study I should find a private staircase which led
- to it. A minute afterwards, I was kneeling by his bedside, and he gave me
- his blessing. Yes, Paul, I received his blessing before he died, his
- paternal benediction, which I trust will bring down the blessing of God
- upon my head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Paul, “God will pardon you; you may now feel tranquil. Weep
- for your father, Marguerite, but weep no longer for yourself, for you are
- saved.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have heard nothing yet, Paul!” exclaimed Marguerite. “Hear me still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proceed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the very moment when I was kneeling, kissing the hand of my father,
- and thanking him for the relief he had afforded my afflicted mind, I heard
- my mothers footstep on the staircase. I recognized her voice, and my
- father also recognized it, for he again embraced me, and made a sign to me
- to leave him. I obeyed him, but such was my terror and confusion, that I
- mistook the door, and instead of the staircase by which I had ascended, I
- found myself in a small cabinet which had no issue. I felt all around its
- walls, but could find no door. I was compelled to remain there. I then
- heard my mother, accompanied by the priest, entering my father’s room—I
- restrained my breathing, fearing that she should hear me. I saw then
- through the glass window of the door, and I assure you, Paul, that she was
- paler than my father who was about to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gracious heaven!” murmured Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The priest seated himself by the bed-side,” continued Marguerite, so
- terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; “my mother remained
- standing at the foot of the bed—I was there, just opposite to them,
- compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without the
- means of retreat!—a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession
- of her father!—was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my
- eyes that I might not see—praying that I might not hear—and
- yet in spite of myself—and this I swear to you, Paul—I saw and
- I heard—Oh! what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my
- memory—I saw my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him
- with a feverish strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death
- imprinted on his face. I heard him—I heard him pronounce the words,
- a duel—adultery—assassination!—and at each word he
- uttered, I saw my mother turn pale—and paler even than before—and
- I heard her raise her voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying
- man, saying to the priest: ‘believe him not—believe him not,
- reverend father; what he says is false—or rather, he is mad, he
- knows not what he says—believe him not!’ Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful
- spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a cold perspiration stood upon my
- forehead, and I fainted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Justice of Heaven!” cried Paul. “I know not how long I remained without
- consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the
- tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were
- burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my eyes
- on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the sheet
- which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I divined
- that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between the funereal awe
- which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of raising the covering
- to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in his coffin, the
- venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, overcame every other
- feeling—an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror drove me from the
- room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but I believe without
- touching a single step,—I fled across the rooms and through the
- corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I had left the
- castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps were leading
- me, until I remembered you had told me I should find you here. A secret
- instinct—tell me what it was—for I cannot myself comprehend
- it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I was pursued by
- shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the avenues I thought—(had
- I then lost my senses?)—I thought I saw my mother, dressed all in
- black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. Oh! then, then! terror
- lent me wings—I at first fled without knowing whither; after this my
- strength failed me, and it was then you heard my cries. I dragged myself
- along a few more paces, and fell motionless at this door; had you not
- opened it, I should have expired upon the spot, for I was so much
- terrified, that it appeared to me,”—then suddenly pausing,
- Marguerite trembled, and whispered to Paul, “Silence! do you not hear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied Paul, instantly extinguishing the lamp, “yes, yes—footsteps—I
- hear them also.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look! look!” cried Marguerite, concealing herself behind the curtain of
- the window, and throwing them around Paul at the same moment—“look!
- I was not mistaken—it was my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door had been opened, and the marchioness, pale as a spectre, entered
- the room slowly, closed the door after her, and locked it, and then
- without observing Paul and Marguerite, went into the second room where
- Achard was lying. She then walked up to his bed, as she had only a short
- time before to that of the marquis, only that she was not now accompanied
- by a priest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is there?” said Achard, drawing back one of the curtains of his bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I,” replied the marchioness, drawing back the other curtain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You, madam,” cried the old man with terror; “for what purpose have you
- come to the bedside of a dying man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come to make a proposal to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One that will lose his soul! is it not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To save it, on the contrary. There is only one thing in this world,
- Achard, of which you stand in need,” rejoined the marchioness, bending
- down over the bed of the dying man, “and that is a priest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You refused to allow the one who is attached to the castle to attend me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In five minutes, if you wish it, he shall be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let him be sent then,” said the old man, “and believe me there is not a
- moment to be lost. He must come quickly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But if I give you the peace of heaven, you will give me in exchange peace
- on earth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can I do for you?” murmured the dying man, closing his eyes, that he
- might not see a woman whose looks chilled him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You stand in need of a priest, that you may die in peace,” said the
- marchioness, “you know the gift I require, in order to exist in
- tranquillity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would close heaven to me by a perjury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would open it to you by a pardon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That pardon I have already received.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And from whom?—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From him who, perhaps, had alone the right to grant it to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has Morlaix then descended from heaven?” asked the marchioness, in a tone
- in which there was almost as much terror as irony.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, madam,” replied he, “but have you forgotten that he left a son upon
- this earth?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you have also seen him,” exclaimed the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you have told him all——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the papers which prove his birth?” asked the marchioness, with
- trembling anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The marquis was not dead—the papers are still there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Achard!” cried the marchioness, falling upon her knees, by the bedside.
- “Achard! you will take pity on me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You, on your knees, before me, madam?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, old man,” replied the marchioness, in a supplicating tone, “yes, I
- am on my knees before you—and I beg, I implore you, for you hold in
- your hands the honor of one of the most ancient families in France—my
- past, my future life! Those papers are my heart, my soul—they are
- more than this—they are my name—the name of my forefathers—of
- my children—and you well know all that I have suffered to preserve
- that name unsullied. Do you believe that I had not a heart as other women
- have? the feelings of a lover, of a wife, and of a mother? Well! I have
- overcome them all, one by one, and the struggle has been long. I am twenty
- years younger than you are, old man, I am still in the prime of life, and
- you are on the verge of the grave. Look, then, upon these hairs; they are
- even whiter than your own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What says she?” whispered Marguerite, who had softly crept to the door,
- and could see all that was passing in the inner room. “Gracious heaven!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen, listen, dear child,” said Paul, “it is the Lord who permits that
- all shall be thus revealed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” murmured Achard, who was becoming weaker every moment. “Yes,
- you doubted the goodness of the Lord, you had forgotten that he had
- forgiven the adulterous woman—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but when she met with Christ, men were about to cast stones at her—men,
- who for twenty generations have been accustomed to revere our name, to
- honor our family—did they but learn, that which, thank heaven! has
- heretofore been hidden from them—would hear it uttered with shame
- and with contempt. I have so much suffered, that God will pardon me—but
- man! men are so implacable, that they will not pardon—moreover, am I
- alone exposed to their insults—on either side, the cross I bear,
- have I not a child?—and is not the other that we speak of, the
- first-born? In the eyes of the law, is he not the son of the Marquis
- d’Auray? do you forget that he is the first-born, the head of the family?
- Do you not know, that in order to possess himself of the title, the
- estates, the fortune of the family of Auray, he has only to invoke the
- law? and then what would remain to Emanuel? The cross of the order of
- Malta—and to Marguerite?—a convent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! yes, yes,” whispered Marguerite, and stretching out her arms, toward
- the marchioness, “yes, a convent, in which I would pray for you, my
- mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Silence! silence!” whispered Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! you know him not,” said Achard, whose voice was scarcely audible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No! but I know human nature,” replied the marchioness, “he may recover a
- name, he! who has no name—a fortune, he! who has no fortune. And do
- you believe he would renounce that fortune and that name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should you ask it of him, he would.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And by what right could I demand it?” said the marchioness; “by what
- right could I ask him to spare me, to spare Emanuel, to spare Marguerite?
- He would say, ‘I do not know you, madam—I have never seen you—you
- are my mother, and that is all I know.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In his name,” stammered Achard, whose tongue death was beginning to
- benumb, “in his name, madam, I engage, I swear—oh! my God! my God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness arose, observing attentively by the old man’s features,
- the approach of death.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You engage, you swear!” she said, “is he here to ratify this engagement—you
- engage! you swear! and on your word, you would, that I should stake the
- years I have yet to live, against the moments which yet remain between you
- and death! I have entreated, I have implored, and again, I entreat and
- implore you to give up those papers to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Those papers now are his.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must have them! I repeat, I must have them,” continued the marchioness,
- gaining strength, as the dying man became more feeble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God! my God! have mercy upon me!” murmured Achard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one can now come,” rejoined the marchioness “you told me that you wore
- the key of that closet always about you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you wrest it from the hands of a dying man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied the marchioness, “I will wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me die in peace,” exclaimed Achard tearing the crucifix from the head
- of his bed, and raising it between, himself and the marchioness, he cried:
- “leave me! leave me; in the name of Jesus Christ!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness fell upon her knees, bowing her head to the ground. The
- old man, for a moment, remained in the same awful attitude; then, by
- degrees, his strength forsook him, and he fell back on his bed, crossed
- his arms, and pressed the image of the Saviour to his breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness seized the lower part of the two curtains, and without
- raising her head, she crossed them in such a manner as to conceal the last
- struggles of the dying man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Horror! horror!” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us kneel, and pray,” said Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- A moment of solemn and dreadful silence then ensued, which was only
- interrupted by the last gasps of the dying man; these gasps became fainter
- by degrees, and then ceased altogether. All was over; the old man was
- dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness slowly raised her head, listened with intense anxiety for
- some minutes, and then, without opening the curtains, passed her hand
- between them, and after some effort, withdrew her hand again—she had
- obtained the key. She then silently arose, and with her face still turned
- toward the bed, walked to the closet. But at the moment she was about to
- unlock it, Paul, who was observing all her movements, rushed into the
- room, and seizing her by the arm, said—?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give me that key, my mother! for the marquis is dead, and those papers
- now belong to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Justice of heaven!” exclaimed the marchioness, starting back with terror,
- and falling into a chair, “justice of heaven! it is my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Merciful heaven!” murmured Marguerite, throwing herself upon her knees in
- the outer room: “merciful heaven! he is my brother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul opened the closet, and took the casket which contained the papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.—RECRIMINATION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Thou canst save me,
- Thou ought’st! thou must!
- I tell thee at his feet
- I’ll fall a corse, ere mount his bridal bed!
- Go choose betwixt my rescue and my grave.
-
- Knowles.—The hunchbach
-</pre>
- <p>
- Notwithstanding the dreadful nature of the events which had occurred
- during that fatal night, Paul had not forgotten the mortal defiance which
- had been exchanged between himself and Lectoure. As that young gentleman
- would probably not know where to find him, he thought it only decorous to
- save Lectoure the trouble of seeking for him, and about seven in the
- morning, Lieutenant Walter presented himself at the castle, being charged
- on behalf of Paul to arrange the terms of the combat. He found Emanuel in
- Lectoure’s apartment. The latter, on perceiving the officer, withdrew, and
- went down into the park, that the two young men might more freely discuss
- the matter. Walter had received from his commander directions to accede to
- every thing that might be proposed. The preliminary terms were, therefore,
- very speedily arranged; and it was agreed between them, that the meeting
- should take place in the afternoon, at four o’clock. The place of
- rendezvous the sea-side, near the fisherman’s hut, which was about
- half-way between Port Louis and Auray castle. As to the weapons, they were
- to bring their pistols and their swords; it would be decided on the spot
- which they were to use, it being clearly understood that Lectoure, having
- been the party insulted, should have the right to make his choice.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to the marchioness, although in the first instance petrified by the
- unexpected appearance of Paul, she soon recovered all her natural
- firmness, and drawing her veil over her face, she withdrew from the
- chamber, and walked across the outer room which had remained in darkness.
- She did not, therefore, perceive Marguerite, who was kneeling in one
- corner of it, mute from astonishment and terror. She after that crossed
- the park, entered the castle, and repaired to the room in which the scene
- of the contract had taken place. There, by the dying light of the wax
- tapers, with both her elbows resting on the table, her head supported on
- her hands, her eyes riveted to the paper to which Lectoure had already
- affixed his name, and the marquis had signed the half of his, she passed
- the remainder of the night reflecting upon a new determination. Thus she
- awaited the coming day without even thinking of taking the least repose,
- so powerfully did her soul of adamant support the body in which it was
- enclosed. This resolution was to get Emanuel and Marguerite away from the
- castle as speedily as possible, for it was from her children, most
- especially, that she desired to conceal that which was about to take place
- between Paul and herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite, who had been thus most unexpectedly present at the death-bed
- of the marquis and of Achard, through which she had so providentially
- discovered her mother’s secret, rushed into Paul’s arms immediately after
- her mother’s departure from the cottage, exclaiming:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! now you are really my brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her tears choked further utterance, and it was some minutes before Paul
- could tranquillize her agitated spirit, torn by so many and such
- conflicting emotions. Paul then fearing that the marchioness might enquire
- for her daughter, on her arrival at the castle, urged Marguerite to hasten
- thither; and seeing she was still trembling at the recollection of the
- many horrors she had witnessed, led her out of the cottage, of which he
- locked the door, and accompanied her to within a few paces of the castle.
- During this walk, Marguerite had in a certain degree, recovered her
- composure. Paul stood gazing at her till he saw that she had safely
- entered the court yard, and then returned to watch and pray beside the
- body of his father’s faithful servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- At seven o’clock, the marchioness hearing the noise occasioned by
- Lieutenant Walter’s arrival at the castle, reached a bell which was
- standing on the table and rang it. A servant presented himself at the door
- in the grand livery he had worn the previous evening—it was easy to
- perceive that he also had not been in bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Inform Mademoiselle d’Auray, that her mother is waiting for her in the
- drawing room,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The servant obeyed, and the marchioness resumed, gloomy and motionless,
- her previous attitude. In a few minutes afterward, she heard a slight
- noise behind her, and turned round. It was Marguerite. The young girl,
- with more respect, perhaps, than she had ever before evinced, held out her
- hand toward her mother, that she might give her her hand to kiss. But the
- marchioness remained motionless, as if she had not understood the
- intention of her daughter. Marguerite let fall her hand, and silently
- awaited her mother’s pleasure. She also wore the same dress as the night
- before. Sleep had hovered over the whole world, but had forgotten the
- inhabitants of Auray castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come nearer,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite advanced one step.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why is it that you are thus pale and trembling,” continued the
- marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” murmured Marguerite.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The death of my father—so sudden—so unexpected,” stammered
- Marguerite; “indeed I have suffered so much this night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,” rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on her
- daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: “yes, the
- young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves. The old
- oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, Marguerite,
- and suffered much. I have passed a dreadful night, and yet you see me calm
- and firm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you
- should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others.
- You would destroy them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And therefore is it,” replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall upon
- the table, “that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is dead,
- Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must
- immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I!” exclaimed Marguerite, “I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same
- moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession of
- the father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother!” replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish,
- “it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between
- two ceremonies of so opposite a nature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “True piety,” rejoined the marchioness, “should lead us to fulfil the last
- wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the first
- letters of your father’s name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! madam!” cried Marguerite, “allow me to ask you whether my father,
- when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing,
- was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own free
- will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle,” replied the marchioness, with that
- imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all that
- approached her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made him
- thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as long as
- they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the authority of
- God. Now, God has ordained me to effect things terrible in themselves, and
- I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed
- motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother was
- so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; “madam! it is only
- three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the feet
- of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to
- receive as my husband, and then at my father’s. Neither of them would or
- could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened
- their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, my
- mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are best
- capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I am about
- to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, I would
- make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I must also
- sacrifice my son.—You are a mother, and I also, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A mother!—a mother!” cried the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a
- mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam,
- tell me—for you should better comprehend these things than I—tell
- me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice
- which speaks to our hearts—have not those to whom we have given
- birth a voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each
- other, to which ought we to obey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will never hear the voice of your child.” said the marchioness; “for
- you will never again see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall never again see my son!” exclaimed Marguerite, “and who, madam,
- can assert that positively?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And should he some day discover it?” replied Marguerite; whose respect as
- a daughter was giving way before her mother’s harshness; “if he should
- then come to me and demand an account of his birth—and this may
- happen, madam,”—she took up the pen—“and, with such an
- alternative awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sign it,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers
- upon the contract, “should my husband some day discover the existence of
- this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong
- committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and
- without seconds—a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he
- should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued by
- a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of
- reason—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent!” cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror,
- but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery
- which dictated the words her daughter had employed: “be silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, who had now said too much
- to pause, “you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, and that
- of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure myself with
- a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my sight, and from
- his, every living being, and that I should render my heart iron, that I
- may no longer feel—that my eyes should never shed a tear! You would
- have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, before my husband’s
- death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty years before the
- accustomed time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent! say not another word!” cried the marchioness, in a tone which
- proved that menaces were giving way to fear: “be silent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You would have me, then,” continued Marguerite, carried away by the
- bitterness of her grief; “you would have me, then, in order that the
- dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that I
- should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician—you
- would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that I
- might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!” again cried the
- marchioness, wringing her hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then,” continued Marguerite, “tell me again, my mother, to sign
- this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord will
- be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited upon the
- children, even to the third and fourth generations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! my God! my God!” exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, “am
- I not sufficiently humbled—am I not sufficiently punished?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon! pardon! madam,” cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling by
- the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; “I implore you to
- forgive me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter,” said the
- marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, “you who have wrenched the
- scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied the
- lash even on your mother’s forehead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mercy! mercy!” reiterated Marguerite; “pardon me, my mother. I knew not
- what I said. You had deprived me of reason—-I was mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! my God! my God,” said the marchioness, raising both her hands above
- her daughter’s head, “Thou hast heard the words which have issued from my
- daughter’s lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will forget
- them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I have not
- cursed her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, but
- the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance so
- fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite
- dropped the skirt of her mother’s dress, and remained with arms
- outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness had
- disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon the
- ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed that the
- heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII.—THE BROTHERS
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Be angry as
- You will, it shall have scope;
- Ah, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
- That carries anger, as the flint bears fire—
- Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
- And straight is cold again.
- And from henceforth
- When you are over earnest with your brother,
- He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
- —Shakespeare
-</pre>
- <p>
- Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent
- manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had
- not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who
- had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together
- with Count d’Auray, had received from his commander directions to make
- every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not
- meet Lectoure until the afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the time
- arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, having
- in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last found himself
- in the position of the head of the family, his life belonged not to
- himself, and that he had not the right to risk it. Moreover, as we have
- seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; and Lectoure, who was
- ignorant of the reason which could have induced his adversary to require
- it, had acceded to it without much difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as soon
- as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present himself to
- the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned
- so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without
- meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the
- apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on
- going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of
- consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must have taken
- place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to Marguerite,
- raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to give her air. The
- state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more from a complete
- prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; and therefore, as
- soon as she felt that assistance was being rendered her, and with a
- kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the person who had
- thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and recognized her
- brother, that living Providence, whom God had sent to sustain her every
- time she felt she was about to succumb.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her
- to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her
- brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away by
- the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her mother
- to perceive that she knew all.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart of
- the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and
- anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had been
- brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to one of
- the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. Therefore,
- compassionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to terminate
- them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview he had come to
- seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to the intentions of that
- son, whose existence she was so unwilling to acknowledge, Marguerite, on
- her side, wished to obtain her mother’s forgiveness; she, therefore,
- undertook to inform the marchioness that the young captain waited her
- orders.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece,
- above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose
- himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of the
- last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the sovereign
- arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly opened, and
- Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On hearing the door
- open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately perceiving the
- young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal expression, which
- reflected in his features the serenity of his soul.
- </p>
- <p>
- Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as
- politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence of
- the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had awakened
- to flush his features, and they instantly assumed a look of fierce
- defiance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir,” said Emanuel,
- placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from
- Paul; “and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you;
- for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have the
- gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me that he
- had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved me the
- trouble I was about to take, in thus anticipating my desire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am happy,” replied Paul, “that my desire in this instance, although
- probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously
- chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here—what do you ask of me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cannot you divine even that, sir?” replied Emanuel, with increasing
- agitation. “In that case—and you will allow me to express my
- astonishment that it should be so—you are but ill-informed as to the
- duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that you
- put upon me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe me, Emanuel,” rejoined Paul, in a calm tone—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I yesterday called myself the count; to-day I call myself the Marquis
- d’Auray,” said Emanuel, interrupting him with a gesture of haughtiness and
- contempt; “and I beg, sir, that you will not forget it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- An almost imperceptible smile passed over the lips of Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was saying, then,” continued Emanuel, “that you but imperfectly
- comprehend the feelings of a gentleman, if you believed that I would
- permit another to take up, on my behalf, a quarrel which you came here to
- seek. Yes, sir, for it is you who have thrown yourself across my path, and
- not I who have sought you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His lordship, the Marquis d’Auray,” said Paul, smiling, “forgets his
- visit on board the <i>Indienne</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A truce to your cavils, sir, and let us at once proceed to facts.
- Yesterday, I know not from what strange and inexplicable feeling, when I
- proposed to you that, which I will not say every gentleman, every officer,
- but simply, any man of courage would instantly, and without hesitation,
- have acceded to, you refused, sir, and evading my provocation, you went,
- as it were, behind my back to seek an adversary, who, although not
- precisely a stranger to the quarrel, yet good taste should have dictated
- that he ought not to have been drawn into it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Believe me, that in this, sir,” replied Paul, with the calmness and the
- same candor of manner which had accompanied all he said; I was compelled
- to yield to the exigency of the case, which did not leave me the choice of
- an adversary. You had proposed a duel, which I could not accept, you being
- my adversary, but which was perfectly indifferent to me with any other
- person. I am too much habituated to encounters of this description, and to
- encounters of a far more murderous and mortal nature, to consider an event
- of this kind, but as one of the usual accidents of my adventurous life.
- You will, however, please to remember that it was not I who sought this
- duel; you, yesterday, proposed it to me; but, as I could not, I again
- repeat it, appear as your antagonist, I selected M. de Lectoure, as I
- would have done M. de Nozay or M. la Jarry, because he happened to be
- there, within my reach—and because, if it were absolutely necessary
- that I should kill some one, I preferred killing an useless and insolent
- fop, rather than a good and honest country gentleman, who would consider
- himself dishonored, did he but dream that he had entered into a bargain of
- so vile and despicable a nature as that which the Baron de Lectoure has,
- in reality, proposed to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Tis well, sir,” said Emanuel, jeeringly; “continue to constitute
- yourself as the redresser of wrongs, to dub yourself the knight-errant of
- oppressed princesses, and to shield yourself under the buckler of your
- mysterious replies! As long as this antiquated quixotism does not come in
- collision with my views, my interests, and my engagements, I will fully
- permit it to wander over the whole earth, and ocean also, even from pole
- to pole, and I shall merely smile at it as it passes by me; but whenever
- this madness breaks out against me, as yours has done, sir; whenever, in
- the intimate concerns of a family of which I am the head, I meet a
- stranger, who orders as a master where I alone have the right to raise my
- voice, I shall present myself before him, as I now do before you, should I
- have the happiness to meet him alone as I do you, and then feeling
- assured, that no one will come to interrupt us before I had obtained the
- necessary explanation, I would say to him: ‘You have, if not insulted me,
- at all events wounded my feelings, sir, by coming to my house, and
- injuring me in my in-terests, and my family affections. It is then with
- me, and not with another, that you ought to fight, and you shall fight
- with me.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, Emanuel,” replied Paul; “I will not fight, at all
- events, with you; the thing is impossible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! sir, the time of enigmas is gone by,” cried Emanuel, impatiently; “we
- live in the midst of a world, in which at every moment we elbow a reality.
- Let us, therefore, leave the poetical and the mysterious, to the authors
- of romances and tragedies. Your presence in this castle has been marked by
- circumstances too fatal to render it necessary to add that which is not,
- to that which is. Lusignan returned, notwithstanding the order which
- condemned him to transportation; my sister, who, for the first time, has
- shown herself rebellious against the orders of her mother; my father,
- killed by your mere presence: these are the disasters by which you have
- been accompanied, which have heralded you from another hemisphere, and
- have formed your funereal escort: for all this, you have to account to me;
- therefore, speak, sir; speak as a man should to a man, in the broad
- daylight, face to face, and not as a phantom gliding in the darkness,
- which escapes under the cloud of night, letting fall some few solemn and
- prophetic words, as if from the other world. Such things are well
- calculated to terrify nurses and children! Speak, sir, speak! Look at me,
- you will see that I am calm. If you have anything to reveal to me I will
- listen to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The secret which you ask of me is not my own,” replied Paul, whose
- perfect calmness strongly contrasted with the feverish excitement of
- Emanuel; “believe what I have said, and do not insist farther. Farewell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- After pronouncing these words, Paul moved toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Emanuel, rushing between him and the door, to prevent his
- passage; “you shall not leave me thus, sir! I have you now, we are alone
- in this room, without fear of any interruption, into which, it was not I
- that enticed you, but you have come here of your own free will. Therefore,
- hearken to that which I am about to say. The person you have insulted is
- myself! the person to whom you owe satisfaction is myself!
- </p>
- <p>
- “The person with whom you have to fight is——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mad, sir,” tranquilly replied Paul; “I have already told you it
- is impossible. Therefore, allow me to withdraw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take care, sir,” cried Emanuel, stretching out his hand to the box, and
- taking out the pistols; “take care, sir. After having done every thing in
- my power to compel you to act as a gentleman, I may treat you as a
- brigand.—You are here in a house, in which you are a total stranger;
- you have entered it, I know not how, nor for what purpose; if you have not
- come into it to despoil us of our gold and jewels, you have entered it to
- steal the obedience of a daughter to her mother, and to cancel the sacred
- promise given by a friend to a friend. In one case or the other, you are a
- violator, whom I have met at the moment that his hands were about to seize
- a treasure; that treasure, is honor, the most precious of all riches!
- Come, sir, believe me, you will do better to accept this weapon”—Emanuel
- endeavored to thrust one of the pistols into Paul’s hand—“and defend
- yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may kill me, sir,” replied Paul, again placing his elbow on the
- chimney-piece, as if he were continuing an ordinary conversation;
- “although I do not believe that God would permit so great a crime: but you
- shall not force me to fight with you. I have before told you so, and I
- repeat it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the pistol, sir!” cried Emanuel, “take it, sir, I tell you! you
- believe that the threat I am making is but a vain menace; undeceive
- yourself! for three days have you fatigued my patience! for three days
- have you filled my soul with gall and hatred! for three days have I
- familiarised my mind with the idea of ridding myself of you; whether it be
- by a duel or by murder! Do not imagine, that the dread of punishment
- withholds my hand; this castle is isolated, mute, and deaf. The sea is
- there; and before you could be even laid in the tomb, I should be in
- England. Therefore, sir, for the last time, I say to you, take this pistol
- and defend yourself.” Paul, without uttering a word, gently put the pistol
- aside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then!” cried Emanuel, exasperated to the highest degree, by the
- sangfroid of his adversary; “as you will not defend yourself like a man,
- die like a dog!” And so saying, he raised the muzzle of the pistol to the
- level of the captain’s breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment a dreadful shriek was heard; it was Marguerite, who had
- returned from her mother, and who had, at a glance, comprehended all that
- had happened. She rushed upon Emanuel, and at that instant he fired the
- pistol, but the direction of the ball having been changed by the young
- girl’s striking up his arm, it passed two or three inches above Paul’s
- head, and shattered the glass above the chimney-piece.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother!” cried Marguerite, with one bound, springing to were Paul
- stood, and throwing her arms around him: “my brother, are you not
- wounded?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother!” exclaimed Emanuel, letting fall the pistol which was still
- smoking; “your brother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Emanuel!” said Paul, with the same calmness which he had evinced
- during the whole of this painful scene; “do you now comprehend why it was
- I could not fight with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment, the marchioness appeared at the door, pale as a spectre,
- for she had heard the report of the pistol; then looking around her with
- an expression of infinite terror, and seeing that no one was wounded, she
- silently raised her eyes to heaven, as if to ask if its anger was at
- length appeased. She remained thus for some time in an attitude of mental
- thanksgiving. When she again cast down her eyes, Emanuel and Marguerite
- were on their knees before her, each holding one of her hands, and
- covering it with tears and kisses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thank you, my children,” said the marchioness, after a short silence;
- “and now leave me with this young man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite and Emanuel bowed with an expression of the most profound
- respect, and obeyed the command of their mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII—RECOGNITION.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Oh! my mother!
- You do not know the heart that you have pierced!
- I—I—thy son—thine Arthur—I avenge?
- Never on thee.
-
- Live happy—love my brother—
- Forget that I was born.
- Here, here—these proofs—
- These—these!
-
- Oh! see you where the words are blistered
- With my hot tears?
- I wept—it was for joy—
- I did not think of lands, of name, of birthright—
- I did but think these arms should clasp a’ mother.
-
- Bulwer.—The Sea Captain.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The marchioness closed the door as soon as they had withdrawn, advanced
- into the middle of the room, and went without looking at Paul, and leaning
- upon the arm-chair in which the marquis had the night before been seated
- to sign the contract. There she remained standing, with her eyes cast upon
- the ground. Paul for a moment experienced the desire to throw himself upon
- his knees before her, but there was upon the features of the marchioness
- such an expression of severity, that he repressed the yearnings of his
- heart, and stood motionless awaiting her commands. After a few moments of
- ice-like silence, the marchioness addressed him. “You desired to see me,
- sir, and I have come to know your will—you wished to speak to me—I
- am listening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These words were uttered without the marchioness making the least movement—her
- lips trembled, rather than opened—it seemed a marble statue that was
- speaking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, madam,” replied Paul, in a tone of intense feeling, “yes, yes, I
- desired to speak with you; it is long since first this desire was
- cherished in my heart, and it has never left me. Recollections of infancy
- preyed upon the mind of the grown man. I remembered a woman who would
- formerly glide to my cradle, and in my youthful dreams, I thought her the
- guardian angel of my infancy. Since that time, still so fresh in my
- memory, although so distant, more than once, believe me, I have awakened
- with a start, imagining that I had felt upon my forehead the impression of
- a maternal kiss: and then seeing that there was no one near me, I would
- call that person, hoping she would, perhaps, return. It is now twenty
- years since first I thus had called, and this is the first time she has
- replied to me. Can it have been as I have often fearfully imagined, that
- you would have trembled at again beholding me? Can it be true, as I at
- this moment fear, that you have naught to say to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And had I feared your return,” said the marchioness, in a hollow tone,
- “should I have been to blame? You appeared before me only yesterday, sir,
- and now the mystery which ought to have been concealed to all but God and
- myself, is known to both my children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it my fault that God has been pleased to reveal the secret to them?
- Was it I that conducted Marguerite, despairing and in tears, to the
- bedside of her dying father, whose protection she had gone to ask, and
- whose confession she was compelled to hear? Was it I that led her to
- Achard, and was it not you, madam, that followed her thither? As to
- Emanuel, the report you heard, and that shattered glass, attest, that I
- would have preferred death rather than to have saved my life at the
- expense of your secret. No, no, believe me, madam, I am the instrument,
- and not the hand; the effect, and not the cause. No, madam, it is God who
- has brought about all this, that you might see at your feet, as you have
- just now seen them, your two children whom you have so long banished from
- your arms!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there is a third,” said the marchioness, in a voice in which emotion
- began to evince itself, “and I know not what I have to expect from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me accomplish a last duty, madam, and that once fulfilled, he will on
- his knees await your orders.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And of what nature is this duty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is to restore his brother to the rank to which he is entitled, his
- sister to that happiness which she has lost—to his mother that
- tranquillity of mind, which she has so long sought in vain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet, thanks to you,” replied the marchioness, “M. de Maurepas refused
- to M. de Lectoure the regiment he had solicited for my son.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because,” replied Paul, taking the commission from his pocket and laying
- it on the table, “because the king had already granted it to me, for the
- brother of Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness cast her eyes upon the commission, and saw that it was
- made out in the name of Emanuel d’Auray.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet you would give the hand of Marguerite to a man without name,
- without fortune—and what is more, to a man who is banished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are mistaken, madam; I would give Marguerite to the man she loves. I
- would give Marguerite not to the banished Lusignan, but to the Baron
- Anatole de Lusignan, his majesty’s governor of the Island of Gaudaloupe—there
- is his commission also.” The marchioness looked at the parchment, and saw
- that in this instance, as in the former one, Paul had uttered but the
- truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I acknowledge it,” she replied, “these will satisfy the ambition of
- Emanuel, and confer happiness on Marguerite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And at the same time, secures your tranquillity madam; for Emanuel will
- join his regiment, and Marguerite will follow her husband. You will then
- remain here alone, as you have, alas! so frequently desired.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is not this all you desire, or have I deceived myself,” continued Paul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said the marchioness, “how can I recall the promise given to the
- Baron de Lectoure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The marquis is dead, madam,” replied Paul; “is not the death of a husband
- and a father a sufficient cause for the adjournment of a marriage?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness, without replying, seated herself in the arm-chair, took a
- pen and paper, wrote a few lines, folded the letter, and putting on the
- address the name of the Baron de Lectoure, she rang the bell for the
- servant. After waiting a few moments, during which time, both Paul and
- herself remained silent, a servant came into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In two hours from this time, you will deliver this to the Baron de
- Lectoure,” said the Marchioness. The servant took the letter and withdrew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” continued the marchioness, looking at Paul, “now sir, that you
- have done justice to the innocent, it remains to you to pardon the guilty.
- You have papers which prove your birth, you are the elder—at all
- events, in the eyes of the law. The fortunes of Emanuel and Marguerite are
- yours by right. What do you require in exchange for these papers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul took them from his pocket, and showing them to the marchioness, said,
- “Here are the documents, look at them—they are the letters you wrote
- to my poor father—look here, they are moistened by my tears, for I
- read them last night, while watching by Achard’s corpse.” Then approaching
- the fire-place, he held them over the flaming wood, saying, “permit me
- even but once to call you mother! call me but once your son, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be possible!” exclaimed the marchioness, rising.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak of name, of fortune,” continued Paul, with an expression of
- profound melancholy; “what need have I of them. I have by my own sword
- gained a rank which few men of my age have ever attained—I have
- acquired a name which is pronounced with blessings by one nation, andi
- with terror by another. I could, did it so please me, amass a fortune,
- worthy of being bequeathed to a king. What, then, are your name your
- fortune, and your rank, to me, if you have nothing else to offer me—if
- you do not give me that which I have incessantly, and in every position of
- my life most yearned for—that which I have not the power to create—which
- God had granted to me, but which misfortune wrested from me—that
- which you alone can restore to me—a mother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son!” exclaimed the marchioness, overcome at length, by his tears, and
- supplicating accent, “my son! my son! my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” exclaimed Paul, letting the papers fall into the flames, which
- speedily consumed them, “ah! that missed appellation has at length escaped
- your lips—that tender name so long desired, and which I have so
- unceasingly prayed to hear addressed to me. Merciful heaven! I thank
- thee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness had fallen back into her chair, and Paul had thrown
- himself upon his knees, his head leaning upon her bosom. At length the
- marchioness gently raised him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look at me!” she said; “for twenty years, this is the first tear that has
- ever escaped my eyelids, give me your hand!”—she placed it upon her
- heart—“for twenty years this is the first feeling of happiness with
- which my heart has palpitated. Come to my arms! For twenty years this is
- the first caress I have either given or received. These twenty years have
- doubtless been my expiation, since God now pardons me, for he has restored
- to me the power of weeping, of feeling joy, and has permitted me to
- embrace my son. Thanks to G-od! and thanks to thee, my son!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My mother!” cried Paul, “my beloved mother!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I trembled at the thoughts of seeing you again—I trembled when
- I did see you—I knew not—I could not have imagined that such
- feelings still existed in my heart. Oh! I bless thee! I bless thee!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment, the tolling of the chapel bell was heard: the marchioness
- shuddered. The funeral hour had arrived. The bodies of the noble Marquis
- d’Auray and that of the poor man Achard, were about to be returned to
- earth at the same moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This hour must be consecrated to prayer,” said the marchioness: “I must
- now leave you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must sail to-morrow, my mother,” said Paul; “shall I not once more see
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! yes, yes,” replied the marchioness, “we must meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, my mother, this evening I shall be at the park gate. There is
- a spot which is sacred to me, and to which I must pay a last visit. I
- shall expect to meet you there. It is on that spot, my mother, that we
- should say farewell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will be there,” said the marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, my mother, here,” said Paul, “take these commissions: the one for
- Emanuel, and the other for the husband of Marguerite. Let the happiness of
- your children be conferred by yourself. Believe me, mother, you have
- bestowed more on me than I on them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness retired to shut herself up in her oratory. Paul left the
- castle, and proceeded toward the hut of the fisherman.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.—THE FAREWELL.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Hark! she has bless’d her son—I bid ye witness,
- Ye listening heavens—thou circumambient air;
- The ocean sighs it back—and with the murmur
- Bustle the happy leaves.
-
- All nature breathes
- Aloud—-aloft—to the Great Parent’s ear,
- The blessing of the mother on her child.
-</pre>
- <p>
- ON approaching the fisherman’s hut, the place appointed with Lectoure,
- Paul perceived Lusignan and Walter, who were waiting for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Precisely at the hour agreed, Lectoure appeared on horseback; he had been
- obliged to find his way as he best could, for he had no guide, and his own
- servant was as much a stranger as himself in that part of the country. On
- seeing him at a distance the young men came out of the hut. The baron
- instantly put his horse into a gallop, to hasten to them. When within a
- few paces of them he alighted from his horse, and threw the rein to his
- servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust you will pardon me, gentlemen,” said he, “that I should have
- approached you thus alone, like a forsaken orphan; but the hour selected
- by that gentleman,” he added, raising his hat to Paul, who returned the
- salutation, “was precisely that fixed upon for the funeral obsequies of
- the marquis; I have therefore left Emanuel to fulfil the duties of a son,
- and have come here without a second, trusting that I had to deal with an
- adversary generous enough to procure some friend of his own to aid me in
- this dilemma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We are entirely at your service, baron,” replied Paul; “here are two
- friends of mine. Select which you please, and he who shall be honored by
- your choice, will instantly become yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no preference, I swear to you,” said Lectoure; “please to
- designate which of these two gentlemen you may desire should reader me
- this service.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Walter,” said Paul, “be so good as to officiate as second to the baron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant assented; the two adversaries again bowed to each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, sir,” continued Paul, “permit me, before our respective seconds,
- to address a few words to you, not of apology, but explanation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your own pleasure, sir, replied Lectoure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I uttered the words which have been the cause of your coming hither,
- the events which have since occurred at the castle were hidden in the womb
- of time, and these events might have entailed the misery of a whole
- family. You, sir, had on your side Madame d’Auray, Emanuel, and the
- Marquis—Marguerite had but me alone. Every chance was, therefore, in
- your favor. It was for this reason that I addressed myself directly to
- you, for had I fallen by your hand from circumstances which must for ever
- remain hidden to you, Marguerite could not have married you. If I had
- killed you, the case would have been still more simplified, and requires
- no commentary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This exordium is really most logical, sir,” replied the baron, smiling,
- and tapping his boots with his riding-whip; “let us proceed, if you
- please, to the main body of the discourse.” |
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” continued Paul, bowing in sign of acquiescence, “every circumstance
- has changed; the marquis is dead, Emanuel has received his commission, the
- marchioness renounces your alliance, honorable as it may be, and
- Marguerite marries the Baron Anatole de Lusignan, who, for that reason, I
- did not name your second.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, “then that is the true meaning of the note
- which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave the
- castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an adjournment.
- It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. ‘Tis well, sir, and now to
- the peroration.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know
- you—I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each
- other, and with opposing interests—hence our collision. Then, as I
- have before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make
- sure of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my
- death or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed
- to the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank
- it would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed so
- long a journey,” replied Lectoure: “Not having the honor to espouse
- Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, I should desire, at least, to have the
- honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have
- travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at your
- orders, sir,” continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it saluting
- his adversary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your good pleasure, sir,” replied Paul, and replying to the salutation
- in the same manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two young men then advanced towards each other—their swords
- crossed—at the third parry Lectoure’s sword was twisted from his
- hand, and flew to a distance of twenty yards.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before taking sword in hand,” said Paul, “I had offered an explanation,
- and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this time I will accept it, sir,” said Lectoure, in the same careless
- and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. “Pick up my sword,
- Dick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very tranquilly
- put it into the scabbard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” continued he, “if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for
- Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell the king, sir,” replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing his
- sword, “that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed against
- the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my own
- countrymen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the two young men again bowed to each other. Lectoure remounted
- his horse, and at about a hundred paces from the sea shore, got into the
- high road leading to Vannes, and galloped off; while his servant went to
- the castle to get his travelling carriage, with which Lectoure had ordered
- him to rejoin him speedily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, Mr. Walter,” said Paul, “you must send the long-boat to the
- nearest creek to Auray castle, and have every thing in readiness to set
- sail tonight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lieutenant immediately set out for Port Louis, and Paul and Lusignan
- returned into the fisherman’s hut.
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time Emanuel and Marguerite had fulfilled the mournful duty to
- which they had been summoned by the chapel bell. The body of the marquis
- had been deposited in the emblazoned tomb of his ancestors, and Achard’s
- in the humble cemetery outside the chapel, and then the brother and sister
- repaired to their mother’s apartment. The marchioness delivered to Emanuel
- the commission which he so anxiously coveted, and gave to Marguerite her
- unexpected consent to her marriage with Lusignan. She then handed to
- Marguerite the king’s sign manual appointing Lusignan governor of
- Guadaloupe. And then, in order that the emotions which they experienced
- should not be renewed, and which were the more poignant, because they were
- concealed within their own breasts, for neither of them made any allusion
- to past events, the mother and the children embraced each other for the
- last time, each feeling the innate conviction that they should never meet
- again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The remainder of the day was occupied in the necessary preparations for
- departure. Toward the evening the marchioness left the castle, to meet
- Paul at the place which he had appointed. When passing through the
- court-yard she perceived a carriage, with horses already attached to it,
- standing on one side of it, and the young midshipman, Arthur, with four
- sailors, on the other. Her heart was oppressed by the sight of this
- two-fold preparation. She, however, passed on, and went into the park,
- without giving way to her emotions, so much had her long-continued
- restraint upon natural feelings given her the power of self-command.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, when she had reached a small clearing, from which she could see
- Achard’s house, she paused, for her knees trembled beneath her, and she
- was obliged to lean for support against a tree, while she pressed her hand
- to her breast to restrain the violent beatings of her heart. For there are
- souls which present danger, however imminent, cannot cause to quail, but
- which tremble at the remembrance of perils past; and the marchioness
- recalled to mind the agonizing fears and emotions to which she had been
- for twenty years a prey, and during which time she had daily visited that
- house, now closed never again to be opened. She, however, soon overcame
- this weakness, and reached the park gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- There she again paused. Above all the trees rose the summit of a gigantic
- oak, whose wide spreading branches could be discerned from many places in
- the park. Often had the eyes of the marchioness remained riveted for hours
- upon its verdant dome: but never had she dared to seek repose beneath its
- shade. It was there, however, that she had promised to meet Paul, and
- there Paul was awaiting her. At length she made a last effort, and entered
- the forest.
- </p>
- <p>
- From a distance she perceived a man kneeling upon the ground in the
- attitude of prayer. She slowly approached him, and kneeling down by his
- side, prayed also. When the prayer was concluded, they both rose, and
- without uttering a word, the marchioness placed her arm around Paul’s
- neck, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. After some moments’ silence,
- they heard the noise of the wheels of a carriage at a distance. The
- marchioness shuddered, and made a sign to Paul to listen; it was Emanuel
- setting out to join his regiment. Shortly afterwards Paul pointed in a
- direction opposite to that in which they had heard the noise, and showed
- the marchioness a boat gliding rapidly and silently upon the surface of
- the ocean; it was Marguerite going on board the frigate.
- </p>
- <p>
- The marchioness listened to the noise of the receding wheels as long as
- she could hear it, and followed with anxious eyes the movements of the
- boat, as long as she could distinguish it; then she turned toward Paul,
- and raising her eyes to heaven, for she felt that the moment was
- approaching, when he, whom she was leaning upon, would, in his turn, leave
- her, she exclaimed—
- </p>
- <p>
- “May God bless, as I now bless, the duteous son, who was the last to leave
- his mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying these words, she threw her arms around his neck, pressed him
- convulsively to her heart, and kissed him; then gazing at him intently,
- she seemed to be scanning every outline of his face, and then, again,
- rapturously embraced him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she cried, “in every feature he is the living resemblance of my
- poor lost Morlaix,” then for some moments she seemed to be absorbed in
- thought; at last after a seemingly violent struggle, she continued, “Paul,
- you have refused to accept any portion of that fortune to which you are
- legally entitled, although you know the wealth of the Auray family is
- unbounded—and that the fortune which I inherit in my own right, from
- the family of Sablé, is very large.” Paul shook his head. “Well, then,
- there is one thing that you must receive from your mother, as her parting
- gift. It is twenty years since I have dared to look upon it, and yet I
- have clung to its possession—it is your father’s portrait, presented
- to me when I was authorized to receive it—when, by the assent of
- both our families, he was to have become my husband—take it, my dear
- son, for although it tears my heart to part with it, yet I feel that I
- shall be more tranquil when it is in your possession—to no one but
- yourself would I have given it. You will sometimes look upon it, and you
- will think of your mother, who must now remain for ever isolated from the
- world. But it is better that it should be so—henceforward all my
- moments shall be spent in making my peace with Heaven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While saying these words, she had drawn from her pocket a case, which she
- put into Paul’s hands, and which he had eagerly opened, and gazed with
- intense interest at the features of his father. The miniature was richly
- set in diamonds of great value.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then summoning all her fortitude, the marchioness for the last time kissed
- her son, who was kneeling before her, and tearing herself from his arms,
- she returned alone to the castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning the inhabitants of Port Louis vainly sought the frigate
- they had seen only the evening before, and which for fifteen days had
- remained at anchor in the outer roads of Lorient. As on the former
- occasion, she had disappeared without their being able to comprehend the
- cause of her arrival, or the motive of her so sudden departure.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- EPILOGUE.
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- Last scene of all
- That ends this strange, eventful history.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Five years had elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have related.
- The independence of the United States had been recognized; New York, the
- last strong-hold of the English, had been evacuated. The roar of
- cannon,-which had resounded in the Indian seas, as well as in the Gulf of
- Mexico, had ceased to thunder. Washington, in the solemn meeting of
- Congress of the 28th December, 1783, had resigned his commission as
- general-in-chief, and had retired to Mount Vernon, his parental estate,
- without any other recompence than that of being allowed to receive and
- send letters free of charge; and the tranquillity which America had begun
- to enjoy, had extended to the French colonies in the West Indies; for the
- mother country having espoused the American cause, they had been several
- times exposed to the hostile attempts of Great Britain. Among these
- islands, Guadaloupe had been more particularly threatened, in consequence
- of its military and commercial importance; but, thanks to the vigilance of
- its new governor, the attempts of the enemy to land there had always
- failed, and France had not to mourn over any serious discomfiture in this
- important position, so that at the commencement of the year 1784, the
- island, without being altogether denuded of warlike appearance, which was
- maintained in it more from custom than from necessity, the inhabitants
- generally had applied themselves anew to the cultivation of the numerous
- products which form its riches.
- </p>
- <p>
- If our readers will be pleased by a last effort of their complaisance, to
- accompany us to the other side of the Atlantic, and land with us at the
- port of Basseterre, we will conduct them amidst fountains which jet on
- every side, through the street which leads to the promenade, called Champ
- d’Arbaud; then, after having availed ourselves of the cool shade of the
- tamarind trees, planted on each side of it, till we have proceeded about
- two-thirds of its length, we will turn upon the left up a small beaten
- road, which conducts to the gate of a garden, the upper part of which
- commands a view of the whole town.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we have arrived there, we will allow them for a few moments to inhale
- the evening breeze, so refreshingly sweet after the mid-day heat of the
- month of May, and they can cast a glance with us over the luxuriant
- vegetation of the tropics.
- </p>
- <p>
- With our backs turned to the woody and volcanic mountains, which divide
- the western part of the island, and amid which arise, crowned with their
- plumes of smoke and sparks, the two calcined pinnacles of the sulphur
- mountain, we have at our feet, sheltered by the hills, which have been
- named Bellevue, Mont-Désir, Beau Soliel, Espérance and Saint Charles, the
- city gracefully descending towards the sea, the waves of which sparkling
- with the last rays of the setting sun, laves its white walls. The horizon,
- formed by the ocean, lying like a vast and limpid mirror, and to the right
- and left, the most beautiful and richest plantation of the island; large
- square fields of coffee trees, transplanted originally from Arabia, with
- their knotty and flexible branches, covered with dark green glossy leaves,
- of an oblong and pointed form, and bearing clusters of flowers as white as
- snow; long rows of cotton plants, covering with a rich carpet of verdure,
- the dry and stony soil, on which they thrive best, and among which we see,
- like so many colossal ants, negroes occupied in reducing to two or three,
- the thousand shoots which sprout out from each stalk. And then again, but
- in more level and well sheltered spots, in which the soil is richer and
- more argillaceous, we see plantations of cocoa trees, first introduced
- into the West Indies by the Jew, Benjamin Dacosta, with their lofty trunks
- and porous branches, covered with fawn colored bark, from which large
- oblong leaves are pending, among which we see fresh shoots of a soft rose
- color, which contrast strongly with the long, curved and yellow fruit,
- which bends the branches with its weight. And further off, whole fields of
- the plant, discovered at Tabaco, first brought to France by the Ambassador
- of Francis II., who presented it to Catherine de Medicis, from which
- circumstance it derived its name of <i>Herbe-a-là-reine</i>.* This did
- not, however, prevent it from being, like every popular thing, in the
- first instance, excommunicated and proscribed, in Europe and Asia, by the
- two powers who then divided the world, proscribed by the Grand Duke of
- Muscovy, Michael Fedorowich, by the Turkish Sultan Amurath IV., by the
- Emperor of Persia, and excommunicated by Pope Urban VIII. Here and there,
- we see springing up to a height of forty or fifty feet above all the
- shrubs and plants, by which it is surrounded, the banana tree of Paradise,
- of which, according to tradition, the oval leaves, seven or eight feet in
- length, served to form the first garment of the first created woman. And
- finally, elevated above all the rest, and standing forth pre-eminent,
- whether hacked by the azure of the Heavens, or by the dark green tea, the
- cocoa-nut and the palm-tree, those two giants of the Western Archipelago
- graceful and prodigal, as is everything that is powerful. Figure to
- yourselves, then these beautiful hills, intersected by seventy rivers,
- eased in beds, ninety feet in depth; these mountains illuminated during
- the day by a tropical sun, at night, by the volcano of the sulphur
- mountain; that vegetation, which never is arrested, the new leaves of
- which succeed the leaves which fall; this soil so salubrious, and air so
- pure, that notwithstanding the insensate experiments that man, the real
- enemy of himself, has made by transporting serpents from Martinique, and
- Saint Lucie, it was found that they could neither live nor reproduce
- there, and then judge after the sufferings they had endured in Europe, of
- the happiness which Antole de Lusignan and Marguerite d’Auray must have
- enjoyed there.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- * Queen’s Grass.
-</pre>
- <p>
- To a life agitated by the passions, to that struggle of natural rights
- against legal power, to that succession of scenes in which all earthly
- pains, from childbirth even to death, had played their part, had succeeded
- a life of pure delights, each day of which had passed on calmly and
- tranquilly; the only clouds that darkened it, arose from that vague
- uneasiness for distant friends, which as if borne upon the air, and which
- contracts the heart like a painful presentiment. However, from time to
- time, whether by newspapers, or by vessels, touching at the island,
- Anatole and Marguerite had obtained some intelligence of the generous
- being who had so powerfully served them as a protector; they had heard of
- his victories; that after he had left them, he had been appointed to the
- command of a small squadron, and had destroyed the English establishments
- on the coast of Acadia, which had gained for him the title of commodore;
- that, in an engagement with the <i>Serapis</i> and the <i>Countess of
- Scarborough</i>, after a combat yard-arm to yard-arm, which lasted four
- hours, he had obliged the two frigates to strike to him, and that finally,
- as a reward for the services he had rendered to the cause of American
- Independence, he had received the public thanks of Congress, who had voted
- him a gold medal, and had selected him to command the frigate <i>America</i>,
- to which that name had been given as being the finest in the service, and
- the command of which had been conferred on him as the bravest of its
- officers; but this splendid ship had been presented by Congress to the
- King of France, to replace the <i>Magnifique</i>, which had been lost at
- Boston. Paul Jones, after conducting this frigate to Havre, had joined the
- fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil, who had projected an attack upon Jamaica.
- This last intelligence had overjoyed the hearts of Lusignan and
- Marguerite, for this enterprize would bring Paul into their latitude, and
- they hoped at last they should soon see their brother and their friend;
- but peace, as we have before said, had intervened, and from that time,
- they had heard no more of the adventurous seaman.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the evening of the day on which we have transported our readers from
- the wild shores of Brittany to the fertile coast of Guadaloupe, the young
- family were assembled in the very garden which we have entered, and which
- commands a view of the immense panorama we have described; the foreground
- of which is formed by the city, at its feet the ocean, studded with
- islands in the distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Marguerite had promptly habituated herself to the soft listlessness of
- Creole life; and her mind now tranquil and full of happiness, she gave
- herself up to the <i>dolce far niente</i>, which renders the sensual
- existence of the colonies a half sleep, the incidents of which appear as
- dreams.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was lying with her daughter in a Peruvian hammock, netted with the
- silken fibres of the aloe, and ornamented with the most brilliant colored
- plumes of the rarest tropical birds; her son was swinging her with a soft
- and regular motion, and Lusignan was holding one of her hands between both
- his. She was still pale, but delicate and graceful as a wild lily. Her
- looks were vacantly wandering over the immense extent of ocean lying
- before her, and she felt her soul and senses enraptured by all the bliss
- which heaven can promise, and all the enjoyments which this earth can
- offer. At that moment, and as if everything concurred to complete the
- magic spectacle which every evening she came there to contemplate, and
- which every succeeding evening she found still more marvellously
- beautiful, there suddenly appeared, doubling the cape <i>Trois Pointes</i>,
- and looking like an ocean king, a large vessel, gliding along the surface
- of the sea without more apparent effort than a swan playing upon the
- tranquil bosom of a lake. Marguerite was the first to perceive it, and
- without speaking, for every action is a fatigue under that burning clime,
- she made a sign with her head to Lusignan, who directed his looks to the
- spot she had indicated, and then, like her, silently followed with his
- eyes the rapid and graceful movements of the vessel. By degrees as she
- approached, and as the elegant and delicate proportions of her masts
- amidst the mass of sails which they sustained, could be discerned, which,
- in the first instance, had seemed a cloud floating upon the horizon—they
- began to discover in one corner of her flag the stars of America, equal in
- number to the States they represent. One same idea shot instantly through
- their minds, and they exchanged a glance, radiant with hope that they
- were, perhaps, about to receive some news of Paul. Lusignan immediately
- ordered a negro to bring a telescope: but before he had returned, a hope
- still more delightful pervaded both their hearts. It appeared to Lusignan
- and Marguerite that they recognized an old friend in the frigate that was
- approaching. To persons, however, unaccustomed, it is so difficult to
- distinguish, at a great distance, signs which speak at once to the eye of
- an experienced seaman, that they did not yet dare to have faith in this
- hope, and which, indeed, was more an instinctive presentiment than
- positive reality. At last the negro brought the so much longed for
- telescope. Lusignan uttered a cry of joy, and then handed it to
- Marguerite: he had recognized the sculpture of Guillaume Costou, upon the
- prow of the vessel, and it was really the <i>Indienne</i> which was
- advancing towards Basseterre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lusignan raised Marguerite from the hammock and placed her on her feet,
- for their first impulse was to hasten to the harbour; but then they
- reflected that Paul had left the <i>Indienne</i> nearly five years, at the
- time that his promotion entitled him to the command of a larger vessel,
- and that she might now be under the orders of another captain, and they
- paused with palpitating hearts and trembling limbs. During this time,
- their son Hector had taken up the telescope, and placing it to his eye,
- looked through it, and soon after exclaimed,—“Father, see there,—upon
- the deck stands an officer, dressed in a black coat, embroidered with
- gold, just like the one in the picture of my dear friend, Paul!” Lusignan
- hastily snatched the glass from his son’s hands, looked through it for a
- few moments, then again passed it to Marguerite, who, after directing it
- toward the vessel, let it fall, and then they threw themselves into each
- other’s arms; they had recognized their friend, who, as he was about to
- visit them, had put on the dress which we have before said he had
- generally worn. At this instant the frigate passed the fort, which it
- saluted with three guns, and the fort returned the salute with an equal
- number.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the moment that Lusignan and Marguerite had acquired the certitude
- that their friend and brother was actually on board the <i>Indienne</i>,
- they had hastened down the mountain, followed by young Hector, towards the
- port, leaving their little Blanche in the hammock. The captain had also
- recognized them, so that at the moment they left the garden he had ordered
- a boat to be lowered, and, thanks to the united strength of ten vigorous
- oarsmen, he had rapidly glided over the distance between the anchorage
- ground and the port, and had sprung upon the jetty at the instant that his
- friends arrived there. Such sensations as then filled their breasts cannot
- be expressed in words; tears are their only interpreter. And thus their
- joy more closely resembled grief, for they all wept, even to the child,
- who wept because he saw them weep.
- </p>
- <p>
- After giving some orders relating to the vessel, the young commodore, with
- his delighted friends, slowly ascended the hill down which they had rushed
- so rapidly to meet him. Paul told them that the expedition of Admiral
- Vaudreuil having failed, he had returned to Philadelphia, and peace having
- been signed, as we have before mentioned, with England, the Congress, as a
- token of gratitude, had presented him with the first ship he had commanded
- as captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon hearing this, Lusignan and Marguerite experienced the most lively
- joy, for they hoped that their brother had come with the intention of
- taking up his abode with them; but the character of the young seaman was
- too adventurous, and stood too much in need of excitement, to sink quietly
- down into the monotonous and unvaried dulness of a life on shore. He
- informed his friends that he had but eight days to remain with them, after
- which he should seek in another quarter of the globe, to follow the
- profession he had adopted.
- </p>
- <p>
- These eight days passed by as rapidly as a dream, and notwithstanding the
- reiterated entreaties of both Lusignan and Marguerite, Paul would not
- consent to delay his departure even for twenty-four hours. He was still
- the same ardent determined being, considering the execution of a
- resolution he had once formed as a positive duty, and more austere with
- regard to himself than toward others.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hour of separation had arrived. Marguerite and Lusignan wished to
- accompany the young commodore on board his ship; but Paul wished not to
- prolong the grief of this leave-taking. When they reached the jetty he
- embraced them for the last time, then jumped into his boat, which was
- rowed away as swiftly as an arrow. Marguerite and Lusignan followed him
- with their eyes until his boat had disappeared on the leeward side of the
- frigate, and they sorrowfully reascended the hill to watch the ship’s
- departure, from the same terrace from which they had before discerned its
- arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the moment they reached it, they observed that activity and bustle on
- board the frigate which always precede the departure of a vessel. The
- sailors had surrounded the capstan, and were employed in getting up the
- anchor, and thanks to the pureness of the atmosphere, the sonorous and
- lively cries of the seamen reached the ears of Lusignan and Marguerite;
- the anchor was soon apeak, and they saw it rising slowly under the ship’s
- bows; then the sails dropped successively from the yards, from the royals
- to the courses, and the ship, seemingly endowed with an instinctive and
- animated feeling, gracefully turned her prow toward the harbour’s mouth,
- and beginning to move, cut through the waves with an easy motion, as if
- merely gliding upon their surface. Then, as if the frigate might be
- abandoned to her own will, they saw the young commodore spring upon the
- stern rails, and devote all his attention to the land he was thus leaving.
- Lusignan took out his handkerchief and made a signal, to which Paul
- replied. And then, when they could no longer perceive each other with the
- naked eye, they had recourse to their telescopes, and, thanks to this
- ingenious invention, they retarded the separation for another hour. They
- all felt a presentiment that this separation would be eternal.
- </p>
- <p>
- The vessel gradually diminished upon the horizon, and darkness was about
- to cover the heavens, when Lusignan ordered a quantity of wood to be
- brought upon the terrace, to form a beacon fire, which was instantly
- ignited, in order that Paul, whose vessel was nearly enshrouded in the
- darkness, might continue to fix his eyes upon that spot until he had
- doubled Cape Trois Pointes. Lusignan and Marguerite had for an hour lost
- sight of the ship, while Paul, thanks to their large brilliant fire, might
- still perceive them, when a bright flame, like to a flash of lightning,
- appeared on the horizon, and in a few seconds the report of a gun, similar
- to the prolonged sound of distant thunder, reached their ears, and all
- again was silent. Lusignan and Marguerite had received Paul’s last
- farewell.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, although the domestic drama which we had undertook to relate,
- has, in fact, terminated here, some of our readers may, perhaps, have felt
- sufficient interest in the young adventurer, of whom we have made the hero
- of this story, to follow him in the second part of his career; to these
- then, after thanking them for the kind attention they have been pleased to
- grant to us, we are about to recount truly and plainly, facts which a most
- minute research have enabled us to lay before them.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the period we have reached, that is to say, in the month of May, 1784,
- the whole of Europe had fallen into that state of torpor, which unthinking
- men imagined to be tranquillity, but which minds more profound, regarded
- as the dull and momentary calm that precedes the tempest. America, by
- obtaining her independence, had prepared France for her revolution. Kings
- and people, mistrustful of each other, were upon their guard. Peter III.,
- who had become odious to the Russians, in consequence of his ignoble
- character, the narrowness of his political views, and above all, for his
- excessive leaning to Prussian manners, and Prussian discipline, had been
- deposed without opposition, and strangled without a struggle. Catherine
- had thus found herself, at the age of thirty-two, mistress of an empire
- which extended over one-seventh part of the globe; her first care was to
- compel the neighbouring powers to accept her as a mediatrix in their
- quarrel, and thus become do-pendent upon her. Thus, had she obliged the
- people of Courland to drive from them their new Duke, Charles of Saxony,
- and to recall Biren; she had sent her ambassadors and her armies to
- Warsaw, there to have crowned by the name of Stanislaus Augustus, her
- former lover, Poniatowski; she had formed an alliance with England; she
- had associated to her policy the Courts of Vienna and Berlin; and
- notwithstanding all these great projects of foreign policy, she had not
- neglected the internal government of her own country, and in the interval
- of her amours, so fickle and so various, she still found time to reward
- industry, to encourage agriculture, to reform the laws, to raise a navy,
- to send Pallas into provinces the productions of which were till then
- unknown—Blumager into the northern Archipelago, and Bel-lings into
- the Indian ocean; in fine, jealous of the literary reputation of her
- brother, the King of Prussia, she wrote with the same hand that had
- ordered the erection of a new city, signed the order for the execution of
- young Ivan, and the dismemberment of Poland, <i>The Refutation of the
- Journey into Siberia</i>, by the Abbé Chappe, a romance of the Czarowich
- Chlose, several plays, among which was a translation into French of Oleg,
- a drama, written by the Russian poet, Dersehawin, so that Voltaire
- proclaimed her the Semiraris of the North, and the King of Prussia, in his
- letters, classed her between Solon and Lycurgus.
- </p>
- <p>
- The effect produced amid this voluptuous and chivalric court by the
- arrival of such a man, as our adventurous seaman, can readily be imagined.
- The reputation for courage, which had rendered him the terror of the
- enemies of France and America, had preceded him to the court of Russia,
- and in exchange for his frigate, which he presented to Catherine, he
- received the rank of Rear-Admiral. Then the flag of Russia, after having
- navigated round one-half the old world, appeared in the Grecian seas, and
- beneath the ruins of Lacedemon and the Parthenon, he, who had assisted in
- establishing the independence of America, dreamt of the re-establishment
- of the Republics of Sparta and of Athens. The old Ottoman empire was
- shaken to its foundations, the defeated Turks signed a treaty of peace at
- Kainardji. Catherine retained Azof, Taganrog, and Kenburr, and Kenburn,
- compelled the Turks to grant to her the free navigation of the Black Sea,
- and the independence of the Crimea; she then desired to visit her new
- possessions. Paul, recalled to St. Petersburgh, accompanied her on this
- journey, the route of which had been drawn up by Potemkin. During the
- whole of it, all the attributes of triumph were offered to the conquering
- Empress and her suite; bonfires were lighted all along the road, cities
- were illuminated with the most fairy-like brilliancy, magnificent palaces
- erected, as if by magic, for one day, amid desert countries, and which the
- next morning disappeared; villages, rising as if beneath the wand of an
- enchanter, in solitudes, in which eight days before the Tartars fed their
- flocks; towns appearing on the horizon of which there existed but the
- exterior walls; in every direction, homage, and songs of welcome, and
- dances of the people: during the day, a numerous population crowded the
- road, and at night, while the Empress was sleeping, they would run to
- station themselves in the way she was to proceed on waking the following
- morning: a king and emperor rode by her side, calling themselves not her
- brothers, not her equals, but her courtiers; finally, a triumphal arch was
- erected at the last halt she was to make on her journey southward, bearing
- the inscription—“<i>This is the road to Byzantium,</i>” which if it
- did not reveal the ambition of Catherine, demonstrated at least, the
- policy of Potemkin. Then Russia became strengthened in her tyranny, as
- America had in her independence. Catherine offered to her Admiral places
- which would have more than satisfied the rapacity of a courtier, honors
- which would have overwhelmed the ambitious, estates which would have
- consoled a deposed king for the loss of his dominions; but it was the deck
- of his ship, it was the sea with its combats and its tempests, it was the
- boundless immensity of ocean for which yearned the heart of our
- adventurous and poetic seaman. He, therefore, left the brilliant court of
- Catherine, as he had left the austere Congress of America, and returned to
- France to seek that, which he could not find elsewhere, that is to say, a
- life of excitement, enemies to combat, a people to defend. Paul arrived in
- Paris in the midst of our European wars and civil struggles; while, with
- one hand, we were seizing a foreign enemy by the throat, with the other,
- we were tearing our own entrails. That king, whom he had seen ten years
- before, beloved, honored, powerful, was then a captive, despised and
- strengthless. All that had been exalted was abased, and great names fell
- as did high-born heads.—It was the reign of equality, and the
- guillotine was the levelling instrument. Paul inquired after Emanuel, and
- was told that he was proscribed. He asked what had become of his mother,
- and was informed that she was dead. Then he felt an irresistible longing
- to revisit once again, before he himself might die, the spot on which,
- twelve years before, he had experienced emotions at once so sweet and
- terrible. He set out for Brittany, left his carriage at Vannes, and
- mounted on horseback, as he had done on the first day he had seen
- Marguerite; but he was no longer the young and enthusiastic seaman, whose
- desires and hopes had no horizon; he was a man bereft of all those,
- brilliant illusions, for he had tasted of all, whether weet or bitter, had
- learnt to appreciate all, both men and things; had known all, glory and
- oblivion. Therefore, did he not come to search a family, but to visit
- tombs.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he came within sight of the castle, he turned his eyes toward
- Achard’s house, and not being able to discover it, he thought he would go
- into the forest, but the forest seemed to have vanished as by enchantment.
- It had been sold as national property to twenty-five or thirty farmers of
- the neighbourhood, who had cleared off the timber, and transformed it into
- a large plain. The gigantic oak had disappeared, and the plough had passed
- over the unknown grave of the Count de Morlaix, and the eyes of his son
- even, could no longer recognize the spot.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he returned through the park toward the castle, now become even more
- gloomy and desolate than when he had last seen it. In it he found only an
- old man, a living ruin amidst these ruins of the past; it was at first
- intended to have pulled down the mansion, but the reputation for holiness
- which the marchioness had left behind her, was regarded with such
- religious veneration throughout the country, that the old walls, which for
- four centuries had been the abode of her ancestors, remained undesecrated.
- Paul went through the apartments, which for three years had remained
- closed, and which were now open for him. He walked through the portrait
- gallery; it was in the same state as he had formerly seen it; no pious
- hand had added to the portrait either of the marquis or the marchioness.
- He went into the study in which he had been concealed—found a book
- lying in it which he had opened and placed upon the very spot on which he
- found it, and read the same passages which he had read so many years
- before. He then pushed open the door which communicated with the contract
- chamber, where had passed the chief scenes of that drama in which he was
- the principal actor. The table was still in the same place and the
- Venetian looking-glass over the chimney-piece was there, shattered as it
- had been by the ball of Emanuels pistol.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul advanced to the fire-place, and placing his elbow on the marble
- mantle-piece, questioned the servant as to the last years of the
- Marchioness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The account he received shewed that she had remained austere and
- melancholy, as was her wont. Remaining secluded and alone at the castle,
- her hours were uniformly spent in three different places: her oratory, the
- vault in which the body of her husband had been buried, and the spot
- sheltered by the oak tree, at the foot of which her lover had been
- interred. For eight years after the evening on which Paul had taken leave
- of her, she had been seen to wander amid the old corridors of the castle,
- and in the gloomy avenues of the Park, slow and pale as a spectre; then a
- disease of the heart, engendered by the agonies she had suffered, declared
- itself, and she daily became weaker. At length, one evening, when her
- failing strength no longer permitted her to walk, she had ordered the
- servants to carry her to the foot of the oak tree, her favorite walk, that
- she might once more see, she said, the sun setting in the ocean. When they
- had reached the spot, she desired the servants to withdraw, and to come
- back to her in half an hour. On their return they found her lying fainting
- on the ground. They immediately bore her to the castle, but having
- recovered her senses on the way, she ordered them, instead of conducting
- her to her own room, which they usually did, to take her down into the
- family vault. There she had still strength enough to kneel upon the tomb
- of her husband, and made a sign that she desired to be left alone. However
- imprudent their doing so might be, the servants elbow on the marble
- withdrew, for she had accustomed them to obey her in every thing at the
- first intimation of her will. They, however, remained at a short distance,
- concealed behind the corner of a tomb, that they might be ready to render
- her assistance, should it be necessary. In a few minutes they saw her fall
- down upon the stone on which she had been praying; they rushed forward,
- imagining that she had again fainted. She was dead.
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul requested the old servant to conduct him into the vault, and slowly
- entered it with uncovered head; and when he had reached the stone which
- covered the grave of his mother, he knelt down and prayed. On the
- monumental stone were inscribed the following words, and which may still
- be seen in one of the chapels of the church of the small town of Auray, to
- which it has since been removed. The inscription had been written by the
- marchioness herself, and she had desired that it should be placed upon her
- tomb.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here lies the very noble and very puissant lady Marguerite Blanche de
- Sablé, Marchioness of Auray; born the 2nd of August 1729—died the
- 3rd September, 1788.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray for her and for her children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Paul raised his eyes to heaven, with an expression of infinite gratitude,
- His mother, who during her life, had for so long a time forgotten him, had
- remembered him in her funeral inscription.
- </p>
- <p>
- Six months after this visit, the National Convention decreed, in solemn
- sitting, that they would attend in a body the funeral procession of Paul
- Jones, formerly a commodore in the American navy, and whose burial was to
- take place in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had come to this decision, said the decree, in order to consecrate
- the establishment of <i>religious freedom throughout France</i>.
- </p>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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