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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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