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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Companions of Jehu + +Author: Alexandre Dumas, père + +Release Date: March 21, 2009 [EBook #7079] +Last Updated: November 21, 2016 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU *** + + + + +Produced by Robert J. Hall, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU + </h1> + <h2>By Alexandre Dumas, père</h2> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> AN + INTRODUCTORY WORD TO THE READER </a><br /> <br /><a href="#link2H_PROL"> + PROLOGUE. </a>THE CITY OF AVIGNON <a href="#link2HCH0001"> <br />CHAPTER + I. </a>A TABLE D’HÔTE <a href="#link2HCH0002"> <br />CHAPTER II. </a>AN + ITALIAN PROVERB <a href="#link2HCH0003"> <br />CHAPTER III. </a>THE + ENGLISHMAN <a href="#link2HCH0004"> <br />CHAPTER IV. </a>THE DUEL <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> <br />CHAPTER V. </a>ROLAND <a href="#link2HCH0006"> + <br />CHAPTER VI. </a>MORGAN <a href="#link2HCH0007"> <br />CHAPTER VII. + </a>THE CHARTREUSE OF SEILLON <a href="#link2HCH0008"> <br />CHAPTER + VIII. </a>HOW THE MONEY OF THE DIRECTORY WAS USED <a href="#link2HCH0009"> + <br />CHAPTER IX. </a>ROMEO AND JULIET <a href="#link2HCH0010"> <br />CHAPTER + X. </a>THE FAMILY OF ROLAND <a href="#link2HCH0011"> <br />CHAPTER XI. + </a>CHÂTEAU DES NOIRES-FONTAINES <a href="#link2HCH0012"> <br />CHAPTER + XII. </a>PROVINCIAL PLEASURES <a href="#link2HCH0013"> <br />CHAPTER + XIII. </a>THE WILD-BOAR <a href="#link2HCH0014"> <br />CHAPTER XIV. </a>AN + UNPLEASANT COMMISSION <a href="#link2HCH0015"> <br />CHAPTER XV. </a>THE + STRONG-MINDED MAN <a href="#link2HCH0016"> <br />CHAPTER XVI. </a>THE + GHOST <a href="#link2HCH0017"> <br />CHAPTER XVII. </a>INVESTIGATIONS <a + href="#link2HCH0018"> <br />CHAPTER XVIII. </a>THE TRIAL <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> <br />CHAPTER XIX. </a>THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE RUE + DE LA VICTOIRE <a href="#link2HCH0020"> <br />CHAPTER XX. </a>THE GUESTS + OF GENERAL BONAPARTE <a href="#link2HCH0021"> <br />CHAPTER XXI. </a>THE + SCHEDULE OF THE DIRECTORY <a href="#link2HCH0022"> <br />CHAPTER XXII. + </a>THE OUTLINE OF A DECREE <a href="#link2HCH0023"> <br />CHAPTER XXIII. + </a>ALEA JACTA EST <a href="#link2HCH0024"> <br />CHAPTER XXIV. </a>THE + EIGHTEENTH BRUMAIRE <a href="#link2HCH0025"> <br />CHAPTER XXV. </a>AN + IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION <a href="#link2HCH0026"> <br />CHAPTER XXVI. </a>THE + BALL OF THE VICTIMS <a href="#link2HCH0027"> <br />CHAPTER XXVII. </a>THE + BEAR’S SKIN <a href="#link2HCH0028"> <br />CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>FAMILY + MATTERS <a href="#link2HCH0029"> <br />CHAPTER XXIX. </a>THE GENEVA + DILIGENCE <a href="#link2HCH0030"> <br />CHAPTER XXX. </a>CITIZEN + FOUCHÉ’S REPORT <a href="#link2HCH0031"> <br />CHAPTER XXXI. </a>THE SON + OF THE MILLER OF LEGUERNO <a href="#link2HCH0032"> <br />CHAPTER XXXII. + </a>WHITE AND BLUE <a href="#link2HCH0033"> <br />CHAPTER XXXIII. </a>THE + LAW OF RETALIATION <a href="#link2HCH0034"> <br />CHAPTER XXXIV. </a>THE + DIPLOMACY OF GEORGES CADOUDAL <a href="#link2HCH0035"> <br />CHAPTER + XXXV. </a>A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE <a href="#link2HCH0036"> <br />CHAPTER + XXXVI. </a>SCULPTURE AND PAINTING <a href="#link2HCH0037"> <br />CHAPTER + XXXVII. </a>THE AMBASSADOR <a href="#link2HCH0038"> <br />CHAPTER + XXXVIII. </a>THE TWO SIGNALS <a href="#link2HCH0039"> + <br />CHAPTER XXXIX. </a>THE GROTTO OF CEYZERIAT <a href="#link2HCH0040"> + <br />CHAPTER XL. </a>A FALSE SCENT <a href="#link2HCH0041"> <br />CHAPTER + XLI. </a>THE HÔTEL DE LA POSTE <a href="#link2HCH0042"> <br />CHAPTER + XLII. </a>THE CHAMBÉRY MAIL-COACH <a href="#link2HCH0043"> <br />CHAPTER + XLIII. </a>LORD GRENVILLE’S REPLY <a href="#link2HCH0044"> <br />CHAPTER + XLIV. </a>CHANGE OF RESIDENCE <a href="#link2HCH0045"> <br />CHAPTER XLV. + </a>THE FOLLOWER OF TRAILS <a href="#link2HCH0046"> <br />CHAPTER XLVI. + </a>AN INSPIRATION <a href="#link2HCH0047"> <br />CHAPTER XLVII. </a>A + RECONNOISSANCE <a href="#link2HCH0048"> <br />CHAPTER XLVIII. </a>IN + WHICH MORGAN’S PRESENTIMENTS ARE VERIFIED <a href="#link2HCH0049"> <br />CHAPTER + XLIX. </a>ROLAND’S REVENGE <a href="#link2HCH0050"> <br />CHAPTER L. </a>CADOUDAL + AT THE TUILERIES <a href="#link2HCH0051"> <br />CHAPTER LI. </a>THE ARMY + OF THE RESERVES <a href="#link2HCH0052"> <br />CHAPTER LII. </a>THE TRIAL + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> <br />CHAPTER LIII. </a>IN WHICH AMÉLIE KEEPS + HER WORD <a href="#link2HCH0054"> <br />CHAPTER LIV. </a>THE CONFESSION + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> <br />CHAPTER LV. </a>INVULNERABLE <a + href="#link2HCH0056"> <br />CHAPTER LVI. </a>CONCLUSION + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + AN INTRODUCTORY WORD TO THE READER + </h2> + <p> + Just about a year ago my old friend, Jules Simon, author of “Devoir,” came + to me with a request that I write a novel for the “Journal pour Tous.” I + gave him the outline of a novel which I had in mind. The subject pleased + him, and the contract was signed on the spot. + </p> + <p> + The action occurred between 1791 and 1793, and the first chapter opened at + Varennes the evening of the king’s arrest. + </p> + <p> + Only, impatient as was the “Journal pour Tous,” I demanded a fortnight of + Jules Simon before beginning my novel. I wished to go to Varennes; I was + not acquainted with the locality, and I confess there is one thing I + cannot do; I am unable to write a novel or a drama about localities with + which I am not familiar. + </p> + <p> + In order to write “Christine” I went to Fontainebleau; in writing “Henri + III.” I went to Blois; for “Les Trois Mousquetaires” I went to Boulogne + and Béthune; for “Monte-Cristo” I returned to the Catalans and the Château + d’If; for “Isaac Laquedem” I revisited Rome; and I certainly spent more + time studying Jerusalem and Corinth from a distance than if I had gone + there. + </p> + <p> + This gives such a character of veracity to all that I write, that the + personages whom I create become eventually such integral parts of the + places in which I planted them that, as a consequence, many end by + believing in their actual existence. There are even some people who claim + to have known them. + </p> + <p> + In this connection, dear readers, I am going to tell you something in + confidence—only do not repeat it. I do not wish to injure honest + fathers of families who live by this little industry, but if you go to + Marseilles you will be shown there the house of Morel on the Cours, the + house of Mercédès at the Catalans, and the dungeons of Dantès and Faria at + the Château d’If. + </p> + <p> + When I staged “Monte-Cristo” at the Theâtre-Historique, I wrote to + Marseilles for a plan of the Château d’If, which was sent to me. This + drawing was for the use of the scene painter. The artist to whom I had + recourse forwarded me the desired plan. He even did better than I would + have dared ask of him; he wrote beneath it: “View of the Château d’If, + from the side where Dantès was thrown into the sea.” + </p> + <p> + I have learned since that a worthy man, a guide attached to the Château + d’If, sells pens made of fish-bone by the Abbé Faria himself. + </p> + <p> + There is but one unfortunate circumstance concerning this; the fact is, + Dantès and the Abbé Faria have never existed save in my imagination; + consequently, Dantès could not have been precipitated from the top to the + bottom of the Château d’If, nor could the Abbé Faria have made pens. But + that is what comes from visiting these localities in person. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, I wished to visit Varennes before commencing my novel, because + the first chapter was to open in that city. Besides, historically, + Varennes worried me considerably; the more I perused the historical + accounts of Varennes, the less I was able to understand, topographically, + the king’s arrest. + </p> + <p> + I therefore proposed to my young friend, Paul Bocage, that he accompany me + to Varennes. I was sure in advance that he would accept. To merely propose + such a trip to his picturesque and charming mind was to make him bound + from his chair to the tram. We took the railroad to Châlons. There we + bargained with a livery-stable keeper, who agreed, for a consideration of + ten francs a day, to furnish us with a horse and carriage. We were seven + days on the trip, three days to go from Châlons to Varennes, one day to + make the requisite local researches in the city, and three days to return + from Varennes to Châlons. + </p> + <p> + I recognized with a degree of satisfaction which you will easily + comprehend, that not a single historian had been historical, and with + still greater satisfaction that M. Thiers had been the least accurate of + all these historians. I had already suspected this, but was not certain. + The only one who had been accurate, with absolute accuracy, was Victor + Hugo in his book called “The Rhine.” It is true that Victor Hugo is a poet + and not a historian. What historians these poets would make, if they would + but consent to become historians! + </p> + <p> + One day Lamartine asked me to what I attributed the immense success of his + “Histoire des Girondins.” + </p> + <p> + “To this, because in it you rose to the level of a novel,” I answered him. + He reflected for a while and ended, I believe, by agreeing with me. + </p> + <p> + I spent a day, therefore, at Varennes and visited all the localities + necessary for my novel, which was to be called “René d’Argonne.” Then I + returned. My son was staying in the country at Sainte-Assise, near Melun; + my room awaited me, and I resolved to go there to write my novel. + </p> + <p> + I am acquainted with no two characters more dissimilar than Alexandre’s + and mine, which nevertheless harmonize so well. It is true we pass many + enjoyable hours during our separations; but none I think pleasanter than + those we spend together. + </p> + <p> + I had been installed there for three or four days endeavoring to begin my + “René d’Argonne,” taking up my pen, then laying it aside almost + immediately. The thing would not go. I consoled myself by telling stories. + Chance willed that I should relate one which Nodier had told me of four + young men affiliated with the Company of Jehu, who had been executed at + Bourg in Bresse amid the most dramatic circumstances. One of these four + young men, he who had found the greatest difficulty in dying, or rather he + whom they had the greatest difficulty in killing, was but nineteen and a + half years old. + </p> + <p> + Alexandre listened to my story with much interest. When I had finished: + “Do you know,” said he, “what I should do in your place?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I should lay aside ‘René d’Argonne,’ which refuses to materialize, and in + its stead I should write ‘The Companions of Jehu.’” + </p> + <p> + “But just think, I have had that other novel in mind for a year or two, + and it is almost finished.” + </p> + <p> + “It never will be since it is not finished now.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you are right, but I shall lose six months regaining my present + vantage-ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! In three days you will have written half a volume.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for I shall give you two characters.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “You are too exacting! The rest is your affair; I am busy with my + ‘Question d’Argent.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who are your two characters, then?” + </p> + <p> + “An English gentleman and a French captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Introduce the Englishman first.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” And Alexandre drew Lord Tanlay’s portrait for me. + </p> + <p> + “Your English gentleman pleases me,” said I; “now let us see your French + captain.” + </p> + <p> + “My French captain is a mysterious character, who courts death with all + his might, without being able to accomplish his desire; so that each time + he rushes into mortal danger he performs some brilliant feat which secures + him promotion.” + </p> + <p> + “But why does he wish to get himself killed?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he is disgusted with life.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is he disgusted with life?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! That will be the secret of the book.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be told in the end.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I, in your place, would not tell it.” + </p> + <p> + “The readers will demand it.” + </p> + <p> + “You will reply that they have only to search for it; you must leave them + something to do, these readers of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear friend, I shall be overwhelmed with letters.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not answer them.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but for my personal gratification I, at least, must know why my hero + longs to die.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do not refuse to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me hear, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose, instead of being professor of dialectics, Abelard had been + a soldier.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let us suppose that a bullet—” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” + </p> + <p> + “You understand? Instead of withdrawing to Paraclet, he would have courted + death at every possible opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! That will be difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Difficult! In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “To make the public swallow that.” + </p> + <p> + “But since you are not going to tell the public.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true. By my faith, I believe you are right. Wait.” + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you Nodier’s ‘Souvenirs de la Révolution’? I believe he wrote one or + two pages about Guyon, Leprêtre, Amiet and Hyvert.” + </p> + <p> + “They will say, then, that you have plagiarized from Nodier.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! He loved me well enough during his life not to refuse me whatever I + shall take from him after his death. Go fetch me the ‘Souvenirs de la + Révolution.’” + </p> + <p> + Alexandre brought me the book. I opened it, turned over two or three + pages, and at last discovered what I was looking for. A little of Nodier, + dear readers, you will lose nothing by it. It is he who is speaking: + </p> + <p> + The highwaymen who attacked the diligences, as mentioned in the article on + Amiet, which I quoted just now, were called Leprêtre, Hyvert, Guyon and + Amiet. + </p> + <p> + Leprêtre was forty-eight years old. He was formerly a captain of dragoons, + a knight of St. Louis, of a noble countenance, prepossessing carriage and + much elegance of manner. Guyon and Amiet have never been known by their + real names. They owe that to the accommodating spirit prevailing among the + vendors of passports of those days. Let the reader picture to himself two + dare-devils between twenty and thirty years of age, allied by some common + responsibility, the sequence, perhaps of some misdeed, or, by a more + delicate and generous interest, the fear of compromising their family + name. Then you will know of Guyon and Amiet all that I can recall. The + latter had a sinister countenance, to which, perhaps, he owes the bad + reputation with which all his biographers have credited him. Hyvert was + the son of a rich merchant of Lyons, who had offered the sub-officer + charged with his deportation sixty thousand francs to permit his escape. + He was at once the Achilles and the Paris of the band. He was of medium + height but well formed, lithe, and of graceful and pleasing address. His + eyes were never without animation nor his lips without a smile. His was + one of those countenances which are never forgotten, and which present an + inexpressible blending of sweetness and strength, tenderness and energy. + When he yielded to the eloquent petulance of his inspirations he soared to + enthusiasm. His conversation revealed the rudiments of an excellent early + education and much natural intelligence. That which was so terrifying in + him was his tone of heedless gayety, which contrasted so horribly with his + position. For the rest, he was unanimously conceded to be kind, generous, + humane, lenient toward the weak, while with the strong he loved to display + a vigor truly athletic which his somewhat effeminate features were far + from indicating. He boasted that he had never been without money, and had + no enemies. That was his sole reply to the charges of theft and + assassination. He was twenty-two years old. + </p> + <p> + To these four men was intrusted the attack upon a diligence conveying + forty thousand francs of government money. This deed was transacted in + broad daylight, with an exchange of mutual courtesy almost; and the + travellers, who were not disturbed by the attack, gave little heed to it. + But a child of only ten years of age, with reckless bravado, seized the + pistol of the conductor and fired it into the midst of the assailants. As + this peaceful weapon, according to the custom, was only charged with + powder, no one was injured; but the occupants of the coach quite naturally + experienced a lively fear of reprisals. The little boy’s mother fell into + violent hysterics. This new disturbance created a general diversion which + dominated all the preceding events and particularly attracted the + attention of the robbers. One of them flew to the woman’s side, reassuring + her in the most affectionate manner, while complimenting her upon her + son’s precocious courage, and courteously pressed upon her the salts and + perfumes with which these gentlemen were ordinarily provided for their own + use. She regained consciousness. In the excitement of the moment her + travelling companions noticed that the highwayman’s mask had fallen off, + but they did not see his face. + </p> + <p> + The police of those days, restricted to mere impotent supervision, were + unable to cope with the depredations of these banditti, although they did + not lack the means to follow them up. Appointments were made at the cafés, + and narratives relating to deeds carrying with them the penalty of death + circulated freely through all the billiard-halls in the land. Such was the + importance which the culprits and the public attached to the police. + </p> + <p> + These men of blood and terror assembled in society in the evening, and + discussed their nocturnal expeditions as if they had been mere + pleasure-parties. + </p> + <p> + Leprêtre, Hyvert, Amiet and Guyon were arraigned before the tribunal of a + neighboring department. No one save the Treasury had suffered from their + attack, and there was no one to identify them save the lady who took very + good care not to do so. They were therefore acquitted unanimously. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the evidence against them so obviously called for + conviction, that the Ministry was forced to appeal from this decision. The + verdict was set aside; but such was the government’s vacillation, that it + hesitated to punish excesses that might on the morrow be regarded as + virtues. The accused were cited before the tribunal of Ain, in the city of + Bourg, where dwelt a majority of their friends, relatives, abettors and + accomplices. The Ministry sought to propitiate the one party by the return + of its victims, and the other by the almost inviolate safeguards with + which it surrounded the prisoners. The return to prison indeed resembled + nothing less than a triumph. + </p> + <p> + The trial recommenced. It was at first attended by the same results as the + preceding one. The four accused were protected by an alibi, patently + false, but attested by a hundred signatures, and for which they could + easily have obtained ten thousand. All moral convictions must fail in the + presence of such authoritative testimony. An acquittal seemed certain, + when a question, perhaps involuntarily insidious, from the president, + changed the aspect of the trial. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said he to the lady who had been so kindly assisted by one of the + highwaymen, “which of these men was it who tendered you such thoughtful + attention?” + </p> + <p> + This unexpected form of interrogation confused her ideas. It is probable + that she believed the facts to be known, and saw in this a means of + modifying the fate of the man who interested her. + </p> + <p> + “It was that gentleman,” said she, pointing to Leprêtre. The four accused, + who were included in a common alibi, fell by this one admission under the + executioner’s axe. They rose and bowed to her with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Faith!” said Hyvert, falling back upon his bench with a burst of + laughter, “that, Captain, will teach you to play the gallant.” + </p> + <p> + I have heard it said that the unhappy lady died shortly after of chagrin. + </p> + <p> + The customary appeal followed; but, this time, there was little hope. The + Republican party, which Napoleon annihilated a month later, was in the + ascendency. That of the Counter-Revolution was compromised by its odious + excesses. The people demanded examples, and matters were arranged + accordingly, as is ordinarily the custom in strenuous times; for it is + with governments as with men, the weakest are always the most cruel. Nor + had the Companies of Jehu longer an organized existence. The heroes of + these ferocious bands, Debeauce, Hastier, Bary, Le Coq, Dabri, Delbourbe + and Storkenfeld, had either fallen on the scaffold or elsewhere. The + condemned could look for no further assistance from the daring courage of + these exhausted devotees, who, no longer capable of protecting their own + lives, coolly sacrificed them, as did Piard, after a merry supper. Our + brigands were doomed to die. + </p> + <p> + Their appeal was rejected, but the municipal authorities were not the + first to learn of this. The condemned men were warned by three shots fired + beneath the walls of their dungeon. The Commissioner of the Executive + Directory, who had assumed the rôle of Public Prosecutor at the trial, + alarmed at this obvious sign of connivance, requisitioned a squad of armed + men of whom my uncle was then commander. At six o’clock in the morning + sixty horsemen were drawn up before the iron gratings of the prison yard. + </p> + <p> + Although the jailers had observed all possible precautions in entering the + dungeon where these four unfortunate men were confined, and whom they had + left the preceding day tightly pinioned and heavily loaded with chains, + they were unable to offer them a prolonged resistance. The prisoners were + free and armed to the teeth. They came forth without difficulty, leaving + their guardians under bolts and bars, and, supplied with the keys, they + quickly traversed the space that separated them from the prison yard. + Their appearance must have been terrifying to the populace awaiting them + before the iron gates. + </p> + <p> + To assure perfect freedom of action, or perhaps to affect an appearance of + security more menacing even than the renown for strength and intrepidity + with which their names were associated, or possibly even to conceal the + flow of blood which reveals itself so readily beneath white linen, and + betrays the last agonies of a mortally wounded man, their breasts were + bared. Their braces crossed upon the chest—their wide red belts + bristling with arms—their cry of attack and rage, all that must have + given a decidedly fantastic touch to the scene. Arrived in the square, + they perceived the gendarmerie drawn up in motionless ranks, through which + it would have been impossible to force a passage. They halted an instant + and seemed to consult together. Leprêtre, who was, as I have said, their + senior and their chief, saluted the guard with his hand, saying with that + noble grace of manner peculiar to him: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, gentlemen of the gendarmerie!” + </p> + <p> + Then after a brief, energetic farewell to his comrades, he stepped in + front of them and blew out his brains. Guyon, Amiet and Hyvert assumed a + defensive position, their double-barrelled pistols levelled upon their + armed opponents. They did not fire; but the latter, considering this + demonstration as a sign of open hostility, fired upon them. Guyon fell + dead upon Leprêtre’s body, which had not moved. Amiet’s hip was broken + near the groin. The “Biographie des Contemporains” says that he was + executed. I have often heard it said that he died at the foot of the + scaffold. Hyvert was left alone, his determined brow, his terrible eye, + the pistol in each practiced and vigorous hand threatening death to the + spectators. Perhaps it was involuntary admiration, in his desperate + plight, for this handsome young man with his waving locks, who was known + never to have shed blood, and from whom the law now demanded the expiation + of blood; or perhaps it was the sight of those three corpses over which he + sprang like a wolf overtaken by his hunters, and the frightful novelty of + the spectacle, which for an instant restrained the fury of the troop. He + perceived this and temporized with them for a compromise. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said he, “I go to my death! I die with all my heart! But let + no one approach me or I shall shoot him—except this gentleman,” he + continued, pointing to the executioner. “This is an affair that concerns + us alone and merely needs a certain understanding between us.” + </p> + <p> + This concession was readily accorded, for there was no one present who was + not suffering from the prolongation of this horrible tragedy, and anxious + to see it finished. Perceiving their assent, he placed one of his pistols + between his teeth, and drawing a dagger from his belt, plunged it in his + breast up to the hilt. He still remained standing and seemed greatly + surprised. There was a movement toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, gentlemen!” cried he, covering the men who sought to surround + him with his pistols, which he had seized again, while the blood spurted + freely from the wound in which he had left his poniard. “You know our + agreement; either I die alone or three of us will die together. Forward, + march!” He walked straight to the guillotine, turning the knife in his + breast as he did so. + </p> + <p> + “Faith,” said he, “my soul must be centred in my belly! I cannot die. See + if you can fetch it out.” + </p> + <p> + This last was addressed to his executioner. An instant later his head + fell. Be it accident or some peculiar phenomenon of the vitality, it + rebounded and rolled beyond the circle of the scaffolding, and they will + still tell you at Bourg, that Hyvert’s head spoke. + </p> + <p> + Before I had finished reading I had decided to abandon René d’Argonne for + the Companions of Jehu. On the morrow I came down with my travelling bag + under my arm. + </p> + <p> + “You are leaving?” said Alexandre to me. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To Bourg, in Bresse.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do there?” + </p> + <p> + “Study the neighborhood and consult with the inhabitants who saw Leprêtre, + Amiet, Guyon and Hyvert executed.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + There are two roads to Bourg—from Paris, of course; one may leave + the train at Mâcon, and take stage from Mâcon to Bourg, or, continuing as + far as Lyons, take train again from Lyons to Bourg. + </p> + <p> + I was hesitating between these two roads when one of the travellers who + was temporarily occupying my compartment decided me. He was going to + Bourg, where he frequently had business. He was going by way of Lyons; + therefore, Lyons was the better way. + </p> + <p> + I resolved to travel by the same route. I slept at Lyons, and on the + morrow by ten in the morning I was at Bourg. + </p> + <p> + A paper published in the second capital of the kingdom met my eye. It + contained a spiteful article about me. Lyons has never forgiven me since + 1833, I believe, some twenty-four years ago, for asserting that it was not + a literary city. Alas! I have in 1857 the same opinion of Lyons as I had + in 1833. I do not easily change my opinion. There is another city in + France that is almost as bitter against me as Lyons, that is Rouen. Rouen + has hissed all my plays, including Count Hermann. + </p> + <p> + One day a Neapolitan boasted to me that he had hissed Rossini and + Malibran, “The Barbiere” and “Desdemona.” + </p> + <p> + “That must be true,” I answered him, “for Rossini and Malibran on their + side boast of having been hissed by Neapolitans.” + </p> + <p> + So I boast that the Rouenese have hissed me. Nevertheless, meeting a + full-blooded Rouenese one day I resolved to discover why I had been hissed + at Rouen. I like to understand these little things. + </p> + <p> + My Rouenese informed me: “We hiss you because we are down on you.” + </p> + <p> + Why not? Rouen was down on Joan of Arc. Nevertheless it could not be for + the same reason. I asked my Rouenese why he and his compatriots were + ill-disposed to me; I had never said anything evil of apple sugar, I had + treated M. Barbet with respect during his entire term as mayor, and, when + a delegate from the Society of Letters at the unveiling of the statue of + the great Corneille, I was the only one who thought to bow to him before + beginning my speech. There was nothing in that which could have reasonably + incurred the hatred of the Rouenese. + </p> + <p> + Therefore to this haughty reply, “We hiss you because we have a grudge + against you,” I asked humbly: + </p> + <p> + “But, great Heavens! why are you down on me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know very well,” replied my Rouenese. + </p> + <p> + “I?” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind; pretend I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember the dinner the city gave you, in connection with that statue + of Corneille?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly. Were they annoyed because I did not return it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not that.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at that dinner they said to you: ‘M. Dumas, you ought to write a + play for Rouen based upon some subject taken from its own history.’” + </p> + <p> + “To which I replied: ‘Nothing easier; I will come at your first summons + and spend a fortnight in Rouen. You can suggest the subject, and during + that fortnight I will write the play, the royalties of which I shall + devote to the poor.’” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, you said that.” + </p> + <p> + “I see nothing sufficiently insulting in that to incur the hatred of the + Rouenese.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but they added: ‘Will you write it in prose?’ To which you replied—Do + you remember what you answered?” + </p> + <p> + “My faith! no.” + </p> + <p> + “You replied: ‘I will write it in verse; it is soonest done.’” + </p> + <p> + “That sounds like me. Well, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then! That was an insult to Corneille, M. Dumas; that is why the Rouenese + are down on you, and will be for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + Verbatim! + </p> + <p> + Oh, worthy Rouenese! I trust that you will never serve me so ill as to + forgive and applaud me. + </p> + <p> + The aforesaid paper observed that M. Dumas had doubtless spent but one + night in Lyons because a city of such slight literary standing was not + worthy of his longer sojourn. M. Dumas had not thought about this at all. + He had spent but one night at Lyons because he was in a hurry to reach + Bourg. And no sooner had M. Dumas arrived at Bourg than he asked to be + directed to the office of its leading newspaper. + </p> + <p> + I knew that it was under the management of a distinguished archeologist, + who was also the editor of my friend Baux’s work on the church of Brou. + </p> + <p> + I asked for M. Milliet. M. Milliet appeared. We shook hands and I + explained the object of my visit. + </p> + <p> + “I can fix you perfectly,” said he to me. “I will take you to one of our + magistrates, who is at present engaged upon a history of the department.” + </p> + <p> + “How far has he got in this history?” + </p> + <p> + “1822.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that’s all right. As the events I want to relate occurred in 1799, + and my heroes were executed in 1800, he will have covered that epoch, and + can furnish me with the desired information. Let us go to your + magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + On the road, M. Milliet told me that this same magisterial historian was + also a noted gourmet. Since Brillat-Savarin it has been the fashion for + magistrates to be epicures. Unfortunately, many are content to be + gourmands, which is not at all the same thing. + </p> + <p> + We were ushered into the magistrate’s study. I found a man with a shiny + face and a sneering smile. He greeted me with that protecting air which + historians deign to assume toward poets. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” he said to me, “so you have come to our poor country in + search of material for your novel?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I have my material already. I have come simply to consult your + historical documents.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I did not know that it was necessary to give one’s self so much + trouble in order to write novels.” + </p> + <p> + “There you are in error, sir; at least in my instance. I am in the habit + of making exhaustive researches upon all the historical events of which I + treat.” + </p> + <p> + “You might at least have sent some one else.” + </p> + <p> + “Any person whom I might send, sir, not being so completely absorbed in my + subject, might have overlooked many important facts. Then, too, I make use + of many localities which I cannot describe unless I see them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then this is a novel which you intend writing yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly, sir. I allowed my valet to write my last; but he had such + immense success that the rogue asked so exorbitant an increase of wages + that, to my great regret, I was unable to keep him.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate bit his lips. Then, after a moment’s silence, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Will you kindly tell me, sir, how I can assist you in this important + work?” + </p> + <p> + “You can direct my researches, sir. As you have compiled the history of + the department, none of the important event which have occurred in its + capital can be unknown to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, sir, I believe that in this respect I am tolerably well informed.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, in the first place, your department was the centre of the + operations of the Company of Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I have heard speak of the Companions of Jesus,” replied the + magistrate with his jeering smile. + </p> + <p> + “The Jesuits, you mean? That is not what I am seeking, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor is it of them that I am speaking. I refer to the stage robbers who + infested the highroads from 1797 to 1800.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, permit me to tell you they are precisely the ones I have come + to Bourg about, and that they were called the Companions of Jehu, and not + the Companions of Jesus.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this title ‘Companions of Jehu’? I like to get at + the bottom of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I, sir; that is why I did not wish to confound these highwaymen + with the Apostles.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, that would not have been very orthodox.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is what you would have done, nevertheless, sir, if I, a poet, had + not come here expressly to correct the mistake you, as historian, have + made.” + </p> + <p> + “I await your explanation, sir,” resumed the magistrate, pursing his lips. + </p> + <p> + “It is short and simple. Elisha consecrated Jehu, King of Israel, on + condition that he exterminate the house of Ahab; Elisha was Louis XVIII.; + Jehu was Cadoudal; the house of Ahab, the Revolution. That is why these + pillagers of diligences, who filched the government money to support the + war in the Vendée, were called the Companions of Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I am happy to learn something at my age.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! One can always learn, at all times and at all ages; during life + one learns man; in death one learns God.” + </p> + <p> + “But, after all,” my interlocutor said to me with a gesture of impatience, + “may I know in what I can assist you?” + </p> + <p> + “Thus, sir. Four of these young men, leaders of the Companions of Jehu, + were executed at Bourg, on the Place du Bastion.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, sir, in Bourg executions do not take place at the + Bastion; they execute on the Fair grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir—these last fifteen or twenty years, it is true—since + Peytel. But before, especially during the Revolution, they executed on the + Place du Bastion.” + </p> + <p> + “That is possible.” + </p> + <p> + “It is so. These four young men were called Guyon, Leprêtre, Amiet, and + Hyvert.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the first time I have heard those names.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet their names made a certain noise at Bourg.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, sir, that these men were executed here?” + </p> + <p> + “I am positive.” + </p> + <p> + “From whom have you derived your information?” + </p> + <p> + “From a man whose uncle, then in command of the gendarmerie, was present + at the execution.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me this man’s name?” + </p> + <p> + “Charles Nodier.” + </p> + <p> + “Charles Nodier, the novelist, the poet?” + </p> + <p> + “If he were a historian I would not be so insistent, sir. Recently, during + a trip to Varennes, I learned what dependence to place upon historians. + But precisely because he is a poet, a novelist, I do insist.” + </p> + <p> + “You are at liberty to do so; but I know nothing of what you desire to + learn, and I dare even assert that, if you have come to Bourg solely to + obtain information concerning the execution of—what did you call + them?” + </p> + <p> + “Guyon, Leprêtre, Amiet, and Hyvert.” + </p> + <p> + “You have undertaken a futile voyage. For these last twenty years, sir, I + have been searching the town archives, and I have never seen anything + relating to what you have just told me.” + </p> + <p> + “The town archives are not those of the registrar, sir; perhaps at the + record office I may be able to find what I am seeking.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir, if you can find anything among those archives you will be a very + clever man! The record office is a chaos, a veritable chaos. You would + have to spend a month here, and then—then—” + </p> + <p> + “I do not expect to stay here more than a day, sir; but if in that day I + should find what I am seeking will you permit me to impart it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; yes, sir; and you will render me a great service by doing so.” + </p> + <p> + “No greater than the one I asked of you. I shall merely give you some + information about a matter of which you were ignorant, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + You can well understand that on leaving my magistrate, my honor was + piqued. I determined, cost what it might, to procure this information + about the Companions of Jehu. I went back to Milliet, and cornered him. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said. “My brother-in-law is a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s my man! Let’s go find the brother-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s in court at this hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go to court.” + </p> + <p> + “Your appearance will create a sensation, I warn you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go alone—tell him what we want, and let him make a search. I + will visit the environs of the town to base my work on the localities. We + will meet at four o’clock at the Place du Bastion, if you are agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me that I saw a forest, coming here.” + </p> + <p> + “The forest of Seillon.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you need a forest?” + </p> + <p> + “It is absolutely indispensable to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then permit me—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to take you to a friend of mine, M. Leduc, a poet who in his + spare moments is an inspector.” + </p> + <p> + “Inspector of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the forest.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there any ruins in the forest?” + </p> + <p> + “The Chartreuse, which is not in the forest, but merely some hundred feet + from it.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the forest?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a sort of hermitage which is called La Correrie, belonging to + the Chartreuse, with which it communicates by a subterranean passage.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Now, if you can provide me with a grotto you will overwhelm me.” + </p> + <p> + “We have the grotto of Ceyzeriat, but that is on the other side of the + Reissouse.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind. If the grotto won’t come to me, I will do like Mahomet—I + will go to the grotto. In the meantime let us go to M. Leduc.” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later we reached M. Leduc’s house. He, on learning what we + wanted, placed himself, his horse, and his carriage at my disposal. I + accepted all. There are some men who offer their services in such a way + that they place you at once at your ease. + </p> + <p> + We first visited the Chartreuse. Had I built it myself it could not have + suited me better. A deserted cloister, devastated garden, inhabitants + almost savages. Chance, I thank thee! + </p> + <p> + From there we went to the Correrie; it was the supplement of the + Chartreuse. I did not yet know what I could do with it; but evidently it + might be useful to me. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” I said to my obliging guide, “I need a pretty site, rather + gloomy, surrounded by tall trees, beside a river. Have you anything like + that in the neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “To build a château there.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a château?” + </p> + <p> + “Zounds! of cards! I have a family to house, a model mother, a melancholy + young girl, a mischievous brother, and a poaching gardener.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a place called Noires-Fontaines.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place the name is charming.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is no château there.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better, for I should have been obliged to demolish it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go to Noires-Fontaines.” + </p> + <p> + We started; a quarter of an hour later we descended at the ranger’s lodge. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we take this little path?” said M. Leduc; “it will take us where + you want to go.” + </p> + <p> + It led us, in fact, to a spot planted with tall trees which overshadowed + three or four rivulets. + </p> + <p> + “We call this place Noires-Fontaines,” M. Leduc explained. + </p> + <p> + “And here Madame de Montrevel, Amélie and little Edouard will dwell. Now + what are those villages which I see in front of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, close at hand, is Montagnac; yonder, on the mountain side, + Ceyzeriat.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that where the grotto is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But how did you know there was a grotto at Ceyzeriat?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, go on. The name of those other villages, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Saint-Just, Tréconnas, Ramasse, Villereversure.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + I drew out my note-book, sketched a plan of the locality and wrote about + in their relative positions the names of the villages which M. Leduc had + just pointed out to me. + </p> + <p> + “That’s done!” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we go now?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t the church of Brou near this road?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go to the church of Brou.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you need that in your novel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed; you don’t imagine I am going to lay my scene in a country + which contains the architectural masterpiece of the sixteenth century + without utilizing that masterpiece, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go to the church of Brou.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later the sacristan showed us into this granite + jewel-case which contains the three marble gems called the tombs of + Marguerite of Austria, Marguerite or Bourbon, and of Philibert le Beau. + </p> + <p> + “How is it,” I asked the sacristan, “that all these masterpieces were not + reduced to powder during the Revolution?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir, the municipality had an idea.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “That of turning the church into a storage house for fodder.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and the hay saved the marble; you are right, my friend, that <i>was</i> + an idea.” + </p> + <p> + “Does this idea of the municipality afford you another?” asked M. Leduc. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, yes, and I shall have poor luck if I don’t make something out of + it.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at my watch. “Three o’clock! Now for the prison. I have an + appointment with M. Milliet at four on the Place du Bastion.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait; there is one thing more.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed Marguerite of Austria’s motto?” + </p> + <p> + “No; where is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all over. In the first place, look above her tomb.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Fortune, infortune, fort’une.’” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what does this play of words mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Learned men translate it thus: ‘Fate persecutes a woman much.’” + </p> + <p> + “Explain that a little.” + </p> + <p> + “You must, in the first place, assume that it is derived from the Latin.” + </p> + <p> + “True, that is probable.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then: ‘Fortuna infortunat—‘” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh! ‘Infortunat.’” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” + </p> + <p> + “That strongly resembles a solecism!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “An explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well; ‘Fortuna, infortuna, forti una.’ ‘Fortune and misfortune are alike + to the strong.’” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, that may possibly be the correct translation?” + </p> + <p> + “Zounds! See what it is not to be learned, my dear sir; we are endowed + with common-sense, and that sees clearer than science. Have you anything + else to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go to the prison.” + </p> + <p> + We got into the carriage and returned to the city, stopping only at the + gate of the prison. I glanced out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” I exclaimed, “they have spoiled it for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What! They’ve spoiled it for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, it was not like this in my prisoners’ time. Can I speak to the + jailer?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us consult him.” + </p> + <p> + We knocked at the door. A man about forty opened it. He recognized M. + Leduc. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” M. Leduc said to him, “this is one of my learned friends—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” I exclaimed, interrupting him, “no nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Who contends,” continued M. Leduc, “that the prison is no longer the same + as it was in the last century?” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, M. Leduc, it was torn down and rebuilt in 1816.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the interior arrangements are no longer the same?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, sir, everything was changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Could I see the old plan?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Martin, the architect, might perhaps be able to find one for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he any relation to M. Martin, the lawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “His brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my friend, then I can get my plan.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we have nothing more to do here?” inquired M. Leduc. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am free to go home?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be sorry to leave you, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you find your way to the Bastion without me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is close by.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “I will spend it with you, if you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good! You will find a cup of tea waiting for you at nine.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be on hand for it.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked M. Leduc. We shook hands and parted. + </p> + <p> + I went down the Rue des Lisses (meaning Lists, from a combat which took + place in the square to which it leads), and skirting the Montburon Garden, + I reached the Place du Bastion. This is a semicircle now used as the town + marketplace. In the midst stands the statue of Bichat by David d’Angers. + Bichat, in a frockcoat—why that exaggeration of realism?—stands + with his hand upon the heart of a child about nine or ten years old, + perfectly nude—why that excess of ideality? Extended at Bichat’s + feet lies a dead body. It is Bichat’s book “Of Life and of Death” + translated into bronze. I was studying this statue, which epitomizes the + defects and merits of David d’Angers, when I felt some one touch my + shoulder. I turned around; it was M. Milliet. He held a paper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, victory!” + </p> + <p> + “What is that you have there?” + </p> + <p> + “The minutes of the trial and execution.” + </p> + <p> + “Of whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Of your men.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Guyon, Leprêtre, Amiet—!” + </p> + <p> + “And Hyvert.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + I took it and read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + REPORT OF THE DEATH AND EXECUTION OF LAURENT GUYON, ETIENNE + HYVERT, FRANÇOIS AMIET, ANTOINE LEPRÊTRE. Condemned the twentieth + Thermidor of the year VIII., and executed the twenty-third + Vendemiaire of the year IX. + + To-day, the twenty-third Vendemiaire of the year IX., the + government commissioner of the tribunal, who received at eleven + of the evening the budget of the Minister of Justice, containing + the minutes of the trial and the judgment which condemns to + death Laurent Guyon, Etienne Hyvert, François Amiet and Antoine + Leprêtre;—the decision of the Court of Appeals of the sixth + inst., rejecting the appeal against the sentence of the + twenty-first Thermidor of the year VIII., I did notify by letter, + between seven and eight of the morning, the four accused that + their sentence of death would take effect to-day at eleven o’clock. + In the interval which elapsed before eleven o’clock, the four + accused shot themselves with pistols and stabbed themselves with + blows from a poinard in prison. Leprêtre and Guyon, according + to public rumor, were dead; Hyvert fatally wounded and dying; + Amiet fatally wounded, but still conscious. All four, in this + state, were conveyed to the scaffold, and, living or dead, were + guillotined. At half after eleven, the sheriff, Colin, handed in + the report of their execution to the Municipality for registration + upon the death roll: + + The captain of gendarmerie remitted to the Justice of the Peace + a report of what had occurred in the prison, of which he was a + witness. I, who was not present, do certify to what I have learned + by hearsay only. + + (Signed) DUBOST, <i>Clerk</i>. + + Bourg, 23d Vendemiaire of the year IX. +</pre> + <p> + Ah! so it was the poet who was right and not the historian! The captain of + gendarmerie, who remitted the report of the proceedings in the prison to + the Justice of the Peace, at which he was present, was Nodier’s uncle. + This report handed to the Justice of the Peace was the story which, graven + upon the young man’s mind, saw the light some forty years later unaltered, + in that masterpiece entitled “Souvenirs de la Révolution.” The entire + series of papers was in the record office. M. Martin offered to have them + copied for me; inquiry, trial and judgment. + </p> + <p> + I had a copy of Nodier’s “Souvenirs of the Revolution” in my pocket. In my + hand I held the report of the execution which confirmed the facts therein + stated. + </p> + <p> + “Now let us go to our magistrate,” I said to M. Milliet. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go to our magistrate,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + The magistrate was confounded, and I left him convinced that poets know + history as well as historians—if not better. + </p> + <p> + ALEX. DUMAS. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PROLOGUE. THE CITY OF AVIGNON + </h2> + <p> + We do not know if the prologue we are going to present to our readers’ + eyes be very useful, nevertheless we cannot resist the desire to make of + it, not the first chapter, but the preface of this book. + </p> + <p> + The more we advance in life, the more we advance in art, the more + convinced we become that nothing is abrupt and isolated; that nature and + society progress by evolution and not by chance, and that the event, + flower joyous or sad, perfumed or fetid, beneficent or fatal, which + unfolds itself to-day before our eyes, was sown in the past, and had its + roots sometimes in days anterior to ours, even as it will bear its fruits + in the future. + </p> + <p> + Young, man accepts life as it comes, enamored of yestereen, careless of + the day, heeding little the morrow. Youth is the springtide with its dewy + dawns and its beautiful nights; if sometimes a storm clouds the sky, it + gathers, mutters and disperses, leaving the sky bluer, the atmosphere + purer, and Nature more smiling than before. What use is there in + reflecting on this storm that passes swift as a caprice, ephemeral as a + fancy? Before we have discovered the secret of the meteorological enigma, + the storm will have disappeared. + </p> + <p> + But it is not thus with the terrible phenomena, which at the close of + summer, threaten our harvests; or in the midst of autumn, assail our + vintages; we ask whither they go, we query whence they come, we seek a + means to prevent them. + </p> + <p> + To the thinker, the historian, the poet, there is a far deeper subject for + reflection in revolutions, these tempests of the social atmosphere which + drench the earth with blood, and crush an entire generation of men, than + in those upheavals of nature which deluge a harvest, or flay the vineyards + with hail—that is to say, the fruits of a single harvest, wreaking + an injury, which can at the worst be repaired the ensuing year; unless the + Lord be in His days of wrath. + </p> + <p> + Thus, in other days, be it forgetfulness, heedlessness or ignorance + perhaps—(blessed he who is ignorant! a fool he who is wise!)—in + other days in relating the story which I am going to tell you to-day I + would, without pausing at the place where the first scene of this book + occurs, have accorded it but a superficial mention, and traversing the + Midi like any other province, have named Avignon like any other city. + </p> + <p> + But to-day it is no longer the same; I am no longer tossed by the flurries + of spring, but by the storms of summer, the tempests of autumn. To-day + when I name Avignon, I evoke a spectre; and, like Antony displaying + Cæsar’s toga, say: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Look! in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through; + See what a rent the envious Casca made; + Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed—” + </pre> + <p> + So, seeing the bloody shroud of the papal city, I say: “Behold the blood + of the Albigenses, and here the blood of the Cevennais; behold the blood + of the Republicans, and here the blood of the Royalists; behold the blood + of Lescuyer; behold the blood of Maréchal Brune.” + </p> + <p> + And I feel myself seized with a profound sadness, and I begin to write, + but at the first lines I perceive that, without suspecting it, the + historian’s chisel has superseded the novelist’s pen in my hand. + </p> + <p> + Well, let us be both. Reader, grant me these ten, fifteen, twenty pages to + the historian; the novelist shall have the rest. + </p> + <p> + Let us say, therefore, a few words about Avignon, the place where the + first scene of the new book which we are offering to the public, opens. + Perhaps, before reading what we have to say, it would be well to cast a + glance at what its native historian, François Nouguier, says of it. + </p> + <p> + “Avignon,” he writes, “a town noble for its antiquity, pleasing in its + site, superb for its walls, smiling for the fertility of its soil, + charming for the gentleness of its inhabitants, magnificent for its + palace, beautiful in its broad streets, marvellous in the construction of + its bridge, rich because of its commerce, and known to all the world.” + </p> + <p> + May the shade of François Nouguier pardon us if we do not at first see his + city with the same eyes as he does. To those who know Avignon be it to say + who has best described it, the historian or the novelist. + </p> + <p> + It is but just to assert in the first place that Avignon is a town by + itself, that is to say, a town of extreme passions. The period of + religious dissensions, which culminated for her in political hatreds, + dates from the twelfth century. After his flight from Lyons, the valleys + of Mont Ventoux sheltered Pierre de Valdo and his Vaudois, the ancestors + of those Protestants who, under the name of the Albigenses, cost the + Counts of Toulouse, and transferred to the papacy, the seven châteaux + which Raymond VI. possessed in Languedoc. + </p> + <p> + Avignon, a powerful republic governed by podestats, refused to submit to + the King of France. One morning Louis VIII., who thought it easier to make + a crusade against Avignon like Simon de Montfort, than against Jerusalem + like Philippe Auguste; one morning, we say, Louis VIII. appeared before + the gates of Avignon, demanding admission with lances at rest, visor down, + banners unfurled and trumpets of war sounding. + </p> + <p> + The bourgeois refused. They offered the King of France, as a last + concession, a peaceful entrance, lances erect, and the royal banner alone + unfurled. The King laid siege to the town, a siege which lasted three + months, during which, says the chronicler, the bourgeois of Avignon + returned the French soldiers arrow for arrow, wound for wound, death for + death. + </p> + <p> + The city capitulated at length. Louis VIII. brought the Roman + Cardinal-Legate, Saint-Angelo, in his train. It was he who dictated the + terms, veritable priestly terms, hard and unconditional. The Avignonese + were commanded to demolish their ramparts, to fill their moats, to raze + three hundred towers, to sell their vessels, and to burn their engines and + machines of war. They had moreover to pay an enormous impost, to abjure + the Vaudois heresy, and maintain thirty men fully armed and equipped, in + Palestine, to aid in delivering the tomb of Christ. And finally, to watch + over the fulfillment of these terms, of which the bull is still extant in + the city archives, a brotherhood of penitents was founded which, reaching + down through six centuries, still exists in our days. + </p> + <p> + In opposition to these penitents, known as the “White Penitents,” the + order of the “Black Penitents” was founded, imbued with the spirit of + opposition of Raymond of Toulouse. + </p> + <p> + From that day forth the religious hatreds developed into political + hatreds. It was not sufficient that Avignon should be the land of heresy. + She was destined to become the theatre of schisms. + </p> + <p> + Permit us, in connection with this French Rome, a short historical + digression. Strictly speaking, it is not essential to the subject of which + we treat, and we were perhaps wiser to launch ourselves immediately into + the heart of the drama; but we trust that we will be forgiven. We write + more particularly for those who, in a novel, like occasionally to meet + with something more than fiction. + </p> + <p> + In 1285 Philippe le Bel ascended the throne. + </p> + <p> + It is a great historical date, this date of 1285. The papacy which, in the + person of Gregory VII., successfully opposed the Emperor of Germany; the + papacy which, vanquished in matters temporal by Henry IV., yet vanquished + him morally. This papacy was slapped by a simple Sabine gentleman, and the + steel gauntlet of Colonna reddened the cheek of Boniface VIII. But the + King of France, whose hand had really dealt this blow, what happened to + him under the successor of Boniface VIII.? + </p> + <p> + This successor was Benedict XI., a man of low origin, but who might + perhaps have developed into a man of genius, had they allowed him the + time. Too weak for an open struggle with Philippe le Bel, he found a means + which would have been the envy of the founder of a celebrated order two + hundred years later. He pardoned Colonna openly. + </p> + <p> + To pardon Colonna was to declare Colonna culpable, since culprits alone + have need of pardon. If Colonna were guilty, the King of France was at + least his accomplice. + </p> + <p> + There was some danger in supporting such an argument; also Benedict XI. + was pope but eight months. One day a veiled woman, a pretended lay-sister + of Sainte-Petronille at Perugia, came to him while he was at table, + offering him a basket of figs. Did it conceal an asp like Cleopatra’s? The + fact is that on the morrow the Holy See was vacant. + </p> + <p> + Then Philippe le Bel had a strange idea; so strange that it must, at + first, have seemed an hallucination. + </p> + <p> + It was to withdraw the papacy from Rome, to install it in France, to put + it in jail, and force it to coin money for his profit. + </p> + <p> + The reign of Philippe le Bel was the advent of gold. Gold! that was the + sole and unique god of this king who had slapped a pope. Saint Louis had a + priest, the worthy Abbé Suger, for minister; Philippe le Bel had two + bankers, two Florentines, Biscio and Musiato. + </p> + <p> + Do you expect, dear reader, that we are about to fall into the + philosophical commonplace of anathematizing gold? You are mistaken. + </p> + <p> + In the thirteenth century gold meant progress. Until then nothing was + known but the soil. Gold was the soil converted into money, the soil + mobilized, exchangeable, transportable, divisible, subtilized, + spiritualized, as it were. + </p> + <p> + So long as the soil was not represented by gold, man, like the god + Thermes, that landmark of the fields, had his feet imprisoned by the + earth. Formerly the earth bore man, to-day man bears the earth. + </p> + <p> + But this gold had to be abstracted from its hiding-place, and it was + hidden far otherwise than in the mines of Chile or Mexico. All the gold + was in the possession of the churches and the Jews. To extract it from + this double mine it needed more than a king; it required a pope. + </p> + <p> + And that is why Philippe le Bel, that great exploiter of gold, resolved to + have a pope of his own. Benedict XI. dead, a conclave was held at Perugia; + at this conclave the French cardinals were in the majority. Philippe le + Bel cast his eyes upon the Archbishop of Bordeaux, Bertrand de Got, and to + him he gave rendezvous in a forest near Saint-Jean d’Angely. + </p> + <p> + Bertrand de Got took heed not to miss that appointment. + </p> + <p> + The King and the Archbishop heard mass there, and at the moment when the + Host was elevated, they bound themselves by this God they glorified to + absolute secrecy. Bertrand de Got was still ignorant of the matter in + question. Mass over, Philippe le Bel said: + </p> + <p> + “Archbishop, I have it in my power to make thee pope.” + </p> + <p> + Bertrand de Got listened no longer, but cast himself at the King’s feet, + saying: + </p> + <p> + “What must I do to obtain this?” + </p> + <p> + “Accord me the six favors which I shall ask of thee,” replied Philippe le + Bel. + </p> + <p> + “It’s for thee to command and for me to obey,” said the future Pope. + </p> + <p> + The vow of servitude was taken. + </p> + <p> + The King raised Bertrand de Got, and, kissing him on the mouth, said: + </p> + <p> + “The six favors which I demand of thee are these: First, thou shalt + reconcile me completely with the Church, and grant me pardon for the + misdeed that I committed toward Boniface VIII. Second, thou shalt restore + to me and mine the right of communion of which the Court of Rome deprived + me. Third, thou shalt grant me the clergy’s tithe in my kingdom for the + next five years, to help defray the expenses of the war in Flanders. + Fourth, thou shalt destroy and annul the memory of Pope Boniface VIII. + Fifth, thou shalt bestow the dignity of cardinal upon Messires Jacopo and + Pietro de Colonna. As to the sixth favor and promise, that I shall reserve + to speak to thee thereof in its time and place.” + </p> + <p> + Bertrand de Got swore to the promises and favors known, and to the promise + and favor unknown. This last, which the King had not dared to mention in + connection with the others, was the abolition of the Knights Templar. + Besides the promises made on the Corpus Domini, Bertrand de Got gave as + hostages his brother and two of his nephews. The King swore on his side + that he should be elected pope. + </p> + <p> + This scene, set in the deep shadows of a crossroad in the forest, + resembled rather an evocation between magician and demon than an agreement + entered upon between king and pope. + </p> + <p> + Also the coronation of the King, which took place shortly afterward at + Lyons, and which began the Church’s captivity, seemed but little agreeable + to God. Just as the royal procession was passing, a wall crowded with + spectators fell, wounding the King and killing the Duc de Bretagne. The + Pope was thrown to the ground, and his tiara rolled in the mud. + </p> + <p> + Bertrand de Got was elected pope under the name of Clement V. + </p> + <p> + Clement V. paid all that Bertrand de Got had promised. Philippe was + absolved, Holy Communion restored to him and his, the purple again + descended upon the shoulders of the Colonna, the Church was obliged to + defray the expenses of the war in Flanders and Philippe de Valois’s + crusade against the Greek Empire. The memory of Pope Boniface VIII. was, + if not destroyed and annulled, at least besmirched; the walls of the + Temple were razed, and the Templars burned on the open space of the Pont + Neuf. + </p> + <p> + All these edicts—they were no longer called bulls from the moment + the temporal power dictated them—all these edicts were dated at + Avignon. + </p> + <p> + Philippe le Bel was the richest of all the kings of the French monarchy; + he possessed an inexhaustible treasury, that is to say, his pope. He had + purchased him, he used him, he put him to the press, and as cider flows + from apples, so did this crushed pope bleed gold. The pontificate, struck + by the Colonna in the person of Boniface VIII., abdicated the empire of + the world in the person of Clement V. + </p> + <p> + We have related the advent of the king of blood and the pope of gold. We + know how they ended. Jacques de Molay, from his funeral pyre, adjured them + both to appear before God within the year. <i>Ae to geron sithullia</i>, + says Aristophanes. “Dying hoary heads possess the souls of sibyls.” + </p> + <p> + Clement V. departed first. In a vision he saw his palace in flames. “From + that moment,” says Baluze, “he became sad and lasted but a short time.” + </p> + <p> + Seven months later it was Philippe’s turn. Some say that he was killed + while hunting, overthrown by a wild boar. Dante is among their number. + “He,” said he, “who was seen near the Seine falsifying the coin of the + realm shall die by the tusk of a boar.” But Guillaume de Nangis makes the + royal counterfeiter die of a death quite otherwise providential. + </p> + <p> + “Undermined by a malady unknown to the physicians, Philippe expired,” said + he, “to the great astonishment of everybody, without either his pulse or + his urine revealing the cause of his malady or the imminence of the + danger.” + </p> + <p> + The King of Debauchery, the King of Uproar, Louis X., called the Hutin, + succeeded his father, Philippe le Bel; John XXII. to Clement V. + </p> + <p> + Avignon then became in truth a second Rome. John XXII. and Clement VI. + anointed her queen of luxury. The manners and customs of the times made + her queen of debauchery and indulgence. In place of her towers, razed by + Romain de Saint-Angelo, Hernandez de Héredi, grand master of Saint-Jean of + Jerusalem, girdled her with a belt of walls. She possessed dissolute + monks, who transformed the blessed precincts of her convents into places + of debauchery and licentiousness; her beautiful courtesans tore the + diamonds from the tiara to make of them bracelets and necklaces; and + finally she possessed the echoes of Vaucluse, which wafted the melodious + strains of Petrarch’s songs to her. + </p> + <p> + This lasted until King Charles V., who was a virtuous and pious prince, + having resolved to put an end to the scandal, sent the Maréchal de + Boucicaut to drive out the anti-pope, Benedict XIII., from Avignon. But at + sight of the soldiers of the King of France the latter remembered that + before being pope under the name of Benedict XIII. he had been captain + under the name of Pierre de Luna. For five months he defended himself, + pointing his engines of war with his own hands from the heights of the + château walls, engines otherwise far more murderous than his pontifical + bolts. At last forced to flee, he left the city by a postern, after having + ruined a hundred houses and killed four thousand Avignonese, and fled to + Spain, where the King of Aragon offered him sanctuary. + </p> + <p> + There each morning, from the summit of a tower, assisted by the two + priests who constituted his sacred college, he blessed the whole world, + which was none the better for it, and excommunicated his enemies, who were + none the worse for it. At last, feeling himself nigh to death, and fearing + lest the schism die with him, he elected his two vicars cardinals on the + condition that after his death one of the two would elect the other pope. + The election was made. The new pope, supported by the cardinal who made + him, continued the schism for awhile. Finally both entered into + negotiations with Rome, made honorable amends, and returned to the fold of + Holy Church, one with the title of Arch bishop of Seville, the other as + Archbishop of Toledo. + </p> + <p> + From this time until 1790 Avignon, widowed of her popes, was governed by + legates and vice-legates. Seven sovereign pontiffs had resided within her + walls some seven decades; she had seven hospitals, seven fraternities of + penitents, seven monasteries, seven convents, seven parishes, and seven + cemeteries. + </p> + <p> + To those who know Avignon there was at that epoch—there is yet—two + cities within a city: the city of the priests, that is to say, the Roman + city, and the city of the merchants, that is to say, the French city. The + city of the priests, with its papal palace, its hundred churches, its + innumerable bell-towers, ever ready to sound the tocsin of conflagration, + the knell of slaughter. The town of the merchants, with its Rhone, its + silk-workers, its crossroads, extending north, east, south and west, from + Lyons to Marseilles, from Nimes to Turin. The French city, the accursed + city, longing for a king, jealous of its liberties, shuddering beneath its + yoke of vassalage, a vassalage of the priests with the clergy for its + lord. + </p> + <p> + The clergy—not the pious clergy, tolerantly austere in the practice + of its duty and charity, living in the world to console and edify it, + without mingling in its joys and passions—but a clergy such as + intrigue, cupidity, and ambition had made it; that is to say, the court + abbés, rivalling the Roman priests, indolent, libertine, elegant, + impudent, kings of fashion, autocrats of the salon, kissing the hands of + those ladies of whom they boasted themselves the paramours, giving their + hands to kiss to the women of the people whom they honored by making their + mistresses. + </p> + <p> + Do you want a type of those abbés? Take the Abbé Maury. Proud as a duke, + insolent as a lackey, the son of a shoemaker, more aristocratic than the + son of a great lord. + </p> + <p> + One understands that these two categories of inhabitants, representing the + one heresy, the other orthodoxy; the one the French party, the other the + Roman party; the one the party of absolute monarchy, the other that of + progressive constitutionalism, were not elements conducive to the peace + and security of this ancient pontifical city. One understands, we say, + that at the moment when the revolution broke out in Paris, and manifested + itself by the taking of the Bastille, that the two parties, hot from the + religious wars of Louis XIV., could not remain inert in the presence of + each other. + </p> + <p> + We have said, Avignon, city of priests; let us add, city of hatreds. + Nowhere better than in convent towns does one learn to hate. The heart of + the child, everywhere else free from wicked passions, was born there full + of paternal hatreds, inherited from father to son for the last eight + hundred years, and after a life of hate, bequeathed in its turn, a + diabolical heritage, to his children. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, at the first cry of liberty which rang through France the + French town rose full of joy and hope. The moment had come at last for her + to contest aloud that concession made by a young queen, a minor, in + expiation of her sins, of a city and a province, and with it half a + million souls. By what right had she sold these souls in æternum to the + hardest and most exacting of all masters, the Roman Pontiff? + </p> + <p> + All France was hastening to assemble in the fraternal embrace of the + Federation at the Champ de Mars. Was she not France? Her sons ejected + delegates to wait upon the legate and request him respectfully to leave + the city, giving him twenty-four hours in which to do so. + </p> + <p> + During the night the papists amused themselves by hanging from a gibbet an + effigy of straw wearing the tri-color cockade. + </p> + <p> + The course of the Rhone has been controlled, the Durance canalled, dikes + have been built to restrain the fierce torrents, which, at the melting of + the snows, pour in liquid avalanches from the summits of Mt. Ventoux. But + this terrible flood, this living flood, this human torrent that rushed + leaping through the rapid inclines of the streets of Avignon, once + released, once flooding, not even God Himself has yet sought to stay it. + </p> + <p> + At sight of this manikin with the national colors, dancing at the end of a + cord, the French city rose upon its very foundations with terrible cries + of rage. Four papist, suspected of this sacrilege, two marquises, one + burgher, and a workman, were torn from their homes and hung in the + manikin’s stead. This occurred the eleventh of June, 1790. + </p> + <p> + The whole French town wrote to the National Assembly that she gave herself + to France, and with her the Rhone, her commerce, the Midi, and the half of + Provence. + </p> + <p> + The National Assembly was in one of its reactionary moods. It did not wish + to quarrel with the Pope; it dallied with the King, and the matter was + adjourned. From that moment the rising became a revolt, and the Pope was + free to do with Avignon what the court might have done with Paris, if the + Assembly had delayed its proclamation of the Rights of Man. The Pope + ordered the annulment of all that had occurred at the Comtat Venaissin, + the re-establishment of the privileges of the nobles and clergy, and the + reinstallation of the Inquisition in all its rigor. The pontifical decrees + were affixed to the walls. + </p> + <p> + One man, one only, in broad daylight dared to go straight to the walls, in + face of all, and tear down the decree. His name was Lescuyer. He was not a + young man; and therefore it was not the fire of youth that impelled him. + No, he was almost an old man who did not even belong to the province. He + was a Frenchman from Picardy, ardent yet reflective, a former notary long + since established at Avignon. + </p> + <p> + It was a crime that Roman Avignon remembered; a crime so great that the + Virgin wept! + </p> + <p> + You see Avignon is another Italy. She must have her miracles, and if God + will not perform them, so surely will some one be at hand to invent them. + Still further, the miracle must be a miracle pertaining to the Virgin. La + Madonna! the mind, the heart, the tongue of the Italians are full of these + two words. + </p> + <p> + It was in the Church of the Cordeliers that this miracle occurred. The + crowd rushed there. It was much that the Virgin should weep; but a rumor + spread at the same time that brought the excitement to a climax. A large + coffer, tightly sealed, had been carried through the city; this chest had + excited the curiosity of all Avignon. What did it contain? Two hours later + it was no longer a coffer; but eighteen trunks had been seen going toward + the Rhone. As for their contents, a porter had revealed that; they + contained articles from the Mont-de-Piété that the French party were + taking with them into exile. Articles from the Mont-de-Piété, that is to + say, the spoils of the poor! The poorer the city the richer its + pawn-shops. Few could boast such wealth as those of Avignon. It was no + longer a factional affair, it was a theft, an infamous theft. Whites and + Reds rushed to the Church of the Cordeliers, shouting that the + municipality must render them an accounting. + </p> + <p> + Lescuyer was the secretary of the municipality. His name was thrown to the + crowd, not for having torn down the pontifical decrees—from that + moment he would have had defenders—but for having signed the order + to the keeper of the Mont-de-Piété permitting the removal of the articles + in pawn. + </p> + <p> + Four men were sent to seize Lescuyer and bring him to the church. They + found him in the street on his way to the municipality. The four men fell + upon him and dragged him to the church with the most ferocious cries. Once + there, Lescuyer understood from the flaming eyes that met his, from the + clinched fists threatening him, the shrieks demanding his death; Lescuyer + understood that instead of being in the house of the Lord he was in one of + those circles of hell forgotten by Dante. + </p> + <p> + The only idea that occurred to him as to this hatred against him was that + he had caused it by tearing down the pontifical decrees. He climbed into + the pulpit, expecting to convert it into a seat of justice, and in the + voice of a man who not only does not blame himself, but who is even ready + to repeat his action, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Brothers, I consider the revolution necessary; consequently I have done + all in my power—” + </p> + <p> + The fanatics understood that if Lescuyer explained, Lescuyer was saved. + That was not what they wanted. They flung themselves upon him, tore him + from the pulpit, and thrust him into the midst of this howling mob, who + dragged him to the altar with that sort of terrible cry which combines the + hiss of the serpent and the roar of the tiger, the murderous zou! zou! + peculiar to the people of Avignon. + </p> + <p> + Lescuyer recognized that fatal cry; he endeavored to gain refuge at the + foot of the altar. He found none; he fell there. + </p> + <p> + A laborer, armed with a stick, dealt him such a blow on the head that the + stick broke in two pieces. Then the people hurled themselves upon the poor + body, and, with that mixture of gayety and ferocity peculiar to Southern + people, the men began to dance on his stomach, singing, while the women, + that he might better expiate his blasphemies against the Pope, cut or + rather scalloped his lips with their scissors. + </p> + <p> + And out of the midst of this frightful group came a cry, or rather a + groan; this death groan said: “In the name of Heaven! in the name of the + Virgin! in the name of humanity! kill me at once.” + </p> + <p> + This cry was heard, and by common consent the assassins stood aside. They + left the unfortunate man bleeding, disfigured, mangled, to taste of his + death agony. + </p> + <p> + This lasted five hours, during which, amid shouts of laughter, insults, + and jeers from the crowd, this poor body lay palpitating upon the steps of + the altar. That is how they kill at Avignon. + </p> + <p> + Stay! there is yet another way. A man of the French party conceived the + idea of going to the Mont-de-Piété for information. Everything was in + order there, not a fork or a spoon had been removed. It was therefore not + as an accomplice of theft that Lescuyer had just been so cruelly murdered, + it was for being a patriot. + </p> + <p> + There was at that time in Avignon a man who controlled the populace. All + these terrible leaders of the Midi have acquired such fatal celebrity that + it suffices to name them for every one, even the least educated, to know + them. This man was Jourdan. Braggart and liar, he had made the common + people believe that it was he who had cut off the head of the governor of + the Bastille. So they called him Jourdan, Coupe-tête. That was not his + real name, which was Mathieu Jouve. Neither was he a Provencal; he came + from Puy-en-Velay. He had formerly been a muleteer on those rugged heights + which surround his native town; then a soldier without going to war—war + had perhaps made him more human; after that he had kept a drink-shop in + Paris. In Avignon he had been a vendor of madder. + </p> + <p> + He collected three hundred men, carried the gates of the town, left half + of his troop to guard them, and with the remainder marched upon the Church + of the Cordeliers, preceded by two pieces of cannon. These he stationed in + front of the church and fired them into it at random. The assassins fled + like a flock of frightened birds, leaving some few dead upon the church + steps. Jourdan and his men trampled over the bodies and entered the holy + precincts. No one was there but the Virgin, and the wretched Lescuyer, + still breathing. Jourdan and his comrades took good care not to despatch + Lescuyer; his death agony was a supreme means of exciting the mob. They + picked up this remnant of a sentient being, three-quarters dead, and + carried it along, bleeding, quivering, gasping, with them. + </p> + <p> + Every one fled from the sight, closing doors and windows. At the end of an + hour, Jourdan and his three hundred men were masters of the town. + </p> + <p> + Lescuyer was dead, but what of that; they no longer needed his agony. + Jourdan profited by the terror he had inspired to arrest or have arrested + eighty people, murderers, or so-called murderers of Lescuyer. Thirty, + perhaps, had never even set foot within the church. But when one has such + a good opportunity to be rid of one’s enemies, one must profit by it; good + opportunities are rare. + </p> + <p> + These eighty people were huddled into the Trouillas Tower. Historically it + is known as the Tower de la Glacière; but why change this name of the + Trouillas Tower? The name is unclean and harmonizes well with the unclean + deed which was now to be perpetrated there. + </p> + <p> + It had been the scene of the inquisitorial tortures. One can still see on + the walls the greasy soot which rose from the smoke of the funeral pyre + where human bodies were consumed. They still show you to-day the + instruments of torture which they have carefully preserved—the + caldron, the oven, the wooden horse, the chains, the dungeons, and even + the rotten bones. Nothing is wanting. + </p> + <p> + It was in this tower, built by Clement V., that they now confined the + eighty prisoners. These eighty men, once arrested and locked up in the + Trouillas Tower, became most embarrassing. Who was to judge them? There + were no legally constituted courts except those of the Pope. Could they + kill these unfortunates as they had killed Lescuyer? + </p> + <p> + We have said that a third, perhaps half of them, had not only taken no + part in the murder, but had not even set foot in the church. How should + they kill them? The killing must be placed upon the basis of reprisals. + But the killing of these eighty people required a certain number of + executioners. + </p> + <p> + A species of tribunal was improvised by Jourdan and held session in one of + the law-courts. It had a clerk named Raphel; a president, half Italian, + half French; an orator in the popular dialect named Barbe Savournin de la + Roua, and three or four other poor devils, a baker, a pork butcher—their + names are lost in the multitude of events. + </p> + <p> + These were the men who cried: “We must kill all! If one only escapes he + will be a witness against us.” + </p> + <p> + But, as we have said, executioners were wanting. There were barely twenty + men at hand in the courtyard, all belonging to the petty tradesfolk of + Avignon—a barber, a shoemaker, a cobbler, a mason, and an + upholsterer—all insufficiently armed at random, the one with a + sabre, the other with a bayonet, a third with an iron bar, and a fourth + with a bit of wood hardened by fire. All of these people were chilled by a + fine October rain. It would be difficult to turn them into assassins. + </p> + <p> + Pooh! Is anything too difficult for the devil? + </p> + <p> + There comes an hour in such crises when God seems to abandon the earth. + Then the devil’s chance comes. + </p> + <p> + The devil in person entered this cold, muddy courtyard. Assuming the + features, form and face of an apothecary of the neighborhood named Mendes, + he prepared a table lighted by two lanterns, on which he placed glasses, + jugs, pitchers and bottles. + </p> + <p> + What infernal beverage did these mysterious and curiously formed + receptacles contain? No one ever knew, but the result is well known. All + those who drank that diabolical liquor were suddenly seized with a + feverish rage, a lust of blood and murder. From that moment it was only + necessary to show them the door; they hurtled madly into the dungeon. + </p> + <p> + The massacre lasted all night; all night the cries, the sobs, the groans + of the dying sounded through the darkness. All were killed, all + slaughtered, men and women. It was long in doing; the killers, we have + said, were drunk and poorly armed. But they succeeded. + </p> + <p> + Among these butchers was a child remarked for his bestial cruelty, his + immoderate thirst for blood. It was Lescuyer’s son. He killed and then + killed again; he boasted of having with his childish hand alone killed ten + men and four women. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right! I can kill as I like,” said he. “I am not yet fifteen, so + they can do nothing to me for it.” + </p> + <p> + As the killing progressed, they threw their victims, the living, dead and + wounded, into the Trouillas Tower, some sixty feet, down into the pit. The + men were thrown in first, and the women later. The assassins wanted time + to violate the bodies of those who were young and pretty. At nine in the + morning, after twelve hours of massacre, a voice was still heard crying + from the depths of the sepulchre: + </p> + <p> + “For pity’s sake, come kill me! I cannot die.” + </p> + <p> + A man, the armorer Bouffier, bent over the pit and looked down. The others + did not dare. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that crying?” they asked. + </p> + <p> + “That was Lami,” replied Bouffier. Then, when he had returned, they asked + him: + </p> + <p> + “Well, what did you see at the bottom?” + </p> + <p> + “A queer marmalade,” said he. “Men and women, priests and pretty girls, + all helter-skelter. It’s enough to make one die of laughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly man is a vile creature,” said the Count of Monte-Cristo to M. + de Villefort. + </p> + <p> + Well, it is in this town, still reeking with blood, still warm, still + stirred by these last massacres, that we now introduce two of the + principal personages of our story. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. A TABLE D’HÔTE + </h2> + <p> + The 9th of October, 1799, on a beautiful day of that meridional autumn + which ripens the oranges of Hyères and the grapes of Saint-Peray, at the + two extremities of Provence, a travelling chaise, drawn by three post + horses, galloped at full speed over the bridge that crosses the Durance, + between Cavailhon and Château-Renard, on its way to Avignon, the ancient + papal city which a decree, issued the 25th of May, 1791, eight years + earlier, had reunited to France—a reunion confirmed by the treaty + signed in 1797, at Tolentino, between General Bonaparte and Pope Pius VI. + </p> + <p> + The carriage entered by the gate of Aix and, without slackening speed, + traversed the entire length of the town, with its narrow, winding streets, + built to ward off both wind and sun, and halted at fifty paces from the + Porte d’Oulle, at the Hotel du Palais-Egalité, which they were again + beginning to quietly rename the Hotel du Palais-Royal, a name which it + bore formerly and still bears to-day. + </p> + <p> + These few insignificant words about the name of the inn, before which + halted the post-chaise which we had in view, indicate sufficiently well + the state of France under the government of the Thermidorian reaction, + called the Directory. + </p> + <p> + After the revolutionary struggle which had occurred between the 14th of + July, 1789, and the 9th Thermidor, 1794; after the days of the 5th and 6th + of October, of the 21st of June, of the 10th of August, of the 2d and 3d + of September, of the 21st of May, of the 29th Thermidor and the 1st + Prairial; after seeing fall the heads of the King and his judges, and the + Queen and her accusers, of the Girondins and the Cordeliers, the Moderates + and the Jacobins, France experienced that most frightful and most nauseous + of all lassitudes, the lassitude of blood! + </p> + <p> + She had therefore returned, if not to a need of monarchy, at least to a + desire for a stable government, in which she might place her confidence, + upon which she might lean, which would act for her, and which would permit + her some repose while it acted. + </p> + <p> + In the stead of this vaguely desired government, the country obtained the + feeble and irresolute Directory, composed for the moment of the voluptuous + Barrès, the intriguing Sièyes, the brave Moulins, the insignificant Roger + Ducos, and the honest but somewhat too ingenuous Gohier. The result was a + mediocre dignity before the world at large and a very questionable + tranquillity at home. + </p> + <p> + It is true that at the moment of which we write our armies, so glorious + during those epic campaigns of 1796 and 1797, thrown back for a time upon + France by the incapacity of Scherer at Verona and Cassano, and by the + defeat and death of Joubert at Novi, were beginning to resume the + offensive. Moreau had defeated Souvarow at Bassignano; Brune had defeated + the Duke of York and General Hermann at Bergen; Masséna had annihilated + the Austro-Russians at Zurich; Korsakof had escaped only with the greatest + difficulty; the Austrian, Hotz, with three other generals, were killed, + and five made prisoners. Masséna saved France at Zurich, as Villars, + ninety years earlier, had saved it at Denain. + </p> + <p> + But in the interior, matters were not in so promising a state, and the + government of the Directory was, it must be confessed, much embarrassed + between the war in the Vendée and the brigandages of the Midi, to which, + according to custom, the population of Avignon were far from remaining + strangers. + </p> + <p> + Beyond doubt the two travellers who descended from the carriage at the + door of the Hotel du Palais-Royal had reason to fear the state of mind in + which the always excitable papal town might be at that time; for just + before reaching Orgon, at a spot where three crossroads stretched out + before the traveller—one leading to Nimes, the second to Carpentras, + the third to Avignon—the postilion had stopped his horses, and, + turning round, asked: + </p> + <p> + “Will the citizens go by way of Avignon or Carpentras?” + </p> + <p> + “Which of the two roads is the shorter?” asked the elder of the two + travellers in a harsh, strident voice. Though visibly the elder, he was + scarcely thirty years of age. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the road to Avignon, citizen, by a good four miles at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he had replied, “go by way of Avignon.” + </p> + <p> + And the carriage had started again at a gallop, which proclaimed that the + citizen travellers, as the postilion called them, although the title of + Monsieur was beginning to reappear in conversation, paid a fee of at least + thirty sous. + </p> + <p> + The same desire to lose no time manifested itself at the hotel entrance. + There, as on the road, it was the elder of the two travellers who spoke. + He asked if they could dine at once, and the way this demand was made + indicated that he was ready to overlook many gastronomical exigencies + provided that the repast in question be promptly served. + </p> + <p> + “Citizens,” replied the landlord, who, at the sound of carriage wheels + hastened, napkin in hand, to greet the travellers, “you will be promptly + and comfortably served in your room; but if you will permit me to advise—” + He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go on! go on!” said the younger of the travellers, speaking for the + first time. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it would be that you dine at the table d’hôte, like the traveller + for whom this coach, already harnessed, is waiting. The dinner is + excellent and all served.” + </p> + <p> + The host at the same time indicated a comfortably appointed carriage, to + which were harnessed two horses who were pawing the ground, while the + postilion sought patience in the bottle of Cahors wine he was emptying + near the window-ledge. The first movement of him to whom this proposal was + made was negative; nevertheless, after a second’s reflection, the elder of + the two travellers, as if he had reconsidered his first decision, made an + interrogative sign to his companion, who replied with a look which + signified, “You know that I am at your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, so be it,” said the other, “we will dine at the table d’hôte.” + Then, turning to the postilion, who, hat in hand, awaited his order, he + added, “Let the horses be ready in a half hour, at the latest.” + </p> + <p> + And the landlord pointing out the way, they both entered the dining-room, + the elder of the two walking first, the other following him. + </p> + <p> + Everyone knows the impression generally produced at a table d’hôte by + new-comers. All eyes were bent upon them and the conversation, which + seemed to be quite animated, stopped. + </p> + <p> + The guests consisted of the frequenters of the hotel, the traveller whose + carriage was waiting harnessed at the door, a wine merchant from Bordeaux, + sojourning temporarily at Avignon for reasons we shall shortly relate, and + a certain number of travellers going from Marseilles to Lyons by + diligence. + </p> + <p> + The new arrivals greeted the company with a slight inclination of the + head, and sat down at the extreme end of the table, thereby isolating + themselves from the other guests by three or four empty places. This + seemingly aristocratic reserve redoubled the curiosity of which they were + the object; moreover, they were obviously people of unquestionable + distinction, although their garments were simple in the extreme. Both wore + hightop boots and breeches, long-tailed coats, travelling overcoats and + broad-brimmed hats, the usual costume of the young men of that day. But + that which distinguished them from the fashionables of Paris, and even of + the provinces, was their long straight hair, and their black stocks + buckled round the neck, military fashion. The Muscadins—that was the + name then given to young dandies—the Muscadins wore dogs’ ears + puffing at the temples, the rest of the hair combed up tightly in a bag at + the back, and an immense cravat with long floating ends, in which the chin + was completely buried. Some had even extended this reaction to powder. + </p> + <p> + As to the personality of the two young men, they presented two + diametrically opposite types. + </p> + <p> + The elder of the two, he who, as we have already remarked, had taken the + initiative several times, and whose voice, even in its most familiar + intonations, denoted the habit of command, was about thirty years of age. + His black hair was parted in the middle, falling straight from his temples + to his shoulders. He had the swarthy skin of a man who has travelled long + in southern climes, thin lips, a straight nose, white teeth, and those + hawk-like eyes which Dante gives to Cæsar. He was short rather than tall, + his hand was delicate, his foot slender and elegant. His manner betrayed a + certain awkwardness, suggesting that he was at the moment wearing a + costume to which he was not accustomed, and when he spoke, his hearers, + had they been beside the Loire instead of the Rhone, would have detected a + certain Italian accent in his pronunciation. + </p> + <p> + His companion seemed to be some three or four years younger than he. He + was a handsome young man with a rosy complexion, blond hair and light blue + eyes, a straight, firm nose and prominent but almost beardless chin. He + was perhaps a couple of inches taller than his companion, and though his + figure was somewhat above medium height, he was so well proportioned, so + admirably free in his movements, that he was evidently if not + extraordinarily strong, at least uncommonly agile and dexterous. Although + attired in the same manner and apparently on a footing of equality, he + evinced remarkable deference to the dark young man, which, as it could not + result from age, was doubtless caused by some inferiority of position. + Moreover, he called his companion citizen, while the other addressed him + as Roland. + </p> + <p> + These remarks which we make to initiate the reader more profoundly into our + story, were probably not made as extensively by the guests at the table + d’hôte; for after bestowing a few seconds of attention upon the + new-comers, they turned their eyes away, and the conversation, interrupted + for an instant, was resumed. It must be confessed that it concerned a + matter most interesting to the travellers—that of the stoppage of a + diligence bearing a sum of sixty thousand francs belonging to the + government. The affair had occurred the day before on the road from + Marseilles to Avignon between Lambesc and Pont-Royal. + </p> + <p> + At the first words referring to this event, the two young men listened + with unmistakable interest. It had taken place on the same road which they + had just followed, and the narrator, the wine merchant of Bordeaux, had + been one of the principal actors in the scene on the highroad. Those who + seemed the most curious to hear the details were the travellers in the + diligence which had just arrived and was soon to depart. The other guests, + who belonged to the locality, seemed sufficiently conversant with such + catastrophes to furnish the details themselves instead of listening to + them. + </p> + <p> + “So, citizen,” said a stout gentleman against whom a tall woman, very thin + and haggard, was crowding in her terror. “You say that the robbery took + place on the very road by which we have just come?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen, between Lambesc and Pont-Royal. Did you notice the spot + where the road ascends between two high banks? There are a great many + rocks there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, my friend,” said the wife, pressing her husband’s arm, “I + noticed it; I even said, as you must remember, ‘Here is a bad place; I + would rather pass here by day than at night.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! madame,” said a young man whose voice affected to slur his r’s after + the fashion of the day, and who probably assumed to lead the conversation + at the table d’hôte, on ordinary occasions, “you know the Companions of + Jehu know no day or night.” + </p> + <p> + “What! citizen,” asked the lady still more alarmed, “were you attacked in + broad daylight?” + </p> + <p> + “In broad daylight, citizeness, at ten o’clock in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “And how many were there?” asked the stout gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Four, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “Ambushed beside the road?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they were on horseback, armed to the teeth and masked.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s their custom,” said the young frequenter of the table d’hôte, “and + they said, did they not: ‘Do not defend yourself, we will not harm you. We + only want the government money.’” + </p> + <p> + “Word for word, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” continued this well-informed young man, “two dismounted from their + horses, flinging their bridles to their comrades, and commanded the + conductor to deliver up the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Citizen,” said the stout man astonished, “you describe the thing as if + you had seen it.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur was there, perhaps,” said one of the travellers, half in jest, + half in earnest. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, citizen, whether in saying that you intend a rudeness,” + carelessly observed the young man who had so pertinently and obligingly + come to the narrator’s assistance, “but my political opinions are such + that I do not consider your suspicion an insult. Had I had the misfortune + to be among those attacked, or the honor to be one of those who made the + attack, I should admit it as frankly in the one case as in the other. But + yesterday at ten o’clock, at precisely the moment when the diligence was + stopped, twelve miles from here, I was breakfasting quietly in this very + seat. And, by-the-bye, with the two citizens who now do me the honor to + sit beside me.” + </p> + <p> + “And,” asked the younger of the two travellers who had lately joined the + table, whom his companion called Roland, “how many men were you in the + diligence?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me think; we were—yes, that’s it—we were seven men and + three women.” + </p> + <p> + “Seven men, not including the conductor?” repeated Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And you seven men allowed yourselves to be plundered by four brigands? I + congratulate you, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “We knew with whom we had to deal,” replied the wine merchant, “and we + took good care not to defend ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “What! with whom you had to deal?” retorted the young man. “Why, it seems + to me, with thieves and bandits.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. They gave their names.” + </p> + <p> + “They gave their names?” + </p> + <p> + “They said, ‘Gentlemen, it is useless to defend yourselves; ladies, do not + be alarmed, we are not bandits, we are Companions of Jehu.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the young man of the table d’hôte, “they warned you that there + might be no misunderstanding. That’s their way.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed!” exclaimed Roland; “and who is this Jehu who has such polite + companions? Is he their captain?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said a man whose dress betrayed somewhat the secularized priest, + and who seemed also to be, not only an habitual guest at the table d’hôte, + but also an initiate into the mysteries of the honorable company whose + merits were then under discussion, “if you were better versed than you + seem to be in the Holy Scriptures, you would know that this Jehu died + something like two thousand six hundred years ago, and that consequently + he cannot at the present time stop coaches on the highways.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur l’Abbé,” replied Roland, who had recognized an ecclesiastic, + “as, in spite of the sharp tone in which you speak, you seem a man of + learning, permit a poor ignoramus to ask you a few details about this + Jehu, dead these two thousand six hundred years, who, nevertheless, is + honored by followers bearing his name.” + </p> + <p> + “Jehu!” replied the churchman, in the same sour tone, “was a King of + Israel anointed by Elisha, on condition that he punish the crimes of the + house of Ahab and Jezbel, and put to death the priests of Baal.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur l’Abbé,” replied the young man laughing, “I thank you for the + explanation. I don’t doubt it is correct, and, above all, very learned. + But I must admit it doesn’t tell me much.” + </p> + <p> + “What, citizen!” exclaimed the abbé, “don’t you understand that Jehu is + his Majesty Louis XVIII., anointed on condition that he punish the crimes + of the Revolution and put to death all the priests of Baal; that is to + say, all those who had taken any part whatsoever in the abominable state + of things which, for these last seven years, has been called the + republic?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed!” exclaimed the young man; “of course I understand. But among + those whom the Companions of Jehu are appointed to fight, do you reckon + the brave soldiers who have repulsed the enemy along the frontiers of + France, and the illustrious generals who have commanded the armies of the + Tyrol, the Sambre-and-Meuse, and of Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, beyond doubt, those foremost and before all.” + </p> + <p> + The young man’s eyes flashed lightning; his nostrils quivered and his lips + tightened. He rose from his chair, but his comrade touched his coat and + forced him to sit down again, while with a single glance he silenced him. + Then he who had thus given proof of his power, speaking for the first + time, addressed the young man of the table d’hôte. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen, excuse two travellers who are just arrived from the end of the + earth, from America, or India as it were. Absent from France these last + two years; we are completely ignorant of all that has occurred here, and + most desirous to obtain information.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as to that,” replied the young man, to whom these words were + addressed, “that is but fair, citizen. Question us and we will answer + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued the dark young man with the eagle eye, the straight + black hair, and the granite complexion, “now that I know who Jehu is, and + to what end his company was instituted, I should like to know what his + companions do with the money they take.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that is very simple, citizen. You know there is much talk of the + restoration of the Bourbon monarchy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not know it,” replied the dark young man, in a tone which he + vainly strove to render artless; “I am but just arrived, as I told you, + from the end of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you did not know that? Well, six months hence it will be an + accomplished fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” + </p> + <p> + “I have the honor to tell you so, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + The two soldier-like young men exchanged a glance and a smile, though the + young blond one was apparently chafing under the weight of his extreme + impatience. + </p> + <p> + Their informant continued: “Lyons is the headquarters of the conspiracy, + if one can call conspiracy a plot which was organized openly. ‘The + provisional government’ would be a more suitable word.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, citizen,” said the dark young man with a politeness not + wholly exempt from satire, “let us call it ‘provisional government.’” + </p> + <p> + “This provisional government has its staff and its armies.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! its staff perhaps—but its armies—” + </p> + <p> + “Its armies, I repeat.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “One is being organized in the mountains of Auvergne, under the orders of + M. de Chardon; another in the Jura Mountains, under M. Teyssonnet; and, + finally, a third is operating most successfully at this time, in the + Vendée, under the orders of Escarboville, Achille Leblond and Cadoudal.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, citizen, you render me a real service in telling me this. I + thought the Bourbons completely resigned to their exile. I supposed the + police so organized as to suppress both provisional royalist committees in + the large towns and bandits on the highways. In fact, I believed the + Vendée had been completely pacificated by Hoche.” + </p> + <p> + The young man to whom this reply was addressed burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Why, where do you come from?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I told you, citizen, from the end of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems.” Then he continued: “You understand, the Bourbons are not + rich, the émigrés whose property was confiscated are ruined. It is + impossible to organize two armies and maintain a third without money. The + royalists faced an embarrassing problem; the republic alone could pay for + its enemies’ troops and, it being improbable that she would do so of her + own volition, the shady negotiation was abandoned, and it was adjudged + quicker to take the money without permission than to ask her for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I understand at last.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s very fortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “Companions of Jehu then are the intermediaries between the Republic and + the Counter-Revolution, the tax-collectors of the royalist generals?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It is not robbery, but a military operation, rather a feat of arms + like any other. So there you are, citizen, and now you are as well + informed on this point as ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” timidly hazarded the wine merchant of Bordeaux, “if the Companions + of Jehu—observe that I say nothing against them—want the + government money—” + </p> + <p> + “The government money, no other. Individual plunder on their part is + unheard of.” + </p> + <p> + “How does it happen, then, that yesterday, in addition to the government + money, they carried off two hundred louis of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” replied the young man of the table d’hôte, “I have already + told you that there is some mistake. As surely as my name is Alfred de + Barjols, this money will be returned to you some day.” + </p> + <p> + The wine merchant heaved a sigh and shook his head, as if, in spite of + that assurance, he still retained some doubts. But at this moment, as if + the promise given by the young noble, who had just revealed his social + position by telling his name, had stirred the delicacy of those whom he + thus guaranteed, a horse stopped at the entrance, steps were heard in the + corridor, the dining-room door opened, and a masked man, armed to the + teeth, appeared on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said he, in the profound silence occasioned by his + apparition, “is there a traveller here named Jean Picot, who was in the + diligence that was held up yesterday between Lambesc and Pont-Royal?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the wine merchant, amazed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you he?” asked the masked man. + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Was anything taken from you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, two hundred louis, which I had intrusted to the conductor.” + </p> + <p> + “And I may add,” said the young noble, “that the gentleman was speaking of + it at this very moment. He looked upon it as lost.” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman was wrong,” said the masked unknown, “we war upon the + government and not against individuals. We are partisans and not robbers. + Here are your two hundred Louis, sir, and if a similar mistake should + occur in the future, claim your loss, mentioning the name of Morgan.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the masked individual deposited a bag of gold beside the wine + merchant, bowed courteously to the other guests, and went out, leaving + some terrified and others bewildered by such daring. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. AN ITALIAN PROVERB + </h2> + <p> + Although the two sentiments which we have just indicated were the dominant + ones, they did not manifest themselves to an equal degree in all present. + The shades were graduated according to the sex, age, character, we may + almost say, the social positions of the hearers. The wine merchant, Jean + Picot, the principal personage in the late event, recognizing at first + sight by his dress, weapons, mask, one of the men who had stopped the + coach on the preceding day, was at first sight stupefied, then little by + little, as he grasped the purport of this mysterious brigand’s visit to + him, he had passed from stupefaction to joy, through the intermediate + phases separating these two emotions. His bag of gold was beside him, yet + he seemingly dared not touch it; perhaps he feared that the instant his + hand went forth toward it, it would melt like the dream-gold which + vanishes during that period of progressive lucidity which separates + profound slumber from thorough awakening. + </p> + <p> + The stout gentleman of the diligence and his wife had displayed, like + their travelling companions, the most absolute and complete terror. Seated + to the left of Jean Picot, when the bandit approached the wine merchant, + the husband, in the vain hope of maintaining a respectable distance + between himself and the Companion of Jehu, pushed his chair back against + that of his wife, who, yielding to the pressure, in turn endeavored to + push back hers. But as the next chair was occupied by citizen Alfred de + Barjols, who had no reason to fear these men whom he had just praised so + highly, the chair of the stout man’s wife encountered an obstacle in the + immovability of the young noble; so, as at Marengo, eight or nine months + later, when the general in command judged it time to resume the offensive, + the retrograde movement was arrested. + </p> + <p> + As for him—we are speaking of the citizen Alfred de Barjols—his + attitude, like that of the abbé who had given the Biblical explanation + about Jehu, King of Israel, and his mission from Elisha, his attitude, we + say, was that of a man who not only experiences no fear, but who even + expects the event in question, however unexpected it may be. His lips wore + a smile as he watched the masked man, and had the guests not been so + preoccupied with the two principal actors in this scene, they might have + remarked the almost imperceptible sign exchanged between the eyes of the + bandit and the young noble, and transmitted instantly by the latter to the + abbé. + </p> + <p> + The two travellers whom we introduced to the table d’hôte, and who as we + have said sat apart at the end of the table, preserved an attitude + conformable to their respective characters. The younger of the two had + instinctively put his hand to his side, as if to seek an absent weapon, + and had risen with a spring, as if to rush at the masked man’s throat, in + which purpose he had certainly not failed had he been alone; but the + elder, who seemed to possess not only the habit but the right of command, + contented himself by regrasping his coat, and saying, in an imperious, + almost harsh tone: “Sit down, Roland!” And the young man had resumed his + seat. + </p> + <p> + But one of the guests had remained, in appearance at least, the most + impassible during this scene. He was a man between thirty-three and + thirty-four years of age, with blond hair, red beard, a calm, handsome + face, with large blue eyes, a fair skin, refined and intelligent lips, and + very tall, whose foreign accent betrayed one born in that island of which + the government was at that time waging bitter war against France. As far + as could be judged by the few words which had escaped him, he spoke the + French language with rare purity, despite the accent we have just + mentioned. At the first word he uttered, in which that English accent + revealed itself, the elder of the two travellers started. Turning to his + companion, he asked with a glance, to which the other seemed accustomed, + how it was that an Englishman should be in France when the uncompromising + war between the two nations had naturally exiled all Englishmen from + France, as it had all Frenchmen from England. No doubt the explanation + seemed impossible to Roland, for he had replied with his eyes, and a shrug + of the shoulders: “I find it quite as extraordinary as you; but if you, + mathematician as you are, can’t solve the problem, don’t ask me!” + </p> + <p> + It was evident to the two young men that the fair man with the Anglo-Saxon + accent was the traveller whose comfortable carriage awaited him harnessed + in the courtyard, and that this traveller hailed from London, or, at + least, from some part of Great Britain. + </p> + <p> + As to his remarks, they, as we have stated, were infrequent, so laconic, + in reality, that they were mere exclamations rather than speech. But each + time an explanation had been asked concerning the state of France, the + Englishman openly drew out a note-book and requested those about him, the + wine merchant, the abbé, or the young noble to repeat their remarks; to + which each had complied with an amiability equal to the courteous tone of + the request. He had noted down the most important, extraordinary and, + picturesque features of the robbery of the diligence, the state of Vendée, + and the details about the Companions of Jehu, thanking each informant by + voice and gesture with the stiffness peculiar to our insular cousins, + replacing his note-book enriched each time by a new item in a side pocket + of his overcoat. + </p> + <p> + Finally, like a spectator enjoying an unexpected scene, he had given a cry + of satisfaction at sight of the masked man, had listened with all his + ears, gazed with all his eyes, not losing him from sight until the door + closed behind him. Then drawing his note-book hastily from his pocket— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir,” he said to his neighbor, who was no other than the abbé, “will + you be so kind, should my memory fail me, as to repeat what that gentleman + who has just gone out said?” + </p> + <p> + He began to write immediately, and the abbé’s memory agreeing with his, he + had the satisfaction of transcribing literally and verbatim the speech + made by the Companion of Jehu to citizen Jean Picot. Then, this + conversation written down, he exclaimed with an accent that lent a + singular stamp of originality to his words: + </p> + <p> + “Of a truth! it is only in France that such things can happen; France is + the most curious country in the world. I am delighted, gentlemen, to + travel in France and become acquainted with Frenchmen.” + </p> + <p> + The last sentence was said with such courtesy that nothing remained save + to thank the speaker from whose serious mouth it issued, though he was a + descendant of the conquerors of Crecy, Poitiers and Agincourt. It was the + younger of the two travellers who acknowledged this politeness in that + heedless and rather caustic manner which seemed habitual to him. + </p> + <p> + “‘Pon my word! I am exactly like you, my lord—I say my lord, because + I presume you are English.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied the gentleman, “I have that honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! as I was saying,” continued the young man, “I am delighted to + travel in France and see what I am seeing. One must live under the + government of citizens Gohier, Moulins, Roger Ducos, Sièyes and Barras to + witness such roguery. I dare wager than when the tale is told, fifty years + hence, of the highwayman who rode into a city of thirty thousand + inhabitants in broad day, masked and armed with two pistols and a sword at + his belt, to return the two hundred louis which he had stolen the day + previous to the honest merchant who was then deploring their loss, and + when it is added that this occurred at a table d’hôte where twenty or + twenty-five people were seated, and that this model bandit was allowed to + depart without one of those twenty or twenty-five people daring to molest + him; I dare wager, I repeat, that whoever has the audacity to tell the + story will be branded as an infamous liar.” + </p> + <p> + And the young man, throwing himself back in his chair, burst into + laughter, so aggressive, so nervous, that every one gazed at him in + wonderment, while his companion’s eyes expressed an almost paternal + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said citizen Alfred de Barjols, who, moved like the others by this + singular outburst, more sad, or rather dolorous, than gay, had waited for + its last echo to subside. “Sir, permit me to point out to you that the man + whom you have just seen is not a highwayman.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! Frankly, what is he then?” + </p> + <p> + “He is in all probability a young man of as good a family as yours or + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Count Horn, whom the Regent ordered broken on the wheel at the Place de + Grève, was also a man of good family, and the proof is that all the + nobility of Paris sent their carriages to his execution.” + </p> + <p> + “Count Horn, if I remember rightly, murdered a Jew to steal a note of hand + which he was unable to meet. No one would dare assert that a Companion of + Jehu had ever so much as harmed the hair of an infant.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, be it so. We will admit that the Company was founded upon a + philanthropic basis, to re-establish the balance of fortunes, redress the + whims of chance and reform the abuses of society. Though he may be a + robber, after the fashion of Karl Moor, your friend Morgan—was it + not Morgan that this honest citizen called himself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Englishman. + </p> + <p> + “Well, your friend Morgan is none the less a thief.” + </p> + <p> + Citizen Alfred de Barjols turned very pale. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen Morgan is not my friend,” replied the young aristocrat; “but if + he were I should feel honored by his friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” replied Roland, laughing. “As Voltaire says: ‘The friendship + of a great man is a blessing from the gods.’” + </p> + <p> + “Roland, Roland!” observed his comrade in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! general,” replied the latter, letting his companion’s rank escape + him, perhaps intentionally, “I implore you, let me continue this + discussion, which interests me in the highest degree.” + </p> + <p> + His friend shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “But, citizen,” continued the young man with strange persistence, “I stand + in need of correction. I left France two years ago, and during my absence + so many things have changed, such as dress, morals, and accents, that even + the language may have changed also. In the language of the day in France + what do you call stopping coaches and taking the money which they + contain?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the young noble, in the tone of a man determined to sustain + his argument to its end, “I call that war. Here is your companion whom you + have just called general; he as a military man will tell you that, apart + from the pleasure of killing and being killed, the generals of all ages + have never done anything else than what the citizen Morgan is doing?” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed the young man, whose eyes flashed fire. “You dare to + compare—” + </p> + <p> + “Permit the gentleman to develop his theory, Roland,” said the dark + traveller, whose eyes, unlike those of his companion, which dilated as + they flamed, were veiled by long black lashes, thus concealing all that + was passing in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the young man in his curt tone, “you see that you, yourself, + are becoming interested in the discussion.” Then, turning to the young + noble, whom he seemed to have selected for his antagonist, he said: + “Continue, sir, continue; the general permits it.” + </p> + <p> + The young noble flushed as visibly as he had paled a moment before. + Between clinched teeth, his elbow on the table, his chin on his clinched + hand, as if to draw as close to his adversary as possible, he said with a + Provençal accent, which grew more pronounced as the discussion waxed + hotter: “Since <i>the general</i> permits”—emphasizing the two words—“I + shall have the honor to tell him and you, too, citizen, that I believe I + have read in Plutarch that Alexander the Great, when he started for India, + took with him but eighteen or twenty talents in gold, something like one + hundred or one hundred and twenty thousand francs. Now, do you suppose + that with these eighteen or twenty talents alone he fed his army, won the + battle of Granicus, subdued Asia Minor, conquered Tyre, Gaza, Syria and + Egypt, built Alexandria, penetrated to Lybia, had himself declared Son of + Jupiter by the oracle of Ammon, penetrated as far as the Hyphases, and, + when his soldiers refused to follow him further, returned to Babylon, + where he surpassed in luxury, debauchery and self-indulgence the most + debauched and voluptuous of the kings of Asia? Did Macedonia furnish his + supplies? Do you believe that King Philip, most indigent of the kings of + poverty-stricken Greece, honored the drafts his son drew upon him? Not so. + Alexander did as citizen Morgan is doing; only, instead of stopping the + coaches on the highroads, he pillaged cities, held kings for ransom, + levied contributions from the conquered countries. Let us turn to + Hannibal. You know how he left Carthage, don’t you? He did not have even + the eighteen or twenty talents of his predecessor; and as he needed money, + he seized and sacked the city of Saguntum in the midst of peace, in + defiance of the fealty of treaties. After that he was rich and could begin + his campaign. Forgive me if this time I no longer quote Plutarch, but + Cornelius Nepos. I will spare you the details of his descent from the + Pyrenees, how he crossed the Alps and the three battles which he won, + seizing each time the treasures of the vanquished, and turn to the five or + six years he spent in Campania. Do you believe that he and his army paid + the Capuans for their subsistence, and that the bankers of Carthage, with + whom he had quarrelled, supplied him with funds? No; war fed war—the + Morgan system, citizen. Let us pass on to Cæsar. Ah, Cæsar! That’s another + story. He left for Spain with some thirty millions of debt, and returned + with practically the same. He started for Gaul, where he spent ten years + with our ancestors. During these ten years he sent over one hundred + millions to Rome, repassed the Alps, crossed the Rubicon, marched straight + to the Capitol, forced the gates of the Temple of Saturn, where the + treasury was, seized sufficient for his private needs—and not for + those of the Republic—three thousand pounds of gold in ingots; and + died (he whom creditors twenty years earlier refused to allow to leave his + little house in the Suburra) leaving two or three thousand sesterces per + head to the citizens, ten or twelve millions to Calpurnia, and thirty or + forty millions to Octavius; always the Morgan system, save that Morgan, I + am sure, would die sooner than subvert to his personal needs either the + silver of the Gauls or the gold of the capital. Now let us spring over + eighteen centuries and come to the General Buonaparté.” And the young + aristocrat, after the fashion of the enemies of the Conqueror of Italy, + affected to emphasize the <i>u</i>, which Bonaparte had eliminated from + his name, and the <i>e</i>, from which he had removed the accent. + </p> + <p> + This affectation seemed to irritate Roland intensely. He made a movement + as if to spring forward, but his companion stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Let be,” said he, “let be, Roland. I am quite sure that citizen Barjols + will not say the General Buonaparté, as he calls him, is a thief.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will not say it; but there is an Italian proverb which says it for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the proverb?” demanded the general in his companion’s stead, + fixing his calm, limpid eye upon the young noble. + </p> + <p> + “I give it in all its simplicity: ‘Francesi non sono tutti ladroni, ma + buona parte’; which means: ‘All Frenchmen are not thieves, but—” + </p> + <p> + “A good part are?” concluded Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ‘Buonaparté,’” replied Alfred de Barjols. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had these insolent words left the young aristocrat’s lips than + the plate with which Roland was playing flew from his hands and struck De + Barjols full in the face. The women screamed, the men rose to their feet. + Roland burst into that nervous laugh which was habitual with him, and + threw himself back in his chair. The young aristocrat remained calm, + although the blood was trickling from his brow to his cheek. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the conductor entered with the usual formula: + </p> + <p> + “Come! citizen travellers, take your places.” + </p> + <p> + The travellers, anxious to leave the scene of the quarrel, rushed to the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, sir,” said Alfred de Barjols to Roland, “you do not go by + diligence, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I travel by post; but you need have no fear; I shall not + depart.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” said the Englishman. “Have them unharness my horses; I shall + remain.” + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” sighed the dark young man whom Roland had addressed as + general. “You know it is necessary, my friend; my presence yonder is + absolutely imperative. But I swear that I would not leave you if I could + possibly avoid it.” + </p> + <p> + In saying these words his voice betrayed an emotion of which, judging from + its usual harsh, metallic ring, it had seemed incapable. Roland, on the + contrary, seemed overjoyed. His belligerent nature seemed to expand at the + approach of a danger to which he had perhaps not given rise, but which he + at least had not endeavored to avoid. + </p> + <p> + “Good! general,” he said. “We were to part at Lyons, since you have had + the kindness to grant me a month’s furlough to visit my family at Bourg. + It is merely some hundred and sixty miles or so less than we intended, + that is all. I shall rejoin you in Paris. But you know if you need a + devoted arm, and a man who never sulks, think of me!” + </p> + <p> + “You may rest easy on that score, Roland,” exclaimed the general. Then, + looking attentively at the two adversaries, he added with an indescribable + note of tenderness: “Above all, Roland, do not let yourself be killed; but + if it is a possible thing don’t kill your adversary. Everything + considered, he is a gallant man, and the day will come when I shall need + such men at my side.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do my best, general; don’t be alarmed.” At this moment the + landlord appeared upon the thresh-hold of the door. + </p> + <p> + “The post-chaise is ready,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The general took his hat and his cane, which he had laid upon the chair. + Roland, on the contrary, followed him bareheaded, that all might see + plainly he did not intend to leave with his friend. Alfred de Barjols, + therefore, offered no opposition to his leaving the room. Besides, it was + easy to see that his adversary was of those who seek rather than avoid + quarrels. + </p> + <p> + “Just the same,” said the general, seating himself in the carriage to + which Roland had escorted him, “my heart is heavy at leaving you thus, + Roland, without a friend to act as your second.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Don’t worry about that, general; seconds are never lacking. There + are and always will be enough men who are curious to see how one man can + kill another.” + </p> + <p> + “Au revoir, Roland. Observe, I do not say farewell, but au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear general,” replied the young man, in a voice that revealed + some emotion, “I understand, and I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Promise that you will send me word as soon as the affair is over, or that + you will get some one to write if you are disabled.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t worry, general. You will have a letter from me personally in + less than four days,” replied Roland, adding, in a tone of profound + bitterness: “Have you not perceived that I am protected by a fatality + which prevents me from dying?” + </p> + <p> + “Roland!” exclaimed the general in a severe tone, “Again!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing,” said the young man, shaking his head and assuming an + expression of careless gayety which must have been habitual with him + before the occurrence of that unknown misfortune which oppressed his youth + with this longing for death. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. By the way, try to find out one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that, general?” + </p> + <p> + “How it happens that at a time when we are at war with England an + Englishman stalks about France as freely and as easily as if he were at + home.” + </p> + <p> + “Good; I will find out.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know; but when I promise you to find out I shall do so, though I + have to ask it of himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckless fellow! Don’t get yourself involved in another affair in that + direction.” + </p> + <p> + “In any case, it would not be a duel. It would be a battle, as he is a + national enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, once more—till I see you again. Embrace me.” + </p> + <p> + Roland flung himself with passionate gratitude upon the neck of the + personage who had just given him this permission. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, general!” he exclaimed, “how happy I should be—if I were not so + unhappy!” + </p> + <p> + The general looked at him with profound affection, then asked: “One day + you will tell me what this sorrow is, will you not, Roland?” + </p> + <p> + Roland laughed that sorrowful laugh which had already escaped his lips + once or twice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my word, no,” said he, “you would ridicule me too much.” + </p> + <p> + The general stared at him as one would contemplate a madman. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” he murmured, “one must accept men as they come.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially when they are not what they seem to be.” + </p> + <p> + “You must mistake me for OEdipe since you pose me with these enigmas, + Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! If you guess this one, general, I will herald you king of Thebes! + But, with all my follies, I forgot that your time is precious and that I + am detaining you needlessly with my nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “That is so! Have you any commissions for Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, three; my regards to Bourrienne, my respects to your brother Lucien, + and my most tender homage to Madame Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + “I will deliver them.” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I find you in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “At my house in the Rue de la Victoire, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows? Perhaps at Luxembourg!” Then throwing himself back as if he + regretted having said so much, even to a man he regarded as his best + friend, he shouted to the postilion, “Road to Orange! As fast as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + The postilion, who was only waiting for the order, whipped up his horses; + the carriage departed rapidly, rumbling like a roll of thunder, and + disappeared through the Porte d’Oulle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE ENGLISHMAN + </h2> + <p> + Roland remained motionless, not only as long as he could see the carriage, + but long after it had disappeared. Then, shaking his head as if to dispel + the cloud which darkened his brow, he re-entered the inn and asked for a + room. + </p> + <p> + “Show the gentleman to number three,” said the landlord to a chambermaid. + </p> + <p> + The chambermaid took a key hanging from a large black wooden tablet on + which were arranged the numbers in white in two rows, and signed to the + young traveller to follow her. + </p> + <p> + “Send up some paper, and a pen and ink,” Roland said to the landlord, “and + if M. de Barjols should ask where I am tell him the number of my room.” + </p> + <p> + The landlord promised to obey Roland’s injunctions and the latter followed + the girl upstairs whistling the Marseillaise. Five minutes later he was + seated at a table with the desired paper, pen and ink before him preparing + to write. But just as he was beginning the first line some one knocked, + three times at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said he, twirling his chair on one of its hind legs so as to + face his visitor, whom he supposed to be either, M. de Barjols or one of + his friends. + </p> + <p> + The door opened with a steady mechanical motion and the Englishman + appeared upon the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Roland, enchanted with this visit, in view of his + general’s recommendation; “is it you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Englishman, “it is I.” + </p> + <p> + “You are welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if I am welcome, so much the better! I was not sure that I ought to + come.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “On account of Aboukir.” + </p> + <p> + Roland began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “There are two battles of Aboukir,” said he; “one which we lost; the other + we won.” + </p> + <p> + “I referred to the one you lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Roland, “we fight, kill, and exterminate each other on the + battlefield, but that does not prevent us from clasping hands on neutral + ground. So I repeat, you are most welcome, especially if you will tell me + why you have come.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; but, in the first place, read that.” And the Englishman drew a + paper from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “My passport.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I to do with your passport?” asked Roland, “I am not a + gendarme.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I have come to offer you my services. Perhaps you will not accept + them if you do not know who I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Your services, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but read that first.” + </p> + <p> + Roland read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the name of the French Republic—The Executive Directory hereby + orders that Sir John Tanlay, Esq., be permitted to travel freely + throughout the territory of the Republic, and that both assistance + and protection be accorded him in case of need. + (Signed) FOUCHÉ. +</pre> + <p> + And below: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To whom it may concern—I recommend Sir John Tanlay particularly + as a philanthropist and a friend of liberty. + (Signed) BARRAS. +</pre> + <p> + “Have you read it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “What of it? Well, my father, Lord Tanlay, rendered M. Barras some + services; that is why M. Barras permits me to roam about France. And I am + very glad to roam about; it amuses me very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I remember, Sir John; you did us the honor to say so at dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “I did say so, it is true; I also said that I liked the French people + heartily.” + </p> + <p> + Roland bowed. + </p> + <p> + “And above all General Bonaparte,” continued Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “You like General Bonaparte very much?” + </p> + <p> + “I admire him; he is a great, a very great, man.” + </p> + <p> + “By Heavens! Sir John, I am sorry he is not here to hear an Englishman say + that of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if he were here I should not say it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I should not want him to think I was trying to please him. I say so + because it is my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t doubt it, my lord,” said Roland, who did not see what the + Englishman was aiming at, and who, having learned all that he wished to + know through the passport, held himself upon his guard. + </p> + <p> + “And when I heard,” continued the Englishman with the same phlegm, “you + defend General Bonaparte, I was much pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Much pleased,” repeated the Englishman, nodding his head affirmatively. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better!” + </p> + <p> + “But when I saw you throw a plate at M. Alfred de Barjols’ head, I was + much grieved.” + </p> + <p> + “You were grieved, my lord, and why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because in England no gentleman would throw a plate at the head of + another gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Roland, rising with a frown, “have you perchance come here + to read me a lecture?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; I came to suggest that you are perhaps perplexed about finding a + second?” + </p> + <p> + “My faith, Sir John! I admit that the moment when you knocked at the door + I was wondering of whom I could ask this service.” + </p> + <p> + “Of me, if you wish,” said the Englishman. “I will be your second.” + </p> + <p> + “On my honor!” exclaimed Roland, “I accept with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the service I wished to render you!” + </p> + <p> + Roland held out his hand, saying: “Thank you!” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” continued Roland, “as you have had the good taste, my lord, to tell + me who you were before offering your services, it is but fair that, since + I accept them, I should tell you who I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! as you please.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Louis de Montrevel; I am aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + “Aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte. I am very glad.” + </p> + <p> + “That will explain why I undertook, rather too warmly perhaps, my + general’s defence.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not too warmly; only, the plate—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know well that the provocation did not entail that plate. But what + would you have me do! I held it in my hand, and, not knowing what to do + with it, I threw it at M. de Barjols’ head; it went of itself without any + will of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not say that to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Reassure yourself; I tell you to salve your conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; then you will fight?” + </p> + <p> + “That is why I have remained here, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “What weapons?” + </p> + <p> + “That is not our affair, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “What! not our affair?” + </p> + <p> + “No; M. de Barjols is the one insulted; the choice is his.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will accept whatever he proposes?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I, Sir John, but you in my name, since you do me the honor to act as + my second.” + </p> + <p> + “And if he selects pistols, what is the distance to be and how will you + fight?” + </p> + <p> + “That is your affair, my lord, and not mine. I don’t know how you do in + England, but in France the principals take no part in the arrangements. + That duty devolves upon the seconds; what they decide is well decided!” + </p> + <p> + “Then my arrangements will be satisfactory?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly so, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman bowed. + </p> + <p> + “What hour and what day?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! as soon as possible; I have not seen my family for two years, and I + confess that I am in a hurry to greet them.” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman looked at Roland with a certain wonder; he spoke with such + assurance, as if he were certain that he would not be killed. Just then + some one knocked at the door, and the voice of the innkeeper asked: “May I + come in?” + </p> + <p> + The young man replied affirmatively. The door opened and the landlord + entered, holding a card in his hand which he handed his guest. The young + man took the card and read: “Charles du Valensolle.” + </p> + <p> + “From M. Alfred de Barjols,” said the host. + </p> + <p> + “Very well!” exclaimed Roland. Then handing the card to the Englishman, he + said: “Here, this concerns you; it is unnecessary for me to see this + monsieur—since we are no longer citizens—M. de Valensolle is + M. de Barjols’ second; you are mine. Arrange this affair between you. + Only,” added the young man, pressing the Englishman’s hand and looking + fixedly at him, “see that it holds a chance of certain death for one of + us. Otherwise I shall complain that it has been bungled.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry,” said the Englishman, “I will act for you as for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent! Go now, and when everything is arranged come back. I shall not + stir from here.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John followed the innkeeper. Roland reseated himself, twirled his + chair back to its former position facing the table, took up his pen and + began to write. + </p> + <p> + When Sir John returned, Roland had written and sealed two letters and was + addressing a third. He signed to the Englishman to wait until he had + finished, that he might give him his full attention. Then, the address + finished, he sealed the letter, and turned around. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he asked, “is everything arranged?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Englishman, “it was an easy matter. You are dealing with a + true gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better!” exclaimed Roland, waiting. + </p> + <p> + “You will fight two hours hence by the fountain of Vaucluse—a + charming spot—with pistols, advancing to each other, each to fire as + he pleases and continuing to advance after his adversary’s fire.” + </p> + <p> + “By my faith! you are right, Sir John. That is, indeed, excellent. Did you + arrange that?” + </p> + <p> + “I and M. de Barjols’ second, your adversary having renounced his rights + of the insulted party.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you decided upon the weapons?” + </p> + <p> + “I offered my pistols. They were accepted on my word of honor that you + were as unfamiliar with them as was M. de Barjols. They are excellent + weapons. I can cut a bullet on a knife blade at twenty paces.” + </p> + <p> + “Peste! You are a good shot, it would seem, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am said to be the best shot in England.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a good thing to know. When I wish to be killed, Sir John, I’ll + pick a quarrel with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t pick a quarrel with me,” said the Englishman, “it would grieve + me too much to have to fight you.” + </p> + <p> + “We will try, my lord, not to cause you such grief. So it is settled then, + in two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you told me you were in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. How far is it to this charming spot?” + </p> + <p> + “From here to Vaucluse?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Twelve miles.” + </p> + <p> + “A matter of an hour and a half. We have no time to lose, so let us rid + ourselves of troublesome things in order to have nothing but pleasure + before us.” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman looked at the young man in astonishment. Roland did not + seem to pay any attention to this look. + </p> + <p> + “Here are three letters,” said he; “one for Madame de Montrevel, my + mother; one for Mlle. de Montrevel, my sister; one for the citizen, + Bonaparte, my general. If I am killed you will simply put them in the + post. Will that be too much trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Should that misfortune occur, I will deliver your letters myself,” said + the Englishman. “Where do your mother and sister live?” + </p> + <p> + “At Bourg, the capital of the Department of Ain.” + </p> + <p> + “That is near here,” observed the Englishman. “As for General Bonaparte, I + will go to Egypt if necessary. I should be extremely pleased to meet + General Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + “If you take the trouble, as you say, my lord, of delivering my letters + yourself, you will not have to travel such a distance. Within three days + General Bonaparte will be in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the Englishman, without betraying the least surprise, “do you + think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it,” replied Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Truly, he is a very extraordinary man, your General Bonaparte. Now, have + you any other recommendations to make to me, M. de Montrevel?” + </p> + <p> + “One only, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! as many as you please.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, one only, but that is very important.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “If I am killed—but I doubt if I be so fortunate.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John looked at Roland with that expression of wonder which he had + already awakened three or four times. + </p> + <p> + “If I am killed,” resumed Roland; “for after all one must be prepared for + everything—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you are killed, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen well, my lord, for I place much stress on my directions being + carried out exactly in this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Every detail shall be observed,” replied Sir John, “I am very + punctilious.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if I am killed,” insisted Roland, laying his hand upon his + second’s shoulder, to impress his directions more firmly on his memory, + “you must not permit any one to touch my body, which is to be placed in a + leaden coffin without removing the garments I am wearing; the coffin you + will have soldered in your presence, then inclosed in an oaken bier, which + must also be nailed up in your presence. Then you will send it to my + mother, unless you should prefer to throw it into the Rhone, which I leave + absolutely to your discretion, provided only that it be disposed of in + some way.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be no more difficult,” replied the Englishman, “to take the + coffin, since I am to deliver your letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly, my lord,” said Roland, laughing in his strange way. “You are a + capital fellow. Providence in person brought us together. Let us start, my + lord, let us start!” + </p> + <p> + They left Roland’s room; Sir John’s chamber was on the same floor. Roland + waited while the Englishman went in for his weapons. He returned a few + seconds later, carrying the box in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my lord,” asked Roland, “how shall we reach Vaucluse? On horseback + or by carriage?” + </p> + <p> + “By carriage, if you are willing. It is much more convenient in case one + is wounded. Mine is waiting below.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had given the order to have it unharnessed?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, but I sent for the postilion afterward and countermanded it.” + </p> + <p> + They went downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Tom! Tom!” called Sir John at the door, where a servant, in the severe + livery of an English groom, was waiting, “take care of this box.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I going with you, my lord?” asked the servant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” replied Sir John. + </p> + <p> + Then showing Roland the steps of his carriage, which the servant lowered, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “Come, M. de Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + Roland entered the carriage and stretched himself out luxuriously. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word!” said he. “It takes you English to understand travelling. + This carriage is as comfortable as a bed. I warrant you pad your coffins + before you are put in them!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is a fact,” said Sir John, “the English people understand + comfort, but the French people are much more curious and amusing—postilion, + to Vaucluse!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE DUEL + </h2> + <p> + The road was passable only from Avignon to l’Isle. They covered the nine + miles between the two places in an hour. During this hour Roland, as he + resolved to shorten the time for his travelling companion, was witty and + animated, and their approach to the duelling ground only served to + redouble his gayety. To one unacquainted with the object of this drive, + the menace of dire peril impending over this young man, with his + continuous flow of conversation and incessant laughter, would have seemed + incredible. + </p> + <p> + At the village of l’Isle they were obliged to leave the carriage. Finding + on inquiry that they were the first to arrive, they entered the path which + led to the fountain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh!” exclaimed Roland, “there ought to be a fine echo here.” And he + gave one or two cries to which Echo replied with perfect amiability. + </p> + <p> + “By my faith!” said the young man, “this is a marvellous echo. I know none + save that of the Seinonnetta, at Milan, which can compare with it. Listen, + my lord.” + </p> + <p> + And he began, with modulations which revealed an admirable voice and an + excellent method, to sing a Tyrolean song which seemed to bid defiance to + the human throat with its rebellious music. Sir John watched Roland, and + listened to him with an astonishment which he no longer took the trouble + to conceal. When the last note had died away among the cavities of the + mountain, he exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “God bless me! but I think your liver is out of order.” + </p> + <p> + Roland started and looked at him interrogatively. But seeing that Sir John + did not intend to say more, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Good! What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “You are too noisily gay not to be profoundly melancholy.” + </p> + <p> + “And that anomaly astonishes you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing astonishes me, because I know that it has always its reason for + existing.” + </p> + <p> + “True, and it’s all in knowing the secret. Well, I’m going to enlighten + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I don’t want to force you.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re too polite to do that; still, you must admit you would be glad to + have your mind set at rest about me.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I’m interested in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir John, I am going to tell you the secret of the enigma, + something I have never done with any one before. For all my seeming good + health, I am suffering from a horrible aneurism that causes me spasms of + weakness and faintness so frequent as to shame even a woman. I spend my + life taking the most ridiculous precautions, and yet Larrey warns me that + I am liable to die any moment, as the diseased artery in my breast may + burst at the least exertion. Judge for yourself how pleasant for a + soldier! You can understand that, once I understood my condition, I + determined incontinently to die with all the glory possible. Another more + fortunate than I would have succeeded a hundred times already. But I’m + bewitched; I am impervious alike to bullets and balls; even the swords + seem to fear to shatter themselves upon my skin. Yet I never miss an + opportunity; that you must see, after what occurred at dinner. Well, we + are going to fight. I’ll expose myself like a maniac, giving my adversary + all the advantages, but it will avail me nothing. Though he shoot at + fifteen paces, or even ten or five, at his very pistol’s point, he will + miss me, or his pistol will miss fire. And all this wonderful luck that + some fine day when I least expect it, I may die pulling on my boots! But + hush I here comes my adversary.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke the upper half of three people could be seen ascending the + same rough and rocky path that Roland and Sir John had followed, growing + larger as they approached. Roland counted them. + </p> + <p> + “Three!” he exclaimed. “Why three, when we are only two?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I had forgotten,” replied the Englishman. “M. de Barjols, as much in + your interest as in his own, asked permission to bring a surgeon, one of + his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” harshly demanded Roland, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Why, in case either one of you was wounded. A man’s life can often be + saved by bleeding him promptly.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir John,” exclaimed Roland, ferociously, “I don’t understand these + delicacies in the matter of a duel. When men fight they fight to kill. + That they exchange all sorts of courtesies beforehand, as your ancestors + did at Fontenoy, is all right; but, once the swords are unsheathed or the + pistols loaded, one life must pay for the trouble they have taken and the + heart beats they have lost. I ask you, on your word of honor, Sir John, to + promise that, wounded or dying, M. de Barjols’ surgeon shall not be + allowed to touch me.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose, M. Roland—” + </p> + <p> + “Take it or leave it. Your word of honor, my lord, or devil take me if I + fight at all.” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman again looked curiously at the young man. His face was + livid, and his limbs quivered as though in extreme terror. Sir John, + without understanding this strange dread, passed his word. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” exclaimed Roland. “This, you see, is one of the effects of my + charming malady. The mere thought of surgical instruments, a bistoury or a + lance, makes me dizzy. Didn’t I grow very pale?” + </p> + <p> + “I did think for an instant you were going to faint.” + </p> + <p> + “What a stunning climax!” exclaimed Roland with a laugh. “Our adversaries + arrive and you are dosing me with smelling salts like a hysterical woman. + Do you know what they, and you, first of all, would have said? That I was + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime, the three new-comers having approached within earshot, Sir John + was unable to answer Roland. They bowed, and Roland, with a smile that + revealed his beautiful teeth, returned their greeting. Sir John whispered + in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “You are still a trifle pale. Go on toward the fountain; I will fetch you + when we are ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s the idea,” said Roland. “I have always wanted to see that + famous fountain of Vaucluse, the Hippocrene of Petrarch. You know his + sonnet? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Chiari, fresche e dolci acque + Ove le belle membra + Pose colei, che sola a me perdona.’ +</pre> + <p> + This opportunity lost, I may never have another. Where is your fountain?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a hundred feet off. Follow the path; you’ll find it at the turn of + the road, at the foot of that enormous bowlder you see.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Roland, “you are the best guide I know; thanks!” + </p> + <p> + And, with a friendly wave of the hand, he went off in the direction of the + fountain, humming the charming pastoral of Philippe Desportes beneath his + breath: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Rosette, a little absence + Has turned thine heart from me; + I, knowing that inconstance, + Have turned my heart from thee. + No wayward beauty o’er me + Such power shall obtain; + We’ll see, my fickle lassie, + Who first will turn again.’” + </pre> + <p> + Sir John turned as he heard the modulations of that fresh sweet voice, + whose higher notes had something at a feminine quality. His cold + methodical mind understood nothing of that nervous impulsive nature, save + that he had under his eyes one of the most amazing organisms one could + possibly meet. + </p> + <p> + The other two young men were waiting for him; the surgeon stood a little + apart. Sir John carried his box of pistols in his hands. Laying it upon a + table-shaped rock, he drew a little key from his pocket, apparently + fashioned by a goldsmith rather than a locksmith, and opened the box. The + weapons were magnificent, although of great simplicity. They came from + Manton’s workshop, the grandfather of the man who is still considered one + of the best gunsmiths in London. He handed them to M. de Barjols’ second + to examine. The latter tried the triggers and played with the lock, + examining to see if they were double-barrelled. They were + single-barrelled. M. de Barjols cast a glance at them but did not even + touch them. + </p> + <p> + “Our opponent does not know these weapons?” queried M. Valensolle. + </p> + <p> + “He has not even seen them,” replied Sir John, “I give you my word of + honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed M. de Valensolle, “a simple denial suffices.” + </p> + <p> + The conditions of the duel were gone over a second time to avoid possible + misunderstanding. Then, these conditions determined, the pistols were + loaded. They were then placed, loaded, in the box, the box left in the + surgeon’s charge, and Sir John, with the key in his pocket, went after + Roland. + </p> + <p> + He found him chatting with a little shepherd boy who was herding three + goats on the steep rocky slope of the mountain, and throwing pebbles into + the fountain. Sir John opened his lips to tell Roland that all was ready; + but the latter, without giving the Englishman time to speak, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what this child has been telling me, my lord! A perfect + legend of the Rhine. He says that this pool, whose depth is unknown, + extends six or eight miles under the mountain, and a fairy, half woman + half serpent, dwells here. Calm summer nights she glides over the surface + of water calling to the shepherds of the mountains, showing them, of + course, nothing more than her head with its long locks and her beautiful + bare shoulders and arms. The fools, caught by this semblance of a woman, + draw nearer, beckoning to her to come to them, while she on her side signs + to them to go to her. The unwary spirits advance unwittingly, giving no + heed to their steps. Suddenly the earth fails them, the fairy reaches out + her arms, and plunges down into her dripping palaces, to reappear the next + day alone. Where the devil did these idiots of shepherds get the tale that + Virgil related in such noble verse to Augustus and Mecænas?” + </p> + <p> + He remained pensive an instant, his eyes bent upon the azure depths, then + turning to Sir John: + </p> + <p> + “They say that, no matter how vigorous the swimmer, none has ever returned + from this abyss. Perhaps were I to try it, my lord, it might be surer than + M. de Barjols’ bullet. However, it always remains as a last resort; in the + meantime let us try the bullet. Come, my lord, come.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning to the Englishman, who listened, amazed by this mobility of + mind, he led him back to the others who awaited them. They in the meantime + had found a suitable place. + </p> + <p> + It was a little plateau, perched as it were on a rocky proclivity, jutting + from the mountain side, exposed to the setting sun, on which stood a + ruined castle where the shepherds were wont to seek shelter when the + mistral overtook them. A flat space, some hundred and fifty feet long, and + sixty wide, which might once have been the castle platform, was now to be + the scene of the drama which was fast approaching its close. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are, gentlemen,” said Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “We are ready, gentlemen,” replied M. de Valensolle. + </p> + <p> + “Will the principals kindly listen to the conditions of the duel?” said + Sir John. Then addressing M. de Valensolle, he added: “Repeat them, + monsieur; you are French and I am a foreigner, you will explain them more + clearly than I.” + </p> + <p> + “You belong to those foreigners, my lord, who teach us poor Provençals the + purity of our language; but since you so courteously make me spokesman, I + obey you.” Then exchanging bows with Sir John, he continued: “Gentlemen, + it is agreed that you stand at forty paces, that you advance toward each + other, that each will fire at will, and wounded or not will have the right + to advance after your adversary’s fire.” + </p> + <p> + The two combatants bowed in sign of assent, and with one voice, and almost + at the same moment, they said: + </p> + <p> + “The pistols!” + </p> + <p> + Sir John drew the little key from his pocket and opened the box. Then + approaching M. de Barjols he offered it to him open. The latter wished to + yield the choice of weapons to his opponent; but with a wave of his hand + Roland refused, saying in a tone almost feminine in its sweetness: + </p> + <p> + “After you, M. de Barjols. Although you are the insulted party, you have, + I am told, renounced your advantages. The least I can do is to yield you + this one, if for that matter it is an advantage.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Barjols no longer insisted. He took one of the two pistols at + random. Sir John offered the other to Roland, who took it, and, without + even examining its mechanism, cocked the trigger, then let it fall at + arm’s-length at his side. + </p> + <p> + During this time M. de Valensolle had measured forty paces, staking a cane + as a point of departure. + </p> + <p> + “Will you measure after me?” he asked Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “Needless, sir,” replied the latter: “M. de Montrevel and myself rely + entirely upon you.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Valensolle staked a second cane at the fortieth pace. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said he, “when you are ready.” + </p> + <p> + Roland’s adversary was already at his post, hat and cloak removed. The + surgeon and the two seconds stood aside. The spot had been so well chosen + that neither had any advantage of sun or ground. Roland tossed off hat and + coat, stationed himself forty paces from M. de Barjols, facing him. Both, + one to right the other to the left, cast a glance at the same horizon. The + aspect harmonized with the terrible solemnity of the scene about to take + place. + </p> + <p> + Nothing was visible to Roland’s right and to M. de Barjols’ left, except + the mountain’s swift incline and gigantic peak. But on the other side, + that is to say, to M. de Barjols’ right and Roland’s left, it was a far + different thing. + </p> + <p> + The horizon stretched illimitable. In the foreground, the plain, its ruddy + soil pierced on all sides by rocks, like a Titan graveyard with its bones + protruding through the earth. Then, sharply outlined in the setting sun, + was Avignon with its girdle of walls and its vast palace, like a crouching + lion, seeming to hold the panting city in its claws. Beyond Avignon, a + luminous sweep, like a river of molten gold, defined the Rhone. Beyond the + Rhone, a deep-hued azure vista, stretched the chain of hills which + separate Avignon from Nimes and d’Uzes. And far off, the sun, at which one + of these two men was probably looking for the last time, sank slowly and + majestically in an ocean of gold and purple. + </p> + <p> + For the rest these two men presented a singular contrast. One, with his + black hair, swarthy skin, slender limbs and sombre eyes, was the type of + the Southern race which counts among its ancestors Greeks, Romans, Arabs + and Spaniards. The other, with his rosy skin, large blue eyes, and hands + dimpled like a woman’s, was the type of that race of temperate zones which + reckons Gauls, Germans and Normans among its forebears. + </p> + <p> + Had one wished to magnify the situation it were easy to believe this + something greater than single combat between two men. One might have + thought it was a duel of a people against another people, race against + race, the South against the North. + </p> + <p> + Was it these thoughts which we have just expressed that filled Roland’s + mind and plunged him into that melancholy revery. + </p> + <p> + Probably not; the fact is, for an instant he seemed to have forgotten + seconds, duel, adversary, lost as he was in contemplation of this + magnificent spectacle. M. de Barjols’ voice aroused him from this poetical + stupor. + </p> + <p> + “When you are ready, sir,” said he, “I am.” + </p> + <p> + Roland started. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my keeping you waiting, sir,” said he. “You should not have + considered me, I am so absent-minded. I am ready now.” + </p> + <p> + Then, a smile on his lips, his hair lifted by the evening breeze, + unconcerned as if this were an ordinary promenade, while his opponent, on + the contrary, took all the precaution usual in such a case, Roland + advanced straight toward M. de Barjols. + </p> + <p> + Sir John’s face, despite his ordinary impassibility, betrayed a profound + anxiety. The distance between the opponents lessened rapidly. M. de + Barjols halted first, took aim, and fired when Roland was but ten paces + from him. + </p> + <p> + The ball clipped one of Roland’s curls, but did not touch him. The young + man turned toward his second: + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “what did I tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Fire, monsieur, fire!” said the seconds. + </p> + <p> + M. de Barjols stood silent and motionless on the spot where he had fired. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, gentlemen,” replied Roland; “but you will, I hope, permit me + to be the judge of the time and manner of retaliating. Since I have felt + M. de Barjols’ shot, I have a few words to say to him which I could not + say before.” Then, turning to the young aristocrat, who was pale and calm, + he said: “Sir, perhaps I was somewhat too hasty in our discussion this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + And he waited. + </p> + <p> + “It is for you to fire, sir,” replied M. de Barjols. + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued Roland, as if he had not heard, “you will understand my + impetuosity, and perhaps excuse it, when you hear that I am a soldier and + General Bonaparte’s aide-de-camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Fire, sir,” replied the young nobleman. + </p> + <p> + “Say but one word of retraction, sir,” resumed the young officer. “Say + that General Bonaparte’s reputation for honor and delicacy is such that a + miserable Italian proverb, inspired by ill-natured losers, cannot reflect + discredit on him. Say that, and I throw this weapon away to grasp your + hand; for I recognize in you, sir, a brave man.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot accord that homage to his honor and delicacy until your general + has devoted the influence which his genius gives him over France as Monk + did—that is to say, to reinstate his legitimate sovereign upon the + throne.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Roland, with a smile, “that is asking too much of a republican + general.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I maintain what I said,” replied the young noble. “Fire! monsieur, + fire!” Then as Roland made no haste to obey this injunction, he shouted, + stamping his foot: “Heavens and earth! will you fire?” + </p> + <p> + At these words Roland made a movement as if he intended to fire in the + air. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed M. de Barjols. Then with a rapidity of gesture and speech + that prevented this, “Do not fire in the air, I beg, or I shall insist + that we begin again and that you fire first.” + </p> + <p> + “On my honor!” cried Roland, turning as pale as if the blood had left his + body, “this is the first time I have done so much for any man. Go to the + devil! and if you don’t want to live, then die!” + </p> + <p> + At the same time he lowered his arm and fired, without troubling to take + aim. + </p> + <p> + Alfred de Barjols put his hand to his breast, swayed back and forth, + turned around and fell face down upon the ground. Roland’s bullet had gone + through his heart. + </p> + <p> + Sir John, seeing M. de Barjols fall, went straight to Roland and drew him + to the spot where he had thrown his hat and coat. + </p> + <p> + “That is the third,” murmured Roland with a sigh; “but you are my witness + that this one would have it.” + </p> + <p> + Then giving his smoking pistol to Sir John, he resumed his hat and coat. + During this time M. de Valensolle picked up the pistol which had escaped + from his friend’s hand, and brought it, together with the box, to Sir + John. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the Englishman, motioning toward Alfred de Barjols with his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He is dead,” replied the second. + </p> + <p> + “Have I acted as a man of honor, sir?” asked Roland, wiping away the sweat + which suddenly inundated his brow at the announcement of his opponent’s + death. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur,” replied M. de Valensolle; “only, permit me to say this: + you possess the fatal hand.” + </p> + <p> + Then bowing to Roland and his second with exquisite politeness, he + returned to his friend’s body. + </p> + <p> + “And you, my lord,” resumed Roland, “what do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I say,” replied Sir John, with a sort of forced admiration, “you are one + of those men who are made by the divine Shakespeare to say of themselves: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Danger and I— + We were two lions littered in one day, + But I the elder.’” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. ROLAND + </h2> + <p> + The return was silent and mournful; it seemed that with the hopes of death + Roland’s gayety had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + The catastrophe of which he had been the author played perhaps a part in + his taciturnity. But let us hasten to say that in battle, and more + especially during the last campaign against the Arabs, Roland had been too + frequently obliged to jump his horse over the bodies of his victims to be + so deeply impressed by the death of an unknown man. + </p> + <p> + His sadness was, due to some other cause; probably that which he confided + to Sir John. Disappointment over his own lost chance of death, rather than + that other’s decease, occasioned this regret. + </p> + <p> + On their return to the Hotel du Palais-Royal, Sir John mounted to his room + with his pistols, the sight of which might have excited something like + remorse in Roland’s breast. Then he rejoined the young officer and + returned the three letters which had been intrusted to him. + </p> + <p> + He found Roland leaning pensively on a table. Without saying a word the + Englishman laid the three letters before him. The young man cast his eyes + over the addresses, took the one destined for his mother, unsealed it and + read it over. As he read, great tears rolled down his cheeks. Sir John + gazed wonderingly at this new phase of Roland’s character. He had thought + everything possible to this many-sided nature except those tears which + fell silently from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Shaking his head and paying not the least attention to Sir John’s + presence, Roland murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Poor mother! she would have wept. Perhaps it is better so. Mothers were + not made to weep for their children!” + </p> + <p> + He tore up the letters he had written to his mother, his sister, and + General Bonaparte, mechanically burning the fragments with the utmost + care. Then ringing for the chambermaid, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “When must my letters be in the post?” + </p> + <p> + “Half-past six,” replied she. “You have only a few minutes more.” + </p> + <p> + “Just wait then.” + </p> + <p> + And taking a pen he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My DEAR GENERAL—It is as I told you; I am living and he is + dead. You must admit that this seems like a wager. Devotion + to death. + + Your Paladin + + ROLAND. +</pre> + <p> + Then he sealed the letter, addressed it to General Bonaparte, Rue de la + Victoire, Paris, and handed it to the chambermaid, bidding her lose no + time in posting it. Then only did he seem to notice Sir John, and held out + his hand to him. + </p> + <p> + “You have just rendered me a great service, my lord,” he said. “One of + those services which bind men for all eternity. I am already your friend; + will you do me the honor to become mine?” + </p> + <p> + Sir John pressed the hand that Roland offered him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said he, “I thank you heartily. I should never have dared ask this + honor; but you offer it and I accept.” + </p> + <p> + Even the impassible Englishman felt his heart soften as he brushed away + the tear that trembled on his lashes. Then looking at Roland, he said: “It + is unfortunate that you are so hurried; I should have been pleased and + delighted to spend a day or two with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Where were you going, my lord, when I met you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I? Nowhere. I am travelling to get over being bored. I am + unfortunately often bored.” + </p> + <p> + “So that you were going nowhere?” + </p> + <p> + “I was going everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly the same thing,” said the young officer, smiling. “Well, + will you do something for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very willingly, if it is possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly possible; it depends only on you.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Had I been killed you were going to take me to my mother or throw me into + the Rhone.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have taken you to your mother and not thrown you into the + Rhone.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, instead of accompanying me dead, take me living. You will be all + the better received.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “We will remain a fortnight at Bourg. It is my natal city, and one of the + dullest towns in France; but as your compatriots are pre-eminent for + originality, perhaps you will find amusement where others are bored. Are + we agreed?” + </p> + <p> + “I should like nothing better,” exclaimed the Englishman; “but it seems to + me that it is hardly proper on my part.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! we are not in England, my lord, where etiquette holds absolute sway. + We have no longer king nor queen. We didn’t cut off that poor creature’s + head whom they called Marie Antoinette to install Her Majesty, Etiquette, + in her stead.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to go,” said Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll see, my mother is an excellent woman, and very distinguished + besides. My sister was sixteen when I left; she must be eighteen now. She + was pretty, and she ought to be beautiful. Then there is my brother + Edouard, a delightful youngster of twelve, who will let off fireworks + between your legs and chatter a gibberish of English with you. At the end + of the fortnight we will go to Paris together.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from Paris,” said the Englishman. + </p> + <p> + “But listen. You were willing to go to Egypt to see General Bonaparte. + Paris is not so far from here as Cairo. I’ll present you, and, introduced + by me, you may rest assured that you will be well received. You were + speaking of Shakespeare just now—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am always quoting him.” + </p> + <p> + “Which proves that you like comedies and dramas.” + </p> + <p> + “I do like them very much, that’s true.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, General Bonaparte is going to produce one in his own style + which will not be wanting in interest, I answer for it!” + </p> + <p> + “So that,” said Sir John, still hesitating, “I may accept your offer + without seeming intrusive?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so. You will delight us all, especially me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I accept.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! Now, let’s see, when will you start?” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as you wish. My coach was harnessed when you threw that + unfortunate plate at Barjols’ head. However, as I should never have known + you but for that plate, I am glad you did throw it at him!” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we start this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Instantly. I’ll give orders for the postilion to send other horses, and + once they are here we will start.” + </p> + <p> + Roland nodded acquiescence. Sir John went out to give his orders, and + returned presently, saying they had served two cutlets and a cold fowl for + them below. Roland took his valise and went down. The Englishman placed + his pistols in the coach box again. Both ate enough to enable them to + travel all night, and as nine o’clock was striking from the Church of the + Cordeliers they settled themselves in the carriage and quitted Avignon, + where their passage left a fresh trail of blood, Roland with the careless + indifference of his nature, Sir John Tanlay with the impassibility of his + nation. A quarter of an hour later both were sleeping, or at least the + silence which obtained induced the belief that both had yielded to + slumber. + </p> + <p> + We shall profit by this instant of repose to give our readers some + indispensable information concerning Roland and his family. + </p> + <p> + Roland was born the first of July, 1773, four years and a few days later + than Bonaparte, at whose side, or rather following him, he made his + appearance in this book. He was the son of M. Charles de Montrevel, + colonel of a regiment long garrisoned at Martinique, where he had married + a creole named Clotilde de la Clémencière. Three children were born of + this marriage, two boys and a girl: Louis, whose acquaintance we have made + under the name of Roland, Amélie, whose beauty he had praised to Sir John, + and Edouard. + </p> + <p> + Recalled to France in 1782, M. de Montrevel obtained admission for young + Louis de Montrevel (we shall see later how the name of Louis was changed + to Roland) to the Ecole Militaire in Paris. + </p> + <p> + It was there that Bonaparte knew the child, when, on M. de Keralio’s + report, he was judged worthy of promotion from the Ecole de Brienne to the + Ecole Militaire. Louis was the youngest pupil. Though he was only + thirteen, he had already made himself remarked for that ungovernable and + quarrelsome nature of which we have seen him seventeen years later give an + example at the table d’hôte at Avignon. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, a child himself, had the good side of this character; that is + to say, without being quarrelsome, he was firm, obstinate, and + unconquerable. He recognized in the child some of his own qualities, and + this similarity of sentiments led him to pardon the boy’s defects, and + attached him to him. On the other hand the child, conscious of a supporter + in the Corsican, relied upon him. + </p> + <p> + One day the child went to find his great friend, as he called Napoleon, + when the latter was absorbed in the solution of a mathematical problem. He + knew the importance the future artillery officer attached to this science, + which so far had won him his greatest, or rather his only successes. + </p> + <p> + He stood beside him without speaking or moving. The young mathematician + felt the child’s presence, and plunged deeper and deeper into his + mathematical calculations, whence he emerged victorious ten minutes later. + Then he turned to his young comrade with that inward satisfaction of a man + who issues victorious from any struggle, be it with science or things + material. + </p> + <p> + The child stood erect, pale, his teeth clinched, his arms rigid and his + fists closed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh!” said young Bonaparte, “what is the matter now?” + </p> + <p> + “Valence, the governor’s nephew, struck me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Bonaparte, laughing, “and you have come to me to strike him + back?” + </p> + <p> + The child shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, “I have come to you because I want to fight him—” + </p> + <p> + “Fight Valence?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But Valence will beat you, child; he is four times as strong as you.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore I don’t want to fight him as children do, but like men fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” + </p> + <p> + “Does that surprise you?” asked the child. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bonaparte; “what do you want to fight with?” + </p> + <p> + “With swords.” + </p> + <p> + “But only the sergeants have swords, and they won’t lend you one.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we will do without swords.” + </p> + <p> + “But what will you fight with?” + </p> + <p> + The child pointed to the compass with which the young mathematician had + made his equations. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my child,” said Bonaparte, “a compass makes a very bad wound.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” replied Louis; “I can kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose he kills you?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather that than bear his blow.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte made no further objections; he loved courage, instinctively, and + his young comrade’s pleased him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so be it!” he replied; “I will tell Valence that you wish to fight + him, but not till to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “You will have the night to reflect.” + </p> + <p> + “And from now till to-morrow,” replied the child, “Valence will think me a + coward.” Then shaking his head, “It is too long till to-morrow.” And he + walked away. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” Bonaparte asked him. + </p> + <p> + “To ask some one else to be my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am no longer your friend?” + </p> + <p> + “No, since you think I am a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the young man rising. + </p> + <p> + “You will go?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “At once?” + </p> + <p> + “At once.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the child, “I beg your pardon; you are indeed my friend.” + And he fell upon his neck weeping. They were the first tears he had shed + since he had received the blow. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte went in search of Valence and gravely explained his mission to + him. Valence was a tall lad of seventeen, having already, like certain + precocious natures, a beard and mustache; he appeared at least twenty. He + was, moreover, a head taller than the boy he had insulted. + </p> + <p> + Valence replied that Louis had pulled his queue as if it were a bell-cord + (queues were then in vogue)—that he had warned him twice to desist, + but that Louis had repeated the prank the third time, whereupon, + considering him a mischievous youngster, he had treated him as such. + </p> + <p> + Valence’s answer was reported to Louis, who retorted that pulling a + comrade’s queue was only teasing him, whereas a blow was an insult. + Obstinacy endowed this child of thirteen with the logic of a man of + thirty. + </p> + <p> + The modern Popilius to Valence returned with his declaration of war. The + youth was greatly embarrassed; he could not fight with a child without + being ridiculous. If he fought and wounded him, it would be a horrible + thing; if he himself were wounded, he would never get over it so long as + he lived. + </p> + <p> + But Louis’s unyielding obstinacy made the matter a serious one. A council + of the Grands (elder scholars) was called, as was usual in serious cases. + The Grands decided that one of their number could not fight a child; but + since this child persisted in considering himself a young man, Valence + must tell him before all his schoolmates that he regretted having treated + him as a child, and would henceforth regard him as a young man. + </p> + <p> + Louis, who was waiting in his friend’s room, was sent for. He was + introduced into the conclave assembled in the playground of the younger + pupils. + </p> + <p> + There Valence, to whom his comrades had dictated a speech carefully + debated among themselves to safeguard the honor of the Grands toward the + Petits, assured Louis that he deeply deplored the occurrence; that he had + treated him according to his age and not according to his intelligence and + courage, and begged him to excuse his impatience and to shake hands in + sign that all was forgotten. + </p> + <p> + But Louis shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I heard my father, who is a colonel, say once,” he replied, “that he who + receives a blow and does not fight is a coward. The first time I see my + father I shall ask him if he who strikes the blow and then apologizes to + avoid fighting is not more of a coward than he who received it.” + </p> + <p> + The young fellows looked at each other. Still the general opinion was + against a duel which would resemble murder, and all, Bonaparte included, + were unanimously agreed that the child must be satisfied with what Valence + had said, for it represented their common opinion. Louis retired, pale + with anger, and sulked with his great friend, who, said he, with + imperturbable gravity, had sacrificed his honor. + </p> + <p> + The morrow, while the Grands were receiving their lesson in mathematics, + Louis slipped into the recitation-room, and while Valence was making a + demonstration on the blackboard, he approached him unperceived, climbed on + a stool to reach his face, and returned the slap he had received the + preceding day. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said he, “now we are quits, and I have your apologies to boot; as + for me, I shan’t make any, you may be quite sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + The scandal was great. The act occurring in the professor’s presence, he + was obliged to report it to the governor of the school, the Marquis + Tiburce Valence. The latter, knowing nothing of the events leading up to + the blow his nephew had received, sent for the delinquent and after a + terrible lecture informed him that he was no longer a member of the + school, and must be ready to return to his mother at Bourg that very day. + Louis replied that his things would be packed in ten minutes, and he out + of the school in fifteen. Of the blow he himself had received he said not + a word. + </p> + <p> + The reply seemed more than disrespectful to the Marquis Tiburce Valence. + He was much inclined to send the insolent boy to the dungeon for a week, + but reflected that he could not confine him and expel him at the same + time. + </p> + <p> + The child was placed in charge of an attendant, who was not to leave him + until he had put him in the coach for Mâcon; Madame de Montrevel was to be + notified to meet him at the end of the journey. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte meeting the boy, followed by his keeper, asked an explanation of + the sort of constabulary guard attached to him. + </p> + <p> + “I’d tell you if you were still my friend,” replied the child; “but you + are not. Why do you bother about what happens to me, whether good or bad?” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte made a sign to the attendant, who came to the door while Louis + was packing his little trunk. He learned then that the child had been + expelled. The step was serious; it would distress the entire family, and + perhaps ruin his young comrade’s future. + </p> + <p> + With that rapidity of decision which was one of the distinctive + characteristics of his organization, he resolved to ask an audience of the + governor, meantime requesting the keeper not to hasten Louis’s departure. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte was an excellent pupil, beloved in the school, and highly + esteemed by the Marquis Tiburce Valence. His request was immediately + complied with. Ushered into the governor’s presence, he related + everything, and, without blaming Valence in the least, he sought to + exculpate Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of what you are telling me, sir?” asked the governor. + </p> + <p> + “Question your nephew himself. I will abide by what he says.” + </p> + <p> + Valence was sent for. He had already heard of Louis’s expulsion, and was + on his way to tell his uncle what had happened. His account tallied + perfectly with what you Bonaparte had said. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the governor, “Louis shall not go, but you will. You are + old enough to leave school.” Then ringing, “Bring me the list of the + vacant sub-lieutenancies,” he said. + </p> + <p> + That same day an urgent request for a sub-lieutenancy was made to the + Ministry, and that same night Valence left to join his regiment. He went + to bid Louis farewell, embracing him half willingly, half unwillingly, + while Bonaparte held his hand. The child received the embrace reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right now,” said he, “but if ever we meet with swords by our + sides—” A threatening gesture ended the sentence. + </p> + <p> + Valence left. Bonaparte received his own appointment as sub-lieutenant + October 10, 1785. His was one of fifty-eight commissions which Louis XVI. + signed for the Ecole Militaire. Eleven years later, November 15, 1796, + Bonaparte, commander-in-chief of the army of Italy, at the Bridge of + Arcola, which was defended by two regiments of Croats and two pieces of + cannon, seeing his ranks disseminated by grapeshot and musket balls, + feeling that victory was slipping through his fingers, alarmed by the + hesitation of his bravest followers, wrenched the tri-color from the rigid + fingers of a dead color-bearer, and dashed toward the bridge, shouting: + “Soldiers! are you no longer the men of Lodi?” As he did so he saw a young + lieutenant spring past him who covered him with his body. + </p> + <p> + This was far from what Bonaparte wanted. He wished to cross first. Had it + been possible he would have gone alone. + </p> + <p> + Seizing the young man by the flap of his coat, he drew him back, saying: + “Citizen, you are only a lieutenant, I a commander-in-chief! The + precedence belongs to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Too true,” replied the other; and he followed Bonaparte instead of + preceding him. + </p> + <p> + That evening, learning that two Austrian divisions had been cut to pieces, + and seeing the two thousand prisoners he had taken, together with the + captured cannons and flags, Bonaparte recalled the young man who had + sprung in front of him when death alone seemed before him. + </p> + <p> + “Berthier,” said he, “tell my aide-de-camp, Valence, to find that young + lieutenant of grenadiers with whom I had a controversy this morning at the + Bridge of Arcola.” + </p> + <p> + “General,” stammered Berthier, “Valence is wounded.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I remember I have not seen him to-day. Wounded? Where? How? On the + battlefield?” + </p> + <p> + “No, general,” said he, “he was dragged into a quarrel yesterday, and + received a sword thrust through his body.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte frowned. “And yet they know very well I do not approve of duels; + a soldier’s blood belongs not to himself, but to France. Give Muiron the + order then.” + </p> + <p> + “He is killed, general.” + </p> + <p> + “To Elliot, in that case.” + </p> + <p> + “Killed also.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte drew his handkerchief from his pocket and passed it over his + brow, which was bathed with sweat. + </p> + <p> + “To whom you will, then; but I want to see that lieutenant.” + </p> + <p> + He dared not name any others, fearing to hear again that fatal “Killed!” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later the young lieutenant was ushered into his tent, + which was lighted faintly by a single lamp. + </p> + <p> + “Come nearer, lieutenant,” said Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + The young man made three steps and came within the circle of light. + </p> + <p> + “So you are the man who wished to cross the bridge before me?” continued + Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “It was done on a wager, general,” gayly answered the young lieutenant, + whose voice made the general start. + </p> + <p> + “Did I make you lose it?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, yes; maybe, no.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the wager?” + </p> + <p> + “That I should be promoted captain to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “You have won it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, general.” + </p> + <p> + The young man moved hastily forward as if to press Bonaparte’s hand, but + checked himself almost immediately. The light had fallen full on his face + for an instant; that instant sufficed to make the general notice the face + as he had the voice. Neither the one nor the other was unknown to him. He + searched his memory for an instant, but finding it rebellious, said: “I + know you!” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I am certain; only I cannot recall your name.” + </p> + <p> + “You managed that yours should not be forgotten, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask Valence, general.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte gave a cry of joy. + </p> + <p> + “Louis de Montrevel,” he exclaimed, opening wide his arms. This time the + young lieutenant did not hesitate to fling himself into them. + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Bonaparte; “you will serve eight days with the regiment + in your new rank, that they may accustom themselves to your captain’s + epaulets, and then you will take my poor Muiron’s place as aide-de-camp. + Go!” + </p> + <p> + “Once more!” cried the young man, opening his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, yes!” said Bonaparte, joyfully. Then holding him close after + kissing him twice, “And so it was you who gave Valence that sword thrust?” + </p> + <p> + “My word!” said the new captain and future aide-de-camp, “you were there + when I promised it to him. A soldier keeps his word.” + </p> + <p> + Eight days later Captain Montrevel was doing duty as staff-officer to the + commander-in-chief, who changed his name of Louis, then in ill-repute, to + that of Roland. And the young man consoled himself for ceasing to be a + descendant of St. Louis by becoming the nephew of Charlemagne. + </p> + <p> + Roland—no one would have dared to call Captain Montrevel Louis after + Bonaparte had baptized him Roland—made the campaign of Italy with + his general, and returned with him to Paris after the peace of Campo + Formio. + </p> + <p> + When the Egyptian expedition was decided upon, Roland, who had been + summoned to his mother’s side by the death of the Brigadier-General de + Montrevel, killed on the Rhine while his son was fighting on the Adige and + the Mincio, was among the first appointed by the commander-in-chief to + accompany him in the useless but poetical crusade which he was planning. + He left his mother, his sister Amélie, and his young brother Edouard at + Bourg, General de Montrevel’s native town. They resided some + three-quarters of a mile out of the city, at Noires-Fontaines, a charming + house, called a château, which, together with the farm and several hundred + acres of land surrounding it, yielded an income of six or eight thousand + livres a year, and constituted the general’s entire fortune. Roland’s + departure on this adventurous expedition deeply afflicted the poor widow. + The death of the father seemed to presage that of the son, and Madame de + Montrevel, a sweet, gentle Creole, was far from possessing the stern + virtues of a Spartan or Lacedemonian mother. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, who loved his old comrade of the Ecole Militaire with all his + heart, granted him permission to rejoin him at the very last moment at + Toulon. But the fear of arriving too late prevented Roland from profiting + by this permission to its full extent. He left his mother, promising her—a + promise he was careful not to keep—that he would not expose himself + unnecessarily, and arrived at Marseilles eight days before the fleet set + sail. + </p> + <p> + Our intention is no more to give the history of the campaign of Egypt than + we did that of Italy. We shall only mention that which is absolutely + necessary to understand this story and the subsequent development of + Roland’s character. The 19th of May, 1798, Bonaparte and his entire staff + set sail for the Orient; the 15th of June the Knights of Malta gave up the + keys of their citadel. The 2d of July the army disembarked at Marabout, + and the same day took Alexandria; the 25th, Bonaparte entered Cairo, after + defeating the Mamelukes at Chebreïss and the Pyramids. + </p> + <p> + During this succession of marches and battles, Roland had been the officer + we know him, gay, courageous and witty, defying the scorching heat of the + day, the icy dew of the nights, dashing like a hero or a fool among the + Turkish sabres or the Bedouin bullets. During the forty days of the voyage + he had never left the interpreter Ventura; so that with his admirable + facility he had learned, if not to speak Arabic fluently, at least to make + himself understood in that language. Therefore it often happened that, + when the general did not wish to use the native interpreter, Roland was + charged with certain communications to the Muftis, the Ulemas, and the + Sheiks. + </p> + <p> + During the night of October 20th and 21st Cairo revolted. At five in the + morning the death of General Dupey, killed by a lance, was made known. At + eight, just as the revolt was supposedly quelled, an aide-de-camp of the + dead general rode up, announcing that the Bedouins from the plains were + attacking Bab-el-Nasr, or the Gate of Victory. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte was breakfasting with his aide-de-camp Sulkowsky, so severely + wounded at Salahieh that he left his pallet of suffering with the greatest + difficulty only. Bonaparte, in his preoccupation forgetting the young + Pole’s condition, said to him: “Sulkowsky, take fifteen Guides and go see + what that rabble wants.” + </p> + <p> + Sulkowsky rose. + </p> + <p> + “General,” interposed Roland, “give me the commission. Don’t you see my + comrade can hardly stand?” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Bonaparte; “do you go!” + </p> + <p> + Roland went out and took the fifteen Guides and started. But the order had + been given to Sulkowsky, and Sulkowsky was determined to execute it. He + set forth with five or six men whom he found ready. + </p> + <p> + Whether by chance, or because he knew the streets of Cairo better than + Roland, he reached the Gate of Victory a few seconds before him. When + Roland arrived, he saw five or six dead men, and an officer being led away + by the Arabs, who, while massacring the soldiers mercilessly, will + sometimes spare the officers in hope of a ransom. Roland recognized + Sulkowsky; pointing him out with his sabre to his fifteen men, he charged + at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, a Guide, returning alone to head-quarters, announced + the deaths of Sulkowsky, Roland and his twenty-one companions. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, as we have said, loved Roland as a brother, as a son, as he + loved Eugene. He wished to know all the details of the catastrophe, and + questioned the Guide. The man had seen an Arab cut off Sulkowsky’s head + and fasten it to his saddle-bow. As for Roland, his horse had been killed. + He had disengaged himself from the stirrups and was seen fighting for a + moment on foot; but he had soon disappeared in a general volley at close + quarters. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte sighed, shed a tear and murmured: “Another!” and apparently + thought no more about it. But he did inquire to what tribe belonged these + Bedouins, who had just killed two of the men he loved best. He was told + that they were an independent tribe whose village was situated some thirty + miles off. Bonaparte left them a month, that they might become convinced + of their impunity; then, the month elapsed, he ordered one of his + aides-de-camp, named Crosier, to surround the village, destroy the huts, + behead the men, put them in sacks, and bring the rest of the population, + that is to say, the women and children, to Cairo. + </p> + <p> + Crosier executed the order punctually; all the women and children who + could be captured were brought to Cairo, and also with them one living + Arab, gagged and bound to his horse’s back. + </p> + <p> + “Why is this man still alive?” asked Bonaparte. “I ordered you to behead + every man who was able to bear arms.” + </p> + <p> + “General,” said Crosier, who also possessed a smattering of Arabian words, + “just as I was about to order his head cut off, I understood him to offer + to exchange a prisoner for his life. I thought there would be time enough + to cut off his head, and so brought him with me. If I am mistaken, the + ceremony can take place here as well as there; what is postponed is not + abandoned.” + </p> + <p> + The interpreter Ventura was summoned to question the Bedouin. He replied + that he had saved the life of a French officer who had been grievously + wounded at the Gate of Victory, and that this officer, who spoke a little + Arabic, claimed to be one of General Bonaparte’s aides-de-camp. He had + sent him to his brother who was a physician in a neighboring tribe, of + which this officer was a captive; and if they would promise to spare his + life, he would write to his brother to send the prisoner to Cairo. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps this was a tale invented to gain time, but it might also be true; + nothing was lost by waiting. + </p> + <p> + The Arab was placed in safe keeping, a scribe was brought to write at his + dictation. He sealed the letter with his own seal, and an Arab from Cairo + was despatched to negotiate the exchange. If the emissary succeeded, it + meant the Bedouin’s life and five hundred piastres to the messenger. + </p> + <p> + Three days later he returned bringing Roland. Bonaparte had hoped for but + had not dared to expect this return. + </p> + <p> + This heart of iron, which had seemed insensible to grief, was now melted + with joy. He opened his arms to Roland, as on the day when he had found + him, and two tears, two pearls—the tears of Bonaparte were rare—fell + from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + But Roland, strange as it may seem, was sombre in the midst of the joy + caused by his return. He confirmed the Arab’s tale, insisted upon his + liberation, but refused all personal details about his capture by the + Bedouins and the treatment he had received at the hands of the doctor. As + for Sulkowsky, he had been killed and beheaded before his eyes, so it was + useless to think more of him. Roland resumed his duties, but it was + noticeable his native courage had become temerity, and his longing for + glory, desire for death. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, as often happens with those who brave fire and sword, + fire and sword miraculously spared him. Before, behind and around Roland + men fell; he remained erect, invulnerable as the demon of war. During the + campaign in Syria two emissaries were sent to demand the surrender of + Saint Jean d’Acre of Djezzar Pasha. Neither of the two returned; they had + been beheaded. It was necessary to send a third. Roland applied for the + duty, and so insistent was he, that he eventually obtained the general’s + permission and returned in safety. He took part in each of the nineteen + assaults made upon the fortress; at each assault he was seen entering the + breach. He was one of the ten men who forced their way into the Accursèd + Tower; nine remained, but he returned without a scratch. During the + retreat, Bonaparte commanded his cavalry to lend their horses to the + wounded and sick. All endeavored to avoid the contagion of the pest-ridden + sick. To them Roland gave his horse from preference. Three fell dead from + the saddle; he mounted his horse after them, and reached Cairo safe and + sound. At Aboukir he flung himself into the mélée, reached the Pasha by + forcing his way through the guard of blacks who surrounded him; seized him + by the beard and received the fire of his two pistols. One burned the + wadding only, the other ball passed under his arm, killing a guard behind + him. + </p> + <p> + When Bonaparte resolved to return to France, Roland was the first to whom + the general announced his intention. Another had been overjoyed; but he + remained sombre and melancholy, saying: “I should prefer to remain here, + general. There is more chance of my being killed here.” + </p> + <p> + But as it would have appeared ungrateful on his part to refuse to follow + the general, he returned with him. During the voyage he remained sad and + impenetrable, until the English fleet was sighted near Corsica. Then only + did he regain his wonted animation. Bonaparte told Admiral Gantheaume that + he would fight to the death, and gave orders to sink the frigate sooner + than haul down the flag. He passed, however, unseen through the British + fleet, and disembarked at Frejus, October 8, 1799. + </p> + <p> + All were impatient to be the first to set foot on French soil. Roland was + the last. Although the general paid no apparent attention to these + details, none escaped him. He sent Eugène, Berthier, Bourrienne, his + aides-de-camp and his suite by way of Gap and Draguignan, while he took + the road to Aix strictly incognito, accompanied only by Roland, to judge + for himself of the state of the Midi. Hoping that the joy of seeing his + family again would revive the love of life in his heart crushed by its + hidden sorrow, he informed Roland at Aix that they would part at Lyons, + and gave him three weeks’ furlough to visit his mother and sister. + </p> + <p> + Roland replied: “Thank you, general. My sister and my mother will be very + happy to see me.” Whereas formerly his words would have been: “Thank you, + general. I shall be very happy to see my mother and sister again.” + </p> + <p> + We know what occurred at Avignon; we have seen with what profound contempt + for danger, bitter disgust of life, Roland had provoked that terrible + duel. We heard the reason he gave Sir John for this indifference to death. + Was it true or false? Sir John at all events was obliged to content + himself with it, since Roland was evidently not disposed to furnish any + other. + </p> + <p> + And now, as we have said, they were sleeping or pretending to sleep as + they were drawn by two horses at full speed along the road of Avignon to + Orange. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. MORGAN + </h2> + <p> + Our readers must permit us for an instant to abandon Roland and Sir John, + who, thanks to the physical and moral conditions in which we left them, + need inspire no anxiety, while we direct our attention seriously to a + personage who has so far made but a brief appearance in this history, + though he is destined to play an important part in it. + </p> + <p> + We are speaking of the man who, armed and masked, entered the room of the + table d’hôte at Avignon to return Jean Picot the two hundred louis which + had been stolen from him by mistake, stored as it had been with the + government money. + </p> + <p> + We speak of the highwayman, who called himself Morgan. He had ridden into + Avignon, masked, in broad daylight, entered the hotel of the + Palais-Egalité leaving his horse at the door. This horse had enjoyed the + same immunity in the pontifical and royalist town as his master; he found + it again at the horse post, unfastened its bridle, sprang into the saddle, + rode through the Porte d’Oulle, skirting the walls, and disappeared at a + gallop along the road to Lyons. Only about three-quarters of a mile from + Avignon, he drew his mantle closer about him, to conceal his weapons from + the passers, and removing his mask he slipped it into one of the holsters + of his saddle. + </p> + <p> + The persons whom he had left at Avignon who were curious to know if this + could be the terrible Morgan, the terror of the Midi, might have convinced + themselves with their own eyes, had they met him on the road between + Avignon and Bédarides, whether the bandit’s appearance was as terrifying + as his renown. We do not hesitate to assert that the features now revealed + would have harmonized so little with the picture their prejudiced + imagination had conjured up that their amazement would have been extreme. + </p> + <p> + The removal of the mask, by a hand of perfect whiteness and delicacy, + revealed the face of a young man of twenty-four or five years of age, a + face that, by its regularity of feature and gentle expression, had + something of the character of a woman’s. One detail alone gave it or + rather would give it at certain moments a touch of singular firmness. + Beneath the beautiful fair hair waving on his brow and temples, as was the + fashion at that period, eyebrows, eyes and lashes were black as ebony. The + rest of the face was, as we have said, almost feminine. There were two + little ears of which only the tips could be seen beneath the tufts of hair + to which the Incroyables of the day had given the name of “dog’s-ears”; a + straight, perfectly proportioned nose, a rather large mouth, rosy and + always smiling, and which, when smiling, revealed a double row of + brilliant teeth; a delicate refined chin faintly tinged with blue, showing + that, if the beard had not been carefully and recently shaved, it would, + protesting against the golden hair, have followed the same color as the + brows, lashes and eyes, that is to say, a decided black. As for the + unknown’s figure, it was seen, when he entered the dining-room, to be + tall, well-formed and flexible, denoting, if not great muscular strength, + at least much suppleness and agility. + </p> + <p> + The manner he sat his horse showed him to be a practiced rider. With his + cloak thrown back over his shoulders, his mask hidden in the holster, his + hat pulled low over his eyes, the rider resumed his rapid pace, checked + for an instant, passed through Bédarides at a gallop, and reaching the + first houses in Orange, entered the gate of one which closed immediately + behind him. A servant in waiting sprang to the bit. The rider dismounted + quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Is your master here?” he asked the domestic. + </p> + <p> + “No, Monsieur the Baron,” replied the man; “he was obliged to go away last + night, but he left word that if Monsieur should ask for him, to say that + he had gone in the interests of the Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, Baptiste. I have brought back his horse in good condition, + though somewhat tired. Rub him down with wine, and give him for two or + three days barley instead of oats. He has covered something like one + hundred miles since yesterday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur the Baron was satisfied with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly satisfied. Is the carriage ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur the Baron, all harnessed in the coach-house; the postilion + is drinking with Julien. Monsieur recommended that he should be kept + outside the house that he might not see him arrive.” + </p> + <p> + “He thinks he is to take your master?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur the Baron. Here is my master’s passport, which we used to + get the post-horses, and as my master has gone in the direction of + Bordeaux with Monsieur the Baron’s passport, and as Monsieur the Baron + goes toward Geneva with my master’s passport, the skein will probably be + so tangled that the police, clever as their fingers are, can’t easily + unravel it.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfasten the valise that is on the croup of my saddle, Baptiste, and give + it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Baptiste obeyed dutifully, but the valise almost slipped from his hands. + “Ah!” said he laughing, “Monsieur the Baron did not warn me! The devil! + Monsieur the Baron has not wasted his time it seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Just where you’re mistaken, Baptiste! if I didn’t waste all my time, I at + least lost a good deal, so I should like to be off again as soon as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + “But Monsieur the Baron will breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll eat a bite, but quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur will not be delayed. It is now two, and breakfast has been ready + since ten this morning. Luckily it’s a cold breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + And Baptiste, in the absence of his master, did the honors of the house to + the visitor by showing him the way to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Not necessary,” said the visitor, “I know the way. Do you see to the + carriage; let it be close to the house with the door wide open when I come + out, so that the postilion can’t see me. Here’s the money to pay him for + the first relay.” + </p> + <p> + And the stranger whom Baptiste had addressed as Baron handed him a handful + of notes. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Monsieur,” said the servant, “you have given me enough to pay all + the way to Lyons!” + </p> + <p> + “Pay him as far as Valence, under pretext that I want to sleep, and keep + the rest for your trouble in settling the accounts.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I put the valise in the carriage-box?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do so myself.” + </p> + <p> + And taking the valise from the servant’s hands, without letting it be seen + that it weighed heavily, he turned toward the dining-room, while Baptiste + made his way toward the nearest inn, sorting his notes as he went. + </p> + <p> + As the stranger had said, the way was familiar to him, for he passed down + a corridor, opened a first door without hesitation, then a second, and + found himself before a table elegantly served. A cold fowl, two + partridges, a ham, several kinds of cheese, a dessert of magnificent + fruit, and two decanters, the one containing a ruby-colored wine, and the + other a yellow-topaz, made a breakfast which, though evidently intended + for but one person, as only one place was set, might in case of need have + sufficed for three or four. + </p> + <p> + The young man’s first act on entering the dining-room was to go straight + to a mirror, remove his hat, arrange his hair with a little comb which he + took from his pocket; after which he went to a porcelain basin with a + reservoir above it, took a towel which was there for the purpose, and + bathed his face and hands. Not until these ablutions were completed—characteristic + of a man of elegant habits—not until these ablutions had been + minutely performed did the stranger sit down to the table. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes sufficed to satisfy his appetite, to which youth and fatigue + had, however, given magnificent proportions; and when Baptiste came in to + inform the solitary guest that the carriage was ready he found him already + afoot and waiting. + </p> + <p> + The stranger drew his hat low over his eyes, wrapped his coat about him, + took the valise under his arm, and, as Baptiste had taken pains to lower + the carriage-steps as close as possible to the door, he sprang into the + post-chaise without being seen by the postilion. Baptiste slammed the door + after him; then, addressing the man in the top-boots: + </p> + <p> + “Everything is paid to Valence, isn’t it, relays and fees?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Everything; do you want a receipt?” replied the postilion, jokingly. + </p> + <p> + “No; but my master, the Marquise de Ribier, don’t want to be disturbed + until he gets to Valence.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” replied the postilion, in the same bantering tone, “the + citizen Marquis shan’t be disturbed. Forward, hoop-la!” And he started his + horses, and cracked his whip with that noisy eloquence which says to + neighbors and passers-by: “‘Ware here, ‘ware there! I am driving a man who + pays well and who has the right to run over others.” + </p> + <p> + Once in the carriage the pretended Marquis of Ribier opened the window, + lowered the blinds, raised the seat, put his valise in the hollow, sat + down on it, wrapped himself in his cloak, and, certain of not being + disturbed till he reached Valence, slept as he had breakfasted, that is to + say, with all the appetite of youth. + </p> + <p> + They went from Orange to Valence in eight hours. Our traveller awakened + shortly before entering the city. Raising one of the blinds cautiously, he + recognized the little suburb of Paillasse. It was dark, so he struck his + repeater and found it was eleven at night. Thinking it useless to go to + sleep again, he added up the cost of the relays to Lyons and counted out + the money. As the postilion at Valence passed the comrade who replaced + him, the traveller heard him say: + </p> + <p> + “It seems he’s a ci-devant; but he was recommended from Orange, and, as he + pays twenty sous fees, you must treat him as you would a patriot.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied the other; “he shall be driven accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + The traveller thought the time had come to intervene. He raised the blind + and said: + </p> + <p> + “And you’ll only be doing me justice. A patriot? Deuce take it! I pride + myself upon being one, and of the first calibre, too! And the proof is—Drink + this to the health of the Republic.” And he handed a hundred-franc + assignat to the postilion who had recommended him to his comrade. Seeing + the other looking eagerly at this strip of paper, he continued: “And the + same to you if you will repeat the recommendation you’ve just received to + the others.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t worry, citizen,” said the postilion; “there’ll be but one order + to Lyons—full speed!” + </p> + <p> + “And here is the money for the sixteen posts, including the double post of + entrance in advance. I pay twenty sous fees. Settle it among yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + The postilion dug his spurs into his horse and they were off at a gallop. + The carriage relayed at Lyons about four in the afternoon. While the + horses were being changed, a man clad like a porter, sitting with his + stretcher beside him on a stone post, rose, came to the carriage and said + something in a low tone to the young Companion of Jehu which seemed to + astonish the latter greatly. + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure?” he asked the porter. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that I saw him with my own eyes!” replied the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Then I can give the news to our friends as a positive fact?” + </p> + <p> + “You can. Only hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Have they been notified at Servas?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you will find a horse ready between Servas and Sue.” + </p> + <p> + The postilion came up; the young man exchanged a last glance with the + porter, who walked away as if charged with a letter of the utmost + importance. + </p> + <p> + “What road, citizen?” asked the postilion. + </p> + <p> + “To Bourg. I must reach Servas by nine this evening; I pay thirty sous + fees.” + </p> + <p> + “Forty-two miles in five hours! That’s tough. Well, after all, it can be + done.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you do it.” + </p> + <p> + “We can try.” + </p> + <p> + And the postilion started at full gallop. Nine o’clock was striking as + they entered Servas. + </p> + <p> + “A crown of six livres if you’ll drive me half-way to Sue without stopping + here to change horses!” cried the young man through the window to the + postilion. + </p> + <p> + “Done!” replied the latter. + </p> + <p> + And the carriage dashed past the post house without stopping. + </p> + <p> + Morgan stopped the carriage at a half mile beyond Servas, put his head out + of the window, made a trumpet of his hands, and gave the hoot of a + screech-owl. The imitation was so perfect that another owl answered from a + neighboring woods. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are,” cried Morgan. + </p> + <p> + The postilion pulled up, saying: “If we’re there, we needn’t go further.” + </p> + <p> + The young man took his valise, opened the door, jumped out and stepped up + to the postilion. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the promised ecu.” + </p> + <p> + The postilion took the coin and stuck it in his eye, as a fop of our day + holds his eye-glasses. Morgan divined that this pantomime had a + significance. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he asked, “what does that mean?” + </p> + <p> + “That means,” said the postilion, “that, do what I will, I can’t help + seeing with the other eye.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said the young man, laughing; “and if I close the other + eye—” + </p> + <p> + “Damn it! I shan’t see anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey! you’re a rogue who’d rather be blind than see with one eye! Well, + there’s no disputing tastes. Here!” + </p> + <p> + And he gave him a second crown. The postilion stuck it up to his other + eye, wheeled the carriage round and took the road back to Servas. + </p> + <p> + The Companion of Jehu waited till he vanished in the darkness. Then + putting the hollow of a key to his lips, he drew a long trembling sound + from it like a boatswain’s whistle. + </p> + <p> + A similar call answered him, and immediately a horseman came out of the + woods at full gallop. As he caught sight of him Morgan put on his mask. + </p> + <p> + “In whose name have you come?” asked the rider, whose face, hidden as it + was beneath the brim of an immense hat, could not be seen. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of the prophet Elisha,” replied the young man with the mask. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are he whom I am waiting for.” And he dismounted. + </p> + <p> + “Are you prophet or disciple?” asked Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Disciple,” replied the new-comer. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your master?” + </p> + <p> + “You will find him at the Chartreuse of Seillon.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how many Companions are there this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good; if you meet any others send them there.” + </p> + <p> + He who had called himself a disciple bowed in sign of obedience, assisted + Morgan to fasten the valise to the croup of the saddle, and respectfully + held the bit while the young man mounted. Without even waiting to thrust + his other foot into the stirrup, Morgan spurred his horse, which tore the + bit from the groom’s hand and started off at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + On the right of the road stretched the forest of Seillon, like a shadowy + sea, its sombre billows undulating and moaning in the night wind. Half a + mile beyond Sue the rider turned his horse across country toward the + forest, which, as he rode on, seemed to advance toward him. The horse, + guided by an experienced hand, plunged fearlessly into the woods. Ten + minutes later he emerged on the other side. + </p> + <p> + A gloomy mass, isolated in the middle of a plain, rose about a hundred + feet from the forest. It was a building of massive architecture, shaded by + five or six venerable trees. The horseman paused before the portal, over + which were placed three statues in a triangle of the Virgin, our Lord, and + St. John the Baptist. The statue of the Virgin was at the apex of the + triangle. + </p> + <p> + The mysterious traveller had reached his goal, for this was the Chartreuse + of Seillon. This monastery, the twenty-second of its order, was founded in + 1178. In 1672 a modern edifice had been substituted for the old building; + vestiges of its ruins can be seen to this day. These ruins consist + externally of the above-mentioned portal with the three statues, before + which our mysterious traveller halted; internally, a small chapel, entered + from the right through the portal. A peasant, his wife and two children + are now living there, and the ancient monastery has become a farm. + </p> + <p> + The monks were expelled from their convent in 1791; in 1792 the Chartreuse + and its dependencies were offered for sale as ecclesiastical property. The + dependencies consisted first of the park, adjoining the buildings, and the + noble forest which still bears the name of Seillon. But at Bourg, a + royalist and, above all, religious town, no one dared risk his soul by + purchasing property belonging to the worthy monks whom all revered. The + result was that the convent, the park and the forest had become, under the + title of state property, the property of the republic; that is to say, + they belonged to nobody, or were at the best neglected. The republic + having, for the last seven years, other things to think of than pointing + walls, cultivating an orchard and cutting timber. + </p> + <p> + For seven years, therefore, the Chartreuse had been completely abandoned, + and if by chance curious eyes peered through the keyhole, they caught + glimpses of grass-grown courtyards, brambles in the orchard, and brush in + the forest, which, except for one road and two or three paths that crossed + it, had become almost impenetrable. The Correrie, a species of pavilion + belonging to the monastery and distant from it about three-quarters of a + mile, was mossgrown too in the tangle of the forest, which, profiting by + its liberty, grew at its own sweet will, and had long since encircled it + in a mantle of foliage which hid it from sight. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, the strangest rumors were current about these two buildings. + They were said to be haunted by guests invisible by day, terrifying at + night. The woodsmen and the belated peasants, who went to the forest to + exercise against the Republic the rights which the town of Bourg had + enjoyed in the days of the monks, pretended that, through the cracks of + the closed blinds, they had seen flames of fire dancing along the + corridors and stairways, and had distinctly heard the noise of chains + clanking over the cloister tilings and the pavement of the courtyards. The + strong-minded denied these things; but two very opposite classes opposed + the unbelievers, confirming the rumors, attributing these terrifying + noises and nocturnal lights to two different causes according to their + beliefs. The patriots declared that they were the ghosts of the poor monks + buried alive by cloister tyranny in the In-pace, who were now returned to + earth, dragging after them their fetters to call down the vengeance of + Heaven upon their persecutors. The royalists said that they were the imps + of the devil, who, finding an empty convent, and fearing no further danger + from holy water, were boldly holding their revels where once they had not + dared show a claw. One fact, however, left everything uncertain. Not one + of the believers or unbelievers—whether he elected for the souls of + the martyred monks or for the Witches’ Sabbath of Beelzebub—had ever + had the courage to venture among the shadows, and to seek during the + solemn hours of night confirmation of the truth, in order to tell on the + morrow whether the Chartreuse were haunted, and if haunted by whom. + </p> + <p> + But doubtless these tales, whether well founded or not, had no influence + over our mysterious horseman; for although, as we have said, nine o’clock + had chimed from the steeples of Bourg, and night had fallen, he reined in + his horse in front of the great portal of the deserted monastery, and, + without dismounting, drew a pistol from his holster, striking three + measured blows with the butt on the gate, after the manner of the + Freemasons. Then he listened. For an instant he doubted if the meeting + were really there; for though he looked closely and listened attentively, + he could perceive no light, nor could he hear a sound. Still he fancied he + heard a cautious step approaching the portal from within. He knocked a + second time with the same weapon and in the same manner. + </p> + <p> + “Who knocks?” demanded a voice. + </p> + <p> + “He who comes from Elisha,” replied the traveller. + </p> + <p> + “What king do the sons of Isaac obey?” + </p> + <p> + “Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + “What house are they to exterminate?” + </p> + <p> + “That of Ahab.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you prophet or disciple?” + </p> + <p> + “Prophet.” + </p> + <p> + “Welcome then to the House of the Lord!” said the voice. + </p> + <p> + Instantly the iron bars which secured the massive portal swung back, the + bolts grated in their sockets, half of the gate opened silently, and the + horse and his rider passed beneath the sombre vault, which immediately + closed behind them. + </p> + <p> + The person who had opened the gate, so slow to open, so quick to close, + was attired in the long white robe of a Chartreuse monk, of which the + hood, falling over his face, completely concealed his features. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE CHARTREUSE OF SEILLON + </h2> + <p> + Beyond doubt, like the first affiliated member met on the road to Sue by + the man who styled himself prophet, the monk who opened the gate was of + secondary rank in the fraternity; for, grasping the horse’s bridle, he + held it while the rider dismounted, rendering the young man the service of + a groom. + </p> + <p> + Morgan got off, unfastened the valise, pulled the pistols from the + holsters, and placed them in his belt, next to those already there. + Addressing the monk in a tone of command, he said: “I thought I should + find the brothers assembled in council.” + </p> + <p> + “They are assembled,” replied the monk. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At La Correrie. Suspicious persons have been seen prowling around the + Chartreuse these last few days, and orders have been issued to take the + greatest precautions.” + </p> + <p> + The young man shrugged his shoulders as if he considered such precautions + useless, and, always in the same tone of command, said: “Have some one + take my horse to the stable and conduct me to the council.” + </p> + <p> + The monk summoned another brother, to whom he flung the bridle. He lighted + a torch at a lamp, in the little chapel which can still be seen to the + right of the great portal, and walked before the new-comer. Crossing the + cloister, he took a few steps in the garden, opened a door leading into a + sort of cistern, invited Morgan to enter, closed it as carefully as he had + the outer door, touched with his foot a stone which seemed to be + accidentally lying there, disclosed a ring and raised a slab, which + concealed a flight of steps leading down to a subterraneous passage. This + passage had a rounded roof and was wide enough to admit two men walking + abreast. + </p> + <p> + The two men proceeded thus for five or six minutes, when they reached a + grated door. The monk, drawing a key from his frock, opened it. Then, when + both had passed through and the door was locked again, he asked: “By what + name shall I announce you?” + </p> + <p> + “As Brother Morgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait here; I will return in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + The young man made a sign with his head which showed that he was familiar + with these precautions and this distrust. Then he sat down upon a tomb—they + were in the mortuary vaults of the convent—and waited. Five minutes + had scarcely elapsed before the monk reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Follow me,” said he; “the brothers are glad you have come. They feared + you had met with some mishap.” + </p> + <p> + A few seconds later Morgan was admitted into the council chamber. + </p> + <p> + Twelve monks awaited him, their hoods drawn low over their eyes. But, once + the door had closed and the serving brother had disappeared, while Morgan + was removing his mask, the hoods were thrown back and each monk exposed + his face. + </p> + <p> + No brotherhood had ever been graced by a more brilliant assemblage of + handsome and joyous young men. Two or three only of these strange monks + had reached the age of forty. All hands were held out to Morgan and + several warm kisses were imprinted upon the new-comer’s cheek. + </p> + <p> + “‘Pon my word,” said one who had welcomed him most tenderly, “you have + drawn a mighty thorn from my foot; we thought you dead, or, at any rate, a + prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead, I grant you, Amiet; but prisoner, never! citizen—as they + still say sometimes, and I hope they’ll not say it much longer. It must be + admitted that the whole affair was conducted on both sides with touching + amenity. As soon as the conductor saw us he shouted to the postilion to + stop; I even believe he added: ‘I know what it is.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘if + you know what it is, my dear friend, our explanations needn’t be long.’ + ‘The government money?’ he asked. ‘Exactly,’ I replied. Then as there was + a great commotion inside the carriage, I added: ‘Wait! first come down and + assure these gentlemen, and especially the ladies, that we are + well-behaved folk and will not harm them—the ladies; you understand—and + nobody will even look at them unless they put their heads out of the + window.’ One did risk it; my faith! but she was charming. I threw her a + kiss, and she gave a little cry and retired into the carriage, for all the + world like Galatea, and as there were no willows about, I didn’t pursue + her. In the meantime the guard was rummaging in his strong-box in all + expedition, and to such good purpose, indeed, that with the government + money, in his hurry, he passed over two hundred louis belonging to a poor + wine merchant of Bordeaux.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the devil!” exclaimed the brother called Amiet—an assumed name, + probably, like that of Morgan—“that is annoying! You know the + Directory, which is most imaginative, has organized some bands of + chauffeurs, who operate in our name, to make people believe that we rob + private individuals. In other words, that we are mere thieves.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait an instant,” resumed Morgan; “that is just what makes me late. I + heard something similar at Lyons. I was half-way to Valence when I + discovered this breach of etiquette. It was not difficult, for, as if the + good man had foreseen what happened, he had marked his bag ‘Jean Picot, + Wine Merchant at Fronsac, Bordeaux.’” + </p> + <p> + “And you sent his money back to him?” + </p> + <p> + “I did better; I returned it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “At Fronsac?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! no, but at Avignon. I suspected that so careful a man would stop at + the first large town to inquire what chance he had to recover his two + hundred louis. I was not mistaken. I inquired at the inn if they knew + citizen Jean Picot. They replied that not only did they know him, but in + fact he was then dining at the table d’hôte. I went in. You can imagine + what they were talking about—the stoppage of the diligence. Conceive + the sensation my apparition caused. The god of antiquity descending from + the machine produced a no more unexpected finale than I. I asked which one + of the guests was called Jean Picot. The owner of this distinguished and + melodious name stood forth. I placed the two hundred louis before him, + with many apologies, in the name of the Company, for the inconvenience its + followers had occasioned him. I exchanged a friendly glance with Barjols + and a polite nod with the Abbé de Rians who were present, and, with a + profound bow to the assembled company, withdrew. It was only a little + thing, but it took me fifteen hours; hence the delay. I thought it + preferable to leaving a false conception of us in our wake. Have I done + well, my masters?” + </p> + <p> + The gathering burst into bravos. + </p> + <p> + “Only,” said one of the participants, “I think you were somewhat imprudent + to return the money yourself to citizen Jean Picot.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear colonel,” replied the young man, “there’s an Italian proverb + which says: ‘Who wills, goes; who does not will, sends.’ I willed—I + went.” + </p> + <p> + “And there’s a jolly buck who, if you ever have the misfortune to fall + into the hands of the Directory, will reward you by recognizing you; a + recognition which means cutting off your head!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I defy him to recognize me.” + </p> + <p> + “What can prevent it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You seem to think that I play such pranks with my face uncovered? + Truly, my dear colonel, you mistake me for some one else. It is well + enough to lay aside my mask among friends; but among strangers—no, + no! Are not these carnival times? I don’t see why I shouldn’t disguise + myself as Abellino or Karl Moor, when Messieurs Gohier, Sieyès, Roger + Ducos, Moulin and Barras are masquerading as kings of France.” + </p> + <p> + “And you entered the city masked?” + </p> + <p> + “The city, the hotel, the dining-room. It is true that if my face was + covered, my belt was not, and, as you see, it is well garnished.” + </p> + <p> + The young man tossed aside his coat, displaying his belt, which was + furnished with four pistols and a short hunting-knife. Then, with a gayety + which seemed characteristic of his careless nature, he added: “I ought to + look ferocious, oughtn’t I? They may have taken me for the late Mandrin, + descending from the mountains of Savoy. By the bye, here are the sixty + thousand francs of Her Highness, the Directory.” And the young man + disdainfully kicked the valise which he had placed on the ground, which + emitted a metallic sound indicating the presence of gold. Then he mingled + with the group of friends from whom he had been separated by the natural + distance between a narrator and his listeners. + </p> + <p> + One of the monks stooped and lifted the valise. + </p> + <p> + “Despise gold as much as you please, my dear Morgan, since that doesn’t + prevent you from capturing it. But I know of some brave fellows who are + awaiting these sixty thousand francs, you so disdainfully kick aside, with + as much impatience and anxiety as a caravan, lost in the desert, awaits + the drop of water which is to save it from dying of thirst.” + </p> + <p> + “Our friends of the Vendée, I suppose?” replied Morgan. “Much good may it + do them! Egotists, they are fighting. These gentlemen have chosen the + roses and left us the thorns. Come! don’t they receive anything from + England?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said one of the monks, gayly; “at Quiberon they got bullets and + grapeshot.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say from the English,” retorted Morgan; “I said from England.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a penny.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, however,” said one of those present, who apparently + possessed a more reflective head than his comrades, “it seems to me that + our princes might send a little gold to those who are shedding their blood + for the monarchy. Are they not afraid the Vendée may weary some day or + other of a devotion which up to this time has not, to my knowledge, won + her a word of thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “The Vendée, dear friend,” replied Morgan, “is a generous land which will + not weary, you may be sure. Besides, where is the merit of fidelity unless + it has to deal with ingratitude? From the instant devotion meets + recognition, it is no longer devotion. It becomes an exchange which reaps + its reward. Let us be always faithful, and always devoted, gentlemen, + praying Heaven that those whom we serve may remain ungrateful, and then, + believe me, we shall bear the better part in the history of our civil + wars.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan had scarcely formulated this chivalric axiom, expressive of a + desire which had every chance of accomplishment, than three Masonic blows + resounded upon the door through which he had entered. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the monk who seemed to fill the rôle of president, + “quick, your hoods and masks. We do not know who may be coming to us.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. HOW THE MONEY OF THE DIRECTORY WAS USED + </h2> + <p> + Every one hastened to obey. The monks lowered the hoods of their long + robes over their faces, Morgan replaced his mask. + </p> + <p> + “Enter!” said the superior. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and the serving-brother appeared. + </p> + <p> + “An emissary from General Georges Cadoudal asks to be admitted,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Did he reply to the three passwords?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let him in.” + </p> + <p> + The lay brother retired to the subterranean passage, and reappeared a + couple of minutes later leading a man easily recognized by his costume as + a peasant, and by his square head with its shock of red hair for a Breton. + He advanced in the centre of the circle without appearing in the least + intimidated, fixing his eyes on each of the monks in turn, and waiting + until one of these twelve granite statues should break silence. The + president was the first to speak to him. + </p> + <p> + “From whom do you come?” he asked him. + </p> + <p> + “He who sent me,” replied the peasant, “ordered me to answer, if I were + asked that question, that I was sent by Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you the bearer of a verbal or written message?” + </p> + <p> + “I am to reply to the questions which you ask me, and exchange a slip of + paper for some money.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good; we will begin with the questions. What are our brothers in the + Vendée doing?” + </p> + <p> + “They have laid down their arms and are awaiting only a word from you to + take them up again.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did they lay down their arms?” + </p> + <p> + “They received the order to do so from his Majesty Louis XVIII.” + </p> + <p> + “There is talk of a proclamation written by the King’s own hand. Have they + received it?” + </p> + <p> + “Here is a copy.” + </p> + <p> + The peasant gave a paper to the person who was interrogating him. The + latter opened it and read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The war has absolutely no result save that of making the monarchy + odious and threatening. Monarchs who return to their own through + its bloody succor are never loved; these sanguinary measures must + therefore be abandoned; confide in the empire of opinion which + returns of itself to its saving principles. “God and the King,” + will soon be the rallying cry of all Frenchmen. The scattered + elements of royalism must be gathered into one formidable sheaf; + militant Vendée must be abandoned to its unhappy fate and marched + within a more pacific and less erratic path. The royalists of the + West have fulfilled their duty; those of Paris, who have prepared + everything for the approaching Restoration, must now be relied + upon— +</pre> + <p> + The president raised his head, and, seeking Morgan with a flash of the eye + which his hood could not entirely conceal, said: “Well, brother, I think + this is the fulfilment of your wish of a few moments ago. The royalists of + the Vendée and the Midi will have the merit of pure devotion.” Then, + lowering his eyes to the proclamation, of which there still remained a few + lines to read, he continued: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Jews crucified their King, and since that time they have + wandered over the face of the earth. The French guillotined + theirs, and they shall be dispersed throughout the land. + + Given at Blankenbourg, this 25th of August, 1799, on the day + of St. Louis and the sixth year of our reign. + + (Signed) LOUIS. +</pre> + <p> + The young men looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “‘Quos vult perdere Jupiter dementat!’” said Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the president; “but when those whom Jupiter wishes to destroy + represent a principle, they must be sustained not only against Jupiter but + against themselves. Ajax, in the midst of the bolts and lightning, clung + to a rock, and, threatening Heaven with his clinched hand, he cried, ‘I + will escape in spite of the gods!’” Then turning toward Cadoudal’s envoy, + “And what answer did he who sent you make to this proclamation?” + </p> + <p> + “About what you yourself have just answered. He told me to come and inform + myself whether you had decided to hold firm in spite of all, in spite of + the King himself.” + </p> + <p> + “By Heavens! yes,” said Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “We are determined,” said the President. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” replied the peasant, “all is well. Here are the real names + of our new chiefs, and their assumed names. The general recommends that + you use only the latter as far as is possible in your despatches. He + observes that precaution when he, on his side, speaks of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you the list?” asked the President. + </p> + <p> + “No; I might have been stopped, and the list taken. Write yourself; I will + dictate them to you.” + </p> + <p> + The president seated himself at the table, took a pen, and wrote the + following names under the dictation of the Breton peasant: + </p> + <p> + “Georges Cadoudal, Jehu or Roundhead; Joseph Cadoudal, Judas Maccabeus; + Lahaye Saint-Hilaire, David; Burban-Malabry, Brave-la-Mort; Poulpiquez, + Royal-Carnage; Bonfils, Brise-Barrière; Dampherné, Piquevers; Duchayla, La + Couronne; Duparc, Le Terrible; La Roche, Mithridates; Puisaye, Jean le + Blond.” + </p> + <p> + “And these are the successors of Charette, Stoffiet, Cathelineau, + Bonchamp, d’Elbée, la Rochejaquelin, and Lescure!” cried a voice. + </p> + <p> + The Breton turned toward him who had just spoken. + </p> + <p> + “If they get themselves killed like their predecessors,” said he, “what + more can you ask of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Well answered,” said Morgan, “so that—” + </p> + <p> + “So that, as soon as our general has your reply,” answered the peasant, + “he will take up arms again.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose our reply had been in the negative?” asked another voice. + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse for you,” replied the peasant; “in any case the + insurrection is fixed for October 20.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the president, “thanks to us, the general will have the + wherewithal for his first month’s pay. Where is your receipt?” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said the peasant, drawing a paper from his pocket on which were + written these words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Received from our brothers of the Midi and the East, to be + employed for the good of the cause, the sum of.... + + GEORGES CADOUDAL, + General commanding the Royalist army of Brittany. +</pre> + <p> + The sum was left blank. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how to write?” asked the president. + </p> + <p> + “Enough to fill in the three or four missing words.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Then write, ‘one hundred thousand francs.’” + </p> + <p> + The Breton wrote; then extending the paper to the president, he said: + “Here is your receipt; where is the money?” + </p> + <p> + “Stoop and pick up the bag at your feet; it contains sixty thousand + francs.” Then addressing one of the monks, he asked: “Montbard, where are + the remaining forty thousand?” + </p> + <p> + The monk thus interpellated opened a closet and brought forth a bag + somewhat smaller than the one Morgan had brought, but which, nevertheless, + contained the good round sum of forty thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the full amount,” said the monk. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my friend,” said the president, “get something to eat and some rest; + to-morrow you will start.” + </p> + <p> + “They are waiting for me yonder,” said the Breton. “I will eat and sleep + on horseback. Farewell, gentlemen. Heaven keep you!” And he went toward + the door by which he had entered. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” said Morgan. + </p> + <p> + The messenger paused. + </p> + <p> + “News for news,” said Morgan; “tell General Cadoudal that General + Bonaparte has left the army in Egypt, that he landed at Fréjus, day before + yesterday, and will be in Paris in three days. My news is fully worth + yours, don’t you think so? What do you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” exclaimed all the monks with one accord. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless nothing is more true, gentlemen. I have it from our friend + the Priest (Leprêtre), [Footnote: The name Leprêtre is a contraction of + the two words “le prêtre,” meaning the priest; hence the name under which + this man died.] who saw him relay at Lyons one hour before me, and + recognized him.” + </p> + <p> + “What has he come to France for?” demanded several voices. + </p> + <p> + “Faith,” said Morgan, “we shall know some day. It is probable that he has + not returned to Paris to remain there incognito.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t lose an instant in carrying this news to our brothers in the West,” + said the president to the peasant. “A moment ago I wished to detain you; + now I say to you: ‘Go!’” + </p> + <p> + The peasant bowed and withdrew. The president waited until the door was + closed. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said he, “the news which our brother Morgan has just imparted + to us is so grave that I wish to propose a special measure.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked the Companions of Jehu with one voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is that one of us, chosen by lot, shall go to Paris and keep the rest + informed, with the cipher agreed upon, of all that happens there.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed!” they replied. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” resumed the president, “let us write our thirteen names, + each on a slip of paper. We put them in a hat. He whose name is first + drawn shall start immediately.” + </p> + <p> + The young men, one and all, approached the table, and wrote their names on + squares of paper which they rolled and dropped into a hat. The youngest + was told to draw the lots. He drew one of the little rolls of paper and + handed it to the president, who unfolded it. + </p> + <p> + “Morgan!” said he. + </p> + <p> + “What are my instructions?” asked the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Remember,” replied the president, with a solemnity to which the cloistral + arches lent a supreme grandeur, “that you bear the name and title of Baron + de Sainte-Hermine, that your father was guillotined on the Place de la + Révolution and that your brother was killed in Condé’s army. Noblesse + oblige! Those are your instructions.” + </p> + <p> + “And what else?” asked the young man. + </p> + <p> + “As to the rest,” said the president, “we rely on your royalist principles + and your loyalty.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my friends, permit me to bid you farewell at once. I would like to + be on the road to Paris before dawn, and I must pay a visit before my + departure.” + </p> + <p> + “Go!” said the president, opening his arms to Morgan. “I embrace you in + the name of the Brotherhood. To another I should say, ‘Be brave, + persevering and active’; to you I say, ‘Be prudent.’” + </p> + <p> + The young man received the fraternal embrace, smiled to his other friends, + shook hands with two or three of them, wrapped himself in his mantle, + pulled his hat over his eyes and departed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. ROMEO AND JULIET + </h2> + <p> + Under the possibility of immediate departure, Morgan’s horse, after being + washed, rubbed down and dried, had been fed a double ration of oats and + been resaddled and bridled. The young man had only to ask for it and + spring upon its back. He was no sooner in the saddle than the gate opened + as if by magic; the horse neighed and darted out swiftly, having forgotten + its first trip, and ready for another. + </p> + <p> + At the gate of the Chartreuse, Morgan paused an instant, undecided whether + to turn to the right or left. He finally turned to the right, followed the + road which leads from Bourg to Seillon for a few moments, wheeled rapidly + a second time to the right, cut across country, plunged into an angle of + the forest which was on his way, reappeared before long on the other side, + reached the main road to Pont-d’Ain, followed it for about a mile and a + half, and halted near a group of houses now called the Maison des Gardes. + One of these houses bore for sign a cluster of holly, which indicated one + of those wayside halting places where the pedestrians quench their thirst, + and rest for an instant to recover strength before continuing the long + fatiguing voyage of life. Morgan stopped at the door, drew a pistol from + its holster and rapped with the butt end as he had done at the Chartreuse. + Only as, in all probability, the good folks at the humble tavern were far + from being conspirators, the traveller was kept waiting longer than he had + been at the monastery. At last he heard the echo of the stable boy’s + clumsy sabots. The gate creaked, but the worthy man who opened it no + sooner perceived the horseman with his drawn pistol than he instinctively + tried to, close it again. + </p> + <p> + “It is I, Patout,” said the young man; “don’t be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sure enough,” said the peasant, “it is really you, Monsieur Charles. + I’m not afraid now; but you know, as the curé used to tell us, in the days + when there was a good God, ‘Caution is the mother of safety.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Patout, yes,” said the young man, slipping a piece of silver into + the stable boy’s hand, “but be easy; the good God will return, and M. le + Curé also.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for that,” said the good man, “it is easy to see that there is no + one left on high by the way things go. Will this last much longer, M. + Charles?” + </p> + <p> + “Patout, I promise, in my honor, to do my best to be rid of all that + annoys you. I am no less impatient than you; so I’ll ask you not to go to + bed, my good Patout.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You know well, monsieur, that when you come I don’t often go to bed. + As for the horse—Goodness! You change them every day? The time + before last it was a chestnut, the last time a dapple-gray, now a black + one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’m somewhat capricious by nature. As to the horse, as you say, my + dear Patout, he wants nothing. You need only remove his bridle; leave him + saddled. Oh, wait; put this pistol back in the holsters and take care of + these other two for me.” And the young man removed the two from his belt + and handed them to the hostler. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” exclaimed the latter, laughing, “any more barkers?” + </p> + <p> + “You know, Patout, they say the roads are unsafe.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I should think they weren’t safe! We’re up to our necks in regular + highway robberies, M. Charles. Why, no later than last week they stopped + and robbed the diligence between Geneva and Bourg!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” exclaimed Morgan; “and whom do they accuse of the robbery?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s such a farce! Just fancy; they say it was the Companions of + Jesus. I don’t believe a word of it, of course. Who are the Companions of + Jesus if not the twelve apostles?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Morgan, with his eternally joyous smile, “I don’t know + of any others.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” continued Patout, “to accuse the twelve apostles of robbing a + diligence, that’s the limit. Oh! I tell you, M. Charles, we’re living in + times when nobody respects anything.” + </p> + <p> + And shaking his head like a misanthrope, disgusted, if not with life, at + least with men, Patout led the horse to the stable. + </p> + <p> + As for Morgan, he watched Patout till he saw him disappear down the + courtyard and enter the dark stable; then, skirting the hedge which + bordered the garden, he went toward a large clump of trees whose lofty + tops were silhouetted against the darkness of the night, with the majesty + of things immovable, the while their shadows fell upon a charming little + country house known in the neighborhood as the Château des Noires-Fontaines. + As Morgan reached the château wall, the hour chimed from the belfry of the + village of Montagnac. The young man counted the strokes vibrating in the + calm silent atmosphere of the autumn night. It was eleven o’clock. Many + things, as we have seen, had happened during the last two hours. + </p> + <p> + Morgan advanced a few steps farther, examined the wall, apparently in + search of a familiar spot, then, having found it, inserted the tip of his + boot in a cleft between two stones. He sprang up like a man mounting a + horse, seized the top of the wall with the left hand, and with a second + spring seated himself astride the wall, from which, with the rapidity of + lightning, he lowered himself on the other side. All this was done with + such rapidity, such dexterity and agility, that any one chancing to pass + at that instant would have thought himself the puppet of a vision. Morgan + stopped, as on the other side of the wall, to listen, while his eyes tried + to pierce the darkness made deeper by the foliage of poplars and aspens, + and the heavy shadows of the little wood. All was silent and solitary. + Morgan ventured on his path. We say ventured, because the young man, since + nearing the Château des Noires-Fontaines, revealed in all his movement a + timidity and hesitation so foreign to his character that it was evident + that if he feared it was not for himself alone. + </p> + <p> + He gained the edge of the wood, still moving cautiously. Coming to a lawn, + at the end of which was the little château, he paused. Then he examined + the front of the house. Only one of the twelve windows which dotted the + three floors was lighted. This was on the second floor at the corner of + the house. A little balcony, covered with virgin vines which climbed the + walls, twining themselves around the iron railing and falling thence in + festoons from the window, overhung the garden. On both sides of the + windows, close to the balcony, large-leafed trees met and formed above the + cornice a bower of verdure. A Venetian blind, which was raised and lowered + by cords, separated the balcony from the window, a separation which + disappeared at will. It was through the interstices of this blind that + Morgan had seen the light. + </p> + <p> + The young man’s first impulse was to cross the lawn in a straight line; + but again, the fears of which we spoke restrained him. A path shaded by + lindens skirted the wall and led to the house. He turned aside and entered + its dark leafy covert. When he had reached the end of the path, he + crossed, like a frightened doe, the open space which led to the house + wall, and stood for a moment in the deep shadow of the house. Then, when + he had reached the spot he had calculated upon, he clapped his hands three + times. + </p> + <p> + At this call a shadow darted from the end of the apartment and clung, + lithe, graceful, almost transparent, to the window. + </p> + <p> + Morgan repeated the signal. The window was opened immediately, the blind + was raised, and a ravishing young girl, in a night dress, her fair hair + rippling over her shoulders, appeared in the frame of verdure. + </p> + <p> + The young man stretched out his arms to her, whose arms were stretched out + to him, and two names, or rather two cries from the heart, crossed from + one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Charles!” + </p> + <p> + “Amélie!” + </p> + <p> + Then the young man sprang against the wall, caught at the vine shoots, the + jagged edges of the rock, the jutting cornice, and in an instant was on + the balcony. + </p> + <p> + What these two beautiful young beings said to each other was only a murmur + of love lost in an endless kiss. Then, by gentle effort, the young man + drew the girl with one hand to her chamber, while with the other he + loosened the cords of the blind, which fell noisily behind them. The + window closed behind the blind. Then the lamp was extinguished, and the + front of the Château des Noires-Fontaines was again in darkness. + </p> + <p> + This darkness had lasted for about a quarter of an hour, when the rolling + of a carriage was heard along the road leading from the highway of + Pont-d’Ain to the entrance of the château. There the sound ceased; it was + evident that the carriage had stopped before the gates. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE FAMILY OF ROLAND + </h2> + <p> + The carriage which had stopped before the gate was that which brought + Roland back to his family, accompanied by Sir John. + </p> + <p> + The family was so far from expecting him that, as we have said, all the + lights in the house were extinguished, all the windows in darkness, even + Amélie’s. The postilion had cracked his whip smartly for the last five + hundred yards, but the noise was insufficient to rouse these country + people from their first sleep. When the carriage had stopped, Roland + opened the door, sprang out without touching the steps, and tugged at the + bell-handle. Five minutes elapsed, and, after each peal, Roland turned to + the carriage, saying: “Don’t be impatient, Sir John.” + </p> + <p> + At last a window opened and a childish but firm voice cried out: “Who is + ringing that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, is that you, little Edouard?” said Roland. “Make haste and let us + in.” + </p> + <p> + The child leaped back with a shout of delight and disappeared. But at the + same time his voice was heard in the corridors, crying: “Mother! wake up; + it is Roland! Sister! wake up; it is the big brother!” + </p> + <p> + Then, clad only in his night robe and his little slippers, he ran down the + steps, crying: “Don’t be impatient, Roland; here I am.” + </p> + <p> + An instant later the key grated in the lock, and the bolts slipped back in + their sockets. A white figure appeared in the portico, and flew rather + than ran to the gate, which an instant later turned on its hinges and + swung open. The child sprang upon Roland’s neck and hung there. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, brother! Brother!” he exclaimed, embracing the young man, laughing + and crying at the same time. “Ah, big brother Roland! How happy mother + will be; and Amélie, too! Every body is well. I am the sickest—ah! + except Michel, the gardener, you know, who has sprained his leg. But why + aren’t you in uniform? Oh! how ugly you are in citizen’s clothes! Have you + just come from Egypt? Did you bring me the silver-mounted pistols and the + beautiful curved sword? No? Then you are not nice, and I won’t kiss you + any more. Oh, no, no! Don’t be afraid! I love you just the same!” + </p> + <p> + And the boy smothered the big brother with kisses while he showered + questions upon him. The Englishman, still seated in the carriage, looked + smilingly through the window at the scene. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these fraternal embraces came the voice of a woman; the + voice of the mother. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he, my Roland, my darling son?” asked Madame de Montrevel, in a + voice fraught with such violent, joyous emotion that it was almost + painful. “Where is he? Can it be true that he has returned; really true + that he is not a prisoner, not dead? Is he really living?” + </p> + <p> + The child, at her voice, slipped from his brother’s arms like an eel, + dropped upon his feet on the grass, and, as if moved by a spring, bounded + toward his mother. + </p> + <p> + “This way, mother; this way!” said he, dragging his mother, half dressed + as she was, toward Roland. When he saw his mother Roland could no longer + contain himself. He felt the sort of icicle that had petrified his breast + melt, and his heart beat like that of his fellowmen. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed, “I was indeed ungrateful to God when life still holds + such joys for me.” + </p> + <p> + And he fell sobbing upon Madame de Montrevel’s neck without thinking of + Sir John, who felt his English phlegm disperse as he silently wiped away + the tears that flowed down his cheeks and moistened his lips. The child, + the mother, and Roland formed an adorable group of tenderness and emotion. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly little Edouard, like a leaf tossed about by the wind, flew from + the group, exclaiming: “Sister Amélie! Why, where is she?” and he rushed + toward the house, repeating: “Sister Amélie, wake up! Get up! Hurry up!” + </p> + <p> + And then the child could be heard kicking and rapping against a door. + Silence followed. Then little Edouard shouted: “Help, mother! Help, + brother Roland! Sister Amélie is ill!” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel and her son flew toward the house. Sir John, + consummate tourist that he was, always carried a lancet and a smelling + bottle in his pocket. He jumped from the carriage and, obeying his first + impulse, hurried up the portico. There he paused, reflecting that he had + not been introduced, an all-important formality for an Englishman. + </p> + <p> + However, the fainting girl whom he sought came toward him at that moment. + The noise her brother had made at the door brought Amélie to the landing; + but, without doubt, the excitement which Roland’s return had occasioned + was too much for her, for after descending a few steps in an almost + automatic manner, controlling herself by a violent effort, she gave a + sigh, and, like a flower that bends, a branch that droops, like a scarf + that floats, she fell, or rather lay, upon the stairs. It was at that + moment that the child cried out. + </p> + <p> + But at his exclamation Amélie recovered, if not her strength, at least her + will. She rose, and, stammering, “Be quiet, Edouard! Be quite, in Heaven’s + name! I’m all right,” she clung to the balustrade with one hand, and + leaning with the other on the child, she had continued to descend. On the + last step she met her mother and her brother. Then with a violent, almost + despairing movement, she threw both arms around Roland’s neck, exclaiming: + “My brother! My brother!” + </p> + <p> + Roland, feeling the young girl’s weight press heavily upon his shoulder, + exclaimed: “Air! Air! She is fainting!” and carried her out upon the + portico. It was this new group, so different from the first, which met Sir + John’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she felt the fresh air, Amélie revived and raised her head. + Just then the moon, in all her splendor, shook off a cloud which had + veiled her, and lighted Amélie’s face, as pale as her own. Sir John gave a + cry of admiration. Never had he seen a marble statue so perfect as this + living marble before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + We must say that Amélie, seen thus, was marvelously beautiful. Clad in a + long cambric robe, which defined the outlines of her body, molded on that + of the Polyhymnia of antiquity, her pale face gently inclined upon her + brother’s shoulder, her long golden hair floating around her snowy + shoulders, her arm thrown around her mother’s neck, its rose-tinted + alabaster hand drooping upon the red shawl in which Madame de Montrevel + had wrapped herself; such was Roland’s sister as she appeared to Sir John. + </p> + <p> + At the Englishman’s cry of admiration, Roland remembered that he was + there, and Madame de Montrevel perceived his presence. As for the child, + surprised to see this stranger in his mother’s home, he ran hastily down + the steps of the portico, stopping on the third one, not that he feared to + go further, but in order to be on a level with the person he proceeded to + question. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, sir!” he asked Sir John; “and what are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “My little Edouard,” said Sir John, “I am your brother’s friend, and I + have brought you the silver-mounted pistols and the Damascus blade which + he promised you.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” asked the child. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Sir John, “they are in England, and it will take some time to + send for them. But your big brother will answer for me that I am a man of + my word.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Edouard, yes,” said Roland. “If Sir John promises them to you, you + will get them.” Then turning to Madame de Montrevel and his sister, + “Excuse me, my mother; excuse me, Amélie; or rather, excuse yourselves as + best you can to Sir John, for you have made me abominably ungrateful.” + Then grasping Sir John’s hand, he continued: “Mother, Sir John took + occasion the first time he saw me to render me an inestimable service. I + know that you never forget such things. I trust, therefore, that you will + always remember that Sir John is one of our best friends; and he will give + you the proof of it by saying with me that he has consented to be bored + for a couple of weeks with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Sir John, “permit me, on the contrary, not to repeat my + friend Roland’s words. I could wish to spend, not a fortnight, nor three + weeks, but a whole lifetime with you.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel came down the steps of the portico and offered her + hand to Sir John, who kissed it with a gallantry altogether French. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said she, “this house is yours. The day you entered it has been + one of joy, the day you leave will be one of regret and sadness.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John turned toward Amélie, who, confused by the disorder of her dress + before this stranger, was gathering the folds of her wrapper about her + neck. + </p> + <p> + “I speak to you in my name and in my daughter’s, who is still too much + overcome by her brother’s unexpected return to greet you herself as she + will do in a moment,” continued Madame de Montrevel, coming to Amélie’s + relief. + </p> + <p> + “My sister,” said Roland, “will permit my friend Sir John to kiss her + hand, and he will, I am sure, accept that form of welcome.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie stammered a few words, slowly lifted her arm, and held out her hand + to Sir John with a smile that was almost painful. + </p> + <p> + The Englishman took it, but, feeling how icy and trembling it was, instead + of carrying it to his lips he said: “Roland, your sister is seriously + indisposed. Let us think only of her health this evening. I am something + of a doctor, and if she will deign to permit me the favor of feeling her + pulse I shall be grateful.” + </p> + <p> + But Amélie, as if she feared that the cause of her weakness might be + surmised, withdrew her hand hastily, exclaiming: “Oh, no! Sir John is + mistaken. Joy never causes illness. It is only joy at seeing my brother + again which caused this slight indisposition, and it has already passed + over.” Then turning to Madame de Montrevel, she added with almost feverish + haste: “Mother, we are forgetting that these gentlemen have made a long + voyage, and have probably eaten nothing since Lyons. If Roland has his + usual good appetite he will not object to my leaving you to do the honors + of the house, while I attend to the unpoetical but much appreciated + details of the housekeeping.” + </p> + <p> + Leaving her mother, as she said, to do the honors of the house, Amélie + went to waken the maids and the manservant, leaving on the mind of Sir + John that sort of fairy-like impression which the tourist on the Rhine + brings with him of the Lorelei on her rock, a lyre in her hand, the liquid + gold of her hair floating in the evening breezes. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Morgan had remounted his horse, returning at full gallop + to the Chartreuse. He drew rein before the portal, pulled out a note-book, + and pencilling a few lines on one of the leaves, rolled it up and slipped + it through the keyhole without taking time to dismount. + </p> + <p> + Then pressing in both his spurs, and bending low over the mane of the + noble animal, he disappeared in the forest, rapid and mysterious as Faust + on his way to the mountain of the witches’ sabbath. The three lines he had + written were as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Louis de Montrevel, General Bonaparte’s aide-de-camp, arrived + this evening at the Château des Noires-Fontaines. Be careful, + Companions of Jehu!” + </pre> + <p> + But, while warning his comrades to be cautious about Louis de Montrevel, + Morgan had drawn a cross above his name, which signified that no matter + what happened the body of the young officer must be considered as sacred + by them. + </p> + <p> + The Companions of Jehu had the right to protect a friend in that way + without being obliged to explain the motives which actuated them. Morgan + used that privilege to protect the brother of his love. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. CHÂTEAU DES NOIRES-FONTAINES + </h2> + <p> + The Château of Noires-Fontaines, whither we have just conducted two of the + principal characters of our story, stood in one of the most charming spots + of the valley, where the city of Bourg is built. The park, of five or six + acres, covered with venerable oaks, was inclosed on three sides by + freestone walls, one of which opened in front through a handsome gate of + wrought-iron, fashioned in the style of Louis XV.; the fourth side was + bounded by the little river called the Reissouse, a pretty stream that + takes its rise at Journaud, among the foothills of the Jura, and flowing + gently from south to north, joins the Saône at the bridge of Fleurville, + opposite Pont-de-Vaux, the birthplace of Joubert, who, a month before the + period of which we are writing, was killed at the fatal battle of Novi. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the Reissouse, and along its banks, lay, to the right and left of + the Château des Noires-Fontaines, the village of Montagnac and Saint-Just, + dominated further on by that of Ceyzeriat. Behind this latter hamlet + stretched the graceful outlines of the hills of the Jura, above the + summits of which could be distinguished the blue crests of the mountains + of Bugey, which seemed to be standing on tiptoe in order to peer curiously + over their younger sisters’ shoulder at what was passing in the valley of + the Ain. + </p> + <p> + It was in full view of this ravishing landscape that Sir John awoke. For + the first time in his life, perhaps, the morose and taciturn Englishman + smiled at nature. He fancied himself in one of those beautiful valleys of + Thessaly celebrated by Virgil, beside the sweet slopes of Lignon sung by + Urfé, whose birthplace, in spite of what the biographers say, was falling + into ruins not three miles from the Château des Noires-Fontaines. He was + roused by three light raps at his door. It was Roland who came to see how + he had passed the night. He found him radiant as the sun playing among the + already yellow leaves of the chestnuts and the lindens. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! Sir John,” cried Roland, “permit me to congratulate you. I + expected to find you as gloomy as the poor monks of the Chartreuse, with + their long white robes, who used to frighten me so much in my childhood; + though, to tell the truth, I was never easily frightened. Instead of that + I find you in the midst of this dreary October, as smiling as a morn of + May.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Roland,” replied Sir John, “I am an orphan; I lost my mother at + my birth and my father when I was twelve years old. At an age when + children are usually sent to school, I was master of a fortune producing a + million a year; but I was alone in the world, with no one whom I loved or + who loved me. The tender joys of family life are completely unknown to me. + From twelve to eighteen I went to Cambridge, but my taciturn and perhaps + haughty character isolated me from my fellows. At eighteen I began to + travel. You who scour the world under the shadow of your flag; that is to + say, the shadow of your country, and are stirred by the thrill of battle, + and the pride of glory, cannot imagine what a lamentable thing it is to + roam through cities, provinces, nations, and kingdoms simply to visit a + church here, a castle there; to rise at four in the morning at the summons + of a pitiless guide, to see the sun rise from Rigi or Etna; to pass like a + phantom, already dead, through the world of living shades called men; to + know not where to rest; to know no land in which to take root, no arm on + which to lean, no heart in which to pour your own! Well, last night, my + dear Roland, suddenly, in an instant, in a second, this void in my life + was filled. I lived in you; the joys I seek were yours. The family which I + never had, I saw smiling around you. As I looked at your mother I said to + myself: ‘My mother was like that, I am sure.’ Looking at your sister, I + said: ‘Had I a sister I could not have wished her otherwise.’ When I + embraced your brother, I thought that I, too, might have had a child of + that age, and thus leave something behind me in the world, whereas with + the nature I know I possess, I shall die as I have lived, sad, surly with + others, a burden to myself. Ah! you are happy, Roland! you have a family, + you have fame, you have youth, you have that which spoils nothing in a man—you + have beauty. You want no joys. You are not deprived of a single delight. I + repeat it, Roland, you are a happy man, most happy!” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Roland. “You forget my aneurism, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John looked at Roland incredulously. Roland seemed to enjoy the most + perfect health. + </p> + <p> + “Your aneurism against my million, Roland,” said Lord Tanlay, with a + feeling of profound sadness, “providing that with this aneurism you give + me this mother who weeps for joy on seeing you again; this sister who + faints with delight at your return; this child who clings upon your neck + like some fresh young fruit to a sturdy young tree; this château with its + dewy shade, its river with its verdant flowering banks, these blue vistas + dotted with pretty villages and white-capped belfries graceful as swans. I + would welcome your aneurism, Roland, and with death in two years, in one, + in six months; but six months of stirring, tender, eventful and glorious + life!” + </p> + <p> + Roland laughed in his usual nervous manner. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he, “so this is the tourist, the superficial traveller, the + Wandering Jew of civilization, who pauses nowhere, gauges nothing, judges + everything by the sensation it produces in him. The tourist who, without + opening the doors of these abodes where dwell the fools we call men, says: + ‘Behind these walls is happiness!’ Well, my dear friend, you see this + charming river, don’t you? These flowering meadows, these pretty villages? + It is the picture of peace, innocence and fraternity; the cycle of Saturn, + the golden age returned; it is Eden, Paradise! Well, all that is peopled + by beings who have flown at each other’s throats. The jungles of Calcutta, + the sedges of Bengal are inhabited by tigers and panthers not one whit + more ferocious or cruel than the denizens of these pretty villages, these + dewy lawns, and these charming shores. After lauding in funeral + celebrations the good, the great, the immortal Marat, whose body, thank + God! they cast into the common sewer like carrion that he was, and always + had been; after performing these funeral rites, to which each man brought + an urn into which he shed his tears, behold! our good Bressans, our gentle + Bressans, these poultry-fatteners, suddenly decided that the Republicans + were all murderers. So they murdered them by the tumbrelful to correct + them of that vile defect common to savage and civilized man—the + killing his kind. You doubt it? My dear fellow, on the road to + Lons-le-Saulnier they will show you, if you are curious, the spot where + not six months ago they organized a slaughter fit to turn the stomach of + our most ferocious troopers on the battlefield. Picture to yourself a + tumbrel of prisoners on their way to Lons-le-Saulnier. It was a + staff-sided cart, one of those immense wagons in which they take cattle to + market. There were some thirty men in this tumbrel, whose sole crime was + foolish exaltation of thought and threatening language. They were bound + and gagged; heads hanging, jolted by the bumping of the cart; their + throats parched with thirst, despair and terror; unfortunate beings who + did not even have, as in the times of Nero and Commodus, the fight in the + arena, the hand-to-hand struggle with death. Powerless, motionless, the + lust of massacre surprised them in their fetters, and battered them not + only in life but in death; their bodies, when their hearts had ceased to + beat, still resounded beneath the bludgeons which mangled their flesh and + crushed their bones; while women looked on in calm delight, lifting high + the children, who clapped their hands for joy. Old men who ought to have + been preparing for a Christian death helped, by their goading cries, to + render the death of these wretched beings more wretched still. And in the + midst of these old men, a little septuagenarian, dainty, powdered, + flicking his lace shirt frill if a speck of dust settled there, pinching + his Spanish tobacco from a golden snuff-box, with a diamond monogram, + eating his “amber sugarplums” from a Sevres bonbonnière, given him by + Madame du Barry, and adorned with the donor’s portrait—this + septuagenarian—conceive the picture, my dear Sir John—dancing + with his pumps upon that mattress of human flesh, wearying his arm, + enfeebled by age, in striking repeatedly with his gold-headed cane those + of the bodies who seemed not dead enough to him, not properly mangled in + that cursed mortar! Faugh! My friend, I have seen Montebello, I have seen + Arcole, I have seen Rivoli, I have seen the Pyramids, and I believe I + could see nothing more terrible. Well, my mother’s mere recital, last + night, after you had retired, of what has happened here, made my hair + stand on end. Faith! that explains my poor sister’s spasms just as my + aneurism explains mine.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John watched Roland, and listened with that strange wonderment which + his young friend’s misanthropical outbursts always aroused. Roland seemed + to lurk in the niches of a conversation in order to fall upon mankind + whenever he found an opportunity. Perceiving the impression he had made on + Sir John’s mind, he changed his tone, substituting bitter raillery for his + philanthropic wrath. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said he, “that, apart from this excellent aristocrat who + finished what the butchers had begun, and dyed in blood the red heels of + his pumps, the people who performed these massacres belonged to the lower + classes, bourgeois and clowns, as our ancestors called those who supported + them. The nobles manage things much more daintily. For the rest, you saw + yourself what happened at Avignon. If you had been told that, you would + never have believed it, would you? Those gentlemen pillagers of stage + coaches pique themselves on their great delicacy. They have two faces, not + counting their mask. Sometimes they are Cartouche and Mandrin, sometimes + Amadis and Galahad. They tell fabulous tales of these heroes of the + highways. My mother told me yesterday of one called Laurent. You + understand, my dear fellow, that Laurent is a fictitious name meant to + hide the real name, just as a mask hides the face. This Laurent combined + all the qualities of a hero of romance, all the accomplishments, as you + English say, who, under pretext that you were once Normans, allow + yourselves occasionally to enrich your language with a picturesque + expression, or some word which has long, poor beggar! asked and been + refused admittance of our own scholars. This Laurent was ideally handsome. + He was one of seventy-two Companions of Jehu who have lately been tried at + Yssen-geaux. Seventy were acquitted; he and one other were the only ones + condemned to death. The innocent men were released at once, but Laurent + and his companion were put in prison to await the guillotine. But, pooh! + Master Laurent had too pretty a head to fall under the executioner’s + ignoble knife. The judges who condemned him, the curious who expected to + witness him executed, had forgotten what Montaigne calls the corporeal + recommendation of beauty. There was a woman belonging to the jailer of + Yssen-geaux, his daughter, sister or niece; history—for it is + history and not romance that I am telling you—history does not say + which. At all events the woman, whoever she was, fell in love with the + handsome prisoner, so much in love that two hours before the execution, + just as Master Laurent, expecting the executioner, was sleeping, or + pretending to sleep, as usually happens in such cases, his guardian angel + came to him. I don’t know how they managed; for the two lovers, for the + best of reasons, never told the details; but the truth is—now + remember; Sir John, that this is truth and not fiction—that Laurent + was free, but, to his great regret, unable to save his comrade in the + adjoining dungeon. Gensonné, under like circumstances, refused to escape, + preferring to die with the other Girondins; but Gensonné did not have the + head of Antinous on the body of Apollo. The handsomer the head, you + understand, the more one holds on to it. So Laurent accepted the freedom + offered him and escaped; a horse was waiting for him at the next village. + The young girl, who might have retarded or hindered his flight, was to + rejoin him the next day. Dawn came, but not the guardian angel. It seems + that our hero cared more for his mistress than he did for his companion; + he left his comrade, but he would not go without her. It was six o’clock, + the very hour for his execution. His impatience mastered him. Three times + had he turned his horse’s head toward the town, and each time drew nearer + and nearer. At the third time a thought flashed through his brain. Could + his mistress have been taken, and would she pay the penalty for saving + him? He was then in the suburbs. Spurring his horse, he entered the town + with face uncovered, dashed through people who called him by name, + astonished to see him free and on horseback, when they expected to see him + bound and in a tumbrel on his way to be executed. Catching sight of his + guardian angel pushing through the crowd, not to see him executed, but to + meet him, he urged his horse past the executioner, who had just learned of + the disappearance of one of his patients, knocking over two or three + bumpkins with the breast of his Bayard. He bounded toward her, swung her + over the pommel of his saddle, and, with a cry of joy and a wave of his + hat, he disappeared like M. de Condé at the battle of Lens. The people all + applauded, and the women thought the action heroic, and all promptly fell + in love with the hero on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + Roland, observing that Sir John was silent, paused and questioned him by a + look. “Go on,” replied the Englishman; “I am listening. And as I am sure + you are telling me all this in order to come to something you wish to say, + I await your point.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” resumed Roland, laughing, “you are right, my dear friend, and, on + my word, you know me as if we had been college chums. Well, what idea do + you suppose has been cavorting through my brain all night? It is that of + getting a glimpse of these gentlemen of Jehu near at hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, I understand. As you failed to get yourself killed by M. de + Barjols, you want to try your chance of being killed by M. Morgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Or any other, my dear Sir John,” replied the young officer calmly; “for I + assure you that I have nothing in particular against M. Morgan; quite the + contrary, though my first impulse when he came into the room and made his + little speech—don’t you call it a speech—?” + </p> + <p> + Sir John nodded affirmatively. + </p> + <p> + “Though my first thought,” resumed Roland, “was to spring at his throat + and strangle him with one hand, and to tear off his mask with the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I know you, my dear Roland, I do indeed wonder how you refrained + from putting such a fine project into execution.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not my fault, I swear! I was just on the point of it when my + companion stopped me.” + </p> + <p> + “So there are people who can restrain you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not many, but he can.” + </p> + <p> + “And now you regret it?” + </p> + <p> + “Honestly, no! This brave stage-robber did the business with such + swaggering bravado that I admired him. I love brave men instinctively. Had + I not killed M. de Barjols I should have liked to be his friend. It is + true I could not tell how brave he was until I had killed him. But let us + talk of something else; that duel is one of my painful thoughts. But why + did I come up? It was certainly not to talk of the Companions of Jehu, nor + of M. Laurent’s exploits—Ah! I came to ask how you would like to + spend your time. I’ll cut myself in quarters to amuse you, my dear guest, + but there are two disadvantages against me: this region, which is not very + amusing, and your nationality, which is not easily amused.” + </p> + <p> + “I have already told you, Roland,” replied Lord Tanlay, offering his hand + to the young man, “that I consider the Château des Noires-Fontaines a + paradise.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed; but still in the fear that you may find your paradise monotonous, + I shall do my best to entertain you. Are you fond of archeology—Westminster + and Canterbury? We have a marvel here, the church of Brou; a wonder of + sculptured lace by Colonban. There is a legend about it which I will tell + you some evening when you cannot sleep. You will see there the tombs of + Marguerite de Bourbon, Philippe le Bel, and Marguerite of Austria. I will + puzzle you with the problem of her motto: ‘Fortune, infortune, fort’une,’ + which I claim to have solved by a Latinized version: ‘Fortuna, in fortuna, + forti una.’ Are you fond of fishing, my dear friend? There’s the Reissouse + at your feet, and close at hand a collection of hooks and lines belonging + to Edouard, and nets belonging to Michel; as for the fish, they, you know, + are the last thing one thinks about. Are you fond of hunting? The forest + of Seillon is not a hundred yards off. Hunting to hounds you will have + perforce to renounce, but we have good shooting. In the days of my old + bogies, the Chartreuse monks, the woods swarmed with wild boars, hares and + foxes. No one hunts there now, because it belongs to the government; and + the government at present is nobody. In my capacity as General Bonaparte’s + aide-de-camp I’ll fill the vacancy, and we’ll see who dares meddle with + me, if, after chasing the Austrians on the Adige and the Mamelukes on the + Nile, I hunt the boars and deer and the hares and foxes on the Reissouse. + One day of archeology, one day of fishing, and one of hunting, that’s + three already. You see, my dear fellow, we have only fifteen or sixteen + left to worry about.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Roland,” said Sir John sadly, and without replying to the young + officer’s wordy sally, “won’t you ever tell me about this fever which + sears you, this sorrow which undermines you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Roland, with his harsh, doleful laugh. “I have never been gayer + than I am this morning; it’s your liver, my lord, that is out of order and + makes you see everything black.” + </p> + <p> + “Some day I hope to be really your friend,” replied Sir John seriously; + “then you will confide in me, and I shall help you to bear your burden.” + </p> + <p> + “And half my aneurism!—Are you hungry, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I hear Edouard on the stairs, coming up to tell us that breakfast + is ready.” + </p> + <p> + As Roland spoke, the door opened and the boy burst out: “Big brother + Roland, mother and sister Amélie are waiting breakfast for Sir John and + you.” + </p> + <p> + Then catching the Englishman’s right hand, he carefully examined the first + joint of the thumb and forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “What are you looking at, my little friend?” asked Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “I was looking to see if you had any ink on your fingers.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I had ink on my fingers, what would it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “That you had written to England, and sent for my pistols and sword.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I have not yet written,” said Sir John; “but I will to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear, big brother Roland? I’m to have my sword and my pistols in a + fortnight!” + </p> + <p> + And the boy, full of delight, offered his firm rosy cheek to Sir John, who + kissed it as tenderly as a father would have done. Then they went to the + dining-room where Madame de Montrevel and Amélie were awaiting them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. PROVINCIAL PLEASURES + </h2> + <p> + That same day Roland put into execution part of his plans for his guest’s + amusement. He took Sir John to see the church of Brou. + </p> + <p> + Those who have seen the charming little chapel of Brou know that it is + known as one of the hundred marvels of the Renaissance; those who have not + seen it must have often heard it said. Roland, who had counted on doing + the honors of this historic gem to Sir John, and who had not seen it for + the last seven or eight years, was much disappointed when, on arriving in + front of the building, he found the niches of the saints empty and the + carved figures of the portal decapitated. + </p> + <p> + He asked for the sexton; people laughed in his face. There was no longer a + sexton. He inquired to whom he should go for the keys. They replied that + the captain of the gendarmerie had them. The captain was not far off, for + the cloister adjoining the church had been converted into a barrack. + </p> + <p> + Roland went up to the captain’s room and made himself known as Bonaparte’s + aide-de-camp. The captain, with the placid obedience of a subaltern to his + superior officer, gave him the keys and followed behind him. Sir John was + waiting before the porch, admiring, in spite of the mutilation to which + they had been subjected, the admirable details of the frontal. + </p> + <p> + Roland opened the door and started back in astonishment. The church was + literally stuffed with hay like a cannon charged to the muzzle. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” he asked the captain of the gendarmerie. + </p> + <p> + “A precaution taken by the municipality.” + </p> + <p> + “A precaution taken by the municipality?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “To save the church. They were going to demolish it; but the mayor issued + a decree declaring that, in expiation of the false worship for which it + had served, it should be used to store fodder.” + </p> + <p> + Roland burst out laughing, and, turning to Sir John, he said: “My dear Sir + John, the church was well worth seeing, but I think what this gentleman + has just told us is no less curious. You can always find—at + Strasburg, Cologne, or Milan—churches or cathedrals to equal the + chapel of Brou; but where will you find an administration idiotic enough + to destroy such a masterpiece, and a mayor clever enough to turn it into a + barn? A thousand thanks, captain. Here are your keys.” + </p> + <p> + “As I was saying at Avignon, the first time I had the pleasure of seeing + you, my dear Roland,” replied Sir John, “the French are a most amusing + people.” + </p> + <p> + “This time, my lord, you are too polite,” replied Roland. “Idiotic is the + word. Listen. I can understand the political cataclysms which have + convulsed society for the last thousand years; I can understand the + communes, the pastorals, the Jacquerie, the maillotins, the Saint + Bartholomew, the League, the Fronde, the dragonnades, the Revolution; I + can understand the 14th of July, the 5th and 6th of October, the 20th of + June, the 10th of August, the 2d and 3d of September, the 21st of January, + the 31st of May, the 30th of October, and the 9th Thermidor; I can + understand the egregious torch of civil wars, which inflames instead of + soothing the blood; I can understand the tidal wave of revolution, + sweeping on with its flux, that nothing can arrest, and its reflux, which + carries with it the ruins of the institution which it has itself + shattered. I can understand all that, but lance against lance, sword + against sword, men against men, a people against a people! I can + understand the deadly rage of the victors, the sanguinary reaction of the + vanquished, the political volcanoes which rumble in the bowels of the + globe, shake the earth, topple over thrones, upset monarchies, and roll + heads and crowns on the scaffold. But what I cannot understand is this + mutilation of the granite, this placing of monuments beyond the pale of + the law, the destruction of inanimate things, which belong neither to + those who destroy them nor to the epoch in which they are destroyed; this + pillage of the gigantic library where the antiquarian can read the + archeological history of a country. Oh! the vandals, the barbarians! Worse + than that, the idiots! who revenge the Borgia crimes and the debauches of + Louis XV. on stone. How well those Pharaohs, Menæs, and Cheops knew man as + the most perversive, destructive and evil of animals! They who built their + pyramids, not with carved traceries, nor lacy spires, but with solid + blocks of granite fifty feet square! How they must have laughed in the + depths of those sepulchres as they watched Time dull its scythe and pashas + wear out their nails in vain against them. Let us build pyramids, my dear + Sir John. They are not difficult as architecture, nor beautiful as art, + but they are solid; and that enables a general to say four thousand years + later: ‘Soldiers, from the apex of these monuments forty centuries are + watching you!’ On my honor, my lord, I long to meet a windmill this moment + that I might tilt against it.” + </p> + <p> + And Roland, bursting into his accustomed laugh, dragged Sir John in the + direction of the château. But Sir John stopped him and asked: “Is there + nothing else to see in the city except the church?” + </p> + <p> + “Formerly, my lord,” replied Roland, “before they made a hay-loft of it, I + should have asked you to come down with me into the vaults of the Dukes of + Savoy. We could have hunted for that subterranean passage, nearly three + miles long, which is said to exist there, and which, according to these + rumors, communicates with the grotto of Ceyzeriat. Please observe, I + should never offer such a pleasure trip except to an Englishman; it would + have been like a scene from your celebrated Anne Radcliffe in the + ‘Mysteries of Udolpho.’ But, as you see, that is impossible, so we will + have to be satisfied with our regrets. Come.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are we going?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I don’t know. Ten years ago I should have taken you to the farms + where they fatten pullets. The pullets of Bresse, you must know, have a + European reputation. Bourg was an annex to the great coop of Strasburg. + But during the Terror, as you can readily imagine, these fatteners of + poultry shut up shop. You earned the reputation of being an aristocrat if + you ate a pullet, and you know the fraternal refrain: ‘Ah, ça ira, ça ira—the + aristocrats to the lantern!’ After Robespierre’s downfall they opened up + again; but since the 18th of Fructidor, France has been commanded to fast, + from fowls and all. Never mind; come on, anyway. In default of pullets, I + can show you one thing, the square where they executed those who ate them. + But since I was last in the town the streets have changed their names. I + know the way, but I don’t know the names.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” demanded Sir John; “aren’t you a Republican?” + </p> + <p> + “I not a Republican? Come, come! Quite to the contrary. I consider myself + an excellent Republican. I am quite capable of burning off my hand, like + Mucius Scævola, or jumping into the gulf like Curtius to save the + Republic; but I have, unluckily, a keen sense of the ridiculous. In spite + of myself, the absurdity of things catches me in the side and tickles me + till I nearly die of laughing. I am willing to accept the Constitution of + 1791; but when poor Hérault de Séchelles wrote to the superintendent of + the National Library to send him a copy of the laws of Minos, so that he + could model his constitution on that of the Isle of Crete, I thought it + was going rather far, and that we might very well have been content with + those of Lycurgus. I find January, February, and March, mythological as + they were, quite as good as Nivose, Pluviose, and Ventose. I can’t + understand why, when one was called Antoine or Chrystomome in 1789, he + should be called Brutus or Cassius in 1793. Here, for example, my lord, is + an honest street, which was called the Rue des Halles (Market Street). + There was nothing indecent or aristocratic about that, was there? Well, + now it is called—Just wait (Roland read the inscription). Well, now + it is called the Rue de la Révolution. Here’s another, which used to be + called Notre Dame; it is now the Rue du Temple. Why Rue du Temple? + Probably to perpetuate the memory of that place where the infamous Simon + tried to teach cobbling to the heir of sixty-three kings. Don’t quarrel + with me if I am mistaken by one or two! Now here’s a third; it was named + Crèvecoeur, a name famous throughout Bresse, Burgundy and Flanders. It is + now the Rue de la Federation. Federation is a fine thing, but Crèvecoeur + was a fine name. And then you see to-day it leads straight to the Place de + la Guillotine, which is, in my opinion, all wrong. I don’t want any + streets that lead to such places. This one has its advantages; it is only + about a hundred feet from the prison, which economized and still + economizes the tumbrel and the horse of M. de Bourg. By the way, have you + noticed that the executioner remains noble and keeps his title? For the + rest, the square is excellently arranged for spectators, and my ancestor, + Montrevel, whose name it bears, doubtless, foreseeing its ultimate + destiny, solved the great problem, still unsolved by the theatres, of + being able to see well from every nook and corner. If ever they cut off my + head, which, considering the times in which we are living, would in no + wise be surprising, I shall have but one regret: that of being less + well-placed and seeing less than the others. Now let us go up these steps. + Here we are in the Place des Lices. Our Revolutionists left it its name, + because in all probability they don’t know what it means. I don’t know + much better than they, but I think I remember that a certain Sieur + d’Estavayer challenged some Flemish count—I don’t know who—and + that the combat took place in this square. Now, my dear fellow, here is + the prison, which ought to give you some idea of human vicissitudes. Gil + Blas didn’t change his condition more often than this monument its + purposes. Before Cæsar it was a Gaelic temple; Cæsar converted it into a + Roman fortress; an unknown architect transformed it into a military work + during the Middle Ages; the Knights of Baye, following Cæsar’s example, + re-made it into a fortress; the princes of Savoy used it for a residence; + the aunt of Charles V. lived here when she came to visit her church at + Brou, which she never had the satisfaction of seeing finished. Finally, + after the treaty of Lyons, when Bresse was returned to France, it was + utilized both as a prison and a court-house. Wait for me a moment, my + lord, if you dislike the squeaking of hinges and the grating of bolts. I + have a visit to pay to a certain cell.” + </p> + <p> + “The grating of bolts and the squeaking of hinges is not a very enlivening + sound, but no matter. Since you were kind enough to undertake my + education, show me your dungeon.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Come in quickly. I see a crowd of persons who look as if + they want to speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, little by little, a sort of rumor seemed to spread throughout the + town. People emerged from the houses, forming groups in the streets, and + they all watched Roland with curiosity. He rang the bell of the gate, + situated then where it is now, but opening into the prison yard. A jailer + opened it for them. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah! so you are still here, Father Courtois?” asked the young man. + Then, turning to Sir John, he added: “A fine name for a jailer, isn’t it, + my lord?” + </p> + <p> + The jailer looked at the young man in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “How is it,” he asked through the grating, “that you know my name, when I + don’t know yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I not only know your name, but also your opinions. You are an old + royalist, Père Courtois.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the jailer, terrified, “don’t make bad jokes if you + please, and say what you want.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my good Father Courtois, I would like to visit the cell where they + put my mother and sister, Madame and Mademoiselle Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the gatekeeper, “so it’s you, M. Louis? You may well say + that I know you. What a fine, handsome young man you’ve grown to be!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so, Father Courtois? Well, I can return the compliment. Your + daughter Charlotte is, on my word, a beautiful girl. Charlotte is my + sister’s maid, Sir John.” + </p> + <p> + “And she is very happy over it. She is better off there than here, M. + Roland. Is it true that you are General Bonaparte’s aide-de-camp?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I have that honor, Courtois. You would prefer me to be Comte + d’Artois’s aide-de-camp, or that of M. le Duc of Angoulême?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do be quiet, M. Louis!” Then putting his lips to the young man’s ear, + “Tell me, is it true?” + </p> + <p> + “What, Father Courtois?” + </p> + <p> + “That General Bonaparte passed through Lyons yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “There must be some truth in the rumor, for this is the second time that I + have heard it. Ah! I understand now. These good people who were watching + me so curiously apparently wanted to question me. They were like you, + Father Courtois: they want to know what to make of General Bonaparte’s + arrival.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what they say, M. Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “Still another rumor, Father Courtois?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so, but they only whisper it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “They say that he has come to demand the throne of his Majesty Louis + XVIII. from the Directory and the king’s return to it; and that if Citizen + Gohier as president doesn’t give it up of his own accord he will take it + by force.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” exclaimed the young officer with an incredulous air bordering on + irony. But Father Courtois insisted on his news with an affirmative nod. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” said the young man; “but as for that, it’s news for me. And + now that you know me, will you open the gate?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will. I should think so. What the devil am I about?” and the + jailer opened the gate with an eagerness equalling his former reluctance. + The young man entered, and Sir John followed him. The jailer locked the + gate carefully, then he turned, followed by Roland and the Englishman in + turn. The latter was beginning to get accustomed to his young friend’s + erratic character. The spleen he saw in Roland was misanthropy, without + the sulkiness of Timon or the wit of Alceste. + </p> + <p> + The jailer crossed the yard, which was separated from the law courts by a + wall fifteen feet high, with an opening let into the middle of the + receding wall, closed by a massive oaken door, to admit prisoners without + taking them round by the street. The jailer, we say, crossed the yard to a + winding stairway in the left angle of the courtyard which led to the + interior of the prison. + </p> + <p> + If we insist upon these details, it is because we shall be obliged to + return to this spot later, and we do not wish it to be wholly unfamiliar + to our readers when that time comes. + </p> + <p> + These steps led first to the ante-chamber of the prison, that is to say to + the porter’s hall of the lower court-room. From that hall ten steps led + down into an inner court, separated from a third, which was that of the + prisoners, by a wall similar to the one we have described, only this one + had three doors. At the further end of the courtyard a passage led to the + jailer’s own room, which gave into a second passage, on which were the + cells which were picturesquely styled cages. The jailer paused before the + first of these cages and said, striking the door: + </p> + <p> + “This is where I put madame, your mother, and your sister, so that if the + dear ladies wanted either Charlotte or myself, they need but knock.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any one in the cell?” + </p> + <p> + “No one” + </p> + <p> + “Then please open the door. My friend, Lord Tanlay, is a philanthropic + Englishman who is travelling about to see if the French prisons are more + comfortable than the English ones. Enter, Sir John.” + </p> + <p> + Père Courtois having opened the door, Roland pushed Sir John into a + perfectly square cell measuring ten or twelve feet each way. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” exclaimed Sir John, “this is lugubrious.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so? Well, my dear friend, this is where my mother, the + noblest woman in the world, and my sister, whom you know, spent six weeks + with a prospect of leaving it only to make the trip to the Place de + Bastion. Just think, that was five years ago, so my sister was scarcely + twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “But what crime had they committed?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! a monstrous crime. At the anniversary festival with which the town of + Bourg considered proper to commemorate the death of the ‘Friend of the + People,’ my mother refused to permit my sister to represent one of the + virgins who bore the tears of France in vases. What will you! Poor woman, + she thought she had done enough for her country in giving it the blood of + her son and her husband, which was flowing in Italy and Germany. She was + mistaken. Her country, as it seems, claimed further the tears of her + daughter. She thought that too much, especially as those tears were to + flow for the citizen Marat. The result was that on the very evening of the + celebration, during the enthusiastic exaltation, my mother was declared + accused. Fortunately Bourg had not attained the celerity of Paris. A + friend of ours, an official in the record-office, kept the affair + dragging, until one fine day the fall and death of Robespierre were made + known. That interrupted a good many things, among others the + guillotinades. Our friend convinced the authorities that the wind blowing + from Paris had veered toward clemency; they waited fifteen days, and on + the sixteenth they told my mother and sister that they were free. So you + understand, my friend—and this involves the most profound + philosophical reflection—so that if Mademoiselle Teresa Cabarrus had + not come from Spain, if she had not married M. Fontenay, parliamentary + counsellor; had she not been arrested and brought before the pro-consul + Tallien, son of the Marquis de Bercy’s butler, ex-notary’s clerk, + ex-foreman of a printing-shop, ex-porter, ex-secretary to the Commune of + Paris temporarily at Bordeaux; and had the ex-pro-consul not become + enamored of her, and had she not been imprisoned, and if on the ninth of + Thermidor she had not found means to send a dagger with these words: + ‘Unless the tyrant dies to-day, I die to-morrow’; had not Saint-Just been + arrested in the midst of his discourse; had not Robespierre, on that day, + had a frog in his throat; had not Garnier de l’Aube exclaimed: ‘It is the + blood of Danton choking you!’ had not Louchet shouted for his arrest; had + he not been arrested, released by the Commune, recaptured in spite of + this, had his jaw broken by a pistol shot, and been executed next day—my + mother would, in all probability, have had her head cut off for refusing + to allow her daughter to weep for citizen Marat in one of the twelve + lachrymal urns which Bourg was desirous of filling with its tears. + Good-by, Courtois. You are a worthy man. You gave my mother and sister a + little water to put with their wine, a little meat to eat with their + bread, a little hope to fill their hearts; you lent them your daughter + that they might not have to sweep their cell themselves. That deserves a + fortune. Unfortunately I am not rich; but here are fifty louis I happen to + have with me. Come, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + And the young man carried off Sir John before the jailer, recovered from + his surprise and found time either to thank Roland or refuse the fifty + louis; which, it must be said, would have been a remarkable proof of + disinterestedness in a jailer, especially when that jailer’s opinions were + opposed to those of the government he served. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the prison, Roland and Sir John found the Place des Lices crowded + with people who had heard of General Bonaparte’s return to France, and + were shouting “Vive Bonaparte!” at the top of their lungs—some + because they really admired the victor of Arcola, Rivoli, and the + Pyramids, others because they had been told, like Père Courtois, that this + same victor had vanquished only that Louis XVIII. might profit by his + victories. + </p> + <p> + Roland and Sir John, having now visited all that the town of Bourg offered + of interest, returned to the Château des Noires-Fontaines, which they + reached before long. Madame de Montrevel and Amélie had gone out. Roland + installed Sir John in an easy chair, asking him to wait a few minutes for + him. At the end of five minutes he returned with a sort of pamphlet of + gray paper, very badly printed, in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” said he, “you seemed to have some doubts about the + authenticity of that festival which I just mentioned, and which nearly + cost my mother and sister their lives, so I bring you the programme. Read + it, and while you are doing so I will go and see what they have been doing + with my dogs; for I presume that you would rather hold me quit of our + fishing expedition in favor of a hunt.” + </p> + <p> + He went out, leaving in Sir John’s hands a copy of the decree of the + municipality of the town of Bourg, instituting the funeral rites in honor + of Marat, on the anniversary of his death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE WILD-BOAR + </h2> + <p> + Sir John was just finishing that interesting bit of history when Madame de + Montrevel and her daughter returned. Amélie, who did not know how much had + been said about her between Roland and Sir John, was astounded by the + expression with which that gentleman scrutinized her. + </p> + <p> + To him she seemed more lovely than before. He could readily understand + that mother, who at the risk of life had been unwilling that this charming + creature should profane her youth and beauty by serving as a mourner in a + celebration of which Marat was the deity. He recalled that cold damp cell + which he had lately visited, and shuddered at the thought that this + delicate white ermine before his eyes had been imprisoned there, without + sun or air, for six weeks. He looked at the throat, too long perhaps, but + swan-like in its suppleness and graceful in its exaggeration, and he + remembered that melancholy remark of the poor Princesse de Lamballe, as + she felt her slender neck: “It will not give the executioner much + trouble!” + </p> + <p> + The thoughts which succeeded each other in Sir John’s mind gave to his + face an expression so different from its customary aspect, that Madame de + Montrevel could not refrain from asking what troubled him. He then told + her of his visit to the prison, and Roland’s pious pilgrimage to the + dungeon where his mother and sister had been incarcerated. Just as Sir + John had concluded his tale, a view-halloo sounded without, and Roland + entered, his hunting-horn in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” he cried, “thanks to my mother, we shall have a splendid + hunt to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to me?” queried Madame de Montrevel. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” added Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “I left you to see about my dogs, didn’t I?” + </p> + <p> + “You said so, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “I had two excellent beasts, Barbichon and Ravaude, male and female.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Sir John, “are they dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes; but just guess what this excellent mother of mine has done?” + and, tilting Madame de Montrevel’s head, he kissed her on both cheeks. + “She wouldn’t let them drown a single puppy because they were the dogs of + my dogs; so the result is, that to-day the pups, grand-pups, and + great-grand-pups of Barbichon and Ravaude are as numerous as the + descendant of Ishmael. Instead of a pair of dogs, I have a whole pack, + twenty-five beasts, all as black as moles with white paws, fire in their + eyes and hearts, and a regiment of cornet-tails that would do you good to + see.” + </p> + <p> + And Roland sounded another halloo that brought his young brother to the + scene. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” shouted the boy as he entered, “you are going hunting to-morrow, + brother Roland. I’m going, too, I’m going, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Roland, “but do you know what we are going to hunt?” + </p> + <p> + “No. All I know is that I’m going, too.” + </p> + <p> + “We’re going to hunt a boar.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, joy!” cried the boy, clapping his little hands. + </p> + <p> + “Are you crazy?” asked Madame de Montrevel, turning pale. + </p> + <p> + “Why so, madame mother, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + “Because boar hunts are very dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so dangerous as hunting men. My brother got back safe from that, and + so will I from the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Roland,” cried Madame de Montrevel, while Amélie, lost in thought, took + no part in the discussion, “Roland, make Edouard listen to reason. Tell + him that he hasn’t got common-sense.” + </p> + <p> + But Roland, who recognized himself again in his young brother, instead of + blaming him, smiled at his boyish ardor. “I’d take you willingly,” said + he, “only to go hunting one must at least know how to handle a gun.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Master Roland,” cried Edouard, “just come into the garden a bit. Put + up your hat at a hundred yards, and I’ll show you how to handle a gun.” + </p> + <p> + “Naughty child,” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel, trembling, “where did you + learn?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, from the gunsmith at Montagnac, who keeps papa’s and Roland’s guns. + You ask me sometimes what I do with my money, don’t you? Well, I buy + powder and balls with it, and I am learning to kill Austrians and Arabs + like my brother Roland.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel raised her hands to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “What can you expect, mother?” asked Roland. “Blood will tell. No + Montrevel could be afraid of powder. You shall come with us to-morrow, + Edouard.” + </p> + <p> + The boy sprang upon his brother’s neck. + </p> + <p> + “And I,” said Sir John, “will equip you to-day like a regular huntsman, + just as they used to arm the knights of old. I have a charming little + rifle that I will give you. It will keep you contented until your sabre + and pistols come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” asked Roland, “are you satisfied now, Edouard?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but when will he give it to me? If you have to write to England for + it, I warn you I shan’t believe in it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my little friend, we have only to go up to my room and open my + gun-case. That’s soon done.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, let’s go at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” said Sir John; and he went out, followed by Edouard. + </p> + <p> + A moment later, Amélie, still absorbed in thought, rose and left the room. + Neither Madame de Montrevel nor Roland noticed her departure, so + interested were they in a serious discussion. Madame de Montrevel tried to + persuade Roland not to take his young brother with him on the morrow’s + hunt. Roland explained that, since Edouard was to become a soldier like + his father and brother, the sooner he learned to handle a gun and become + familiar with powder and ball the better. The discussion was not yet ended + when Edouard returned with his gun slung over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Look, brother,” said he, turning to Roland; “just see what a fine present + Sir John has given me.” And he looked gratefully at Sir John, who stood in + the doorway vainly seeking Amélie with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + It was in truth a beautiful present. The rifle, designed with that + plainness of ornament and simplicity of form peculiar to English weapons, + was of the finest finish. Like the pistols, of which Roland had had + opportunity to test the accuracy, the rifle was made by the celebrated + Manton, and carried a twenty-four calibre bullet. That it had been + originally intended for a woman was easily seen by the shortness of the + stock and the velvet pad on the trigger. This original purpose of the + weapon made it peculiarly suitable for a boy of twelve. + </p> + <p> + Roland took the rifle from his brother’s shoulder, looked at it knowingly, + tried its action, sighted it, tossed it from one hand to the other, and + then, giving it back to Edouard, said: “Thank Sir John again. You have a + rifle fit for a king’s son. Let’s go and try it.” + </p> + <p> + All three went out to try Sir John’s rifle, leaving Madame de Montrevel as + sad as Thetis when she saw Achilles in his woman’s garb draw the sword of + Ulysses from its scabbard. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later, Edouard returned triumphantly. He brought his + mother a bit of pasteboard of the circumference of a hat, in which he had + put ten bullets out of twelve. The two men had remained behind in the park + conversing. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel listened to Edouard’s slightly boastful account of his + prowess. Then she looked at him with that deep and holy sorrow of mothers + to whom fame is no compensation for the blood it sheds. Oh! ungrateful + indeed is the child who has seen that look bent upon him and does not + eternally remember it. Then, after a few seconds of this painful + contemplation, she pressed her second son to her breast, and murmured + sobbing: “You, too! you, too, will desert your mother some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother,” replied the boy, “to become a general like my father, or an + aide-de-camp like Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “And to be killed as your father was, as your brother perhaps will be.” + </p> + <p> + For the strange transformation in Roland’s character had not escaped + Madame de Montrevel. It was but an added dread to her other anxieties, + among which Amélie’s pallor and abstraction must be numbered. + </p> + <p> + Amélie was just seventeen; her childhood had been that of a happy laughing + girl, joyous and healthy. The death of her father had cast a black veil + over her youth and gayety. But these tempests of spring pass rapidly. Her + smile, the sunshine of life’s dawn, returned like that of Nature, + sparkling through that dew of the heart we call tears. + </p> + <p> + Then, one day about six months before this story opens, Amélie’s face had + saddened, her cheeks had grown pale, and, like the birds who migrate at + the approach of wintry weather, the childlike laughter that escaped her + parted lips and white teeth had fled never to return. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel had questioned her, but Amélie asserted that she was + still the same. She endeavored to smile, but as a stone thrown into a lake + rings upon the surface, so the smiles roused by this maternal solicitude + faded, little by little, from Amélie’s face. With keen maternal instinct + Madame de Montrevel had thought of love. But whom could Amélie love? There + were no visitors at the Château des Noires-Fontaines, the political + troubles had put an end to all society, and Amélie went nowhere alone. + Madame de Montrevel could get no further than conjecture. Roland’s return + had given her a moment’s hope; but this hope fled as soon as she perceived + the effect which this event had produced upon Amélie. + </p> + <p> + It was not a sister, but a spectre, it will be recalled, who had come to + meet him. Since her son’s arrival, Madame de Montrevel had not lost sight + of Amélie, and she perceived, with dolorous amazement, that Roland’s + presence awakened a feeling akin to terror in his sister’s breast. She, + whose eyes had formerly rested so lovingly upon him, now seemed to view + him with alarm. Only a few moments since, Amélie had profited by the first + opportunity to return to her room, the one spot in the château where she + seemed at ease, and where for the last six months she had spent most of + her time. The dinner-bell alone possessed the power to bring her from it, + and even then she waited for the second call before entering the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Roland and Sir John, as we have said, had divided their time between their + visit to Bourg and their preparations for the morrow’s hunt. From morn + until noon they were to beat the woods; from noon till evening they were + to hunt the boar. Michel, that devoted poacher, confined to his chair for + the present with a sprain, felt better as soon as the question of the hunt + was mooted, and had himself hoisted on a little horse that was used for + the errands of the house. Then he sallied forth to collect the beaters + from Saint-Just and Montagnac. He, being unable to beat or run, was to + remain with the pack, and watch Sir John’s and Roland’s horse, and + Edouard’s pony, in the middle of the forest, where it was intersected by + one good road and two practicable paths. The beaters, who could not follow + the hunt, were to return to the château with the game-bags. + </p> + <p> + The beaters were at the door at six the following morning. Michel was not + to leave with the horses and dogs until eleven. The Château des + Noires-Fontaines was just at the edge of the forest of Seillon, so the + hunt could begin at its very gates. + </p> + <p> + As the battue promised chiefly deer and hares, the guns were loaded with + balls. Roland gave Edouard a simple little gun which he himself had used + as a child. He had not enough confidence as yet in the boy’s prudence to + trust him with a double-barrelled gun. As for the rifle that Sir John had + given him the day before, it could only carry cartridges. It was given + into Michel’s safe keeping, to be returned to him in case they started a + boar for the second part of the hunt. For this Roland and Sir John were + also to change their guns for rifles and hunting knives, pointed as + daggers and sharp as razors, which formed part of Sir John’s arsenal, and + could be suspended from the belt or screwed on the point of the gun like + bayonets. + </p> + <p> + From the beginning of the battue it was easy to see that the hunt would be + a good one. A roebuck and two hares were killed at once. At noon two does, + seven roebucks and two foxes had been bagged. They had also seen two + boars, but these latter had only shaken their bristles in answer to the + heavy balls and made off. + </p> + <p> + Edouard was in the seventh heaven; he had killed a roebuck. The beaters, + well rewarded for their labor, were sent to the château with the game, as + had been arranged. A sort of bugle was sounded to ascertain Michel’s + whereabout, to which he answered. In less than ten minutes the three + hunters had rejoined the gardener with his hounds and horses. + </p> + <p> + Michel had seen a boar which he had sent his son to head off, and it was + now in the woods not a hundred paces distant. Jacques, Michel’s eldest + son, beat up the woods with Barbichon and Ravaude, the heads of the pack, + and in about five minutes the boar was found in his lair. They could have + killed him at once, or at least shot at him, but that would have ended the + hunt too quickly. The huntsmen launched the whole pack at the animal, + which, seeing this troop of pygmies swoop down upon him, started off at a + slow trot. He crossed the road, Roland giving the view-halloo, and headed + in the direction of the Chartreuse of Seillon, the three riders following + the path which led through the woods. The boar led them a chase which + lasted until five in the afternoon, turning upon his tracks, evidently + unwilling to leave the forest with its thick undergrowth. + </p> + <p> + At last the violent barking of the dogs warned them that the animal had + been brought to bay. The spot was not a hundred paces distant from the + pavilion belonging to the Chartreuse, in one of the most tangled thickets + of the forest. It was impossible to force the horses through it, and the + riders dismounted. The barking of the dogs guided them straight along the + path, from which they deviated only where the obstacles they encountered + rendered it necessary. + </p> + <p> + From time to time yelps of pain indicated that members of the attacking + party had ventured too close to the animal, and had paid the price of + their temerity. About twenty feet from the scene of action the hunters + began to see the actors. The boar was backed against a rock to avoid + attack in the rear; then, bracing himself on his forepaws, he faced the + dogs with his ensanguined eyes and enormous tusks. They quivered around + him like a moving carpet; five or six, more or less badly wounded, were + staining the battlefield with their blood, though still attacking the boar + with a fury and courage that might have served as an example to the + bravest men. + </p> + <p> + Each hunter faced the scene with the characteristic signs of his age, + nature and nation. Edouard, at one and the same time, the most imprudent + and the smallest, finding the path less difficult, owing to his small, + stature, arrived first. Roland, heedless of danger of any kind, seeking + rather than avoiding it, followed. Finally Sir John, slower, graver, more + reflective, brought up the rear. Once the boar perceived his hunters he + paid no further attention to the dogs. He fixed his gleaming, sanguinary + eyes upon them; but his only movement was a snapping of the jaws, which he + brought together with a threatening sound. Roland watched the scene for an + instant, evidently desirous of flinging himself into the midst of the + group, knife in hand, to slit the boar’s throat as a butcher would that of + a calf or a pig. This impulse was so apparent that Sir John caught his + arm, and little Edouard exclaimed: “Oh! brother, let me shoot the boar!” + </p> + <p> + Roland restrained himself, and stacking his gun against a tree, waited, + armed only with his hunting-knife, which he had drawn from its sheath. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said he, “shoot him; but be careful about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t worry,” retorted the child, between his set teeth. His face was + pale but resolute as he aimed the barrel of his rifle at the animal’s + head. + </p> + <p> + “If he misses him, or only wounds him,” observed Sir John, “you know that + the brute will be upon us before we can see him through the smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, my lord; but I am accustomed to these hunts,” replied Roland, + his nostrils quivering, his eyes sparkling, his lips parted: “Fire, + Edouard!” + </p> + <p> + The shot followed the order upon the instant; but after the shot, with, or + even before it, the beast, swift as lightning, rushed upon the child. A + second shot followed the first, but the animal’s scarlet eyes still + gleamed through the smoke. But, as it rushed, it met Roland with his knee + on the ground, the knife in his hand. A moment later a tangled, formless + group, man and boar, boar and man, was rolling on the ground. Then a third + shot rang out, followed by a laugh from Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my lord,” cried the young man, “you’ve wasted powder and shot. Can’t + you see that I have ripped him up? Only get his body off of me. The beast + weighs at least four hundred pounds, and he is smothering me.” + </p> + <p> + But before Sir John could stoop, Roland, with a vigorous push of the + shoulder, rolled the animal’s body aside, and rose to his feet covered + with blood, but without a single scratch. Little Edouard, either from lack + of time or from native courage, had not recoiled an inch. True, he was + completely protected by his brother’s body, which was between him and the + boar. Sir John had sprung aside to take the animal in the flank. He + watched Roland, as he emerged from this second duel, with the same + amazement that he had experienced after the first. + </p> + <p> + The dogs—those that were left, some twenty in all—had followed + the boar, and were now leaping upon his body in the vain effort to tear + the bristles, which were almost as impenetrable as iron. + </p> + <p> + “You will see,” said Roland, wiping the blood from his face and hands with + a fine cambric handkerchief, “how they will eat him, and your knife too, + my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Sir John; “where is the knife?” + </p> + <p> + “In its sheath,” replied Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the boy, “only the handle shows.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang toward the animal and pulled out the poniard, which, as he said, + was buried up to the hilt. The sharp point, guided by a calm eye and a + firm hand, had pierced the animal’s heart. + </p> + <p> + There were other wounds on the boar’s body. The first, caused by the boy’s + shot, showed a bloody furrow just over the eye; the blow had been too weak + to crush the frontal bone. The second came from Sir John’s first shot; it + had caught the animal diagonally and grazed his breast. The third, fired + at close quarters, went through the body; but, as Roland had said, not + until after the animal was dead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. AN UNPLEASANT COMMISSION + </h2> + <p> + The hunt was over, darkness was falling, and it was now a question of + returning to the château. The horses were nearby; they could hear them + neighing impatiently. They seemed to be asking if their courage was so + doubted that they were not allowed to share in the exciting drama. + </p> + <p> + Edouard was bent upon dragging the boar after them, fastening it to the + saddle-bow, and so carrying it back to the château; but Roland pointed out + that it was simpler to send a couple of men for it with a barrow. Sir John + being of the same opinion, Edouard—who never ceased pointing to the + wound in the head, and saying, “That’s my shot; that’s where I aimed”—Edouard, + we say, was forced to yield to the majority. The three hunters soon + reached the spot where their horses were tethered, mounted, and in less + than ten minutes were at the Château des Noires-Fontaines. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel was watching for them on the portico. The poor mother + had waited there nearly an hour, trembling lest an accident had befallen + one or the other of her sons. The moment Edouard espied her he put his + pony to a gallop, shouting from the gate: “Mother, mother! We killed a + boar as big as a donkey. I shot him in the head; you’ll see the hole my + ball, made; Roland stuck his hunting knife into the boar’s belly up to the + hilt, and Sir John fired at him twice. Quick, quick! Send the men for the + carcass. Don’t be frightened when you see Roland. He’s all covered with + blood—but it’s from the boar, and he hasn’t a scratch.” + </p> + <p> + This was delivered with Edouard’s accustomed volubility while Madame de + Montrevel was crossing the clearing between the portico and the road to + open the gate. She intended to take Edouard in her arms, but he jumped + from his saddle and flung himself upon her neck. Roland and Sir John came + up just then, and Amélie appeared on the portico at the same instant. + </p> + <p> + Edouard left his mother to worry over Roland, who, covered as he was with + blood, looked very terrifying, and rushed to his sister with the tale he + had rattled off to his mother. Amélie listened in an abstracted manner + that probably hurt Edouard’s vanity, for he dashed off to the kitchen to + describe the affair to Michel, who was certain to listen to him. + </p> + <p> + Michel was indeed interested; but when, after telling him where the + carcass lay, Edouard gave him Roland’s order to send a couple of men after + the beast, he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “What!” demanded Edouard, “are you going to refuse to obey my brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid! Master Edouard. Jacques shall start this instant for + Montagnac.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid he won’t find any body?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness, no; he could get a dozen. But the trouble is the time of night. + You say the boar lies close to the pavilion of the Chartreuse?” + </p> + <p> + “Not twenty yards from it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather it was three miles,” replied Michel scratching his head; “but + never mind. I’ll send for them anyway without telling them what they’re + wanted for. Once here, it’s for your brother to make them go.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Good! Only get them here and I’ll see to that myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Michel, “if I hadn’t this beastly sprain I’d go myself. + But to-day’s doings have made it worse. Jacques! Jacques!” + </p> + <p> + Jacques came, and Edouard not only waited to hear the order given, but + until he had started. Then he ran upstairs to do what Roland and Sir John + were already doing, that is, dress for dinner. + </p> + <p> + The whole talk at table, as may be easily imagined, centred upon the day’s + prowess. Edouard asked nothing better than to talk about it, and Sir John, + astounded by Roland’s skill, courage, and good luck, improved upon the + child’s narrative. Madame de Montrevel shuddered at each detail, and yet + she made them repeat it twenty times. That which seemed most clear to her + in all this was that Roland had saved Edouard’s life. + </p> + <p> + “Did you thank him for it?” she asked the boy. “Thank whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I thank him?” retorted Edouard. “I should have done the same + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, madame, what can you expect!” said Sir John; “you are a gazelle who + has unwittingly given birth to a race of lions.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie had also paid the closest attention to the account, especially when + the hunters spoke of their proximity to the Chartreuse. From that time on + she listened with anxious eyes, and seemed scarcely to breathe, until they + told of leaving the woods after the killing. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, word was brought that Jacques had returned with two peasants + from Montagnac. They wanted exact directions as to where the hunters had + left the animal. Roland rose, intending to go to them, but Madame de + Montrevel, who could never see enough of her son, turned to the messenger + and said: “Bring these worthy men in here. It is not necessary to disturb + M. Roland for that.” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later the two peasants entered, twirling their hats in their + hands. + </p> + <p> + “My sons,” said Roland, “I want you to fetch the boar we killed in the + forest of Seillon.” + </p> + <p> + “That can be done,” said one of the peasants, consulting his companion + with a look. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it can be done,” answered the other. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be alarmed,” said Roland. “You shall lose nothing by your trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! we’re not,” interrupted one of the peasants. “We know you, Monsieur + de Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the other, “we know that, like your father, you’re not in + the habit of making people work for nothing. Oh! if all the aristocrats + had been like you, Monsieur Louis, there wouldn’t have been any + revolution.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said the other, who seemed to have come solely to echo + affirmatively what his companion said. + </p> + <p> + “It remains to be seen now where the animal is,” said the first peasant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” repeated the second, “remains to be seen where it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it won’t be hard to find.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” interjected the peasant. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the pavilion in the forest?” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, which one?” + </p> + <p> + “The one that belongs to the Chartreuse of Seillon.” + </p> + <p> + The peasants looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you’ll find it some twenty feet distant from the front on the way + to Genoud.” + </p> + <p> + The peasants looked at each other once more. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” grunted the first one. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” repeated the other, faithful echo of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what does this ‘hum’ mean?” demanded Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, explain yourselves. What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “The matter is that we’d rather that it was the other end of the forest.” + </p> + <p> + “But why the other end?” retorted Roland, impatiently; “it’s nine miles + from here to the other end, and barely three from here to where we left + the boar.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the first peasant, “but just where the boar lies—” And + he paused and scratched his head. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly; that’s what,” added the other. + </p> + <p> + “Just what?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a little too near the Chartreuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the Chartreuse; I said the pavilion.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s all the same. You know, Monsieur Louis, that there is an underground + passage leading from the pavilion to the Chartreuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, there is one, that’s sure,” added the other. + </p> + <p> + “But,” exclaimed Roland, “what has this underground passage got to do with + our boar?” + </p> + <p> + “This much, that the beast’s in a bad place, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! a bad place,” repeated the other peasant. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, explain yourselves, you rascals,” said Roland, who was growing + angry, while his mother seemed uneasy, and Amélie visibly turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, Monsieur Louis,” answered the peasant; “we are not rascals; + we’re God-fearing men, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “By thunder,” cried Roland, “I’m a God-fearing man myself. What of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we don’t care to have any dealings with the devil.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” asserted the second peasant. + </p> + <p> + “A man can match a man if he’s of his own kind,” continued the first + peasant. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes two,” said the second, who was built like a Hercules. + </p> + <p> + “But with ghostly beings phantoms, spectres—no thank you,” continued + the first peasant. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” repeated the other. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother, sister,” queried Roland, addressing the two women, “in + Heaven’s name, do you understand anything of what these two fools are + saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Fools,” repeated the first peasant; “well, possibly. But it’s not the + less true that Pierre Marey had his neck twisted just for looking over the + wall. True, it was of a Saturday—the devil’s sabbath.” + </p> + <p> + “And they couldn’t straighten it out,” affirmed the second peasant, “so + they had to bury him with his face turned round looking the other way. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Sir John, “this is growing interesting. I’m very fond of + ghost stories.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s more than sister Amélie is it seems,” cried Edouard. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Just see how pale she’s grown, brother Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said Sir John; “mademoiselle looks as if she were going to + faint.” + </p> + <p> + “I? Not at all,” exclaimed Amélie, wiping the perspiration from her + forehead; “only don’t you think it seems a little warm here, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Madame de Montrevel. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” insisted Amélie, “if it would not annoy you, I should like to + open the window.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so, my child.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie rose hastily to profit by this permission, and went with tottering + steps to a window opening upon the garden. After it was opened, she stood + leaning against the sill, half-hidden by the curtains. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, “I can breathe here.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John rose to offer her his smelling-salts, but Amélie declined + hastily: “No, no, my lord. Thank you, but I am better now.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Roland, “don’t bother about that; it’s our boar.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Monsieur Louis, we will fetch your boar tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said the second peasant, “to-morrow morning, when it’s + light.” + </p> + <p> + “But to go there at night—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! to go there at night—” + </p> + <p> + The peasant looked at his comrade and both shook their heads. + </p> + <p> + “It can’t be done at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Cowards.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Louis, a man’s not a coward because he’s afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed; that’s not being a coward,” replied the other. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Roland, “I wish some stronger minded men than you would face me + with that argument; that a man is not a coward because he’s afraid!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s according to what he’s afraid of, Monsieur Louis. Give me a + good sickle and a good cudgel, and I’m not afraid of a wolf; give me a + good gun and I’m not afraid of any man, even if I knew he’s waiting to + murder me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edouard, “but you’re afraid of a ghost, even when it’s only + the ghost of a monk.” + </p> + <p> + “Little Master Edouard,” said the peasant, “leave your brother to do the + talking; you’re not old enough to jest about such things—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” added the other peasant, “wait till your beard is grown, my little + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t any beard,” retorted Edouard, starting up, “but just the same + if I was strong enough to carry the boar, I’d go fetch it myself either by + day or night.” + </p> + <p> + “Much good may it do you, my young gentleman. But neither my comrade nor + myself would go, even for a whole louis.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor for two?” said Roland, wishing to corner them. + </p> + <p> + “Nor for two, nor four, nor ten, Monsieur de Montrevel. Ten louis are + good, but what could I do with them if my neck was broken?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, twisted like Pierre Marey’s,” said the other peasant. + </p> + <p> + “Ten louis wouldn’t feed my wife and children for the rest of my life, + would they?” + </p> + <p> + “And besides, when you say ten louis,” interrupted the second peasant, + “you mean really five, because I’d get five, too.” + </p> + <p> + “So the pavilion is haunted by ghosts, is it?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t say the pavilion—I’m not sure about the pavilion—but + in the Chartreuse—” + </p> + <p> + “In the Chartreuse, are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen them?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t; but some folks have.” + </p> + <p> + “Has your comrade?” asked the young officer, turning to the second + peasant. + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t seen them; but I did see flames, and Claude Philippon heard + chains.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! so they have flames and chains?” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the first peasant, “for I have seen the flames myself.” + </p> + <p> + “And Claude Philippon on heard the chains,” repeated the other. + </p> + <p> + “Very good, my friends, very good,” replied Roland, sneering; “so you + won’t go there to-night at any price?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at any price.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for all the gold in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ll go to-morrow when it’s light?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Monsieur Louis, before you’re up the boar will be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you’re up,” said Echo. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Roland. “Come back to me the day after tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly, Monsieur Louis. What do you want us to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; just come.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! we’ll come.” + </p> + <p> + “That means that the moment you say, ‘Come,’ you can count upon us, + Monsieur Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then I’ll have some information for you.” + </p> + <p> + “What about?” + </p> + <p> + “The ghosts.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie gave a stifled cry; Madame de Montrevel alone heard it. Louis + dismissed the two peasants, and they jostled each other at the door in + their efforts to go through together. + </p> + <p> + Nothing more was said that evening about the Chartreuse or the pavilion, + nor of its supernatural tenants, spectres or phantoms who haunted them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE STRONG-MINDED MAN + </h2> + <p> + At ten o’clock everyone was in bed at the Château des Noires-Fontaines, + or, at any rate, all had retired to their rooms. + </p> + <p> + Three or four times in the course of the evening Amélie had approached + Roland as if she had something to say to him; but each time the words died + upon her lips. When the family left the salon, she had taken his arm, and, + although his room was on the floor above hers, she had accompanied him to + his very door. Roland had kissed her, bade her good-night, and closed his + door, declaring himself very tired. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, in spite of this assertion, Roland, once alone, did not + proceed to undress. He went to his collection of arms, selected a pair of + magnificent pistols, manufactured at Versailles, and presented to his + father by the Convention. He snapped the triggers, and blew into the + barrels to see that there were no old charges in them. They were in + excellent condition. After which he laid them side by side on the table; + then going to the door, looking out upon the stairs, he opened it softly + to see if any one were watching. Finding the corridor and stairs empty, he + went to Sir John’s door and knocked. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said the Englishman. Sir John, like himself, was not prepared + for bed. + </p> + <p> + “I guessed from the sign you made me that you had something to say to me,” + said Sir John, “so I waited for you, as you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I have something to say to you,” returned Roland, seating himself + gayly in an armchair. + </p> + <p> + “My kind host,” replied the Englishman, “I am beginning to understand you. + When I see you as gay as you are now, I am like your peasants, I feel + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear what they were saying?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard them tell a splendid ghost story. I, myself, have a haunted + castle in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen the ghosts, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, when I was little. Unfortunately, since I have grown up they have + disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s always the way with ghosts,” said Roland gayly; “they come and go. + How lucky it is that I should return just as the ghosts have begun to + haunt the Chartreuse of Seillon.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Sir John, “very lucky. Only are you sure that there are any + there?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I’ll know by the day after to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “I intend to spend to-morrow night there.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the Englishmen, “would you like to have me go with you?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, my lord. Only, unfortunately, that is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, oh!” + </p> + <p> + “As I have just told you, my dear fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “But why impossible?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you acquainted with the manners and customs of ghosts, Sir John?” + asked Roland gravely. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am. Ghosts only show themselves under certain conditions.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for example, in Italy, my lord, and in Spain, the most + superstitious of countries, there are no ghosts, or if there are, why, at + the best, it’s only once in ten or twenty years, or maybe in a century.” + </p> + <p> + “And to what do you attribute their absence?” + </p> + <p> + “To the absence of fogs.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Not a doubt of it. You understand the native atmosphere of ghosts is fog. + Scotland, Denmark and England, regions of fog, are overrun with ghosts. + There’s the spectre of Hamlet, then that of Banquo, the shadows of Richard + III. Italy has only one spectre, Cæsar, and then where did he appear to + Brutus? At Philippi, in Macedonia and in Thessaly, the Denmark of Greece, + the Scotland of the Orient; where the fog made Ovid so melancholy he named + the odes he wrote there Tristia. Why did Virgil make the ghost of Anchises + appear to Eneas? Because he came from Mantua. Do you know Mantua? A marsh, + a frog-pond, a regular manufactory of rheumatism, an atmosphere of vapors, + and consequently a nest of phantoms.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, I’m listening to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen the Rhine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Germany, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Still another country of fairies, water sprites, sylphs, and consequently + phantoms (‘for whoso does the greater see, can see the less’), and all + that on account of the fog. But where the devil can the ghosts hide in + Italy and Spain? Not the least bit of mist. And, therefore, were I in + Spain or Italy I should never attempt to-morrow’s adventure.” + </p> + <p> + “But all that doesn’t explain why you refuse my company,” insisted Sir + John. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment. I’ve just explained to you that ghosts don’t venture into + certain countries, because they do not offer certain atmospheric + conditions. Now, let me explain the precautions we must take if we wish to + see them.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain! explain!” said Sir John, “I would rather hear you talk than any + other man, Roland.” + </p> + <p> + And Sir John, stretching himself out in his easy-chair, prepared to listen + with delight to the improvisations of this fantastic mind, which he had + seen under so many aspects during the few days of their acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + Roland bowed his head by way of thanks. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is the way of it, and you will grasp it readily enough. I have + heard so much about ghosts in my life that I know the scamps as if I had + made them. Why do ghosts appear?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you asking me that?” inquired Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “I own that, not having studied ghosts as you have, I am unable to give + you a definitive answer.” + </p> + <p> + “You see! Ghosts show themselves, my dear fellow, in order to frighten + those who see them.” + </p> + <p> + “That is undeniable.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! Now, if they don’t frighten those to whom they appear, they + are frightened by them; witness M. de Turenne, whose ghosts proved to be + counterfeiters. Do you know that story?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell it to you some day; don’t let’s get mixed up. That is just why, + when they decide to appear—which is seldom—ghosts select + stormy nights, when it thunders, lightens and blows; that’s their + scenery.” + </p> + <p> + “I am forced to admit that nothing could be more correct.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment! There are instances when the bravest man feels a shudder + run through his veins. Even before I was suffering with this aneurism it + has happened to me a dozen times, when I have seen the flash of sabres and + heard the thunder of cannon around me. It is true that since I have been + subject to this aneurism I rush where the lightning flashes and the + thunder growls. Still there is the chance that these ghosts don’t know + this and believe that I can be frightened.” + </p> + <p> + “Whereas that is an impossibility, isn’t it?” asked Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “What will you! When, right or wrong, one feels that, far from dreading + death, one has every reason to seek it, what should he fear? But I repeat, + these ghosts, who know so much, may not know that only ghosts know this; + they know that the sense of fear increases or diminishes according to the + seeing and hearing of exterior things. Thus, for example, where do + phantoms prefer to appear? In dark places, cemeteries, old cloisters, + ruins, subterranean passages, because the aspect of these localities + predisposes the soul to fear. What precedes their appearance? The rattling + of chains, groans, sighs, because there is nothing very cheerful in all + that? They are careful not to appear in the bright light, or after a + strain of dance music. No, fear is an abyss into which you descend step by + step, until you are overcome by vertigo; your feet slip, and you plunge + with closed eyes to the bottom of the precipice. Now, if you read the + accounts of all these apparitions, you’ll find they all proceed like this: + First the sky darkens, the thunder growls, the wind howls, doors and + windows rattle, the lamp—if there is a lamp in the room of the + person the ghosts are trying to frighten—the lamp flares, flickers + and goes out—utter darkness! Then, in the darkness, groans, wails + and the rattling of chains are heard; then, at last, the door opens and + the ghost appears. I must say that all the apparitions that I have not + seen but read about have presented themselves under similar circumstances. + Isn’t that so, Sir John?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you ever hear of a ghost appearing to two persons at the same + time?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly never did hear of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s quite simple, my dear fellow. Two together, you understand, have no + fear. Fear is something mysterious, strange, independent of the will, + requiring isolation, darkness and solitude. A ghost is no more dangerous + than a cannon ball. Well, a soldier never fears a cannon ball in the + daytime, when his elbows touch a comrade to the right and left. No, he + goes straight for the battery and is either killed or he kills. That’s not + what the phantoms want. That’s why they never appear to two persons at the + same time, and that is the reason I want to go to the Chartreuse alone, my + lord. Your presence would prevent the boldest ghost from appearing. If I + see nothing, or if I see something worth the trouble, you can have your + turn the next day. Does the bargain suit you?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly! But why can’t I take the first night?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! first, because the idea didn’t occur to you, and it is only just that + I should benefit by my own cleverness. Besides, I belong to the region; I + was friendly with the good monks in their lifetime, and there may be a + chance of their appearing to me after death. Moreover, as I know the + localities, if it becomes necessary to run away or pursue I can do it + better than you. Don’t you see the justice of that, my dear fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it couldn’t be fairer; but I am sure of going the next night.” + </p> + <p> + “The next night, and the one after, and every day and night if you wish; I + only hold to the first. Now,” continued Roland rising, “this is between + ourselves, isn’t it? Not a word to any one. The ghosts might be forewarned + and act accordingly. It would never do to let those gay dogs get the best + of us; that would be too grotesque.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, be easy about that. You will go armed, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “If I thought I was only dealing with ghosts, I’d go with my hands in my + pockets and nothing in my fobs. But, as I told you, M. de Turenne’s ghosts + were counterfeiters, so I shall take my pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want mine?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks. Though yours are good, I am about resolved never to use them + again.” Then, with a smile whose bitterness it would be impossible to + describe, he added: “They brought me ill-luck. Good-night! Sir John. I + must sleep soundly to-night, so as not to want to sleep to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + Then, shaking the Englishman’s hand vigorously a second time, he left the + room and returned to his own. There he was greatly surprised to find the + door, which he was sure he had left closed, open. But as soon as he + entered, the sight of his sister explained the matter to him. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he exclaimed, partly astonished, partly uneasy; “is that you, + Amélie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is I,” she said. Then, going close to her brother, and letting + him kiss her forehead, she added in a supplicating voice: “You won’t go, + will you, dear Roland?” + </p> + <p> + “Go where?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “To the Chartreuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Who told you that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! for one who knows, how difficult it is to guess!” + </p> + <p> + “And why don’t you want me to go to the Chartreuse?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid something might happen to you.” + </p> + <p> + “What! So you believe in ghosts, do you?” he asked, looking fixedly into + Amélie’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + Amélie lowered her glance, and Roland felt his sister’s hand tremble in + his. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Roland; “Amélie, at least the one I used to know, General de + Montrevel’s daughter and Roland’s sister, is too intelligent to yield to + these vulgar terrors. It’s impossible that you can believe these tales of + apparitions, chains, flames, spectres, and phantoms.” + </p> + <p> + “If I did believe them, Roland, I should not be so alarmed. If ghosts do + exist, they must be souls without bodies, and consequently cannot bring + their material hatred from the grave. Besides, why should a ghost hate + you, Roland; you, who never harmed any one?” + </p> + <p> + “Good! You forget all those I have killed in war or in duels.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie shook her head. “I’m not afraid of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what are you afraid of?” + </p> + <p> + The young girl raised her beautiful eyes, wet with tears, to Roland, and + threw herself in his arms, saying: “I don’t know, Roland. But I can’t help + it, I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + The young man raised her head, which she was hiding in his breast, with + gentle force, and said, kissing her eyelids softly and tenderly: “You + don’t believe I shall have ghosts to fight with to-morrow, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, brother, don’t go to the Chartreuse!” cried Amélie, eluding the + question. + </p> + <p> + “Mother told you to say this to me, didn’t she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, brother! Mother said nothing to me. It is I who guessed that you + intended to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I want to go,” replied Roland firmly, “you ought to know, + Amélie, that I shall go.” + </p> + <p> + “Even if I beseech you on my knees, brother?” cried Amélie in a tone of + anguish, slipping down to her brother’s feet; “even if I beseech you on my + knees?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! women! women!” murmured Roland, “inexplicable creatures, whose words + are all mystery, whose lips never tell the real secrets of their hearts, + who weep, and pray, and tremble—why? God knows, but man, never! I + shall go, Amélie, because I have resolved to go; and when once I have + taken a resolution no power on earth can make me change it. Now kiss me + and don’t be frightened, and I will tell you a secret.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie raised her head, and gazed questioningly, despairingly, at Roland. + </p> + <p> + “I have known for more than a year,” replied the young man, “that I have + the misfortune not to be able to die. So reassure yourself, and don’t be + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Roland uttered these words so dolefully that Amélie, who had, until then, + kept her emotion under control, left the room sobbing. + </p> + <p> + The young officer, after assuring himself that her door was closed, shut + his, murmuring: “We’ll see who will weary first, Fate or I.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE GHOST + </h2> + <p> + The next evening, at about the same hour, the young officer, after + convincing himself that every one in the Château des Noires-Fontaines had + gone to bed, opened his door softly, went downstairs holding his breath, + reached the vestibule, slid back the bolts of the outer door noiselessly, + and turned round to make sure that all was quiet. Reassured by the + darkened windows, he boldly opened the iron gate. The hinges had probably + been oiled that day, for they turned without grating, and closed as + noiselessly as they had opened behind Roland, who walked rapidly in the + direction of Pont d’Ain at Bourg. + </p> + <p> + He had hardly gone a hundred yards before the clock at Saint-Just struck + once; that of Montagnac answered like a bronze echo. It was half-past ten + o’clock. At the pace the young man was walking he needed only twenty + minutes to reach the Chartreuse; especially if, instead of skirting the + woods, he took the path that led direct to the monastery. Roland was too + familiar from youth with every nook of the forest of Seillon to needlessly + lengthen his walk ten minutes. He therefore turned unhesitatingly into the + forest, coming out on the other side in about five minutes. Once there, he + had only to cross a bit of open ground to reach the orchard wall of the + convent. This took barely another five minutes. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the wall he stopped, but only for a few seconds. He + unhooked his cloak, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it over the wall. + The cloak off, he stood in a velvet coat, white leather breeches, and + top-boots. The coat was fastened round the waist by a belt in which were a + pair of pistols. A broad-brimmed hat covered his head and shaded his face. + </p> + <p> + With the same rapidity with which he had removed his garment that might + have hindered his climbing the wall, he began to scale it. His foot + readily found a chink between the stones; he sprang up, seizing the + coping, and was on the other side without even touching the top of the + wall over which he bounded. He picked up his cloak, threw it over his + shoulder, hooked it, and crossed the orchard to a little door + communicating with the cloister. The clock struck eleven as he passed + through it. Roland stopped, counted the strokes, and slowly walked around + the cloister, looking and listening. + </p> + <p> + He saw nothing and heard no noise. The monastery was the picture of + desolation and solitude; the doors were all open, those of the cells, the + chapel, and the refectory. In the refectory, a vast hall where the tables + still stood in their places, Roland noticed five or six bats circling + around; a frightened owl flew through a broken casement, and perched upon + a tree close by, hooting dismally. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Roland, aloud; “I’ll make my headquarters here; bats and owls + are the vanguards of ghosts.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of that human voice, lifted in the midst of this solitude, + darkness and desolation, had something so uncanny, so lugubrious about it, + that it would have caused even the speaker to shudder, had not Roland, as + he himself said, been inaccessible to fear. He looked about for a place + from which he could command the entire hall. An isolated table, placed on + a sort of stage at one end of the refectory, which had no doubt been used + by the superior of the convent to take his food apart from the monks, to + read from pious books during the repast, seemed to Roland best adapted to + his needs. Here, backed by the wall, he could not be surprised from + behind, and, once his eye grew accustomed to the darkness, he could survey + every part of the hall. He looked for a seat, and found an overturned + stool about three feet from the table, probably the one occupied by the + reader or the person dining there in solitude. + </p> + <p> + Roland sat down at the table, loosened his cloak to insure greater freedom + of movement, took his pistols from his belt, laid one on the table, and + striking three blows with the butt-end of the other, he said, in a loud + voice: “The meeting is open; the ghosts can appear!” + </p> + <p> + Those who have passed through churches and cemeteries at night have often + experienced, without analyzing it, the supreme necessity of speaking low + and reverently which attaches to certain localities. Only such persons can + understand the strange impression produced on any one who heard it by that + curt, mocking voice which now disturbed the solitude and the shadows. It + vibrated an instant in the darkness, which seemed to quiver with it; then + it slowly died away without an echo, escaping by all the many openings + made by the wings of time. + </p> + <p> + As he had expected, Roland’s eyes had accustomed themselves to the + darkness, and now, by the pale light of the rising moon, whose long, white + rays penetrated the refectory through the broken windows, he could see + distinctly from one end to the other of the vast apartment. Although + Roland was as evidently without fear internally as externally, he was not + without distrust, and his ear caught the slightest sounds. + </p> + <p> + He heard the half-hour strike. In spite of himself the sound startled him, + for it came from the bell of the convent. How was it that, in this ruin + where all was dead, a clock, the pulse of time, was living? + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh!” said Roland; “that proves that I shall see something.” + </p> + <p> + The words were spoken almost in an aside. The majesty of the place and the + silence acted upon that heart of iron, firm as the iron that had just + tolled the call of time upon eternity. The minutes slowly passed, one + after the other. Perhaps a cloud was passing between earth and moon, for + Roland fancied that the shadows deepened. Then, as midnight approached, he + seemed to hear a thousand confused, imperceptible sounds, coming no doubt + from the nocturnal universe which wakes while the other sleeps. Nature + permits no suspension of life, even for repose. She created her nocturnal + world, even as she created her daily world, from the gnat which buzzes + about the sleeper’s pillow to the lion prowling around the Arab’s bivouac. + </p> + <p> + But Roland, the camp watcher, the sentinel of the desert, Roland, the + hunter, the soldier, knew all those sounds; they were powerless to disturb + him. + </p> + <p> + Then, mingling with these sounds, the tones of the clock, chiming the + hour, vibrated above his head. This time it was midnight. Roland counted + the twelve strokes, one after the other. The last hung, quivering upon the + air, like a bird with iron wings, then slowly expired, sad and mournful. + Just then the young man, thought he heard a moan. He listened in the + direction whence it came. Again he heard it, this time nearer at hand. + </p> + <p> + He rose, his hands resting upon the table, the butt-end of a pistol + beneath each palm. A rustle like that of a sheet or a gown trailing along + the grass was audible on his right, not ten paces from him. He + straightened up as if moved by a spring. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment a shade appeared on the threshold of the vast hall. + This shade resembled the ancient statues lying on the tombs. It was + wrapped in an immense winding-sheet which trailed behind it. + </p> + <p> + For an instant Roland doubted his own eyes. Had the preoccupation of his + mind made him see a thing which was not? Was he the dupe of his senses, + the sport of those hallucinations which physicians assert, but cannot + explain? A moan, uttered by the phantom, put his doubts to flight. + </p> + <p> + “My faith!” he cried in a burst of laughter, “now for a tussle, friend + ghost!” + </p> + <p> + The spectre paused and extended a hand toward the young officer. “Roland! + Roland!” said the spectre in a muffled voice, “it would be a pity not to + follow to the grave those you have sent there.” + </p> + <p> + And the spectre, without hastening its step, continued on its way. + </p> + <p> + Roland, astounded for an instant, came down from the stage, and resolutely + followed the ghost. The path was difficult, encumbered with stones, + benches awry, and over-turned tables. And yet, through all these + obstacles, an invisible channel seemed open for the spectre, which pursued + its way unchecked. + </p> + <p> + Each time it passed before a window, the light from with out, feeble as it + was, shone upon the winding-sheet and the ghost, outlining the figure, + which passed into the obscurity to reappear and vanish again at each + succeeding one, Roland, his eyes fixed upon the figure, fearing to lose + sight of it if he diverted his gaze from it, dared not look at the path, + apparently so easy to the spectre, yet bristling with obstacles for him. + He stumbled at every step. The ghost was gaining upon him. It reached the + door opposite to that by which it had entered. Roland saw the entrance to + a dark passage. Feeling that the ghost would escape him, he cried: “Man or + ghost, robber or monk, halt or I fire!” + </p> + <p> + “A dead body cannot be killed twice, and death has no power over the + spirit,” replied the ghost in its muffled voice. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “The Shade of him you tore violently from the earth.” + </p> + <p> + The young officer burst into that harsh, nervous laugh, made more terrible + by the darkness around him. + </p> + <p> + “Faith!” said he, “if you have no further indications to give me, I shall + not trouble myself to discover you.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember the fountain at Vaucluse,” said the Shade, in a voice so faint + the words seemed to escape his lips like a sigh rather than articulate + speech. + </p> + <p> + For an instant Roland felt, not his heart failing him, but the sweat + pouring from his forehead. Making an effort over himself, he regained his + voice and cried, menacingly: “For a last time, apparition or reality, I + warn you that, if you do not stop, I shall fire!” + </p> + <p> + The Shade did not heed him, but continued on its way. + </p> + <p> + Roland paused an instant to take aim. The spectre was not ten paces from + him. Roland was a sure shot; he had himself loaded his pistols, and only a + moment before he had looked to the charge to see that it was intact. + </p> + <p> + As the spectre passed, tall and white, beneath the gloomy vault of the + passage, Roland fired. The flash illumined the corridor like lightning, + down which the spectre passed with unfaltering, unhastening steps. Then + all was blacker than before. The ghost vanished in the darkness. Roland + dashed after him, changing his other pistol from the left hand to the + right. But short as his stop had been, the ghost had gained ground. Roland + saw him at the end of the passage, this time distinctly outlined against + the gray background of the night. He redoubled his pace, and as he crossed + the threshold of the passage, he fancied that the ghost was plunging into + the bowels of the earth. But the torso still remained visible. + </p> + <p> + “Devil or not,” cried Roland, “I follow you!” + </p> + <p> + He fired a second shot, which filled the cavernous space, into which the + ghost had disappeared, with flame and smoke. + </p> + <p> + When the smoke had cleared away, Roland looked vainly around. He was + alone. He sprang into the cistern howling with rage. He sounded the walls + with the butt-end of his pistol, he stamped on the ground; but everywhere, + earth and stone gave back the sound of solid objects. He tried to pierce + the darkness, but it was impossible. The faint moonlight that filtered + into the cistern died out at the first steps. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Roland, “a torch! a torch!” + </p> + <p> + No one answered. The only sound to be heard was the spring bubbling close + at hand. Realizing that further search would be useless, he emerged from + the cavern. Drawing a powder-horn and two balls from his pocket, he loaded + his pistols hastily. Then he took the path along which he had just come, + found the dark passage, then the vast refectory, and again took his place + at the end of the silent hall and waited. + </p> + <p> + But the hours of the night sounded successively, until the first gleam of + dawn cast its pallid light upon the walls of the cloister. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” muttered Roland, “it’s over for to-night. Perhaps I shall be more + fortunate the next time.” + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later he re-entered the Château des Noires-Fontaines. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. INVESTIGATIONS + </h2> + <p> + Two persons were waiting for Roland’s return; one in anguish, the other + with impatience. These two persons were Amélie and Sir John. Neither of + them had slept for an instant. Amélie displayed her anguish only by the + sound of her door, which was furtively closed as Roland came up the + staircase. Roland heard the sound. He had not the courage to pass before + her door without reassuring her. + </p> + <p> + “Be easy, Amélie, I am here,” he said. It did not occur to him that his + sister might be anxious for any one but him. + </p> + <p> + Amélie darted from her room in her night-dress. It was easy to see from + her pallor and the dark circles which spread nearly to the middle of her + cheeks that she had not closed her eyes all night. + </p> + <p> + “Has nothing happened to you, Roland?” she cried, clasping her brother in + her arms and feeling him over anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor to any one else?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t say that,” answered Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! What did you see?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell that to you later. Meantime, there is no one either killed or + wounded.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I breathe again!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, let me give you a bit of advice, little sister. Go to bed and sleep, + if you can, till breakfast. I am going to do the same thing, and can + assure you I won’t need any rocking. Good-night, or rather good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + Roland kissed his sister tenderly. Then affecting to whistle a hunting-air + carelessly, he ran up the next flight of steps. Sir John was frankly + waiting for him in the hall. He went straight to the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn’t roll my stone entirely for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see any ghosts?” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate I saw something that resembled one very closely.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, tell me all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I see you won’t be able to sleep, or at best only fitfully, if I don’t. + Here’s what happened, in a nutshell.” + </p> + <p> + And Roland gave him a minute account of the night’s adventure. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent,” said Sir John, when Roland had finished. “I hope you have + left something for me to do.” + </p> + <p> + “I am even afraid,” answered Roland, “that I have left you the hardest + part.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as Sir John went over each detail, asking many questions about the + localities, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Sir John. We will pay the Chartreuse a visit in broad daylight + after breakfast, which will not interfere in the least with your + night-watch. On the contrary, it will acquaint you with the localities. + Only you must tell no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Sir John, “do I look like a gabbler?” + </p> + <p> + “No, that’s true,” cried Roland laughing, “you are not a gabbler, but I am + a ninny.” So saying, he entered his bedchamber. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast the two young men sauntered down the slopes of the garden, + as if to take a walk along the banks of the Reissouse. Then they bore to + the left, swung up the hill for about forty paces, struck into the + highroad, and crossed the woods, till they reached the convent wall at the + very place where Roland had climbed over it on the preceding night. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Roland, “this is the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied Sir John, “let us take it.” + </p> + <p> + Slowly, with a wonderful strength of wrist, which betokened a man well + trained in gymnastics, the Englishman seized the coping of the wall, swung + himself to the top, and dropped down on the other side. Roland followed + with the rapidity of one who is not achieving a feat for the first time. + They were both on the other side, where the desertion and desolation were + more visible by night than by day. The grass was growing knee high in the + paths; the espaliers were tangled with vines so thick that the grapes + could not ripen in the shadow of the leaves. The wall had given way in + several places, and ivy, the parasite rather than the friend of ruins, was + spreading everywhere. + </p> + <p> + As for the trees in the open space, plums, peaches and apricots, they had + grown with the freedom of the oaks and beeches in the forest, whose + breadth and thickness they seemed to envy. The sap, completely absorbed by + the branches which were many and vigorous, produced but little fruit, and + that imperfect. By the rustle of the tall grass, Sir John and Roland + divined that the lizards, those crawling offsprings of solitude, had + established their domicile there, from which they fled in amazement at + this disturbance. + </p> + <p> + Roland led his friend straight to the door between the orchard and the + cloister, but before entering he glanced at the clock. That clock, which + went at night, was stopped in the day time. From the cloister he passed + into the refectory. There the daylight showed under their true aspect the + various objects which the darkness had clothed with such fantastic forms + the night before. Roland showed Sir John the overturned stools, the table + marked by the blow of the pistol, the door by which the phantom had + entered. Accompanied by the Englishman, he followed the path he had taken + in pursuit of the spectre. He recognized the obstacles which had hindered + him, and noted how easily one who knew the locality might cross or avoid + them. + </p> + <p> + At the spot where he had fired, he found the wad, but he looked in vain + for the bullet. The arrangement of the passage, which ran slanting, made + it impossible for the bullet, if its marks were not on the walls, to have + missed the ghost. And yet if the ghost were hit, supposing it to be a + solid body, how came it to remain erect? How had it escaped being wounded, + and if wounded, why were there no bloodstains on the ground? And there was + no trace of either blood or ball. + </p> + <p> + Sir John was almost ready to admit that his friend had had to do with a + veritable ghost. + </p> + <p> + “Some one came after me,” said Roland, “and picked up the ball.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you fired at a man, why didn’t the ball go into him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that’s easily explained. The man wore a coat of mail under his + shroud.” + </p> + <p> + That was possible, but, nevertheless, Sir John shook his head dubiously. + He preferred to believe in a supernatural occurrence; it gave him less + trouble. + </p> + <p> + Roland and he continued their investigations. They reached the end of the + passage which opened on the furthest extremity of the orchard. It was + there that Roland had seen his spectre for an instant as it glided into + the dark vault. He made for the cistern, and so little did he hesitate + that he might still have been following the ghost. There he understood how + the darkness of the night had seemed to deepen by the absence of all + exterior reflection. It was even difficult to see there by day. + </p> + <p> + Roland took two torches about a foot long from beneath his cloak, took a + flint, lighted the tinder, and a match from the tinder. Both torches + flared up. + </p> + <p> + The problem was now to discover the way by which the ghost had + disappeared. Roland and Sir John lowered their torches and examined the + ground. The cistern was paved with large squares of limestone, which + seemed to fit perfectly. Roland looked for his second ball as persistently + as for the first. A stone lay loose at his feet, and, pushing it aside, he + disclosed an iron ring screwed into one of the limestone blocks. + </p> + <p> + Without a word Roland seized the ring, braced his feet and pulled. The + square turned on its pivot with an ease which proved that it was + frequently subjected to the same manipulation. As it turned, it disclosed + a subterranean passage. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Roland, “this is the way my spectre went.” + </p> + <p> + He entered the yawning cavern, followed by Sir John. They traversed the + same path that Morgan took when he returned to give an account of his + expedition. At the end of the passage they came upon an iron gate opening + into the mortuary vaults. Roland shook the gate, which yielded to his + touch. They crossed this subterranean cemetery, and came to a second gate; + like the first, it was open. With Roland still in front, they went up + several steps, and found themselves in the choir of the chapel, where the + scene we have related between Morgan and the Company of Jehu took place. + Only now the stalls were empty, the choir was deserted, and the altar, + degraded by the abandonment of worship, was no longer covered by the + burning tapers or the sacred cloth. + </p> + <p> + It was evident to Roland that this was the goal of the false ghost, which + Sir John persisted in believing a real one. But, real or false, Sir John + admitted that its flight had brought it to this particular spot. He + reflected a moment and then remarked: “As it is my turn to watch tonight, + I have the right to choose my ground; I shall watch here.” + </p> + <p> + And he pointed to a sort of table formed in the centre of the choir by an + oaken pedestal which had formerly supported the eagle lectern. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Roland, with the same heedlessness he showed in his own + affairs, “you’ll do very well there, only as you may find the gates locked + and the stone fastened tonight, we had better look for some more direct + way to get here.” + </p> + <p> + In less than five minutes they had found an outlet. The door of the old + sacristy opened into the choir, and from the sacristy a broken window gave + passage into the forest. The two men climbed through the window and found + themselves in the forest thicket some twenty feet from the spot where they + had killed the boar. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what we want,” said Roland; “only, my dear Sir John, as you would + never find your way by night in a forest which, even by day, is so + impenetrable, I shall accompany you as far as this.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. But once I am inside, you are to leave me,” said the + Englishman. “I remember what you told me about the susceptibility of + ghosts. If they know you are near, they may hesitate to appear, and as you + have seen one, I insist on seeing at least one myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll leave you, don’t be afraid,” replied Roland, adding, with a laugh, + “Only I do fear one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “That in your double capacity of an Englishman and a heretic they won’t + feel at ease with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” replied Sir John, gravely, “what a pity I shall not have time to + abjure before this evening.” + </p> + <p> + The two friends, having seen all there was to see, returned to the + chateau. No one, not even Amélie, had suspected that their walk was other + than an ordinary one. The day passed without questions and without + apparent anxiety; besides, it was already late when the two gentlemen + returned. + </p> + <p> + At dinner, to Edouard’s great delight, another hunt was proposed, and it + furnished a topic for conversation during dinner and part of the evening. + By ten o’clock, as usual, all had retired to their rooms, except Roland, + who was in that of Sir John. + </p> + <p> + The difference of character showed itself markedly in the preparations of + the two men. Roland had made them joyously, as if for a pleasure trip; Sir + John made his gravely, as if for a duel. He loaded his pistols with the + utmost care and put them into his belt English fashion. And, instead of a + cloak, which might have impeded his movements, he wore a top-coat with a + high collar put on over his other coat. + </p> + <p> + At half-past ten the pair left the house with the same precautions that + Roland had observed when alone. It was five minutes before eleven when + they reached the broken window, where the fallen stones served as a + stepping-block. There, according to agreement, they were to part. Sir + John, reminded Roland of this agreement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Roland, “an agreement is an agreement with me. Only, let me + give you a piece of advice.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not find the bullets because some one had been here and carried + them off; and that was done beyond doubt to prevent me from seeing the + dents on them.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of dent do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Those of the links of a coat of mail; my ghost was a man in armor.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s too bad!” said Sir John; “I hoped for a ghost.” Then, after a + moment’s silence and a sigh expressive of his deep regret in resigning the + ghost, he asked: “What was your advice?” + </p> + <p> + “Fire at his face!” + </p> + <p> + Sir John nodded assent, pressed the young officer’s hand, clambered + through the window and disappeared in the sacristy. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” called Roland after him. Then with the indifference to + danger which a soldier generally feels for himself and his companions, + Roland took his way back to the Château des Noires-Fontaines, as he had + promised Sir John. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. THE TRIAL + </h2> + <p> + The next day Roland, who had been unable to sleep till about two in the + morning, woke about seven. Collecting his scattered wits, he recalled what + had passed between Sir John and himself the night before, and was + astonished that the Englishman had not wakened him. He dressed hastily and + went to Sir John’s room at the risk of rousing him from his first sleep. + </p> + <p> + He knocked at the door. Sir John made no answer. Roland knocked again, + louder this time. The same silence. This time some uneasiness mingled with + Roland’s curiosity. The key was on the outside; the young officer opened + the door, and cast a rapid glance around the room. Sir John was not there; + he had not returned. The bed was undisturbed. What had happened? + </p> + <p> + There was not an instant to lose, and we may be sure that, with that + rapidity of decision we know in Roland, he lost not an instant. He rushed + to his room, finished dressing, put his hunting knife into his belt, slung + his rifle over his shoulder and went out. No one was yet awake except the + chambermaid. Roland met her on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Madame de Montrevel,” said he, “that I have gone into the forest of + Seillon with my gun. She must not worry if Sir John and I are not on time + for breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Then he darted rapidly away. Ten minutes later he reached the window where + he had left Sir John the night before. He listened, not a sound came from + within; the huntsman’s ear could detect the morning woodland sounds, but + no others. Roland climbed through the window with his customary agility, + and rushed through the choir into the sacristy. + </p> + <p> + One look sufficed to show him that not only the choir but the entire + chapel was empty. Had the spectres led the Englishman along the reverse of + the way he had come himself? Possibly. Roland passed rapidly behind the + altar, into the vaults, where he found the gate open. He entered the + subterranean cemetery. Darkness hid its depths. He called Sir John three + times. No one answered. + </p> + <p> + He reached the second gate; it was open like the first. He entered the + vaulted passage; only, as it would be impossible to use his gun in such + darkness, he slung it over his shoulder and drew out his hunting-knife. + Feeling his way, he continued to advance without meeting anybody, but the + further he went the deeper became the darkness, which indicated that the + stone in the cistern was closed. He reached the steps, and mounted them + until his head touched the revolving stone; then he made an effort, and + the block turned. Roland saw daylight and leaped into the cistern. The + door into the orchard stood open. Roland passed through it, crossed that + portion of the orchard which lay between the cistern and the corridor at + the other end of which he had fired upon the phantom. He passed along the + corridor and entered the refectory. The refectory was empty. + </p> + <p> + Again, as in the funereal passageway, Roland called three times. The + wondering echo, which seemed to have forgotten the tones of the human + voice, answered stammering. It was improbable that Sir John had come this + way; it was necessary to go back. Roland retraced his steps, and found + himself in the choir again. That was where Sir John had intended to spend + the night, and there some trace of him must be found. + </p> + <p> + Roland advanced only a short distance, and then a cry escaped him. A large + spot of blood lay at his feet, staining the pavement. On the other side of + the choir, a dozen feet from the blood, was another stain, not less large, + nor less red, nor less recent. It seemed to make a pendant for the first. + </p> + <p> + One of these stains was to the right, the other to the left of that sort + of pedestal intended, as we have said, to support the eagle lectern—the + pedestal which Sir John had selected for his place of waiting. Roland went + up to it. It was drenched with blood! Evidently the drama had taken place + on that spot; a drama which, if all the signs were true, must have been + terrible. + </p> + <p> + Roland, in his double capacity of huntsman and soldier, was keen at a + quest. He could calculate the amount of blood lost by a man who was dead, + or by one who was only wounded. That night three men had fallen, either + dead or wounded. What were the probabilities? + </p> + <p> + The two stains in the choir to the right and left of the pedestal were + probably the blood of Sir John’s two antagonists. That on the pedestal was + probably his own. Attacked on both sides, right and left, he had fired + with both hands, killing or wounding a man with each shot. Hence these two + bloodstains which reddened the pavement. He himself must have been struck + down beside the pedestal, on which his blood had spurted. + </p> + <p> + After a few seconds of examination, Roland was as sure of this as if he + had witnessed the struggle with his own eyes. Now, what had been done with + the bodies? He cared little enough about two of them; but he was + determined to know what had become of that of Sir John. + </p> + <p> + A track of blood started from the pedestal and led straight to the door. + Sir John’s body had been carried outside. Roland shook the massive door. + It was only latched, and opened at the first pressure. Outside the sill + the tracks of blood still continued. Roland could see through the + underbrush the path by which the body had been carried. The broken + branches, the trampled grass, led Roland to the edge of the wood on the + road leading from Pont d’Ain to Bourg. There the body, living or dead, + seemed to have been laid on the bank of the ditch. Beyond that no traces + whatever. + </p> + <p> + A man passed just then, coming from the direction of the Château des + Noires-Fontaines. Roland went up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen anything on the road? Did you meet any one?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the man, “I saw two peasants carrying a body on a litter.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Roland, “was it that of a living man?” + </p> + <p> + “The man was pale and motionless; he looked as if he were dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Was the blood flowing?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw some drops on the road.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, he is living.” + </p> + <p> + Then taking a louis from his pocket he said: “There’s a louis for you. Run + for Dr. Milliet at Bourg; tell him to get a horse and come at full speed + to the Château des Noires-Fontaines. You can add that there is a man there + in danger of dying.” + </p> + <p> + While the peasant, stimulated by the reward, made all haste to Bourg, + Roland, leaping along on his vigorous legs, was hurrying to the château. + </p> + <p> + And now, as our readers are, in all probability, as curious as Roland to + know what had happened to Sir John, we shall give an account of the events + of the night. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes before eleven, Sir John, as we have seen, entered what was + usually known as La Correrie, or the pavilion of the Chartreuse, which was + nothing more than a chapel erected in the woods. From the sacristy he + entered the choir. It was empty and seemed solitary. A rather brilliant + moon, veiled from time to time by a cloud, sent its bluish rays through + the stained glass, cracked and broken, of the pointed windows. Sir John + advanced to the middle of the choir, where he paused and remained standing + beside the pedestal. + </p> + <p> + The minutes slipped away. But this time it was not the convent clock which + marked the time, it was the church at Péronnaz; that is to say, the + nearest village to the chapel where Sir John was watching. + </p> + <p> + Everything happened up to midnight just as it had to Roland. Sir John + heard only the vague rustling and passing noises of the night. + </p> + <p> + Midnight sounded; it was the moment he awaited with impatience, for it was + then that something would happen, if anything was to happen. As the last + stroke died away he thought he heard footsteps underground, and saw a + light appear behind the iron gate leading to the mortuary vault. His whole + attention was fixed on that spot. + </p> + <p> + A monk emerged from the passage, his hood brought low over his eyes, and + carrying a torch in his hand. He wore the dress of a Chartreux. A second + one followed, then a third. Sir John counted twelve. They separated before + the altar. There were twelve stalls in the choir; six to the right of Sir + John, six to his left. The twelve monks silently took their places in the + twelve stalls. Each one placed his torch in a hole made for that purpose + in the oaken desk, and waited. + </p> + <p> + A thirteenth monk appeared and took his stand before the altar. + </p> + <p> + None of the monks affected the fantastic behavior of ghosts or shades; + they all belonged undoubtedly to the earth, and were living men. + </p> + <p> + Sir John, a pistol in each hand, stood leaning against the pedestal in the + middle of the choir, and watched with the utmost coolness this manoeuvre + which tended to surround him. The monks were standing, like him, erect and + silent. + </p> + <p> + The monk at the altar broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Brothers,” he asked, “why are the Avengers assembled?” + </p> + <p> + “To judge a blasphemer!” replied the monks. + </p> + <p> + “What crime has this blasphemer committed?” continued the interlocutor. + </p> + <p> + “He has tried to discover the secrets of the Companions of Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + “What penalty has he incurred?” + </p> + <p> + “Death.” + </p> + <p> + The monk at the altar waited, apparently, to give time for the sentence + which had just been pronounced to reach the heart of him whom it + concerned. Then turning to the Englishman, who continued as calm as if he + were at a comedy, he said: “Sir John Tanlay, you are a foreigner and an + Englishman—a double reason why you should leave the Companions of + Jehu to fight their own battles with the government, whose downfall they + have sworn. You failed in wisdom, you yielded to idle curiosity; instead + of keeping away, you have entered the lion’s den, and the lion will rend + you.” + </p> + <p> + Then after an instant’s silence, during which he seemed to await the + Englishman’s reply, he resumed, seeing that he remained silent: “Sir John + Tanlay, you are condemned to death. Prepare to die!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I see that I have fallen into the hands of a band of thieves. If so, + I can buy myself off with a ransom.” Then turning to the monk at the altar + he asked, “How much do you demand, captain?” + </p> + <p> + A threatening murmur greeted these insolent words. The monk at the altar + stretched out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Sir John. We are not a band of thieves,” said he in a + tone as calm and composed as Sir John’s, “and the proof is, that if you + have money or jewels upon you, you need only give me your instructions, + and they will be remitted either to your family or the person whom you + designate.” + </p> + <p> + “And what guarantee shall I have that my last wishes will be carried out?” + </p> + <p> + “My word.” + </p> + <p> + “The word of the leader of assassins! I don’t trust it.” + </p> + <p> + “This time, as before, you are mistaken, Sir John. I am no more the leader + of assassins than I am a captain of thieves.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “The elect of celestial vengeance. I am the envoy of Jehu, King of Israel, + who was anointed by the prophet Elisha to destroy the house of Ahab.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are what you say, why do you veil your faces? Why do you wear + armor under your robes? The elect strike openly; they risk death in giving + death. Throw back your hoods, show me your naked breasts, and I will admit + that you are what you pretend to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Brothers, you have heard him,” said the monk at the altar. + </p> + <p> + Then, stripping off his gown, he opened his coat, waistcoat and even his + shirt. Each monk did the same, and stood with face exposed and bared + breast. They were all handsome young men, of whom the eldest was + apparently not more than thirty-five. Their dress was elegant, but, + strange fact, none was armed. They were judges and nothing more. + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, Sir John Tanlay,” said the monk at the altar. “You will + die, but in dying, you can, as you wished just now, recognize and kill + your judges. Sir John, you have five minutes to prepare your soul for + death!” + </p> + <p> + Sir John, instead of profiting by this permission to think of his eternal + salvation, coolly cocked his pistols to see that the triggers were all + right, and passed a ramrod down the barrels to make sure that the balls + were there. Then, without waiting for the five minutes to expire, he said: + “Gentlemen, I am ready. Are you?” + </p> + <p> + The young men looked at each other; then, on a sign from their chief, they + walked straight to Sir John, and surrounded him on all sides. The monk at + the altar stood immovable, commanding with his eye the scene that was + about to take place. + </p> + <p> + Sir John had only two pistols, consequently he could only kill two men. He + selected his victims and fired. Two Companions of Jehu rolled upon the + pavement, which they reddened with their blood. The others, as if nothing + had happened, still advanced with outstretched hands upon Sir John. Sir + John seized his pistols by the muzzle, using them like hammers. He was + vigorous and the struggle was long. For ten minutes, a confused group + tussled in the centre of the choir; then this violent commotion ceased, + and the Companions of Jehu drew away to right and left, and regained their + stalls, leaving Sir John bound with their girdles and lying upon the + pedestal in the choir. + </p> + <p> + “Have you commended your soul to God?” asked the monk at the altar. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, assassin,” answered Sir John; “you may strike.” + </p> + <p> + The monk took a dagger from the altar, advanced with uplifted arm, and, + standing over Sir John, levelled the dagger at his breast: “Sir John + Tanlay,” he said, “you are a brave man, and doubtless a man of honor. + Swear that you will never breathe a syllable of what you have seen; swear + that under no circumstances, whatever they may be, you will recognize us, + and we will spare your life.” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as I leave here,” replied Sir John, “I shall denounce you. The + moment I am free I will trail you down.” + </p> + <p> + “Swear,” repeated the monk a second time. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “Swear,” said the monk for the third time. + </p> + <p> + “Never,” replied Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “Then die, since you will it!” + </p> + <p> + And he drove his dagger up to the hilt in Sir John’s breast; who, whether + by force of will, or because the blow killed him at once, did not even + sigh. Then the monk in a loud sonorous voice, like a man conscious of + having done his duty, exclaimed: “Justice is done!” + </p> + <p> + Then he returned to the altar, leaving the dagger in the wound and said: + “Brothers, you are invited to the ball of the Victims, which takes place + in Paris on the 21st of January next, at No. 35 Rue du Bac, in memory of + the death of King Louis XVI.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he re-entered the subterranean passage, followed by the + remaining ten monks, each bearing his torch in his hand. Two torches + remained to light the three bodies. + </p> + <p> + A moment later four serving brothers entered, and raised first the bodies + of the two monks, which they carried into the vault. Then they returned, + lifted that of Sir John, placed it on a stretcher, and carried it out of + the chapel by the entrance door, which they closed after them. Two of the + monks walked in front of the stretcher, carrying the two torches left in + the chapel. + </p> + <p> + And now, if our readers ask why there was this difference between the + treatment received by Roland and that administered to Sir John, why this + mansuetude toward one and this rigor toward the other, we reply: Remember + that Morgan enjoined on his brethren the safety of Amélie’s brother, and + thus safeguarded, under no circumstances could Roland die by the hand of a + Companion of Jehu. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE RUE DE LA VICTOIRE + </h2> + <p> + While they are bearing Sir John Tanlay’s body to the Château des + Noires-Fontaines; while Roland is hurrying in the same direction; while + the peasant, despatched by him, is hastening to Bourg to notify Dr. + Milliet of the catastrophe which necessitated his immediate presence at + Madame de Montrevel’s home, let us jump over the distance which separates + Bourg from Paris, and the time which elapsed between the 16th of October + and the 7th of November; that is to say, between the 24th of Vendemiaire + and the 16th Brumaire, and repair to that little house in the Rue de la + Victoire rendered historically famous by the conspiracy of the 18th + Brumaire, which issued from it fully armed. + </p> + <p> + It is the same house which stands there to-day on the right of the street + at No. 60, apparently astonished to present to the eye, after so many + successive changes of government, the consular fasces which may still be + seen on the panels of its double oaken doors. + </p> + <p> + Let us follow the long, narrow alley of lindens that leads from the gate + on the street to the door of the house; let us enter the antechamber, take + the hall to the right, ascend the twenty steps that lead to a study hung + with green paper, and furnished with curtains, easy chairs and couches of + the same color. The walls are covered with geographical charts and plans + of cities. Bookcases of maple are ranged on either side of the fireplace, + which they inclose. The chairs, sofas, tables and desks are piled with + books; there is scarcely any room on the chairs to sit down, or on the + desks and tables to write. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this encumbering mass of reports, letters, pamphlets and + books, a man had cleared a space for himself where he was now seated, + clutching his hair impatiently from time to time, as he endeavored to + decipher a page of notes, compared to which the hieroglyphics on the + obelisk of Luxor, would have been transparently intelligible. Just as the + secretary’s impatience was approaching desperation, the door opened and a + young officer wearing an aide’s uniform entered. + </p> + <p> + The secretary raised his head, and a lively expression of satisfaction + crossed his face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my dear Roland,” said he; “you here at last! I am delighted to see + you, for three reasons. First, because I am wearying for you; second, + because the general is impatient for your return, and keeps up a + hullaballoo about it; and third, because you can help me to read this, + with which I have been struggling for the last ten minutes. But first of + all, kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + And the secretary and the aide-de-camp embraced each other. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the latter, “let us see this word that is troubling you so, + my dear Bourrienne!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my dear fellow, what writing! I get a white hair for every page I + decipher, and this is my third to-day! Here, read it if you can.” + </p> + <p> + Roland took the sheet from the secretary, and fixing his eyes on the spot + indicated, read quite fluently: “Paragraph XI. The Nile, from Assouan to a + distance of twelve miles north of Cairo, flows in a single stream”—“Well,” + said he, interrupting himself, “that’s all plain sailing. What did you + mean? The general, on the contrary, took pains when he wrote that.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, go on,” said Bourrienne. + </p> + <p> + The young man resumed: “‘From that point, which is called’—ah! Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “There you are! Now what do you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + Roland repeated: “‘Which is called’—The devil! ‘Which is called—‘” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ‘Which is called’—after that?” + </p> + <p> + “What will you give me, Bourrienne,” cried Roland, “if I guess it?” + </p> + <p> + “The first colonel’s commission I find signed in blank.” + </p> + <p> + “By my faith, no! I don’t want to leave the general; I’d rather have a + good father than five hundred naughty children. I’ll give you the three + words for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What! are there three words there?” + </p> + <p> + “They don’t look as if they were quite three, I admit. Now listen, and + make obeisance to me: ‘From the point called Ventre della Vacca.’” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Ventre de la Vache! Confound it! He’s illegible enough in French, but + if he takes it into his head to go off in Italian, and that Corsican + patois to boot! I thought I only ran the risk of going crazy, but then I + should become stupid, too. Well, you’ve got it,” and he read the whole + sentence consecutively: “‘The Nile, from Assouan to a distance of twelve + miles north of Cairo, flows in a single stream; from that point, which is + called Ventre de la Vache, it forms the branches of the Rosetta and the + Damietta.’ Thank you, Roland,” and he began to write the end of the + paragraph, of which the first lines were already committed to paper. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” said Roland; “is he still got his hobby, the dear general, of + colonizing Egypt?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and then, as a sort of offset, a little governing in France; we will + colonize from a distance.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Bourrienne, suppose you post me a little on matters in this + country, so that I won’t seem to have just arrived from Timbuctoo.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, did you come back of your own accord, or were you + recalled?” + </p> + <p> + “Recalled? I should think so!” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “The general himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Special despatch?” + </p> + <p> + “Written by himself; see!” + </p> + <p> + The young man drew a paper from his pocket containing two lines, not + signed, in the same handwriting as that which Bourrienne had before him. + These two lines said: “‘Start. Be in Paris 16th Brumaire. I need you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bourrienne, “I think it will be on the eighteenth.” + </p> + <p> + “What will be on the eighteenth?” + </p> + <p> + “On my word, Roland, you ask more than I know. That man, as you are aware, + is not communicative. What will take place on the 18th Brumaire? I don’t + know as yet; but I’ll answer for it that something will happen.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you must have a suspicion!” + </p> + <p> + “I think he means to make himself Director in place of Sièyes, or perhaps + president in Gohier’s stead.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! How about the Constitution of the year III.?” + </p> + <p> + “The Constitution of the year III. What about that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, a man must be forty years old to be a Director; and the general + lacks just ten of them.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! so much the worse for the Constitution. They must violate it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is rather young yet, Bourrienne; they don’t, as a rule, violate + children of seven.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, in Barras’ hands everything grows old rapidly. The little + girl of seven is already an old prostitute.” + </p> + <p> + Roland shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” asked Bourrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don’t believe the general will make himself a simple Director with + four colleagues. Just imagine it—five kings of France! It wouldn’t + be a Directory any longer, but a four-in-hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, up to the present, that is all he has allowed any one to + perceive; but you know, my dear friend, if we want to know the general’s + secrets we must guess them.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith! I’m too lazy to take the trouble, Bourrienne. Besides, I’m a + regular Janissary—what is to be, will be. Why the devil should I + bother to form an opinion and battle for it. It’s quite wearisome enough + to have to live.” And the young man enforced his favorite aphorism with a + long yawn; then he added: “Do you think there will be any sword play?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there will be a chance of getting killed; that’s all I want. Where + is the general?” + </p> + <p> + “With Madame Bonaparte. He went to her about fifteen minutes ago. Have you + let him know you are here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wanted to see you first. But I hear his step now.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the door was opened abruptly, and the same historical personage + whom we saw playing a silent part incognito at Avignon appeared on the + threshold, in the picturesque uniform of the general-in-chief of the army + of Egypt, except that, being in his own house, he was bare-headed. Roland + thought his eyes were more hollow and his skin more leaden than usual. But + the moment he saw the young man, Bonaparte’s gloomy, or rather meditative, + eye emitted a flash of joy. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here you are, Roland!” he said. “True as steel! Called, you come. + Welcome, my dear fellow.” And he offered Roland his hand. Then he asked, + with an imperceptible smile, “What were you doing with Bourrienne?” + </p> + <p> + “Waiting for you, general.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the meantime gossiping like two old women.” + </p> + <p> + “I admit it, general. I was showing him my order to be here on the 16th + Brumaire.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I write the 16th or the 17th?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the 16th, general. The 17th would have been too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Why too late?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, hang it, Bourrienne says there are to be great doings here on the + 18th.” + </p> + <p> + “Capital,” muttered Bourrienne; “the scatter-brain will earn me a + wigging.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! So he told you I had planned great doings for the 18th?” Then, + approaching Bourrienne, Bonaparte pinched his ear, and said, “Tell-tale!” + Then to Roland he added: “Well, it is so, my dear fellow, we have made + great plans for the 18th. My wife and I dine with President Gohier; an + excellent man, who was very polite to Josephine during my absence. You are + to dine with us, Roland.” + </p> + <p> + Roland looked at Bonaparte. “Was it for that you brought me here, + general?” he asked, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “For that, and something else, too, perhaps. Bourrienne, write—” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne hastily seized his pen. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “‘My dear President, I write to let you know that my wife and I, with one + of my aides-de-camp, will dine with you the day after to-morrow. This is + merely to say that we shall be quite satisfied with a family dinner.’” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I put, ‘Liberty, equality, fraternity’?” + </p> + <p> + “Or death,” added Roland. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bonaparte; “give me the pen.” + </p> + <p> + He took the pen from Bourrienne’s hands and wrote, “Ever yours, + Bonaparte.” Then, pushing away the paper, he added: “Address it, + Bourrienne, and send an orderly with it.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne wrote the address, sealed it, and rang the bell. An officer on + duty entered. + </p> + <p> + “Send an orderly with that,” said Bourrienne. + </p> + <p> + “There is an answer,” added Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + The officer closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Bourrienne,” said Bonaparte, pointing to Roland, “look at your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, general, I am looking at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what he did at Avignon?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he didn’t make a pope.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he threw a plate at a man’s head.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was hasty!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not all.” + </p> + <p> + “That I can well imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “He fought a duel with that man.” + </p> + <p> + “And, most naturally, he killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. Do you know why he did it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The general shrugged his shoulders, and said: “Because the man said that I + was a thief.” Then looking at Roland with an indefinable expression of + raillery and affection, he added: “Ninny!” Then suddenly he burst out: + “Oh! by the way, and the Englishman?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, the Englishman, general. I was just going to speak to you about + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he still in France?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and for awhile even I thought he would remain here till the last + trumpet blew its blast through the valley of Jehosaphat.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you miss killing him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, not I. We are the best friends in the world. General, he is a + capital fellow, and so original to boot that I’m going to ask a bit of a + favor for him.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! For an Englishman?” said Bonaparte, shaking his head. “I don’t + like the English.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! As a people, but individually—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what happened to your friend?” + </p> + <p> + “He was tried, condemned, and executed.” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil are you telling us?” + </p> + <p> + “God’s truth, general.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean when you say, ‘He was tried, condemned, and + guillotined’?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! not exactly that. Tried and condemned, but not guillotined. If he had + been guillotined he would be more dangerously ill than he is now.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, what are you gabbling about? What court tried and condemned him?” + </p> + <p> + “That of the Companions of Jehu!” + </p> + <p> + “And who are the Companions of Jehu?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! Have you forgotten our friend Morgan already, the masked man + who brought back the wine-merchant’s two hundred louis?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Bonaparte, “I have not forgotten him. I told you about the + scamp’s audacity, didn’t I, Bourrienne?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general,” said Bourrienne, “and I answered that, had I been in your + place, I should have tried to find out who he was.” + </p> + <p> + “And the general would know, had he left me alone. I was just going to + spring at his throat and tear off his mask, when the general said, in that + tone you know so well: ‘Friend Roland!’” + </p> + <p> + “Come back to your Englishman, chatterbox!” cried the general. “Did Morgan + murder him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not he himself, but his Companions.” + </p> + <p> + “But you were speaking of a court and a trial just now.” + </p> + <p> + “General, you are always the same,” said Roland, with their old school + familiarity; “you want to know, and you don’t give me time to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Get elected to the Five Hundred, and you can talk as much as you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! In the Five Hundred I should have four hundred and ninety-nine + colleagues who would want to talk as much as I, and who would take the + words out of my mouth. I’d rather be interrupted by you than by a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you go on?” + </p> + <p> + “I ask nothing better. Now imagine, general, there is a Chartreuse near + Bourg—” + </p> + <p> + “The Chartreuse of Seillon; I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “What! You know the Chartreuse of Seillon?” demanded Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Doesn’t the general know everything?” cried Bourrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Well, about the Chartreuse; are there any monks there now?” + </p> + <p> + “No; only ghosts—” + </p> + <p> + “Are you, perchance, going to tell me a ghost-story?” + </p> + <p> + “And a famous one at that!” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! Bourrienne knows I love them. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we were told at home that the Chartreuse was haunted by ghosts. Of + course, you understand that Sir John and I, or rather I and Sir John, + wanted to clear our minds about it. So we each spent a night there.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, at the Chartreuse.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte made an imperceptible sign of the cross with his thumb, a + Corsican habit which he never lost. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed, “did you see any ghosts?” + </p> + <p> + “One.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you do to it?” + </p> + <p> + “Shot at it.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “It walked away.” + </p> + <p> + “And you allowed yourself to be baffled?” + </p> + <p> + “Good! How well you know me! I followed it, and fired again. But as he + knew his way among the ruins better than I, he escaped me.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” + </p> + <p> + “The next day it was Sir John’s turn; I mean our Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he see your ghost?” + </p> + <p> + “He saw something better. He saw twelve monks enter the church, who tried + him for trying to find out their secrets, condemned him to death, and who, + on my word of honor, stabbed him.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t he defend himself?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a lion. He killed two.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost, but I hope he will recover. Just imagine, general; he was found + by the road, and brought home with a dagger in his breast, like a prop in + a vineyard.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s like a scene of the Sainte-Vehme, neither more nor less.” + </p> + <p> + “And on the blade of the dagger, that there might be no doubt as to who + did the deed, were graven the words: ‘Companions of Jehu.’” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it isn’t possible that such things can happen in France, in the last + year of the eighteenth century. It might do for Germany in the Middle + Ages, in the days of the Henrys and the Ottos.” + </p> + <p> + “Not possible, general? But here is the dagger. What do you say to that? + Attractive, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + And the young man drew from under his coat a dagger made entirely of + steel, blade and handle. The handle was shaped like a cross, and on the + blade, sure enough, were engraved the words, “Companions of Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte examined the weapon carefully. + </p> + <p> + “And you say they planted that plaything in your Englishman’s breast?” + </p> + <p> + “Up to the hilt.” + </p> + <p> + “And he’s not dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been listening, Bourrienne?” + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest interest.” + </p> + <p> + “You must remind me of this, Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “When, general?” + </p> + <p> + “When?—when I am master. Come and say good-day to Josephine. Come, + Bourrienne, you will dine with us, and be careful what you say, you two, + for Moreau is coming to dinner. Ah! I will keep the dagger as a + curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + He went out first, followed by Roland, who was, soon after, followed by + Bourrienne. On the stairs they met the orderly who had taken the note to + Gohier. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the general. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the President’s answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte broke the seal, and read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The President Gohier is enchanted the good fortune promised him + by General Bonaparte. He will expect him to dinner the day after + to-morrow, the 18th Brumaire, with his charming wife, and the + aide-de-camp, whoever he may be. Dinner will be served at five + o’clock. + + If the hour does not suit General Bonaparte, will he kindly make + known the one he would prefer. + + The President, GOHIER. + 16th Brumaire, year VII. +</pre> + <p> + With an indescribable smile, Bonaparte put the letter in his pocket. Then + turning to Roland, he asked: “Do you know President Gohier?” + </p> + <p> + “No, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you’ll see; he’s an excellent man.” + </p> + <p> + These words were pronounced in a tone no less indescribable than the + smile. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE GUESTS OF GENERAL BONAPARTE + </h2> + <p> + Josephine, in spite of her thirty-four years, or possibly because of them + (that enchanting age when woman hovers between her passing youth and her + corning age), Josephine, always beautiful, more graceful than ever, was + still the charming woman we all know. An imprudent remark of Junot’s, at + the time of her husband’s return, had produced a slight coolness between + them. But three days had sufficed to restore to the enchantress her full + power over the victor of Rivoli and the Pyramids. + </p> + <p> + She was doing the honors of her salon, when Roland entered the room. + Always incapable, like the true Creole she was, of controlling her + emotions, she gave a cry of joy, and held out her hand to him. She knew + that Roland was devoted to her husband; she knew his reckless bravery, + knew that if the young man had twenty lives he would willingly have given + them all for Bonaparte. Roland eagerly took the hand she offered him, and + kissed it respectfully. Josephine had known Roland’s mother in Martinique; + and she never failed, whenever she saw Roland, to speak to him of his + maternal grandfather, M. de la Clémencière, in whose magnificent garden as + a child she was wont to gather those wonderful fruits which are unknown in + our colder climates. + </p> + <p> + A subject of conversation was therefore ready at hand. She inquired + tenderly after Madame de Montrevel’s health, and that of her daughter and + little Edouard. Then, the information given, she said: “My dear Roland, I + must now pay attention to my other guests; but try to remain after the + other guests, or else let me see you alone to-morrow. I want to talk to + you about <i>him</i>” (she glanced at Bonaparte) “and have a thousand + things to tell you.” Then, pressing the young man’s hand with a sigh, she + added, “No matter what happens, you will never leave him, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Roland, amazed. + </p> + <p> + “I know what I mean,” said Josephine, “and when you have talked ten + minutes with Bonaparte you will, I am sure, understand me. In the meantime + watch, and listen, and keep silence.” + </p> + <p> + Roland bowed and drew aside, resolved, as Josephine had advised, to play + the part of observer. + </p> + <p> + But what was there to observe? Three principal groups occupied the salon. + The first, gathered around Madame Bonaparte, the only woman present, was + more a flux and reflux than a group. The second, surrounding Talma, was + composed of Arnault, Parseval-Grandmaison, Monge, Berthollet, and two or + three other members of the Institute. The third, which Bonaparte had just + joined, counted in its circle Talleyrand, Barras, Lucien, Admiral Bruix, + [Footnote: AUTHOR’S NOTE.—Not to be confounded with Rear-Admiral de + Brueys, who was killed at Aboukir, August 1, 1798. Admiral Bruix, the + negotiator with Talleyrand of the 18th Brumaire, did not die until 1805.] + Roederer, Regnaud de Saint-Jean-d’Angely, Fouché, Réal, and two or three + generals, among whom was Lefebvre. + </p> + <p> + In the first group they talked of fashions, music, the theatre; in the + second, literature, science, dramatic art; in the third, they talked of + everything except that which was uppermost in their minds. Doubtless this + reserve was not in keeping with Bonaparte’s own feeling at the moment; for + after sharing in this commonplace conversation for a short time, he took + the former bishop of Autun by the arm and led him into the embrasure of + the window. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Talleyrand looked at Bonaparte with that air which belonged to no one but + him. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you of Sièyes, general?” + </p> + <p> + “You told me to secure the support of those who regarded the friends of + the Republic as Jacobins, and to rely, upon it that Sièyes was at their + head.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he will yield?” + </p> + <p> + “Better, he has yielded.” + </p> + <p> + “The man who wanted to shoot me at Fréjus for having landed without being + quarantined!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; not for that.” + </p> + <p> + “But what then?” + </p> + <p> + “For not having looked at him or spoken to him at Gohier’s dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “I must confess that I did it on purpose. I cannot endure that unfrocked + monk.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte perceived, too late, that the speech he had just made was like + the sword of the archangel, double-edged; if Sièyes was unfrocked, + Talleyrand was unmitred. He cast a rapid glance at his companion’s face; + the ex-bishop of Autun was smiling his sweetest smile. + </p> + <p> + “Then I can count upon him?” + </p> + <p> + “I will answer for him.” + </p> + <p> + “And Cambacérès and Lebrun, have you seen them?” + </p> + <p> + “I took Sièyes in hand as the most recalcitrant. Bruix saw the other two.” + </p> + <p> + The admiral, from the midst of the group, had never taken his eyes off of + the general and the diplomatist. He suspected that their conversation had + a special importance. Bonaparte made him a sign to join them. A less able + man would have done so at once, but Bruix avoided such a mistake. He + walked about the room with affected indifference, and then, as if he had + just perceived Talleyrand and Bonaparte talking together, he went up to + them. + </p> + <p> + “Bruix is a very able man!” said Bonaparte, who judged men as much by + little as by great things. + </p> + <p> + “And above all very cautious, general!” said Talleyrand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We will need a corkscrew to pull anything out of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; on the contrary, now that he has joined us, he, will broach the + question frankly.” + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, no sooner had Bruix joined them than he began in words as + clear as they were concise: “I have seen them; they waver!” + </p> + <p> + “They waver! Cambacérès and Lebrun waver? Lebrun I can understand—a + sort of man of letters, a moderate, a Puritan; but Cambacérès—” + </p> + <p> + “But it is so.” + </p> + <p> + “But didn’t you tell them that I intended to make them each a consul?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t get as far as that,” replied Bruix, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” inquired Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “Because this is the first word you have told me about your intentions, + Citizen General.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Bonaparte, biting his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to repair the omission?” asked Bruix. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” exclaimed Bonaparte hastily; “they might think I needed them. I + won’t have any quibbling. They must decide to-day without any other + conditions than those you have offered them; to-morrow it will be too + late. I feel strong enough to stand alone; and I now have Sièyes and + Barras.” + </p> + <p> + “Barras?” repeated the two negotiators astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Barras, who treated me like a little corporal, and wouldn’t send me + back to Italy, because, he said, I had made my fortune there, and it was + useless to return. Well, Barras—” + </p> + <p> + “Barras?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” Then, changing his mind, “Faith! I may as well tell you. Do you + know what Barras said at dinner yesterday before me? That it was + impossible to go on any longer with the Constitution of the year III. He + admitted the necessity of a dictatorship; said he had decided to abandon + the reins of government, and retire; adding that he himself was looked + upon as worn-out, and that the Republic needed new men. Now, guess to whom + he thinks of transferring his power. I give it you, as Madame de Sévigné + says, in a hundred, thousand, ten thousand. No other than General + Hedouville, a worthy man, but I have only to look him in the face to make + him lower his eyes. My glance must have been blasting! As the result, + Barras came to my bedside at eight o’clock, to excuse himself as best he + could for the nonsense he talked the night before, and admitted that I + alone could save the Republic, and placed himself at my disposal, to do + what I wished, assume any rôle I might assign him, begging me to promise + that if I had any plan in my head I would count on him—yes, on him; + and he would be true to the crack of doom.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Talleyrand, unable to resist a play upon words, “doom is + not a word with which to conjure liberty.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte glanced at the ex-bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know that Barras is your friend, the friend of Fouché and Réal; + but he is not mine, and I shall prove it to him. Go back to Lebrun and + Cambacérès, Bruix, and let them make their own bargain.” Then, looking at + his watch and frowning, he added: “It seems to me that Moreau keeps us + waiting.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he turned to the group which surrounded Talma. The two + diplomatists watched him. Then Admiral Bruix asked in a low voice: “What + do you say, my dear Maurice, to such sentiments toward the man who picked + him out, a mere lieutenant, at the siege of Toulon, who trusted him to + defend the Convention on the 13th Vendémiaire, and who named him, when + only twenty-six, General-in-Chief of the Army in Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “I say, my dear admiral,” replied M. de Talleyrand, with his pallid + mocking smile, “that some services are so great that ingratitude alone can + repay them.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the door opened and General Moreau was announced. At this + announcement, which was more than a piece of news—it was a surprise + to most of those present—every eye was turned toward the door. + Moreau appeared. + </p> + <p> + At this period three men were in the eyes of France. Moreau was one of + these three men. The two others were Bonaparte and Pichegru. Each had + become a sort of symbol. Since the 18th Fructidor, Pichegru had become the + symbol of monarchy; Moreau, since he had been christened Fabius, was the + symbol of the Republic; Bonaparte, symbol of war, dominated them both by + the adventurous aspect of his genius. + </p> + <p> + Moreau was at that time in the full strength of his age; we would say the + full strength of his genius, if decision were not one of the + characteristics of genius. But no one was ever more undecided than the + famous cunctator. He was thirty-six years old, tall, with a sweet, calm, + firm countenance, and must have resembled Xenophon. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte had never seen him, nor had he, on his side, ever seen + Bonaparte. While the one was battling on the Adige and the Mincio, the + other fought beside the Danube and the Rhine. Bonaparte came forward to + greet him, saying: “You are welcome, general!” + </p> + <p> + “General,” replied Moreau, smiling courteously, while all present made a + circle around them to see how this new Cæsar would meet the new Pompey, + “you come from Egypt, victorious, while I come, defeated, from Italy.” + </p> + <p> + “A defeat which was not yours, and for which you are not responsible, + general. It was Joubert’s fault. If he had rejoined the Army of Italy as + soon as he had been made commander-in-chief, it is more than probable that + the Russians and Austrians, with the troops they then had, could not have + resisted him. But he remained in Paris for his honeymoon! Poor Joubert + paid with his life for that fatal month which gave the enemy time to + gather its reinforcements. The surrender of Mantua gave them fifteen + thousand men on the eve of the battle. It was impossible that our poor + army should not have been overwhelmed by such united forces.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes,” said Moreau; “it is always the greater number which defeats + the smaller.” + </p> + <p> + “A great truth, general,” exclaimed Bonaparte; “an indisputable truth.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Arnault, joining in the conversation, “you yourself, + general, have defeated large armies with little ones.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were Marius, instead of the author of ‘Marius,’ you would not say + that, my dear poet. Even when I beat great armies with little ones—listen + to this, you young men who obey to-day, and will command to-morrow—it + was always the larger number which defeated the lesser.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” said Arnault and Lefebvre together. + </p> + <p> + But Moreau made a sign with his head to show that he understood. Bonaparte + continued: “Follow my theory, for it contains the whole art of war. When + with lesser forces I faced a large army, I gathered mine together, with + great rapidity, fell like a thunderbolt on a wing of the great army, and + overthrew it; then I profited by the disorder into which this manoeuvre + never failed to throw the enemy to attack again, always with my whole + army, on the other side. I beat them, in this way, in detail; and the + victory which resulted was always, as you see, the triumph of the many + over the few.” + </p> + <p> + As the able general concluded his definition of his own genius, the door + opened and the servant announced that dinner was served. + </p> + <p> + “General,” said Bonaparte, leading Moreau to Josephine, “take in my wife. + Gentlemen, follow them.” + </p> + <p> + On this invitation all present moved from the salon to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, on pretence of showing him a magnificent sabre he had + brought from Egypt, Bonaparte took Moreau into his study. There the two + rivals remained closeted more than an hour. What passed between them? What + compact was signed? What promises were made? No one has ever known. Only, + when Bonaparte returned to the salon alone, and Lucien asked him: “Well, + what of Moreau?” he answered: “Just as I foresaw; he prefers military + power to political power. I have promised him the command of an army.” + Bonaparte smiled as he pronounced these words; then added, “In the + meantime—” + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime?” questioned Lucien. + </p> + <p> + “He will have that of the Luxembourg. I am not sorry to make him the + jailer of the Directors, before I make him the conqueror of the + Austrians.” + </p> + <p> + The next day the following appeared in the “Moniteur”: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PARIS, 17th Brumaire. Bonaparte has presented Moreau with a + magnificent Damascus sword set with precious stones which he + brought from Egypt, the value of which is estimated at twelve + thousand francs. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE SCHEDULE OF THE DIRECTORY + </h2> + <p> + We have said that Moreau, furnished no doubt with instructions, left the + little house in the Rue de la Victoire, while Bonaparte returned alone to + the salon. Everything furnished an object of comment in such a company as + was there assembled; the absence of Moreau, the return of Bonaparte + unaccompanied, and the visible good humor which animated his countenance, + were all remarked upon. + </p> + <p> + The eyes which fastened upon him most ardently were those of Josephine and + Roland. Moreau for Bonaparte added twenty chances to the success of the + plot; Moreau against Bonaparte robbed him of fifty. Josephine’s eyes were + so supplicating that, on leaving Lucien, Bonaparte pushed his brother + toward his wife. Lucien understood, and approached Josephine, saying: “All + is well.” + </p> + <p> + “Moreau?” + </p> + <p> + “With us.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he was a Republican.” + </p> + <p> + “He has been made to see that we are acting for the good of the Republic.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought him ambitious,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + Lucien started and looked at the young man. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” remarked Josephine, “if he is ambitious he will not let Bonaparte + seize the power.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he will want it himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but he will wait till it comes to him ready-made, inasmuch as he + doesn’t know how to create it, and is afraid to seize it.” + </p> + <p> + During this time Bonaparte had joined the group which had formed around + Talma after dinner, as well as before. Remarkable men are always the + centre of attraction. + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying, Talma?” demanded Bonaparte. “It seems to me they are + listening to you very attentively.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but my reign is over,” replied the artist. + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “I do as citizen Barras has done; I abdicate?” + </p> + <p> + “So citizen Barras has abdicated?” + </p> + <p> + “So rumor says.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it known who will take his place?” + </p> + <p> + “It is surmised.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it one of your friends, Talma?” + </p> + <p> + “Time was,” said Talma, bowing, “when he did me the honor to say I was + his.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in that case, Talma, I shall ask for your influence.” + </p> + <p> + “Granted,” said Talma, laughing; “it only remains to ask how it can serve + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Get me sent back to Italy; Barras would not let me go.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” said Talma; “don’t you know the song, general, ‘We won’t go + back to the woods when the laurels are clipped’?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Roscius, Roscius!” said Bonaparte, smiling, “have you grown a + flatterer during my absence?” + </p> + <p> + “Roscius was the friend of Cæsar, general, and when the conqueror returned + from Gaul he probably said to him about the same thing I have said to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte laid his band on Talma’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Would he have said the same words after crossing the Rubicon?” + </p> + <p> + Talma looked Bonaparte straight in the face. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied; “he would have said, like the augur, ‘Cæsar, beware of + the Ides of March!’” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte slipped his hand into his breast as if in search of something; + finding the dagger of the Companions of Jehu, he grasped it convulsively. + Had he a presentiment of the conspiracies of Arena, Saint-Regent, and + Cadoudal? + </p> + <p> + Just then the door opened and a servant announced: “General Bernadotte!” + </p> + <p> + “Bernadotte,” muttered Bonaparte, involuntarily. “What does he want here?” + </p> + <p> + Since Bonaparte’s return, Bernadotte had held aloof from him, refusing all + the advances which the general-in-chief and his friends had made him. The + fact is, Bernadotte had long since discerned the politician beneath the + soldier’s greatcoat, the dictator beneath the general, and Bernadotte, for + all that he became king in later years, was at that time a very different + Republican from Moreau. Moreover, Bernadotte believed he had reason to + complain of Bonaparte. His military career had not been less brilliant + than that of the young general; his fortunes were destined to run parallel + with his to the end, only, more fortunate than that other—Bernadotte + was to die on his throne. It is true, he did not conquer that throne; he + was called to it. + </p> + <p> + Son of a lawyer at Pau, Bernadotte, born in 1764—that is to say, + five years before Bonaparte—was in the ranks as a private soldier + when only eighteen. In 1789 he was only a sergeant-major. But those were + the days of rapid promotion. In 1794, Kléber created him brigadier-general + on the field of battle, where he had decided the fortunes of the day. + Becoming a general of division, he played a brilliant part at Fleurus and + Juliers, forced Maestricht to capitulate, took Altdorf, and protected, + against an army twice as numerous as his own, the retreat of Joubert. In + 1797 the Directory ordered him to take seventeen thousand men to + Bonaparte. These seventeen thousand men were his old soldiers, veterans of + Kléber, Marceau and Hoche, soldiers of the Sambre-et-Meuse; and yet + Bernadotte forgot all rivalry and seconded Bonaparte with all his might, + taking part in the passage of the Tagliamento, capturing Gradiska, + Trieste, Laybach, Idria, bringing back to the Directory, after the + campaign, the flags of the enemy, and accepting, possibly with reluctance, + an embassy to Vienna, while Bonaparte secured the command of the army of + Egypt. + </p> + <p> + At Vienna, a riot, excited by the tri-color flag hoisted above the French + embassy, for which the ambassador was unable to obtain redress, forced him + to demand his passports. On his return to Paris, the Directory appointed + him Minister of War. An underhand proceeding of Sièyes, who was offended + by Bernadotte’s republicanism, induced the latter to send in his + resignation. It was accepted, and when Bonaparte landed at Fréjus the late + minister had been three months out of office. Since Bonaparte’s return, + some of Bernadotte’s friends had sought to bring about his reinstatement; + but Bonaparte had opposed it. The result was a hostility between the two + generals, none the less real because not openly avowed. + </p> + <p> + Bernadotte’s appearance in Bonaparte’s salon was therefore an event almost + as extraordinary as the presence of Moreau. And the entrance of the + conqueror of Maestricht caused as many heads to turn as had that of the + conqueror of Rastadt. Only, instead of going forward to meet him, as he + had Moreau, Bonaparte merely turned round and awaited him. + </p> + <p> + Bernadotte, from the threshold of the door, cast a rapid glance around the + salon. He divided and analyzed the groups, and although he must have + perceived Bonaparte in the midst of the principal one, he went up to + Josephine, who was reclining on a couch at the corner of the fireplace, + like the statue of Agrippina in the Pitti, and, addressing her with + chivalric courtesy, inquired for her health; then only did he raise his + head as if to look for Bonaparte. At such a time everything was of too + much importance for those present not to remark this affectation of + courtesy on Bernadotte’s part. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, with his rapid, comprehensive intellect, was not the last to + notice this; he was seized with impatience, and, instead of awaiting + Bernadotte in the midst of the group where he happened to be, he turned + abruptly to the embrasure of a window, as if to challenge the ex-minister + of war to follow him. Bernadotte bowed graciously to right and left, and + controlling his usually mobile face to an expression of perfect calmness, + he walked toward Bonaparte, who awaited him as a wrestler awaits his + antagonist, the right foot forward and his lips compressed. The two men + bowed, but Bonaparte made no movement to extend his hand to Bernadotte, + nor did the latter offer to take it. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you?” asked Bonaparte. “I am glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, general,” replied Bernadotte. “I have come because I wish to + give you a few explanations.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not recognize you at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I think, general, that my name was announced by your servant in a + voice loud enough to prevent any doubt as to my identity.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he announced General Bernadotte.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I saw a man in civilian’s dress, and though I recognized you, I + doubted if it were really you.” + </p> + <p> + For some time past Bernadotte had affected to wear civilian’s dress in + preference to his uniform. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” said he, laughing, “that I am only half a soldier now. I was + retired by citizen Sièyes.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems that it was lucky for me that you were no longer minister of war + when I landed at Fréjus.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “You said, so I was told, that had you received the order to arrest me for + violating quarantine you would have done so.” + </p> + <p> + “I said it, and I repeat it, general. As a soldier I was always a faithful + observer of discipline. As a minister I was a slave to law.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte bit his lips. “And will you say, after that, that you have not a + personal enmity to me?” + </p> + <p> + “A personal enmity to you, general?” replied Bernadotte. “Why should I + have? We have always gone together, almost in the same stride; I was even + made general before you. While my campaigns on the Rhine were less + brilliant than yours on the Adige, they were not less profitable for the + Republic; and when I had the honor to serve under you, you found in me, I + hope, a subordinate devoted, if not to the man, at least to the country + which he served. It is true that since your departure, general, I have + been more fortunate than you in not having the responsibility of a great + army, which, if one may believe Kléber’s despatches, you have left in a + disastrous position.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Kléber’s last despatches? Has Kléber written?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you ignorant of that, general? Has the Directory not informed you of + the complaints of your successor? That would be a great weakness on their + part, and I congratulate myself to have come here, not only to correct in + your mind what has been said of me, but to tell you what is being said of + you.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte fixed an eye, darkling as an eagle’s, on Bernadotte. “And what + are they saying of me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “They say that, as you must come back, you should have brought the army + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Had I a fleet? Are you unaware that De Brueys allowed his to be burned?” + </p> + <p> + “They also say, general, that, being unable to bring back the army, it + would have been better for your renown had you remained with it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I should have done, monsieur, if events had not recalled me + to France.” + </p> + <p> + “What events, general?” + </p> + <p> + “Your defeats.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, general; you mean to say Schérer’s defeats. + </p> + <p> + “Yours as well.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not answerable for the generals commanding our armies on the Rhine + and in Italy until I was minister of war. If you will enumerate the + victories and defeats since that time you will see on which side the scale + turns.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly do not intend to tell me that matters are in a good + condition?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I do say that they are not in so desperate state as you affect to + believe.” + </p> + <p> + “As I affect!—Truly, general, to hear you one would think I had some + interest in lowering France in the eyes of foreigners. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say that; I say that I wish to settle the balance of our + victories and defeats for the last three months; and as I came for that, + and am now in your house, and in the position of an accused person—” + </p> + <p> + “Or an accuser.” + </p> + <p> + “As the accused, in the first instance—I begin.” + </p> + <p> + “And I listen,” said Bonaparte, visibly on thorns. + </p> + <p> + “My ministry dates from the 30th Prairial, the 8th of June if you prefer; + we will not quarrel over words.” + </p> + <p> + “Which means that we shall quarrel about things.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadotte continued without replying. + </p> + <p> + “I became minister, as I said, the 8th of June; that is, a short time + after the siege of Saint-Jean-d’Acre was raised.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte bit his lips. “I did not raise the siege until after I had + ruined the fortifications,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “That is not what Kléber wrote; but that does not concern me.” Then he + added, smiling: “It happened while Clark was minister.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence, during which Bonaparte endeavored to make + Bernadotte lower his eyes. Not succeeding, he said: “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadotte bowed and continued: “Perhaps no minister of war—and the + archives of the ministry are there for reference—ever received the + portfolio under more critical circumstances: civil war within, a foreign + enemy at our doors, discouragement rife among our veteran armies, absolute + destitution of means to equip new ones. That was what I had to face on the + 8th of June, when I entered upon my duties. An active correspondence, + dating from the 8th of June, between the civil and military authorities, + revived their courage and their hopes. My addresses to the armies—this + may have been a mistake—were those, not of a minister to his + soldiers, but of a comrade among comrades, just as my addresses to the + administrators were those of a citizen to his fellow-citizens. I appealed + to the courage of the army, and the heart of the French people; I obtained + all that I had asked. The National Guard reorganized with renewed zeal; + legions were formed upon the Rhine, on the Moselle. Battalions of veterans + took the place of old regiments to reinforce the troops that were guarding + our frontiers; to-day our cavalry is recruited by a remount of forty + thousand horses, and one hundred thousand conscripts, armed and equipped, + have received with cries of ‘Vive la Republique!’ the flags under which + they will fight and conquer—” + </p> + <p> + “But,” interrupted Bonaparte bitterly, “this is an apology you are making + for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so. I will divide my discourse into two parts. The first will be a + contestable apology; the second an array of incontestable facts. I will + set aside the apology and proceed to facts. June 17 and 18, the battle of + the Trebbia. Macdonald wished to fight without Moreau; he crossed the + Trebbia, attacked the enemy, was defeated and retreated to Modena. June + 20, battle of Tortona; Moreau defeated the Austrian Bellegarde. July 22, + surrender of the citadel of Alexandria to the Austro-Russians. So far the + scale turns to defeat. July 30, surrender of Mantua, another check. August + 15, battle of Novi; this time it was more than a check, it was a defeat. + Take note of it, general, for it is the last. At the very moment we were + fighting at Novi, Masséna was maintaining his position at Zug and Lucerne, + and strengthening himself on the Aar and on the Rhine; while Lecourbe, on + August 14 and 15, took the Saint-Gothard. August 19, battle of Bergen; + Brune defeated the Anglo-Russian army, forty thousand strong, and captured + the Russian general, Hermann. On the 25th, 26th and 27th of the same + month, the battles of Zurich, where Masséna defeated the Austro-Russians + under Korsakoff. Hotze and three other generals are taken prisoners. The + enemy lost twelve thousand men, a hundred cannon, and all its baggage; the + Austrians, separated from the Russians, could not rejoin them until after + they were driven beyond Lake Constance. That series of victories stopped + the progress the enemy had been making since the beginning of the + campaign; from the time Zurich was retaken, France was secure from + invasion. August 30, Molitor defeated the Austrian generals, Jellachich + and Luiken, and drove them back into the Grisons. September 1, Molitor + attacked and defeated General Rosenberg in the Mutterthal. On the 2d, + Molitor forced Souvaroff to evacuate Glarus, to abandon his wounded, his + cannon, and sixteen hundred prisoners. The 6th, General Brune again + defeated the Anglo-Russians, under the command of the Duke of York. On the + 7th, General Gazan took possession of Constance. On the 8th you landed at + Fréjus.—Well, general,” continued Bernadotte, “as France will + probably pass into your hands, it is well that you should know the state + in which you find her, and in place of receipt, our possessions bear + witness to what we are giving you. What we are now doing, general, is + history, and it is important that those who may some day have an interest + in falsifying history shall find in their path the denial of Bernadotte.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that said for my benefit, general?” + </p> + <p> + “I say that for flatterers. You have pretended, it is said, that you + returned to France because our armies were destroyed, because France was + threatened, the Republic at bay. You may have left Egypt with that fear; + but once in France, all such fears must have given way to a totally + different belief.” + </p> + <p> + “I ask no better than to believe as you do,” replied Bonaparte, with + sovereign dignity; “and the more grand and powerful you prove France to + be, the more grateful am I to those who have secured her grandeur and her + power.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the result is plain, general! Three armies defeated; the Russians + exterminated, the Austrians defeated and forced to fly, twenty thousand + prisoners, a hundred pieces of cannon, fifteen flags, all the baggage of + the enemy in our possession, nine generals taken or killed, Switzerland + free, our frontiers safe, the Rhine our limit—so much for Masséna’s + contingent and the situation of Helvetia. The Anglo-Russian army twice + defeated, utterly discouraged, abandoning its artillery, baggage, + munitions of war and commissariat, even to the women and children who came + with the British; eight thousand French prisoners; effective men, returned + to France; Holland completely evacuated—so much for Brune’s + contingent and the situation in Holland. The rearguard of General Klénau + forced to lay down its arms at Villanova; a thousand prisoners and three + pieces of cannon fallen into our hands, and the Austrians driven back + beyond Bormida; in all, counting the combats at la Stura and Pignerol, + four thousand prisoners, sixteen cannon, Mondovi, and the occupation of + the whole region between la Stura and Tanaro—so much for + Championnet’s contingent and the situation in Italy. Two hundred thousand + men under arms, forty thousand mounted cavalry; that is my contingent, + mine, and the situation in France.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” asked Bonaparte satirically, “if you have, as you say, two hundred + thousand soldiers under arms, why do you want me to bring back the fifteen + or twenty thousand men I have in Egypt, who are useful there as + colonizers?” + </p> + <p> + “If I ask you for them, general, it is not for any need we may have of + them, but in the fear of some disaster over taking them.” + </p> + <p> + “What disaster do you expect to befall them, commanded by Kléber?” + </p> + <p> + “Kléber may be killed, general; and who is there behind Kléber? Menou. + Kléber and your twenty thousand men are doomed, general!” + </p> + <p> + “How doomed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Sultan will send troops; he controls by land. The English will + send their fleet; they control by sea. We, who have neither land nor sea, + will be compelled to take part from here in the evacuation of Egypt and + the capitulation of our army. + </p> + <p> + “You take a gloomy view of things, general!” + </p> + <p> + “The future will show which of us two have seen things as they are.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have done in my place?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. But, even had I been forced to bring them back by way of + Constantinople, I should never have abandoned those whom France had + intrusted to me. Xenophon, on the banks of the Tigris, was in a much more + desperate situation than you on the banks of the Nile. He brought his ten + thousand back to Ionia, and they were not the children of Athens, not his + fellow citizens; they were mercenaries!” + </p> + <p> + From the instant Bernadotte uttered the word Constantinople, Bonaparte + listened no longer; the name seemed to rouse a new train of ideas in his + mind, which he followed in solitary thought. He laid his hand on the arm + of the astonished Bernadotte, and, with eyes fixed on space, like a man + who pursues through space the phantom of a vanished project, he said: + “Yes, yes! I thought of it. That is why I persisted in taking that hovel, + Saint-Jean-d’Acre. Here you only thought it obstinacy, a useless waste of + men sacrificed to the self-love of a mediocre general who feared that he + might be blamed for a defeat. What should I have cared for the raising of + the siege of Saint-Jean-d’Acre, if Saint-Jean-d’Acre had not been the + barrier in the way of the grandest project ever conceived. Cities! Why, + good God! I could take as many as ever did Alexander or Cæsar, but it was + Saint-Jean-d’Acre that had to be taken! If I had taken Saint-Jean-d’Acre, + do you know what I should have done?” + </p> + <p> + And he fixed his burning eyes upon Bernadotte, who, this time, lowered his + under the flame of this genius. + </p> + <p> + “What I should have done,” repeated Bonaparte, and, like Ajax, he seemed + to threaten Heaven with his clinched fist; “if I had taken + Saint-Jean-d’Acre, I should have found the treasures of the pasha in the + city and three thousand stands of arms. With that I should have raised and + armed all Syria, so maddened by the ferocity of Djezzar that each time I + attacked him the population prayed to God for his overthrow. I should have + marched upon Damascus and Aleppo; I should have swelled my army with the + malcontents. Advancing into the country, I should, step by step, have + proclaimed the abolition of slavery, and the annihilation of the + tyrannical government of the pashas. I should have overthrown the Turkish + empire, and founded a great empire at Constantinople, which would have + fixed my place in history higher than Constantine and Mohammed II. Perhaps + I should have returned to Paris by way of Adrianople and Vienna, after + annihilating the house of Austria. Well, my dear general, that is the + project which that little hovel of a Saint-Jean-d’Acre rendered abortive!” + </p> + <p> + And he so far forgot to whom he was speaking, as he followed the shadows + of his vanished dream, that he called Bernadotte “my dear general.” The + latter, almost appalled by the magnitude of the project which Bonaparte + had unfolded to him, made a step backward. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bernadotte, “I perceive what you want, for you have just + betrayed yourself. Orient or Occident, a throne! A throne? So be it; why + not? Count upon me to help you conquer it, but elsewhere than in France. I + am a Republican, and I will die a Republican.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte shook his head as if to disperse the thoughts which held him in + the clouds. + </p> + <p> + “I, too, am a Republican,” said he, “but see what has come of your + Republic!” + </p> + <p> + “What matter!” cried Bernadotte. “It is not to a word or a form that I am + faithful, but to the principle. Let the Directors but yield me the power, + and I would know how to defend the Republic against her internal enemies, + even as I defended her from her foreign enemies.” + </p> + <p> + As he said these words, Bernadotte raised his eyes, and his glance + encountered that of Bonaparte. Two naked blades clashing together never + sent forth lightning more vivid, more terrible. + </p> + <p> + Josephine had watched the two men for some time past with anxious + attention. She saw the dual glance teeming with reciprocal menace. She + rose hastily and went to Bernadotte. + </p> + <p> + “General,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Bernadotte bowed. + </p> + <p> + “You are intimate with Gohier, are you not?” she continued. + </p> + <p> + “He is one of my best friends, madame,” said Bernadotte. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we dine with him the day after to-morrow, the 18th Brumaire; dine + there yourself and bring Madame Bernadotte. I should be so glad to know + her better.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Bernadotte, “in the days of the Greeks you would have been + one of the three graces; in the Middle Ages you would have been a fairy; + to-day you are the most adorable woman I know.” + </p> + <p> + And making three steps backward, and bowing, he contrived to retire + politely without including Bonaparte in his bow. Josephine followed him + with her eyes until he had left the room. Then, turning to her husband, + she said: “Well, it seems that it was not as successful with Bernadotte as + with Moreau, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Bold, adventurous, disinterested, sincere republican, inaccessible to + seduction, he is a human obstacle. We must make our way around him, since + we cannot overthrow him.” + </p> + <p> + And leaving the salon without taking leave of any one, he went to his + study, whither Roland and Bourrienne followed. They had hardly been there + a quarter of an hour when the handle of the lock turned softly, the door + opened, and Lucien appeared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE OUTLINE OF A DECREE + </h2> + <p> + Lucien was evidently expected. Bonaparte had not mentioned his name once + since entering the study; but in spite of this silence he had turned his + head three or four times with increasing impatience toward the door, and + when the young man appeared an exclamation of contentment escaped his + lips. + </p> + <p> + Lucien, the general’s youngest brother, was born in 1775, making him now + barely twenty-five years old. Since 1797, that is, at the age of + twenty-two and a half, he had been a member of the Five Hundred, who, to + honor Bonaparte, had made him their president. With the projects he had + conceived nothing could have been more fortunate for Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + Frank and loyal, republican to the core, Lucien believed that, in + seconding his brother’s plans, he was serving the Republic better than the + future First Consul. In his eyes, no one was better fitted to save it a + second time than he who had saved it the first. It was with these + sentiments in his heart that he now came to confer with his brother. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are,” said Bonaparte. “I have been waiting for you impatiently.” + </p> + <p> + “So I suspected. But I was obliged to wait until I could leave without + being noticed.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you manage it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Talma was relating a story about Marat and Dumouriez. Interesting as + it was, I deprived myself of the pleasure, and here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just heard a carriage driving away; the person who got in it + couldn’t have seen you coming up my private stairs, could he?” + </p> + <p> + “The person who drove off was myself, the carriage was mine. If that is + not seen every one will think I have left.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte breathed freer. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “let us hear how you have spent your day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I haven’t wasted my time, you may be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we to have a decree or the Council?” + </p> + <p> + “We drew it up to-day, and I have brought it to you—the rough draft + at least—so that you can see if you want anything added or changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see it,” cried Bonaparte. Taking the paper hastily from Lucien’s + hand, he read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Art. I. The legislative body is transferred to the commune of + Saint-Cloud; the two branches of the Council will hold their + sessions in the two wings of the palace. +</pre> + <p> + “That’s the important article,” said Lucien. “I had it placed first, so + that it might strike the people at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” exclaimed Bonaparte, and he continued: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Art. II. They will assemble there to-morrow, the 20th Brumaire— +</pre> + <p> + “No, no,” said Bonaparte, “to-morrow the 19th. Change the date, + Bourrienne;” and he handed the paper to his secretary. + </p> + <p> + “You expect to be ready for the 18th?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be. Fouché said day before yesterday, ‘Make haste, or I won’t + answer for the result.’” + </p> + <p> + “The 19th Brumaire,” said Bourrienne, returning the paper to the general. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte resumed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Art. II. They will assemble there to-morrow, the 19th Brumaire, + at noon. All deliberations are forbidden elsewhere and before + the above date. +</pre> + <p> + Bonaparte read the article a second time. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said he; “there is no double meaning there.” And he continued: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Art. III. General Bonaparte is charged with the enforcement of + this decree; he will take all necessary measures for the safety + of the National Legislature. +</pre> + <p> + A satirical smile flickered on the stony lips of the reader, but he + continued almost immediately. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The general commanding the 17th military division, the guard of + the Legislature, the stationary national guard the troops of the + line within the boundaries of the Commune of Paris, and those in + the constitutional arrondissement, and throughout the limits of + the said 17th division, are placed directly under his orders, and + are directed to regard him as their commanding officer. +</pre> + <p> + “Bourrienne, add: ‘All citizens will lend him assistance when called + upon.’ The bourgeois love to meddle in political matters, and when they + really can help us in our projects we ought to grant them this + satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne obeyed; then he returned the paper to the general, who went on: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Art. IV. General Bonaparte is summoned before the Council to + receive a copy of the present decree, and to make oath thereto. + He will consult with the inspecting commissioners of both + branches of the Council. + + Art. V. The present decree shall be transmitted immediate, by + messenger, to all the members of the Council of Five Hundred + and to the Executive Directory. It shall be printed and posted, + and promulgated throughout the communes of the Republic by + special messengers. + + Done at Paris this.... +</pre> + <p> + “The date is left blank,” said Lucien. + </p> + <p> + “Put ‘the 18th Brumaire,’ Bourrienne; the decree must take everybody by + surprise. It must be issued at seven o’clock in the morning, and at the + same hour or even earlier it must be posted on all the walls of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose the Ancients won’t consent to issue it?” said Lucien. + </p> + <p> + “All the more reason to have it posted, ninny,” said Bonaparte. “We must + act as if it had been issued.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to correct this grammatical error in the last paragraph?” asked + Bourrienne, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” demanded Lucien, in the tone of an aggrieved author. + </p> + <p> + “The word ‘immediate,’” replied Bourrienne. “You can’t say ‘transmitted + immediate’; it ought to be ‘immediately.’” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not worth while,” said Bonaparte. “I shall act, you may be sure, as + if it were ‘immediately.’” Then, after an instant’s reflection, he added: + “As to what you said just now about their not being willing to pass it, + there’s a very simple way to get it passed.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that.” + </p> + <p> + “To convoke the members of whom we are sure at six o’clock in the morning, + and those of whom we are not sure at eight. Having only our own men, it + will be devilishly hard to lose the majority.” + </p> + <p> + “But six o’clock for some, and eight for the others—” objected + Lucien. + </p> + <p> + “Employ two secretaries; one of them can make a mistake.” Then turning to + Lucien, he said: “Write this.” + </p> + <p> + And walking up and down, he dictated without hesitating, like a man who + has long thought over and carefully prepared what he dictates; stopping + occasionally beside Bourrienne to see if the secretary’s pen were + following his every word: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CITIZENS—The Council of the Ancients, the trustee of the nation’s + wisdom, has issued the subjoined decree: it is authorized by + articles 102 and 103 of the Constitution. + + This decree enjoins me to take measures for the safety of the + National Legislature, and its necessary and momentary removal. +</pre> + <p> + Bourrienne looked at Bonaparte; <i>instantaneous</i> was the word the + latter had intended to use, but as the general did not correct himself, + Bourrienne left <i>momentary</i>. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte continued to dictate: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Legislature will find means to avoid the imminent danger into + which the disorganization of all parts of the administration has + brought us. + + But it needs, at this crisis, the united support and confidence of + patriots. Rally around it; it offers the only means of establishing + the Republic on the bases of civil liberty, internal prosperity, + victory and peace. +</pre> + <p> + Bonaparte perused this proclamation, and nodded his head in sign of + approval. Then he looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Eleven o’clock,” he said; “there is still time.” + </p> + <p> + Then, seating himself in Bourrienne’s chair, he wrote a few words in the + form of a note, sealed it, and wrote the address: “To the Citizen Barras.” + </p> + <p> + “Roland,” said he, when he had finished, “take a horse out of the stable, + or a carriage in the street, and go to Barras’ house. I have asked him for + an interview tomorrow at midnight. I want an answer.” + </p> + <p> + Roland left the room. A moment later the gallop of a horse resounded + through the courtyard, disappearing in the direction of the Rue du + Mont-Blanc. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Bourrienne,” said Bonaparte, after listening to the sound, + “to-morrow at midnight, whether I am in the house or not, you will take my + carriage and go in my stead to Barras.” + </p> + <p> + “In your stead, general?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He will do nothing all day, expecting me to accept him on my side at + night. At midnight you will go to him, and say that I have such a bad + headache I have had to go to bed, but that I will be with him at seven + o’clock in the morning without fail. He will believe you, or he won’t + believe you; but at any rate it will be too late for him to act against + us. By seven in the morning I shall have ten thousand men under my + command.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, general. Have you any other orders for me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not this evening,” replied Bonaparte. “Be here early to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “And I?” asked Lucien. + </p> + <p> + “See Sièyes; he has the Ancients in the hollow of his hand. Make all your + arrangements with him. I don’t wish him to be seen here, nor to be seen + myself at his house. If by any chance we fail, he is a man to repudiate. + After tomorrow I wish to be master of my own actions, and to have no ties + with any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you will need me to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Come back at night and report what happens.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going back to the salon?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I shall wait for Josephine in her own room. Bourrienne, tell her, as + you pass through, to get rid of the people as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + Then, saluting Bourrienne and his brother with a wave of the hand, he left + his study by a private corridor, and went to Josephine’s room. There, + lighted by a single alabaster lamp, which made the conspirator’s brow seem + paler than ever, Bonaparte listened to the noise of the carriages, as one + after the other they rolled away. At last the sounds ceased, and five + minutes later the door opened to admit Josephine. + </p> + <p> + She was alone, and held a double-branched candlestick in her hand. Her + face, lighted by the double flame, expressed the keenest anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Bonaparte inquired, “what ails you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid!” said Josephine. + </p> + <p> + “Of what? Those fools of the Directory, or the lawyers of the two + Councils? Come, come! I have Sièyes with me in the Ancients, and Lucien in + the Five Hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “Then all goes well?” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderfully so!” + </p> + <p> + “You sent me word that you were waiting for me here, and I feared you had + some bad news to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! If I had bad news, do you think I would tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “How reassuring that is!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don’t be uneasy, for I have nothing but good news. Only, I have + given you a part in the conspiracy.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down and write to Gohier.” + </p> + <p> + “That we won’t dine with him?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, ask him to come and breakfast with us. Between those who + like each other as we do there can’t be too much intercourse.” + </p> + <p> + Josephine sat down at a little rosewood writing desk “Dictate,” said she; + “I will write.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! for them to recognize my style! Nonsense; you know better than + I how to write one of those charming notes there is no resisting.” + </p> + <p> + Josephine smiled at the compliment, turned her forehead to Bonaparte, who + kissed it lovingly, and wrote the following note, which we have copied + from the original: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To the Citizen Gohier, President of the Executive Directory of the + French Republic— +</pre> + <p> + “Is that right?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly! As he won’t wear this title of President much longer, we won’t + cavil at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you mean to make him something?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll make him anything he pleases, if he does exactly what I want. Now go + on, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Josephine picked up her pen again and wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, my dear Gohier, with your wife, and breakfast with us + to-morrow at eight o’clock. Don’t fail, for I have some very + interesting things to tell you. + + Adieu, my dear Gohier! With the sincerest friendship, + Yours, LA PAGERIE-BONAPARTE. +</pre> + <p> + “I wrote to-morrow,” exclaimed Josephine. “Shall I date it the 17th + Brumaire?” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t be wrong,” said Bonaparte; “there’s midnight striking.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, another day had fallen into the gulf of time; the clock chimed + twelve. Bonaparte listened gravely and dreamily. Twenty-four hours only + separated him from the solemn day for which he had been scheming for a + month, and of which he had dreamed for years. + </p> + <p> + Let us do now what he would so gladly have done, and spring over those + twenty-four hours intervening to the day which history has not yet judged, + and see what happened in various parts of Paris, where the events we are + about to relate produced an overwhelming sensation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. ALEA JACTA EST + </h2> + <p> + At seven in the morning, Fouché, minister of police, entered the bedroom + of Gohier, president of the Directory. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ho!” said Gohier, when he saw him. “What has happened now, monsieur + le ministre, to give me the pleasure of seeing you so early?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know about the decree?” asked Fouché. + </p> + <p> + “What decree?” asked honest Gohier. + </p> + <p> + “The decree of the Council of the Ancients.” + </p> + <p> + “When was it issued?” + </p> + <p> + “Last night.” + </p> + <p> + “So the Council of the Ancients assembles at night now?” + </p> + <p> + “When matters are urgent, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does the decree say.” + </p> + <p> + “It transfers the legislative sessions to Saint-Cloud.” + </p> + <p> + Gohier felt the blow. He realized the advantage which Bonaparte’s daring + genius might obtain by this isolation. + </p> + <p> + “And since when,” he asked Fouché, “is the minister of police transformed + into a messenger of the Council of the Ancients?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s where you are mistaken, citizen president,” replied the + ex-Conventional. “I am more than ever minister of police this morning, for + I have come to inform you of an act which may have the most serious + consequences.” + </p> + <p> + Not being as yet sure of how the conspiracy of the Rue de la Victoire + would turn out, Fouché was not averse to keeping open a door for retreat + at the Luxembourg. But Gohier, honest as he was, knew the man too well to + be his dupe. + </p> + <p> + “You should have informed me of this decree yesterday, and not this + morning; for in making the communication now you are scarcely in advance + of the official communication I shall probably receive in a few moments.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, an usher opened the door and informed the president that a + messenger from the Inspectors of the Council of the Ancients was there, + and asked to make him a communication. + </p> + <p> + “Let him come in,” said Gohier. + </p> + <p> + The messenger entered and handed the president a letter. He broke the seal + hastily and read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CITIZEN PRESIDENT—The Inspecting Commission hasten to inform + you of a decree removing the residence of the legislative body + to Saint-Cloud. + + The decree will be forwarded to you; but measures for public + safety are at present occupying our attention. + + We invite you to meet the Commission of the Ancients. You will + find Sièyes and Ducos already there. + + Fraternal greetings + BARILLON, + FARGUES, + CORNET, +</pre> + <p> + “Very good,” said Gohier, dismissing the messenger with a wave of his + hand. + </p> + <p> + The messenger went out. Gohier turned to Fouché. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he, “the plot is well laid; they inform me of the decree, but + they do not send it to me. Happily you are here to tell me the terms of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Fouché, “I don’t know them.” + </p> + <p> + “What! do you the minister of police, mean to tell me that you know + nothing about this extraordinary session of the Council of the Ancients, + when it has been put on record by a decree?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I knew it took place, but I was unable to be present.” + </p> + <p> + “And you had no secretary, no amanuensis to send, who could give you an + account, word for word, of this session, when in all probability this + session will dispose of the fate of France! Ah, citizen Fouché, you are + either a very deep, or a very shallow minister of police!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any orders to give me, citizen president?” asked Fouché. + </p> + <p> + “None, citizen minister,” replied the president. “If the Directory judges + it advisable to issue any orders, it will be to men whom it esteems worthy + of its confidence. You may return to those who sent you,” he added, + turning his back upon the minister. + </p> + <p> + Fouché went, and Gohier immediately rang his bell. An usher entered. + </p> + <p> + “Go to Barras, Sièyes, Ducos, and Moulins, and request them to come to me + at once. Ah! And at the same time ask Madame Gohier to come into my study, + and to bring with her Madame Bonaparte’s letter inviting us to breakfast + with her.” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later Madame Gohier entered, fully dressed, with the note in + her hand. The invitation was for eight o’clock. It was then half-past + seven, and it would take at least twenty minutes to drive from the + Luxembourg to the Rue de la Victoire. + </p> + <p> + “Here it is, my dear,” said Madame Gohier, handing the letter to her + husband. “It says eight o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Gohier, “I was not in doubt about the hour, but about the + day.” + </p> + <p> + Taking the note from his wife’s hand, he read it over: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, my dear Gohier, with your wife, and breakfast with me + to-morrow at eight o’clock. Don’t fail, for I have some very + interesting things to tell you. +</pre> + <p> + “Ah,” said Gohier, “there can be no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, are we going?” asked Madame Gohier. + </p> + <p> + “You are, but not I. An event has just happened about which the citizen + Bonaparte is probably well-informed, which will detain my colleagues and + myself at the Luxembourg.” + </p> + <p> + “A serious event?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall stay with you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed; you would not be of any service here. Go to Madame + Bonaparte’s. I may be mistaken, but, should anything extraordinary happen, + which appears to you alarming, send me word some way or other. Anything + will do; I shall understand half a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, my dear; I will go. The hope of being useful to you is + sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “Do go!” + </p> + <p> + Just then the usher entered, and said: + </p> + <p> + “General Moulins is at my heels; citizen Barras is in his bath, and will + soon be here; citizens Sièyes and Ducos went out at five o’clock this + morning, and have not yet returned.” + </p> + <p> + “They are the two traitors!” said Gohier; “Barras is only their dupe.” + Then kissing his wife, he added: “Now, go.” + </p> + <p> + As she turned round, Madame Gohier came face to face with General Moulins. + He, for his character was naturally impetuous, seemed furious. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, citizeness,” he said. Then, rushing into Gohier’s study, he + cried: “Do you know what has happened, president?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I have my suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + “The legislative body has been transferred to Saint-Cloud; the execution + of the decree has been intrusted to General Bonaparte, and the troops are + placed under his orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! The cat’s out of the bag!” exclaimed Gohier. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must combine, and fight them.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard that Sièyes and Ducos are not in the palace?” + </p> + <p> + “By Heavens! they are at the Tuileries! But Barras is in his bath; let us + go to Barras. The Directory can issue decrees if there is a majority. We + are three, and, I repeat it, we must make a struggle!” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us send word to Barras to come to us as soon as he is out of his + bath.” + </p> + <p> + “No; let us go to him before he leaves it.” + </p> + <p> + The two Directors left the room, and hurried toward Barras’ apartment. + They found him actually in his bath, but they insisted on entering. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked Barras as soon as he saw them. + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely nothing.” + </p> + <p> + They told him what they themselves knew. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Barras, “that explains everything.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is why he didn’t come last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you expect him last evening?” + </p> + <p> + “He sent me word by one of his aides-de-camp that he would call on me at + eleven o’clock last evening.” + </p> + <p> + “And he didn’t come?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He sent Bourrienne in his carriage to tell me that a violent headache + had obliged him to go to bed; but that he would be here early this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + The Directors looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “The whole thing is plain,” said they. + </p> + <p> + “I have sent Bollot, my secretary, a very intelligent fellow, to find out + what he can,” continued Barras. + </p> + <p> + He rang and a servant entered. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as citizen Bollot returns,” said Barras, “ask him to come here.” + </p> + <p> + “He is just getting out of his carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Send him up! Send him up!” + </p> + <p> + But Bollot was already at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” cried the three Directors. + </p> + <p> + “Well, General Bonaparte, in full uniform, accompanied by Generals + Beurnonville, Macdonald and Moreau, are on their way to the Tuileries, + where ten thousand troops are awaiting them.” + </p> + <p> + “Moreau! Moreau with him!” exclaimed Gohier. + </p> + <p> + “On his right!” + </p> + <p> + “I always told you that Moreau was a sneak, and nothing else!” cried + Moulins, with military roughness. + </p> + <p> + “Are you still determined to resist, Barras?” asked Gohier. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Barras. + </p> + <p> + “Then dress yourself and join us in the council-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Go,” said Barras, “I follow you.” + </p> + <p> + The two Directors hastened to the council-room. After waiting ten minutes + Moulins said: “We should have waited for Barras; if Moreau is a sneak, + Barras is a knave.” + </p> + <p> + Two hours later they were still waiting for Barras. + </p> + <p> + Talleyrand and Bruix had been admitted to Barras’ bathroom just after + Gohier and Moulins had left it, and in talking with them Barras forgot his + appointment. + </p> + <p> + We will now see what was happening in the Rue de la Victoire. + </p> + <p> + At seven o’clock, contrary to his usual custom, Bonaparte was up and + waiting in full uniform in his bedroom. Roland entered. Bonaparte was + perfectly calm; they were on the eve of a battle. + </p> + <p> + “Has no one come yet, Roland?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, general,” replied the young man, “but I heard the roll of a carriage + just now.” + </p> + <p> + “So did I,” replied Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + At that minute a servant announced: “The citizen Joseph Bonaparte, and the + citizen General Bernadotte.” + </p> + <p> + Roland questioned Bonaparte with a glance; was he to go or stay? He was to + stay. Roland took his stand at the corner of a bookcase like a sentinel at + his post. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha!” exclaimed Bonaparte, seeing that Bernadotte was still attired in + civilian’s clothes, “you seem to have a positive horror of the uniform, + general!” + </p> + <p> + “Why the devil should I be in uniform at seven in the morning,” asked + Bernadotte, “when I am not in active service?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be soon.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am retired.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I recall you to active service.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I.” + </p> + <p> + “In the name of the Directory?” + </p> + <p> + “Is there still a Directory?” + </p> + <p> + “Still a Directory? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you see the troops drawn up in the streets leading to the + Tuileries as you came here?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw them, and I was surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “Those soldiers are mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said Bernadotte; “I thought they belonged to France.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to France or to me; is it not all one?” + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware of that,” replied Bernadotte, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Though you doubt it now, you will be certain of it tonight. Come, + Bernadotte, this is the vital moment; decide!” + </p> + <p> + “General,” replied Bernadotte, “I am fortunate enough to be at this moment + a simple citizen; let me remain a simple citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “Bernadotte, take care! He that is not for me is against me.” + </p> + <p> + “General, pay attention to your words! You said just now, ‘Take care.’ If + that is a threat, you know very well that I do not fear them.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte came up to him, and took him by both hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know that; that is why I must have you with me. I not only + esteem you, Bernadotte, but I love you. I leave you with Joseph; he is + your brother-in-law. Between brothers, devil take it, there should be no + quarrelling.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “In your character of Spartan you are a rigid observer of the laws, are + you not? Well, here is a decree issued by the Council of Five Hundred last + night, which confers upon me the immediate command of the troops in Paris. + So I was right,” he added, “when I told you that the soldiers you met were + mine, inasmuch as they are under my orders.” + </p> + <p> + And he placed in Bernadotte’s hands the copy of the decree which had been + sent to him at six o’clock that morning. Bernadotte read it through from + the first line to the last. + </p> + <p> + “To this,” said he, “I have nothing to object. Secure the safety of the + National Legislature, and all good citizens will be with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then be with me now.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me, general, to wait twenty-four hours to see how you fulfil that + mandate.” + </p> + <p> + “Devil of a man!” cried Bonaparte. “Have your own way.” Then, taking him + by the arm, he dragged him a few steps apart from Joseph, and continued, + “Bernadotte, I want to play above-board with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so,” retorted the latter, “since I am not on your side?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. You are watching the game, and I want the lookers-on to see + that I am not cheating.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you bind me to secrecy?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “That is well, for in that case I should have refused to listen to your + confidences.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my confidences are not long! Your Directory is detested, your + Constitution is worn-out; you must make a clean sweep of both, and turn + the government in another direction. You don’t answer me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting to hear what you have to say.” + </p> + <p> + “All I have to say is, Go put on your uniform. I can’t wait any longer for + you. Join me at the Tuileries among our comrades.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadotte shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You think you can count on Moreau, Beurnonville, and Lefebvre,” resumed + Bonaparte. “Just look out of that window. Who do you see there, and there? + Moreau and Beurnonville. As for Lefebvre, I do not see him, but I am + certain I shall not go a hundred steps before meeting him. Now will you + decide?” + </p> + <p> + “General,” replied Bernadotte, “I am not a man to be swayed by example, + least of all when that example is bad. Moreau, Beurnonville, and Lefebvre + may do as they wish. I shall do as I ought!” + </p> + <p> + “So you definitively refuse to accompany me to the Tuileries?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to take part in a rebellion.” + </p> + <p> + “A rebellion! A rebellion! Against whom? Against a parcel of imbeciles who + are pettifogging from morning till night in their hovels.” + </p> + <p> + “These imbeciles, general, are for the moment the representatives of the + law. The Constitution protects them; they are sacred to me.” + </p> + <p> + “At least promise me one thing, iron rod that you are.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “To keep quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “I will keep quiet as a citizen, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what? Come, I made a clean breast of it to you; do you do likewise.” + </p> + <p> + “But if the Directory orders me to act, I shall march against the + agitators, whoever they may be.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! So you think I am ambitious?” asked Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “I suspect as much,” retorted Bernadotte, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Faith,” said Bonaparte, “you don’t know me. I have had enough of + politics, and what I want is peace. Ah, my dear fellow! Malmaison and + fifty thousand a year, and I’d willingly resign all the rest. You don’t + believe me. Well, I invite you to come and see me there, three months + hence, and if you like pastorals, we’ll do one together. Now, au revoir! I + leave you with Joseph, and, in spite of your refusal, I shall expect you + at the Tuileries. Hark! Our friends are becoming impatient.” + </p> + <p> + They were shouting: “Vive Bonaparte!” + </p> + <p> + Bernadotte paled slightly. Bonaparte noticed this pallor. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha,” he muttered. “Jealous! I was mistaken; he is not a Spartan, he + is an Athenian!” + </p> + <p> + As Bonaparte had said, his friends were growing impatient. During the hour + that had elapsed since the decree had been posted, the salon, the + anterooms, and the courtyard had been crowded. The first person Bonaparte + met at the head of the staircase was his compatriot, Colonel Sebastiani, + then commanding the 9th Dragoons. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! is that you, Sebastiani?” said Bonaparte. “Where are your men?” + </p> + <p> + “In line along the Rue de la Victoire, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Well disposed?” + </p> + <p> + “Enthusiastic! I distributed among them ten thousand cartridges which I + had in store.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you had no right to draw those cartridges out without an order + from the commandant of Paris. Do you know that you have burned your + vessels, Sebastiani?” + </p> + <p> + “Then take me into yours, general. I have faith in your fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake me for Cæsar, Sebastiani!” + </p> + <p> + “Faith! I might make worse mistakes. Besides, down below in the courtyard + there are forty officers or more, of all classes, without pay, whom the + Directory has left in the most complete destitution for the last year. You + are their only hope, general; they are ready to die for you.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right. Go to your regiment, and take leave of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Take leave of it? What do you mean, general?” + </p> + <p> + “I exchange it for a brigade. Go, go!” + </p> + <p> + Sebastiani did not wait to be told twice. Bonaparte continued his way. At + the foot of the stairs he met Lefebvre. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, general!” said Lefebvre. + </p> + <p> + “You? And where is the 17th military division?” + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting for my appointment to bring it into action.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you received your appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “From the Directory, yes. But as I am not a traitor, I have just sent in + my resignation, so that they may know I am not to be counted on.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have come for me to appoint you, so that I may count on you, is + that it?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Quick, Roland, a blank commission; fill in the general’s name, so that I + shall only have to put my name to it. I’ll sign it on the pommel of my + saddle.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the true sort,” said Lefebvre. + </p> + <p> + “Roland.” + </p> + <p> + The young man, who had already started obediently, came back to the + general. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch me that pair of double-barrelled pistols on my mantel-piece at the + same time,” said Bonaparte, in a low tone. “One never knows what may + happen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general,” said Roland; “besides, I shan’t leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless I send you to be killed elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied the young man, hastening away to fulfil his double errand. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte was continuing on his way when he noticed a shadow in the + corridor. He recognized Josephine, and ran to her. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” cried she, “is there so much danger?” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think that?” + </p> + <p> + “I overheard the order you gave Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “Serves you right for listening at doors. How about Gohier?” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn’t come.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “She is here.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte pushed Josephine aside with his hand and entered the salon. He + found Madame Gohier alone and very pale. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said he, without any preamble, “isn’t the President coming?” + </p> + <p> + “He was unable to do so, general,” replied Madame Gohier. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte repressed a movement of impatience. “He absolutely must come,” + said he. “Write him that I await him, and I will have the note sent.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, general,” replied Madame Gohier; “my servants are here, and + they can attend to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Write, my dear friend, write,” said Josephine, offering her paper and pen + and ink. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte stood so that he could see over her shoulder what she wrote. + Madame Gohier looked fixedly at him, and he drew back with a bow. She + wrote the note, folded it, and looked about her for the sealing-wax; but, + whether by accident or intention, there was none. Sealing the note with a + wafer, she rang the bell. A servant came. + </p> + <p> + “Give this note to Comtois,” said Madame Gohier, “and bid him take it to + the Luxembourg at once.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte followed the servant, or rather the letter, with his eyes until + the door closed. Then, turning to Madame Gohier, he said: “I regret that I + am unable to breakfast with you. But if the President has business to + attend to, so have I. You must breakfast with my wife. Good appetite to + you both.” + </p> + <p> + And he went out. At the door he met Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the commission, general,” said the young man, “and a pen.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte took the pen, and using the back of his aide-de-camp’s hat, he + signed the commission. Roland gave him the pistols. + </p> + <p> + “Did you look; to them?” asked Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + Roland smiled. “Don’t be uneasy,” said he; “I’ll answer for them.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte slipped the pistols in his belt, murmuring as he did so: “I wish + I knew what she wrote her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you, word for word, what she wrote, general,” said a voice + close by. + </p> + <p> + “You, Bourrienne?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She wrote: ‘You did right not to come, my dear; all that is + happening here convinces me that the invitation was only a snare. I will + rejoin you shortly.’” + </p> + <p> + “You unsealed the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “General, Sextus Pompey gave a dinner on his galley to Antony and Lepidus. + His freedman said to him: ‘Shall I make you emperor of the world?’ ‘How + can you do it?’ ‘Easily. I will cut the cable of your galley, and Antony + and Lepidus are prisoners.’ ‘You should have done so without telling me,’ + replied Sextus. ‘Now I charge you on your life not to do it.’ I remembered + those words, general: ‘<i>You should have done so without telling me</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte thought an instant; then he said: “You are mistaken; it was + Octavius and not Antony who was on Sextus’ galley with Lepidus.” And he + went on his way to the courtyard, confining his blame to the historical + blunder. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the general appeared on the portico than cries of “Vive + Bonaparte!” echoed through the courtyard into the street, where they were + taken up by the dragoons drawn up in line before the gate. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a good omen, general,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Give Lefebvre his commission at once; and if he has no horse, let + him take one of mine. Tell him to meet me in the court of the Tuileries.” + </p> + <p> + “His division is already there.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more reason.” + </p> + <p> + Glancing about him, Bonaparte saw Moreau and Beurnonville, who were + waiting for him, their horses held by orderlies. He saluted them with a + wave of his hand, already that of a master rather than that of a comrade. + Then, perceiving General Debel out of uniform, he went down the steps and + approached him. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you in civilian’s dress?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “General, I was not notified. I chanced to be passing along the street, + and, seeing the crowd before your house, I came in, fearing you might be + in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and put on your uniform quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “But I live the other side of Paris; it would take too long.” But, + nevertheless, he made as if to retire. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be alarmed, general.” + </p> + <p> + Debel had noticed an artilleryman on horseback who was about his size. + </p> + <p> + “Friend,” said he, “I am General Debel. By order of General Bonaparte lend + me your uniform and your horse, and I’ll give you furlough for the day. + Here’s a louis to drink the health of the commander-in-chief. To-morrow, + come to my house for your horse and uniform. I live in the Rue + Cherche-Midi, No. 11.” + </p> + <p> + “Will nothing be done to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you shall be made a corporal.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said the artilleryman; and he quickly handed over his uniform and + horse to General Debel. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Bonaparte heard talking above him. He raised his head and + saw Joseph and Bernadotte at a window. + </p> + <p> + “Once more, general,” he said to Bernadotte, “will you come with me?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the latter, firmly. Then, lowering his tone, he continued: “You + told me just now to take care.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I say to you, take care.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to the Tuileries?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “The Tuileries are very near the Place de la Révolution.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” retorted Bonaparte, “the guillotine has been moved to the Barrière + du Trône.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. The brewer Santerre still controls the Faubourg + Saint-Antoine, and Santerre is Moulins’ friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Santerre has been warned that at the first inimical movement he attempts + I will have him shot. Will you come?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please. You are separating your fortunes from mine; I do not + separate mine from yours.” Then, calling to his orderly, he said: “My + horse!” + </p> + <p> + They brought his horse. Seeing an artillery private near him, he said: + “What are you doing among the epaulets?” + </p> + <p> + The artilleryman began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you recognize me, general?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, it’s Debel! Where did you get that horse and the uniform?” + </p> + <p> + “From that artilleryman you see standing there in his shirt. It will cost + you a corporal’s commission.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, Debel,” said Bonaparte; “it will cost me two commissions, + one for the corporal, and one for the general of division. Forward, march, + gentlemen! We are going to the Tuileries.” + </p> + <p> + And, bending forward on his horse, as he usually did, his left hand + holding a slack rein, his right resting on his hip, with bent head and + dreamy eyes, he made his first steps along that incline, at once glorious + and fatal, which was to lead him to a throne—and to St. Helena. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. THE EIGHTEENTH BRUMAIRE + </h2> + <p> + On entering the Rue de la Victoire, Bonaparte found Sebastiani’s dragoons + drawn up in line of battle. He wished to address them, but they + interrupted him at the first words, shouting: “We want no explanations. We + know that you seek only the good of the Republic. Vive Bonaparte!” + </p> + <p> + The cortège followed the streets which led from the Rue de la Victoire to + the Tuileries, amid the cries of “Vive Bonaparte!” + </p> + <p> + General Lefebvre, according to promise, was waiting at the palace gates. + Bonaparte, on his arrival at the Tuileries, was hailed with the same + cheers that had accompanied him. Once there, he raised his head and shook + it. Perhaps this cry of “Vive Bonaparte!” did not satisfy him. Was he + already dreaming of “Vive Napoleon?” + </p> + <p> + He advanced in front of the troop, surrounded by his staff, and read the + decree of the Five Hundred, which transferred the sessions of the + Legislature to Saint-Cloud and gave him the command of the armed forces. + </p> + <p> + Then, either from memory, or offhand—Bonaparte never admitted any + one to such secrets—instead of the proclamation he had dictated to + Bourrienne two days earlier, he pronounced these words: + </p> + <p> + “Soldiers—The Council of Ancients has given me the command of the + city and the army. + </p> + <p> + “I have accepted it, to second the measures to be adopted for the good of + the people. + </p> + <p> + “The Republic has been ill governed for two years. You have hoped for my + return to put an end to many evils. You celebrated it with a unanimity + which imposes obligations that I now fulfil. Fulfil yours, and second your + general with the vigor, firmness and strength I have always found in you. + </p> + <p> + “Liberty, victory, and peace will restore the French Republic to the rank + it occupied in Europe, which ineptitude and treason alone caused her to + lose!” + </p> + <p> + The soldiers applauded frantically. It was a declaration of war against + the Directory, and soldiers will always applaud a declaration of war. + </p> + <p> + The general dismounted, amid shouts and bravos, and entered the Tuileries. + It was the second time he had crossed the threshold of this palace of the + Valois, whose arches had so ill-sheltered the crown and head of the last + Bourbon who had reigned there. Beside him walked citizen Roederer. + Bonaparte started as he recognized him, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! citizen Roederer, you were here on the morning of August 10.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general,” replied the future Count of the Empire. + </p> + <p> + “It was you who advised Louis XVI. to go before the National Assembly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad advice, citizen Roederer! I should not have followed it.” + </p> + <p> + “We advise men according to what we know of them. I would not give General + Bonaparte the same advice I gave King Louis XVI. When a king has the fact + of his flight to Varennes and the 20th of June behind him, it is difficult + to save him.” + </p> + <p> + As Roederer said these words, they reached a window opening on the garden + of the Tuileries. Bonaparte stopped, and, seizing Roederer by the arm, he + said: “On the 20th of June I was there,” pointing with his finger to the + terrace by the water, “behind the third linden. Through the open window I + could see the poor king, with the red cap on his head. It was a piteous + sight; I pitied him.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, I could do nothing; I was only a lieutenant of artillery. But I + longed to go in like the others, and whisper: ‘Sire, give me four cannon, + and I’ll sweep the whole rabble out.’” + </p> + <p> + What would have happened if Lieutenant Bonaparte had followed his impulse, + obtained what he wanted from Louis XVI., and <i>swept the rabble out</i>, + that is to say the people of Paris? Had his cannon made a clean sweep on + June 20th, would he have had to make another the 13th Vendemiaire for the + benefit of the Convention? + </p> + <p> + While the ex-Syndic; who had grown grave, was outlining in his mind the + opening pages of his future “History of the Consulate,” Bonaparte + presented himself at the bar of the Council of the Ancients, followed by + his staff, and by all those who chose to do likewise. When the tumult + caused by this influx of people had subsided, the president read over the + decree which invested Bonaparte with the military power. Then, after + requesting him to take the oath, the president added: + </p> + <p> + “He who has never promised his country a victory which he did not win, + cannot fail to keep religiously his new promise to serve her faithfully.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte stretched forth his hand and said solemnly: + </p> + <p> + “I swear it!” + </p> + <p> + All the generals repeated after him, each for himself: + </p> + <p> + “I swear it!” + </p> + <p> + The last one had scarcely finished, when Bonaparte recognized Barras’ + secretary, that same Bollot of whom Barras had spoken that morning to his + two colleagues. He had come there solely to give his patron an account of + all that was happening there, but Bonaparte fancied he was sent on some + secret mission by Barras. He resolved to spare him the first advance, and + went straight to him, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Have you come on behalf of the Directors?” Then, without giving him time + to answer, he continued: “What have they done with that France I left so + brilliant? I left peace; I find war. I left victories; I find reverses. I + left the millions of Italy, and I find spoliation and penury. What have + become of the hundred thousand Frenchmen whom I knew by name? They are + dead!” + </p> + <p> + It was not precisely to Barras’ secretary that these words should have + been said; but Bonaparte wished to say them, needed to say them, and + little he cared to whom he said them. Perhaps even, from his point of + view, it was better to say them to some one who could not answer him. At + that moment Sièyes rose. + </p> + <p> + “Citizens,” said he, “the Directors Moulins and Gohier ask to be + admitted.” + </p> + <p> + “They are no longer Directors,” said Bonaparte, “for there is no longer a + Directory.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” objected Sièyes, “they have not yet sent in their resignation.” + </p> + <p> + “Then admit them and let them give it,” retorted Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + Moulins and Gohier entered. They were pale but calm. They knew they came + to force a struggle, but behind their resistance may have loomed the + Sinnamary. The exiles they sent there the 18th of Fructidor pointed the + way. + </p> + <p> + “I see with satisfaction,” Bonaparte hastened to say, “that you have + yielded to our wishes and those of your two colleagues.” + </p> + <p> + Gohier made a step forward and said firmly: “We yield neither to your + wishes, nor to those of our two colleagues, who are no longer our + colleagues, since they have resigned, but to the Law. It requires that the + decree transferring the legislative body to Saint-Cloud shall be + proclaimed without delay. We have come here to fulfil the duty which the + law imposes on us, fully determined to defend it against all factious + persons, whoever they may be, who attempt to attack it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your zeal does not astonish us,” replied Bonaparte; “and because you are + a man who loves his country you will unite with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Unite with you! And why?” + </p> + <p> + “To save the Republic.” + </p> + <p> + “To save the Republic! There was a time, general, when you had the honor + to be its prop. But to-day the glory of saving it is reserved for us.” + </p> + <p> + “You save it!” retorted Bonaparte. “How will you do that? With the means + your Constitution gives you? Why, that Constitution is crumbling on all + sides, and even if I did not topple it over, it could not last eight + days.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Moulins, “at last you avow your hostile intentions.” + </p> + <p> + “My intentions are not hostile!” shouted Bonaparte, striking the floor + with the heel of his boot. “The Republic is in peril; it must be saved, + and I shall do it.” + </p> + <p> + “You do it?” cried Gohier. “It seems to me it is for the Directory, not + you, to say, ‘I shall do it!’” + </p> + <p> + “There is no longer a Directory.” + </p> + <p> + “I did indeed hear that you said so just a moment before we came in.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no longer a Directory, now that Sièyes and Ducos have resigned.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken. So long as there are three Directors, the Directory + still exists. Neither Moulins, Barras nor myself, have handed in our + resignations.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a paper was slipped in Bonaparte’s hand, and a voice said + in his ear: “Read it.” He did so; then said aloud: “You, yourself, are + mistaken. Barras has resigned, for here is his resignation. The law + requires three Directors to make a Directory. You are but two, and, as you + said just now, whoever resists the law is a rebel.” Then handing the paper + to the president, he continued: “Add the citizen Barras’ resignation to + that of citizens Sièyes and Ducos, and proclaim the fall of the Directory. + I will announce it to my soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + Moulins and Gohier were confounded. Barras’ resignation sapped the + foundations of all their plans. Bonaparte had nothing further to do at the + Council of Ancients, but there still remained much to be done in the court + of the Tuileries. He went down, followed by those who had accompanied him + up. His soldiers no sooner caught sight, of him than they burst into + shouts of “Vive Bonaparte!” more noisily and more eagerly than ever. He + sprang into his saddle and made them a sign that he wished to speak to + them. Ten thousand voices that had burst into cries were hushed in a + moment. Silence fell as if by enchantment. + </p> + <p> + “Soldiers,” said Bonaparte, in a voice so loud that all could hear it, + “your comrades in arms on the frontiers are denuded of the necessaries of + life. The people are miserable. The authors of these evils are the + factious men against whom I have assembled you to-day. I hope before long + to lead you to victory; but first we must deprive those who would stand in + the way of public order and general prosperity of their power to do harm.” + </p> + <p> + Whether it was weariness of the government of the Directory, or the + fascination exercised by the magic being who called them to victory—so + long forgotten in his absence—shouts of enthusiasm arose, and like a + train of burning powder spread from the Tuileries to the Carrousel, from + the Carrousel to the adjacent streets. Bonaparte profited by this + movement. Turning to Moreau, he said: + </p> + <p> + “General, I will give you proof of the immense confidence I have in you. + Bernadotte, whom I left at my house, and who refused to follow us, had the + audacity to tell me that if he received orders from the Directory he + should execute them against whosoever the agitators might be. General, I + confide to you the guardianship of the Luxembourg. The tranquillity of + Paris and the welfare of the Republic are in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + And without waiting for a reply he put his horse to a gallop, and rode off + to the opposite end of the line. + </p> + <p> + Moreau, led by military ambition, had consented to play a part in this + great drama; he was now forced to accept that which the author assigned + him. On returning to the Louvre, Gohier and Moulins found nothing changed + apparently. All the sentries were at their posts. They retired to one of + the salons of the presidency to consult together. But they had scarcely + begun their conference, when General Jubé, the commandant of the + Luxembourg, received orders to join Bonaparte at the Tuileries with the + guard of the Directory. Their places were filled by Moreau and a portion + of the soldiers who had been electrified by Bonaparte. Nevertheless the + two Directors drew up a message for the Council of the Five Hundred, in + which they protested energetically against what had been done. When this + was finished Gohier handed it to his secretary, and Moulins, half dead + with exhaustion, returned to his apartments to take some food. + </p> + <p> + It was then about four o’clock in the afternoon. An instant later Gohier’s + secretary returned in great perturbation. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Gohier, “why have you not gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Citizen president,” replied the young man, “we are prisoners in the + palace.” + </p> + <p> + “Prisoners? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “The guard has been changed, and General Jubé is no longer in command.” + </p> + <p> + “Who has replaced him?” + </p> + <p> + “I think some one said General Moreau.” + </p> + <p> + “Moreau? Impossible! And that coward, Barras, where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He has started for his country-place at Grosbois.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I must see Moulins!” cried Gohier, rushing to the door. But at the + entrance he found a sentry who barred the door. Gohier insisted. + </p> + <p> + “No one can pass,” said the sentry. + </p> + <p> + “What! not pass?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am President Gohier!” + </p> + <p> + “No one can pass,” said the sentry; “that is the order.” + </p> + <p> + Gohier saw it would be useless to say more; force would be impossible. He + returned to his own rooms. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, General Moreau had gone to see Moulins; he wished to + justify himself. Without listening to a word the ex-Director turned his + back on him, and, as Moreau insisted, he said: “General, go into the + ante-chamber. That is the place for jailers.” + </p> + <p> + Moreau bowed his head, and understood for the first time into what a fatal + trap his honor had fallen. + </p> + <p> + At five o’clock, Bonaparte started to return to the Rue de la Victoire; + all the generals and superior officers in Paris accompanied him. The + blindest, those who had not understood the 13th Vendemiaire, those who had + not yet understood the return from Egypt, now saw, blazing over the + Tuileries, the star of his future, and as everybody could not be a planet, + each sought to become a satellite. + </p> + <p> + The shouts of “Vive Bonaparte!” which came from the lower part of the Rue + du Mont Blanc, and swept like a sonorous wave toward the Rue de la + Victoire, told Josephine of her husband’s return. The impressionable + Creole had awaited him anxiously. She sprang to meet him in such agitation + that she was unable to utter a single word. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come!” said Bonaparte, becoming the kindly man he was in his own + home, “calm yourself. We have done to-day all that could be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it all over?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” replied Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “Must it be done all over again to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but to-morrow it will be merely a formality.” + </p> + <p> + That formality was rather rough; but every one knows of the events at + Saint-Cloud. We will, therefore, dispense with relating them, and turn at + once to the result, impatient as we are to get back to the real subject of + our drama, from which the grand historical figure we have introduced + diverted us for an instant. + </p> + <p> + One word more. The 20th Brumaire, at one o’clock in the morning, Bonaparte + was appointed First Consul for ten years. He himself selected Cambacérès + and Lebrun as his associates under the title of Second Consuls, being + firmly resolved this time to concentrate in his own person, not only all + the functions of the two consuls, but those of the ministers. + </p> + <p> + The 20th Brumaire he slept at the Luxembourg in president Gohier’s bed, + the latter having been liberated with his colleague Moulins. + </p> + <p> + Roland was made governor of the Luxembourg. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION + </h2> + <p> + Some time after this military revolution, which created a great stir in + Europe, convulsing the Continent for a time, as a tempest convulses the + ocean—some time after, we say, on the morning of the 30th Nivoise, + better and more clearly known to our readers as the 20th of January, 1800, + Roland, in looking over the voluminous correspondence which his new office + entailed upon him, found, among fifty other letters asking for an + audience, the following: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MONSIEUR THE GOVERNOR-I know your loyalty to your word, and you + will see that I rely on it. I wish to speak to you for five + minutes, during which I must remain masked. + + I have a request to make to you. This request you will grant or + deny. In either case, as I shall have entered the Palace of the + Luxembourg in the interest o£ the First Consul, Bonaparte, and + the royalist party to which I belong, I shall ask for your word + of honor that I be allowed to leave it as freely as you allow + me to enter. + + If to-morrow, at seven in the evening, I see a solitary light + in the window over the clock, I shall know that Colonel Roland + de Montrevel has pledged me his word of honor, and I shall boldly + present myself at the little door of the left wing of the palace, + opening on the garden. I shall strike three blows at intervals, + after the manner of the free-masons. + + In order that you may know to whom you engage or refuse your word, + I sign a name which is known to you, that name having been, under + circumstances you have probably not forgotten, pronounced before + you. + + MORGAN, + Chief of the Companions of Jehu. +</pre> + <p> + Roland read the letter twice, thought it over for a few moments, then rose + suddenly, and, entering the First Consul’s study, handed it to him + silently. The latter read it without betraying the slightest emotion, or + even surprise; then, with a laconism that was wholly Lacedæmonian, he + said: “Place the light.” + </p> + <p> + Then he gave the letter back to Roland. + </p> + <p> + The next evening, at seven o’clock, the light shone in the window, and at + five minutes past the hour, Roland in person was waiting at the little + door of the garden. He had scarcely been there a moment when three blows + were struck on the door after the manner of the free-masons; first two + strokes and then one. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened immediately. A man wrapped in a cloak was sharply + defined against the grayish atmosphere of the wintry night. As for Roland, + he was completely hidden in shadow. Seeing no one, the man in the cloak + remained motionless for a second. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is you, colonel!” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know it is I?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “I recognize your voice.” + </p> + <p> + “My voice! But during those few moments we were together in the + dining-room at Avignon I did not say a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must have heard it elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Roland wondered where the Chief of the Companions of Jehu could have heard + his voice, but the other said gayly: “Is the fact that I know your voice + any reason why we should stand at the door?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” replied Roland; “take the lapel of my coat and follow me. I + purposely forbade any lights being placed in the stairs and hall which + lead to my room.” + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged for the intention. But on your word I would cross the + palace from one end to the other, though it were lighted <i>à giorno</i>, + as the Italians say.” + </p> + <p> + “You have my word,” replied Roland, “so follow me without fear.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan needed no encouragement; he followed his guide fearlessly. At the + head of the stairs Roland turned down a corridor equally dark, went twenty + steps, opened a door, and entered his own room. Morgan followed him. The + room was lighted by two wax candles only. Once there, Morgan took off his + cloak and laid his pistols on the table. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Faith! with your permission,” replied Morgan, gayly, “I am making myself + comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “But those pistols you have just laid aside—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! did you think I brought them for you?” + </p> + <p> + “For whom then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that damned police! You can readily imagine that I am not disposed + to let citizen Fouché lay hold of me, without burning the mustache of the + first of his minions who lays hands on me.” + </p> + <p> + “But once here you feel you have nothing to fear?” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” exclaimed the young man; “I have your word.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don’t you unmask?” + </p> + <p> + “Because my face only half belongs to me; the other half belongs to my + companions. Who knows if one of us being recognized might not drag the + others to the guillotine? For of course you know, colonel, we don’t hide + from ourselves that that is the price of our game!” + </p> + <p> + “Then why risk it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! what a question. Why do you venture on the field of battle, where a + bullet may plow through your breast or a cannon-ball lop off your head?” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to say that that is different. On the battlefield I risk an + honorable death.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! do you suppose that on the day I get my head cut off by the + revolutionary triangle I shall think myself dishonored? Not the least in + the world. I am a soldier like you, only we can’t all serve our cause in + the same way. Every religion has its heroes and its martyrs; happy the + heroes in this world, and happy the martyrs in the next.” + </p> + <p> + The young man uttered these words with a conviction which moved, or rather + astonished, Roland. + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued Morgan, abandoning his enthusiasm to revert to the gayety + which seemed the distinctive trait of his character, “I did not come here + to talk political philosophy. I came to ask you to let me speak to the + First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “What! speak to the First Consul?” exclaimed Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Read my letter over; did I not tell you that I had a request + to make?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that request is to let me speak to General Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + “But permit me to say that as I did not expect that request—” + </p> + <p> + “It surprises you; makes you uneasy even. My dear colonel, if you don’t + believe my word, you can search me from head to foot, and you will find + that those pistols are my only weapons. And I haven’t even got them, since + there they are on your table. Better still, take one in each hand, post + yourself between the First Consul and me, and blowout my brains at the + first suspicious move I make. Will that suit you?” + </p> + <p> + “But will you assure me, if I disturb the First Consul and ask him to see + you, that your communication is worth the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I’ll answer for that,” said Morgan. Then, in his joyous tones, he + added: “I am for the moment the ambassador of a crowned, or rather + discrowned, head, which makes it no less reverenced by noble hearts. + Moreover, Monsieur Roland, I shall take up very little of your general’s + time; the moment the conversation seems too long, he can dismiss me. And I + assure you he will not have to say the word twice.” + </p> + <p> + Roland was silent and thoughtful for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “And it is to the First Consul only that you can make this communication?” + </p> + <p> + “To the First Consul only, as he alone can answer me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Wait until I take his orders.” + </p> + <p> + Roland made a step toward the general’s room; then he paused and cast an + uneasy look at a mass of papers piled on his table. Morgan intercepted + this look. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he said, “you are afraid I shall read those papers in your + absence? If you only knew how I detest reading! If my death-warrant lay on + that table, I wouldn’t take the trouble to read it. I should consider that + the clerk’s business. And every one to his own task. Monsieur Roland, my + feet are cold, and I will sit here in your easy-chair and warm them. I + shall not stir till you return.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, monsieur,” said Roland, and he went to the First Consul. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte was talking with General Hedouville, commanding the troops of + the Vendée. Hearing the door open, he turned impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I told Bourrienne I would not see any one.” + </p> + <p> + “So he told me as I came in, but I told him that I was not any one.” + </p> + <p> + “True. What do you want? Be quick.” + </p> + <p> + “He is in my room.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “The man of Avignon.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha! And what does he want?” + </p> + <p> + “To see you.” + </p> + <p> + “To see me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you, general. Does that surprise you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But what can he want to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “He refused obstinately to tell me. But I dare answer for it that he is + neither importunate nor a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but he may be an assassin.” + </p> + <p> + Roland shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, since you introduce him—” + </p> + <p> + “Moreover, he is willing that I should be present at the conference and + stand between you and him.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte reflected an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Bring him in,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You know, general, that except me—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General Hedouville will be so kind as to wait a second. Our + conversation is of a nature that is not exhausted in one interview. Go, + Roland.” + </p> + <p> + Roland left the room, crossed Bourrienne’s office, reentered his own room, + and found Morgan, as he had said, warming his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Come, the First Consul is waiting for you,” said the young man. + </p> + <p> + Morgan rose and followed Roland. When they entered Bonaparte’s study the + latter was alone. He cast a rapid glance on the chief of the Companions of + Jehu, and felt no doubt that he was the same man he had seen at Avignon. + </p> + <p> + Morgan had paused a few steps from the door, and was looking curiously at + Bonaparte, convincing himself that he was the man he had seen at the table + d’hôte the day he attempted the perilous restoration of the two hundred + louis stolen by an oversight from Jean Picot. + </p> + <p> + “Come nearer,” said the First Consul. + </p> + <p> + Morgan bowed and made three steps forward. Bonaparte partly returned the + bow with a slight motion of the head. + </p> + <p> + “You told my aide-de-camp, Colonel Roland, that you had a communication to + make me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that communication require a private interview?” + </p> + <p> + “No, citizen First Consul, although it is of such importance—” + </p> + <p> + “You would prefer to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Beyond doubt. But prudence—” + </p> + <p> + “The most prudent thing in France, citizen Morgan, is courage.” + </p> + <p> + “My presence here, general, proves that I agree with you perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte turned to the young colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Leave us alone, Roland,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “But, general—” objected Roland. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte went up to him and said in a low voice: “I see what it is. You + are curious to know what this mysterious cavalier of the highroad has to + say to me. Don’t worry; you shall know.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not it. But suppose, as you said just now, he is an assassin.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you declare he was not. Come, don’t be a baby; leave us.” + </p> + <p> + Roland went out. + </p> + <p> + “Now that we are alone, sir,” said the First Consul, “speak!” + </p> + <p> + Morgan, without answering, drew a letter from his pocket and gave it to + the general. Bonaparte examined it. It was addressed to him, and the seal + bore the three fleurs-de-lis of France. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said, “what is this, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Read it, citizen First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte opened the letter and looked at the signature: “Louis,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” repeated Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “What Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “Louis de Bourbon, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Comte de Provençe, brother of Louis XVI.” + </p> + <p> + “Consequently Louis XVIII., since his nephew, the Dauphin, is dead.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte looked at the stranger again. It was evident that Morgan was a + pseudonym, assumed to hide his real name. Then, turning his eyes on the + letter, he read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + January 3, 1800. + + Whatever may be their apparent conduct, monsieur, men like you + never inspire distrust. You have accepted an exalted post, and + I thank you for so doing. You know, better than others, that + force and power are needed to make the happiness of a great + nation. Save France from her own madness, and you will fulfil + the desire of my heart; restore her king, and future generations + will bless your memory. If you doubt my gratitude, choose your + own place, determine the future of your friends. As for my + principles, I am a Frenchman, clement by nature, still more so + by judgment. No! the conqueror of Lodi, Castiglione and Arcola, + the conqueror of Italy and Egypt, cannot prefer an empty + celebrity to fame. Lose no more precious time. We can secure + the glory of France. I say we, because I have need of Bonaparte + for that which he cannot achieve without me. General, the eyes + of Europe are upon you, glory awaits you, and I am eager to + restore my people to happiness. + + LOUIS. +</pre> + <p> + Bonaparte turned to the young man, who stood erect, motionless and silent + as a statue. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the contents of this letter?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man bowed. “Yes, citizen First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “It was sealed, however.” + </p> + <p> + “It was sent unsealed under cover to the person who intrusted it to me. + And before doing so he made me read it, that I might know its full + importance.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I know the name of the person who intrusted it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Georges Cadoudal.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte started slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Georges Cadoudal?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did he intrust it to you rather than to another?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he knew that in telling me to deliver the letter to you with my + own hand it would be done.” + </p> + <p> + “You have certainly kept your promise, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Not altogether yet, citizen First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean? Haven’t you delivered it to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I promised to bring back an answer.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I tell you I will not give one.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have answered; not precisely as I could have wished, but it will + be an answer.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte reflected for a few moments. Then shaking his shoulders to rid + himself of his thoughts, he said: “They are fools.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, citizen?” asked Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Those who write me such letters—fools, arch fools. Do they take me + for a man who patterns his conduct by the past? Play Monk! What good would + it do? Bring back another Charles II.? No, faith, it is not worth while. + When a man has Toulon, the 13th Vendemiaire, Lodi, Castiglione, Arcola, + Rivoli and the Pyramids behind him, he’s no Monk. He has the right to + aspire to more than a duchy of Albemarle, and the command by land and sea + of the forces of his Majesty King Louis XVIII.” + </p> + <p> + “For that reason you are asked to make your own conditions, citizen First + Consul.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte started at the sound of that voice as if he had forgotten that + any one was present. + </p> + <p> + “Not counting,” he went on, “that it is a ruined family, a dead branch of + a rotten trunk. The Bourbons have so intermarried with one another that + the race is depraved; Louis XIV. exhausted all its sap, all its vigor.—You + know history, sir?” asked Bonaparte, turning to the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general,” he replied; “at least as well as a <i>ci-devant</i> can + know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must have observed in history, especially in that of France, + that each race has its point of departure, its culmination, and its + decadence. Look at the direct line of the Capets; starting from Hugues + Capet, they attained their highest grandeur in Philippe Auguste and Louis + XI., and fell with Philippe V. and Charles IV. Take the Valois; starting + with Philippe VI., they culminated in François I. and fell with Charles + IX. and Henry III. See the Bourbons; starting with Henry IV., they have + their culminating point in Louis XIV. and fall with Louis XV. and Louis + XVI.—only they fall lower than the others; lower in debauchery with + Louis XV., lower in misfortune with Louis XVI. You talk to me of the + Stuarts, and show me the example of Monk. Will you tell me who succeeded + Charles II.? James II. And who to James II.? William of Orange, a usurper. + Would it not have been better, I ask you, if Monk had put the crown on his + own head? Well, if I was fool enough to restore Louis XVIII. to the + throne, like Charles II. he would have no children, and, like James II., + his brother Charles X. would succeed him, and like him would be driven out + by some William of Orange. No, no! God has not put the destiny of this + great and glorious country we call France into my hands that I should cast + it back to those who have gambled with it and lost it.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me, general, to remark that I did not ask you for all this.” + </p> + <p> + “But I, I ask you—” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are doing me the honor to take me for posterity.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte started, turned round, saw to whom he was speaking, and was + silent. + </p> + <p> + “I only want,” said Morgan, with a dignity which surprised the man whom he + addressed, “a yes or a no.” + </p> + <p> + “And why do you want that?” + </p> + <p> + “To know whether we must continue to war against you as an enemy, or fall + at your feet as a savior.” + </p> + <p> + “War,” said Bonaparte, “war! Madmen, they who war with me! Do they not see + that I am the elect of God?” + </p> + <p> + “Attila said the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but he was the elect of destruction; I, of the new era. The grass + withered where he stepped; the harvest will ripen where I pass the plow. + War? Tell me what has become of those who have made it against me? They + lie upon the plains of Piedmont, of Lombardy and Cairo!” + </p> + <p> + “You forget the Vendée; the Vendée is still afoot.” + </p> + <p> + “Afoot, yes! but her leaders? Cathelineau, Lescure, La Rochejaquelin, + d’Elbée, Bonchamps, Stoffiet, Charette?” + </p> + <p> + “You are speaking of men only; the men have been mown down, it is true; + but the principle is still afoot, and for it are fighting Autichamp, + Suzannet, Grignon, Frotté, Châtillon, Cadoudal. The younger may not be + worth the elder, but if they die as their elders died, what more can you + ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Let them beware! If I determine upon a campaign against the Vendée I + shall send neither Santerre nor Rossignol!” + </p> + <p> + “The Convention sent Kléber, and the Directory, Hoche!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not send; I shall go myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing worse can happen to them than to be killed like Lescure, or shot + like Charette.” + </p> + <p> + “It may happen that I pardon them.” + </p> + <p> + “Cato taught us how to escape the pardon of Cæsar.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care; you are quoting a Republican!” + </p> + <p> + “Cato was one of those men whose example can be followed, no matter to + what party they belong.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose I were to tell you that I hold the Vendée in the hollow of my + hand?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “And that within three months, she will lay down her arms if I choose?” + </p> + <p> + The young man shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t believe me?” + </p> + <p> + “I hesitate to believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “If I affirm to you that what I say is true; if I prove it by telling you + the means, or rather the men, by whom I shall bring this about?” + </p> + <p> + “If a man like General Bonaparte affirms a thing, I shall believe it; and + if that thing is the pacification of the Vendée, I shall say in my turn: + ‘Beware! Better the Vendée fighting than the Vendée conspiring. The Vendée + fighting means the sword, the Vendée conspiring means the dagger.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know your dagger,” said Bonaparte. “Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + And he drew from a drawer the dagger he had taken from Roland and laid it + on the table within reach of Morgan’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he added, “there is some distance between Bonaparte’s breast and an + assassin’s dagger. Try.” + </p> + <p> + And he advanced to the young man with a flaming eye. + </p> + <p> + “I did not come here to assassinate you,” said the young man, coldly. + “Later, if I consider your death indispensable to the cause, I shall do + all in my power, and if I fail it will not be because you are Marius and I + the Cimbrian. Have you anything else to say to me, citizen First Consul?” + concluded the young man, bowing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Tell Cadoudal that when he is ready to fight the enemy, instead of + Frenchmen, I have a colonel’s commission ready signed in my desk for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Cadoudal commands, not a regiment, but an army. You were unwilling to + retrograde from Bonaparte to Monk; why should you expect him to descend + from general to colonel? Have you nothing else to say to me, citizen First + Consul?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Have you any way of transmitting my reply to the Comte de Provençe?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean King Louis XVIII.?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let us quibble over words. To him who wrote to me.” + </p> + <p> + “His envoy is now at the camp at Aubiers.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have changed my mind; I shall send him an answer. These Bourbons + are so blind that this one would misinterpret my silence.” + </p> + <p> + And Bonaparte, sitting down at his desk, wrote the following letter with a + care that showed he wished to make it legible: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have received your letter, monsieur. I thank you for the good + opinion you express in it of me. You must not wish for your return + to France; it could only be over a hundred thousand dead bodies. + Sacrifice your own interests to the repose and welfare of France. + History will applaud you. I am not insensible to the misfortunes of + your family, and I shall hear with pleasure that you are + surrounded with all that could contribute to the tranquillity of + your retreat. BONAPARTE. +</pre> + <p> + Then, folding and sealing the letter, he directed it to “Monsieur le Comte + de Provençe,” and handed it to Morgan. Then he called Roland, as if he + knew the latter were not far off. + </p> + <p> + “General?” said the young officer, appearing instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Conduct this gentleman to the street,” said Bonaparte. “Until then you + are responsible for him.” + </p> + <p> + Roland bowed in sign of obedience, let the young man, who said not a word, + pass before him, and then followed. But before leaving, Morgan cast a last + glance at Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + The latter was still standing, motionless and silent, with folded arms, + his eyes fixed upon the dagger, which occupied his thoughts far more than + he was willing to admit even to himself. + </p> + <p> + As they crossed Roland’s room, the Chief of the Companions of Jehu + gathered up his cloak and pistols. While he was putting them in his belt, + Roland remarked: “The citizen First Consul seems to have shown you a + dagger which I gave him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur,” replied Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Did you recognize it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that one in particular; all our daggers are alike.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Roland, “I will tell you whence it came.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! where was that?” + </p> + <p> + “From the breast of a friend of mine, where your Companions, possibly you + yourself, thrust it.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” replied the young man carelessly. “But your friend must have + exposed himself to punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend wished to see what was happening at night in the Chartreuse.” + </p> + <p> + “He did wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “But I did the same wrong the night before, and nothing happened to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably because some talisman protects you.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, let me tell you something. I am a straight-forward man who + walks by daylight. I have a horror of all that is mysterious.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy those who can walk the highroads by daylight, Monsieur de + Montrevel!” + </p> + <p> + “That is why I am going to tell you the oath I made, Monsieur Morgan. As I + drew the dagger you saw from my friend’s breast, as carefully as possible, + that I might not draw his soul with it, I swore that henceforward it + should be war to the death between his assassins and myself. It was + largely to tell you that that I gave you a pledge of safety.” + </p> + <p> + “That is an oath I hope to see you forget, Monsieur de Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + “It is an oath I shall keep under all circumstances, Monsieur Morgan; and + you would be most kind if you would furnish me with an opportunity as soon + as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for example, by accepting a meeting with me, either in the Bois de + Boulogne or at Vincennes. We don’t need to say that we are fighting + because you or one of your friends stabbed Lord Tanlay. No; we can say + anything you please.” (Roland reflected a moment.) “We can say the duel is + on account of the eclipse that takes place on the 12th of next month. Does + the pretext suit you?” + </p> + <p> + “The pretext would suit me,” replied Morgan, in a tone of sadness of which + he seemed incapable, “if the duel itself could take place. You have taken + an oath, and you mean to keep it, you say. Well, every initiate who enters + the Company of Jehu swears that he will not expose in any personal quarrel + a life that belongs to the cause and not to himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! So that you assassinate, but will not fight.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken. We sometimes fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Have the goodness to point out an occasion when I may study that + phenomenon.” + </p> + <p> + “Easily enough. If you and five or six men, as resolute as yourself, will + take your places in some diligence carrying government money, and will + defend it against our attack, the occasion you seek will come. But, + believe me, do better than that; do not come in our way.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that a threat, sir?” asked the young man, raising his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Morgan, in a gentle, almost supplicating voice, “it is an + entreaty.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it addressed to me in particular, or would you include others?” + </p> + <p> + “I make it to you in particular;” and the chief of the Companions of Jehu + dwelt upon the last word. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the young man, “then I am so fortunate as to interest + you?” + </p> + <p> + “As a brother,” replied Morgan, in the same soft, caressing tone. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Roland, “this is decidedly a wager.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne entered at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “Roland,” he said, “the First Consul wants you.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me time to conduct this gentleman to the street, and I’ll be with + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up; you know he doesn’t like to wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you follow me, sir?” Roland said to his mysterious companion. + </p> + <p> + “I am at your orders, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then,” And Roland, taking the same path by which he had brought + Morgan, took him back, not to the door opening on the garden (the garden + was closed), but to that on the street. Once there, he stopped and said: + “Sir, I gave you my word, and I have kept it faithfully, But that there + may be no misunderstanding between us, have the goodness to tell me that + you understand it to have been for this one time and for to-day only.” + </p> + <p> + “That was how I understood it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You give me back my word then?” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to keep it, sir; but I recognize that you are free to take + it back.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all I wish to know. Au revoir! Monsieur Morgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me not to offer you the same wish, Monsieur de Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + The two young men bowed with perfect courtesy, Roland re-entered the + Luxembourg, and Morgan, following the line of shadow projected by the + walls, took one of the little streets to the Place Saint-Sulpice. + </p> + <p> + It is he whom we are now to follow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. THE BALL OF THE VICTIMS + </h2> + <p> + After taking about a hundred steps Morgan removed his mask. He ran more + risk of being noticed in the streets of Paris as a masked man than with + uncovered face. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the Rue Taranne he knocked at the door of a small + furnished lodging-house at the corner of that street and the Rue du + Dragon, took a candlestick from a table, a key numbered 12 from a nail, + and climbed the stairs without exciting other attention than a well-known + lodger would returning home. The clock was striking ten as he closed the + door of his room. He listened attentively to the strokes, the light of his + candle not reaching as far as the chimney-piece. He counted ten. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he said to himself; “I shall not be too late.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of this probability, Morgan seemed determined to lose no time. He + passed a bit of tinder-paper under the heater on the hearth, which caught + fire instantly. He lighted four wax-candles, all there were in the room, + placed two on the mantel-shelf and two on a bureau opposite, and spread + upon the bed a complete dress of the Incroyable of the very latest + fashion. It consisted of a short coat, cut square across the front and + long behind, of a soft shade between a pale-green and a pearl-gray; a + waistcoat of buff plush, with eighteen mother-of-pearl buttons; an immense + white cravat of the finest cambric; light trousers of white cashmere, + decorated with a knot of ribbon where they buttoned above the calves, and + pearl-gray silk stockings, striped transversely with the same green as the + coat, and delicate pumps with diamond buckles. The inevitable eye-glass + was not forgotten. As for the hat, it was precisely the same in which + Carle Vernet painted his dandy of the Directory. + </p> + <p> + When these things were ready, Morgan waited with seeming impatience. At + the end of five minutes he rang the bell. A waiter appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Hasn’t the wig-maker come?” asked Morgan. + </p> + <p> + In those days wig-makers were not yet called hair-dressers. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen,” replied the waiter, “he came, but you had not yet + returned, so he left word that he’d come back. Some one knocked just as + you rang; it’s probably—” + </p> + <p> + “Here, here,” cried a voice on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! bravo,” exclaimed Morgan. “Come in, Master Cadenette; you must make a + sort of Adonis of me.” + </p> + <p> + “That won’t be difficult, Monsieur le Baron,” replied the wig-maker. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, look here; do you mean to compromise me, citizen Cadenette?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Baron, I entreat you, call me Cadenette; you’ll honor me by + that proof of familiarity; but don’t call me citizen. Fie; that’s a + revolutionary denomination! Even in the worst of the Terror I always + called my wife Madame Cadenette. Now, excuse me for not waiting for you; + but there’s a great ball in the Rue du Bac this evening, the ball of the + Victims (the wig-maker emphasized this word). I should have thought that + M. le Baron would be there.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” cried Morgan, laughing; “so you are still a royalist, Cadenette?” + </p> + <p> + The wig-maker laid his hand tragically on his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Baron,” said he, “it is not only a matter of conscience, but + a matter of state.” + </p> + <p> + “Conscience, I can understand that, Master Cadenette, but state! What the + devil has the honorable guild of wigmakers to do with politics?” + </p> + <p> + “What, Monsieur le Baron?” said Cadenette, all the while getting ready to + dress his client’s hair; “you ask me that? You, an aristocrat!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Cadenette!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Baron, we <i>ci-devants</i> can say that to each other.” + </p> + <p> + “So you are a <i>ci-devant</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “To the core! In what style shall I dress M. le Baron’s hair?” + </p> + <p> + “Dog’s ears, and tied up behind.” + </p> + <p> + “With a dash of powder?” + </p> + <p> + “Two, if you like, Cadenette.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! monsieur, when one thinks that for five years I was the only man who + had an atom of powder ‘<i>à la maréchale</i>.’ Why, Monsieur le Baron, a + man was guillotined for owning a box of powder!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve known people who were guillotined for less than that, Cadenette. But + explain how you happen to be a <i>ci-devant</i>. I like to understand + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s very simple, Monsieur le Baron. You admit, don’t you, that among the + guilds there were some that were more or less aristocratic.” + </p> + <p> + “Beyond doubt; accordingly as they were nearer to the higher classes of + society.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it, Monsieur le Baron. Well, we had the higher classes by the hair + of their head. I, such as you see me, I have dressed Madame de Polignac’s + hair; my father dressed Madame du Barry’s; my grandfather, Madame de + Pompadour’s. We had our privileges, Monsieur; we carried swords. It is + true, to avoid the accidents that were liable to crop up among hotheads + like ourselves, our swords were usually of wood; but at any rate, if they + were not the actual thing, they were very good imitations. Yes, Monsieur + le Baron,” continued Cadenette with a sigh, “those days were the good + days, not only for the wig-makers, but for all France. We were in all the + secrets, all the intrigues; nothing was hidden from us. And there is no + known instance, Monsieur le Baron, of a wig-maker betraying a secret. Just + look at our poor queen; to whom did she trust her diamonds? To the great, + the illustrious Leonard, the prince of wig-makers. Well, Monsieur le + Baron, two men alone overthrew the scaffolding of a power that rested on + the wigs of Louis XIV., the puffs of the Regency, the frizettes of + Louis-XV., and the cushions of Marie Antoinette.” + </p> + <p> + “And those two men, those levellers, those two revolutionaries, who were + they, Cadenette? that I may doom them, so far as it lies in my power, to + public execration.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rousseau and citizen Talma: Monsieur Rousseau who said that absurdity, + ‘We must return to Nature,’ and citizen Talma, who invented the Titus + head-dress.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true, Cadenette; that’s true.” + </p> + <p> + “When the Directory came in there was a moment’s hope. M. Barras never + gave up powder, and citizen Moulins stuck to his queue. But, you see, the + 18th Brumaire has knocked it all down; how could any one friz Bonaparte’s + hair! Ah! there,” continued Cadenette, puffing out the dog’s ears of his + client—“there’s aristocratic hair for you, soft and fine as silk, + and takes the tongs so well one would think you wore a wig. See, Monsieur + le Baron, you wanted to be as handsome as Adonis! Ah! if Venus had seen + you, it’s not of Adonis that Mars would have been jealous!” + </p> + <p> + And Cadenette, now at the end of his labors and satisfied with the result, + presented a hand-mirror to Morgan, who examined himself complacently. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come!” he said to the wig-maker, “you are certainly an artist, my + dear fellow! Remember this style, for if ever they cut off my head I shall + choose to have it dressed like that, for there will probably be women at + my execution.” + </p> + <p> + “And M. le Baron wants them to regret him,” said the wig-maker gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and in the meantime, my dear Cadenette, here is a crown to reward + your labors. Have the goodness to tell them below to call a carriage for + me.” + </p> + <p> + Cadenette sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Baron,” said he, “time was when I should have answered: ‘Show + yourself at court with your hair dressed like that, and I shall be paid.’ + But there is no court now, Monsieur le Baron, and one must live. You shall + have your carriage.” + </p> + <p> + With which Cadenette sighed again, slipped Morgan’s crown in his pocket, + made the reverential bow of wig-makers and dancing-masters, and left the + young man to complete his toilet. + </p> + <p> + The head being now dressed, the rest was soon done; the cravat alone took + time, owing to the many failures that occurred; but Morgan concluded the + difficult task with an experienced hand, and as eleven o’clock was + striking he was ready to start. Cadenette had not forgotten his errand; a + hackney-coach was at the door. Morgan jumped into it, calling out: “Rue du + Bac, No. 60.” + </p> + <p> + The coach turned into the Rue de Grenelle, went up the Rue du Bac, and + stopped at No. 60. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a double fare, friend,” said Morgan, “on condition that you don’t + stand before the door.” + </p> + <p> + The driver took the three francs and disappeared around the corner of the + Rue de Varennes. Morgan glanced up the front of the house; it seemed as + though he must be mistaken, so dark and silent was it. But he did not + hesitate; he rapped in a peculiar fashion. + </p> + <p> + The door opened. At the further end of the courtyard was a building, + brilliantly lighted. The young man went toward it, and, as he approached, + the sound of instruments met his ear. He ascended a flight of stairs and + entered the dressing-room. There he gave his cloak to the usher whose + business it was to attend to the wraps. + </p> + <p> + “Here is your number,” said the usher. “As for your weapons, you are to + place them in the gallery where you can find them easily.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan put the number in his trousers pocket, and entered the great + gallery transformed into an arsenal. It contained a complete collection of + arms of all kinds, pistols, muskets, carbines, swords, and daggers. As the + ball might at any moment be invaded by the police, it was necessary that + every dancer be prepared to turn defender at an instant’s notice. Laying + his weapons aside, Morgan entered the ballroom. + </p> + <p> + We doubt if any pen could give the reader an adequate idea of the scene of + that ball. Generally, as the name “Ball of the Victims” indicated, no one + was admitted except by the strange right of having relatives who had + either been sent to the scaffold by the Convention or the Commune of + Paris, blown to pieces by Collot d’Herbois, or drowned by Carrier. As, + however, the victims guillotined during the three years of the Terror far + outnumbered the others, the dresses of the majority of those who were + present were the clothes of the victims of the scaffold. Thus, most of the + young girls, whose mothers and older sisters had fallen by the hands of + the executioner, wore the same costume their mothers and sisters had worn + for that last lugubrious ceremony; that is to say, a white gown and red + shawl, with their hair cut short at the nape of the neck. Some added to + this costume, already so characteristic, a detail that was even more + significant; they knotted around their necks a thread of scarlet silk, + fine as the blade of a razor, which, as in Faust’s Marguerite, at the + Witches’ Sabbath, indicated the cut of the knife between the throat and + the collar bone. + </p> + <p> + As for the men who were in the same case, they wore the collars of their + coats turned down behind, those of their shirt wide open, their necks + bare, and their hair, cut short. + </p> + <p> + But many had other rights of entrance to this ball besides that of having + Victims in their families; some had made victims themselves. These latter + were increasing. There were present men of forty or forty-five years of + age, who had been trained in the boudoirs of the beautiful courtesans of + the seventeenth century—who had known Madame du Barry in the attics + of Versailles, Sophie Arnoult with M. de Lauraguais, La Duthé with the + Comte d’Artois—who had borrowed from the courtesies of vice the + polish with which they covered their ferocity. They were still young and + handsome; they entered a salon, tossing their perfumed locks and their + scented handkerchiefs; nor was it a useless precaution, for if the odor of + musk or verbena had not masked it they would have smelled of blood. + </p> + <p> + There were men there twenty-five or thirty years old, dressed with extreme + elegance, members of the association of Avengers, who seemed possessed + with the mania of assassination, the lust of slaughter, the frenzy of + blood, which no blood could quench—men who, when the order came to + kill, killed all, friends or enemies; men who carried their business + methods into the business of murder, giving their bloody checks for the + heads of such or such Jacobins, and paying on sight. + </p> + <p> + There were younger men, eighteen and twenty, almost children, but children + fed, like Achilles, on the marrow of wild beasts, like Pyrrhus, on the + flesh of bears; here were the pupil-bandits of Schiller, the + apprentice-judges of the Sainte-Vehme—that strange generation that + follows great political convulsions, like the Titans after chaos, the + hydras after the Deluge; as the vultures and crows follow the carnage. + </p> + <p> + Here was the spectre of iron impassible, implacable, inflexible, which men + call Retaliation; and this spectre mingled with the guests. It entered the + gilded salons; it signalled with a look, a gesture, a nod, and men + followed where it led. It was, as says the author from whom we have + borrowed these hitherto unknown but authentic details, “a merry lust for + extermination.” + </p> + <p> + The Terror had affected great cynicism in clothes, a Spartan austerity in + its food, the profound contempt of a barbarous people for arts and + enjoyments. The Thermidorian reaction was, on the contrary, elegant, + opulent, adorned; it exhausted all luxuries, all voluptuous pleasures, as + in the days of Louis XV.; with one addition, the luxury of vengeance, the + lust of blood. + </p> + <p> + Fréron’s name was given to the youth of the day, which was called the + jeunesse Fréron, or the <i>jéunesse dorée</i> (gilded youth). Why Fréron? + Why should he rather than others receive that strange and fatal honor? + </p> + <p> + I cannot tell you—my researches (those who know me will do me the + justice to admit that when I have an end in view, I do not count them)—my + researches have not discovered an answer. It was a whim of Fashion, and + Fashion is the one goddess more capricious than Fortune. + </p> + <p> + Our readers will hardly know to-day who Fréron was. The Fréron who was + Voltaire’s assailant was better known than he who was the patron of these + elegant assassins; one was the son of the other. Louis Stanislas was son + of Elie-Catherine. The father died of rage when Miromesnil, Keeper of the + Seals, suppressed his journal. The other, irritated by the injustices of + which his father had been the victim, had at first ardently embraced the + revolutionary doctrines. Instead of the “Année Littéraire,” strangled to + death in 1775, he created the “Orateur du Peuple,” in 1789. He was sent to + the Midi on a special mission, and Marseilles and Toulon retain to this + day the memory of his cruelty. But all was forgotten when, on the 9th + Thermidor, he proclaimed himself against Robespierre, and assisted in + casting from the altar the Supreme Being, the colossus who, being an + apostle, had made himself a god. Fréron, repudiated by the Mountain, which + abandoned him to the heavy jaws of Moise Bayle; Fréron, disdainfully + repulsed by the Girondins, who delivered him over to the imprecations of + Isnard; Fréron, as the terrible and picturesque orator of the Var said, + “Fréron naked and covered with the leprosy of crime,” was accepted, + caressed and petted by the Thermidorians. From them he passed into the + camp of the royalists, and without any reason whatever for obtaining that + fatal honor, found himself suddenly at the head of a powerful party of + youth, energy and vengeance, standing between the passions of the day, + which led to all, and the impotence of the law, which permitted all. + </p> + <p> + It was to the midst of this <i>jeunesse</i> Fréron, mouthing its words, + slurring its r’s, giving its “word of honor” about everything, that Morgan + now made his way. + </p> + <p> + It must be admitted that this <i>jeunesse</i>, in spite of the clothes it + wore, in spite of the memories these clothes evoked, was wildly gay. This + seems incomprehensible, but it is true. Explain if you can that Dance of + Death at the beginning of the fifteenth century, which, with all the fury + of a modern galop, led by Musard, whirled its chain through the very + Cemetery of the Innocents, and left amid its tombs fifty thousand of its + votaries. + </p> + <p> + Morgan was evidently seeking some one. + </p> + <p> + A young dandy, who was dipping into the silver-gilt comfit-box of a + charming victim, with an ensanguined finger, the only part of his delicate + hand that had escaped the almond paste, tried to stop him, to relate the + particulars of the expedition from which he had brought back this bloody + trophy. But Morgan smiled, pressed his other hand which was gloved, and + contented himself with replying: “I am looking for some one.” + </p> + <p> + “Important?” + </p> + <p> + “Company of Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + The young man with the bloody finger let him pass. An adorable Fury, as + Corneille would have called her, whose hair was held up by a dagger with a + blade as sharp as a needle, barred his way, saying: “Morgan, you are the + handsomest, the bravest, the most deserving of love of all the men + present. What have you to say to the woman who tells you that?” + </p> + <p> + “I answer that I love,” replied Morgan, “and that my heart is too narrow + to hold one hatred and two loves.” And he continued on his search. + </p> + <p> + Two young men who were arguing, one saying, “He was English,” the other, + “He was German,” stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce,” cried one; “here is the man who can settle it for us.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Morgan, trying to push past them; “I’m in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s only a word to say,” said the other. “We have made a bet, + Saint-Amand and I, that the man who was tried and executed at the + Chartreuse du Seillon, was, according to him, a German, and, according to + me, an Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” replied Morgan; “I wasn’t there. Ask Hector; he presided + that night.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us where Hector is?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me rather where Tiffauges is; I am looking for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Over there, at the end of the room,” said the young man, pointing to a + part of the room where the dance was more than usually gay and animated. + “You will recognize him by his waistcoat; and his trousers are not to be + despised. I shall have a pair like them made with the skin of the very + first hound I meet.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan did not take time to ask in what way Tiffauges’ waistcoat was + remarkable, or by what queer cut or precious material his trousers had won + the approbation of a man as expert in such matters as he who had spoken to + him. He went straight to the point indicated by the young man, saw the + person he was seeking dancing an été, which seemed, by the intricacy of + its weaving, if I may be pardoned for this technical term, to have issued + from the salons of Vestris himself. + </p> + <p> + Morgan made a sign to the dancer. Tiffauges stopped instantly, bowed to + his partner, led her to her seat, excused himself on the plea of the + urgency of the matter which called him away, and returned to take Morgan’s + arm. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see him,” Tiffauges asked Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “I have just left him,” replied the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Did you deliver the King’s letter?” + </p> + <p> + “To himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he read it?” + </p> + <p> + “At once.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he sent an answer?” + </p> + <p> + “Two; one verbal, one written; the second dispenses with the first.” + </p> + <p> + “You have it?” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the contents?” + </p> + <p> + “A refusal.” + </p> + <p> + “Positive?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could be more positive.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he know that from the moment he takes all hope away from us we shall + treat him as an enemy?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him so.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he answer?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t answer; he shrugged his shoulders.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think his intentions are?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not difficult to guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he mean to keep the power himself?” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like it.” + </p> + <p> + “The power, but not the throne?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not the throne?” + </p> + <p> + “He would never dare to make himself king.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I can’t say he means to be absolutely king, but I’ll answer for it + that he means to be something.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is nothing but a soldier of fortune!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, better in these days to be the son of his deeds, than the + grandson of a king.” + </p> + <p> + The young man thought a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I shall report it all to Cadoudal,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And add that the First Consul said these very words: ‘I hold the Vendée + in the hollow of my hand, and if I choose in three months not another shot + will be fired.’” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a good thing to know.” + </p> + <p> + “You know it; let Cadoudal know it, and take measures.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the music ceased; the hum of the dancers died away; complete + silence prevailed; and, in the midst of this silence, four names were + pronounced in a sonorous and emphatic voice. + </p> + <p> + These four names were Morgan, Montbar, Adler and d’Assas. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” Morgan said to Tiffauges, “they are probably arranging some + expedition in which I am to take part. I am forced, therefore, to my great + regret, to bid you farewell. Only before I leave you let me look closer at + your waistcoat and trousers, of which I have heard—curiosity of an + amateur; I trust you will excuse it.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely!” exclaimed the young Vendéan, “most willingly.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. THE BEAR’S SKIN + </h2> + <p> + With a rapidity and good nature that did honor to his courtesy, he went + close to the candelabra, which were burning on the chimney-piece. The + waistcoat and trousers seemed to be of the same stuff; but what was that + stuff? The most experienced connoisseur would have been puzzled. + </p> + <p> + The trousers were tight-fitting as usual, of a light tint between buff and + flesh color; the only remarkable thing about them was the absence of the + seam, and the closeness with which they clung to the leg. The waistcoat, + on the other hand, had two characteristic signs which attracted attention; + it had been pierced by three balls, which had the holes gaping, and these + were stained a carmine, so like blood, that it might easily have been + mistaken for it. On the left side was painted a bloody heart, the + distinguishing sign of the Vendéans. Morgan examined the two articles with + the closest attention, but without result. + </p> + <p> + “If I were not in such a hurry,” said he, “I should like to look into the + matter for myself. But you heard for yourself; in all probability, some + news has reached the committee; government money probably. You can + announce it to Cadoudal; only we shall have to take it first. Ordinarily, + I command these expeditions; if I delay, some one may take my place. So + tell me what your waistcoat and trousers are made of.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Morgan,” replied the Vendéan, “perhaps you have heard that my + brother was captured near Bressure, and shot by the Blues?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “The Blues were retreating; they left the body at the corner of the hedge. + We were pursuing them so closely that we arrived just after them. I found + the body of my brother still warm. In one of his wounds a sprig was stuck + with these words: ‘Shot as a brigand by me, Claude Flageolet, corporal of + the Third Battalion of Paris.’ I took my brother’s body, and had the skin + removed from his breast. I vowed that this skin, pierced with three holes, + should eternally cry vengeance before my eyes. I made it my battle + waistcoat.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Morgan, with a certain astonishment, in which, for the + first time, was mingled something akin to terror—“Ah! then that + waistcoat is made of your brother’s skin? And the trousers?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” replied the Vendéan, “the trousers, that’s another matter. They are + made of the skin of Claude Flageolet, corporal of the Third Battalion of + Paris.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the voice again called out, in the same order, the names of + Morgan, Montbar, Adler and d’Assas. + </p> + <p> + Morgan rushed out of the study, crossed the dancing-hall from end to end, + and made his way to a little salon on the other side of the dressing-room. + His three companions, Montbar, Adler and d’Assas, were there already. With + them was a young man in the government livery of a bearer of despatches, + namely a green and gold coat. His boots were dusty, and he wore a visored + cap and carried the despatch-box, the essential accoutrements of a cabinet + courier. + </p> + <p> + One of Cassini’s maps, on which could be followed the whole lay of the + land, was spread on the table. + </p> + <p> + Before saying why this courier was there, and with what object the map was + unfolded, let us cast a glance at the three new personages whose names had + echoed through the ballroom, and who are destined to play an important + part in the rest of this history. + </p> + <p> + The reader already knows Morgan, the Achilles and the Paris of this + strange association; Morgan, with his blue eyes, his black hair, his tall, + well-built figure, graceful, easy, active bearing; his eye, which was + never without animation; his mouth, with its fresh lips and white teeth, + that was never without a smile; his remarkable countenance, composed of + mingling elements that seemed so foreign to each other—strength and + tenderness, gentleness and energy; and, through it all, that bewildering + expression of gayety that was at times alarming when one remembered that + this man was perpetually rubbing shoulders with death, and the most + terrifying of all deaths—that of the scaffold. + </p> + <p> + As for d’Assas, he was a man from thirty-five to thirty-eight years of + age, with bushy hair that was turning gray, and mustaches as black as + ebony. His eyes were of that wonderful shade of Indian eyes, verging on + maroon. He was formerly a captain of dragoons, admirably built for + struggle, whether physical or moral, his muscles indicating strength, and + his face, obstinacy. For the rest, a noble bearing, great elegance of + manners, scented like a dandy, carrying, either from caprice or luxury, a + bottle of English smelling-salts, or a silver-gilt vinaigrette containing + the most subtle perfumes. + </p> + <p> + Montbar and Adler, whose real names were unknown, like those of d’Assas + and Morgan, were commonly called by the Company “the inseparables.” + Imagine Damon and Pythias, Euryalus and Nisus, Orestes and Pylades at + twenty-two—one joyous, loquacious, noisy, the other melancholy, + silent, dreamy; sharing all things, dangers, money, mistresses; one the + complement of the other; each rushing to all extremes, but forgetting self + when in peril to watch over the other, like the Spartan youths on the + sacred legions—and you will form an idea of Montbar and Adler. + </p> + <p> + It is needless to say that all three were Companions of Jehu. They had + been convoked, as Morgan suspected, on business of the Company. + </p> + <p> + On entering the room, Morgan went straight to the pretended bearer of + despatches and shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! the dear friend,” said the latter, with a stiff movement, showing + that the best rider cannot do a hundred and fifty miles on post-hacks with + impunity. “You are taking it easy, you Parisians. Hannibal at Capua slept + on rushes and thorns compared to you. I only glanced at the ballroom in + passing, as becomes a poor cabinet courier bearing despatches from General + Masséna to the citizen First Consul; but it seemed to me you were a fine + lot of victims! Only, my poor friends, you will have to bid farewell to + all that for the present; disagreeable, unlucky, exasperating, no doubt, + but the House of Jehu before all.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Hastier—” began Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Hastier. “No proper names, if you please, gentlemen. The + Hastiers are an honest family in Lyons, doing business, it is said, on the + Place des Terreaux, from father to son, and would be much humiliated to + learn that their heir had become a cabinet courier, and rode the highways + with the national pack on his back. Lecoq as much as you please, but not + Hastier. I don’t know Hastier; and you, gentlemen,” continued the young + man, addressing Montbar, Adler and d’Assas, “do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the three young men, “and we ask pardon for Morgan, who did + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lecoq,” exclaimed Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right,” interrupted Hastier. “I answer to that name! Well, what + did you want to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to say that if you are not the antipodes of the god Harpocrates, + whom the Egyptians represent with a finger on his lips, you will, instead + of indulging in a lot of declamations, more or less flowery, tell us why + this costume, and why that map?” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” retorted the young man. “If you don’t know already, it’s your + fault and not mine. If I hadn’t been obliged to call you twice, caught as + you doubtless were in the toils of some beautiful Eumenides imploring + vengeance of a fine young man for the death of her old parents, you’d know + as much as these gentlemen, and I wouldn’t have to sing an encore. Well, + here’s what it is: simply of the remaining treasure of the Berne bears, + which General Lecourbe is sending to the citizen First Consul by order of + General Masséna. A trifle, only a hundred thousand francs, that they don’t + dare send over the Jura on account of M. Teysonnet’s partisans, who, they + pretend, are likely to seize it; so it will be sent by Geneva, Bourg, + Mâcon, Dijon, and Troyes; a much safer way, as they will find when they + try it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good!” + </p> + <p> + “We were informed of this by Renard, who started from Gex at full speed, + and transmitted the news to l’Hirondelle, who is at present stationed at + Châlon-sur-Saône. He transmitted it to me, Lecoq, at Auxerre, and I have + done a hundred and fifty miles to transmit it in turn to you. As for the + secondary details, here they are. The treasure left Berne last octodi, + 28th Nivôse, year VIII. of the Republic triple and indivisible. It should + reach Genoa to-day, duodi, and leave to-morrow, tridi, by the diligence + from Geneva to Bourg; so that, by leaving this very night, by the day + after to-morrow, quintide, you can, my dear sons of Israel, meet the + treasure of messires the bears between Dijon and Troyes, near + Bar-sur-Seine or Châtillon. What say you?” + </p> + <p> + “By heavens!” cried Morgan, “we say that there seems to be no room for + argument left; we say we should never have permitted ourselves to touch + the money of their Highnesses the bears of Berne so long as it remained in + their coffers; but as it has changed hands once, I see no objection to its + doing so a second time. Only how are we to start?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you a post-chaise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s here in the coach-house.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you horses to get you to the next stage?” + </p> + <p> + “They are in the stable.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you each your passports.” + </p> + <p> + “We have each four.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we can’t stop the diligence in a post-chaise. We don’t put + ourselves to too much inconvenience, but we don’t take our ease in that + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and why not?” asked Montbar; “it would be original. I can’t see + why, if sailors board from one vessel to another, we couldn’t board a + diligence from a post-chaise. We want novelty; shall we try it, Adler?” + </p> + <p> + “I ask nothing better,” replied the latter, “but what will we do with the + postilion?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true,” replied Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “The difficulty is foreseen, my children,” said the courier; “a messenger + has been sent to Troyes. You will leave your post-chaise at Delbauce; + there you will find four horses all saddled and stuffed with oats. You + will then calculate your time, and the day after to-morrow, or rather + to-morrow, for it is past midnight, between seven and eight in the + morning, the money of Messires Bruin will pass an anxious quarter of an + hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we change our clothes?” inquired d’Assas. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” replied Morgan. “I think we are very presentable as we are. No + diligence could be relieved of unnecessary weight by better dressed + fellows. Let us take a last glance at the map, transfer a pâté, a cold + chicken, and a dozen of champagne from the supper-room to the pockets of + the coach, arm to the teeth in the arsenal, wrap ourselves in warm cloaks, + and—clack! postilion!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” cried Montbar, “that’s the idea.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so,” added Morgan. “We’ll kill the horses if necessary, + and be back at seven in the evening, in time to show ourselves at the + opera.” + </p> + <p> + “That will establish an alibi,” observed d’Assas. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” said Morgan, with his imperturbable gayety. “How could men + who applaud Mademoiselle Clotilde and M. Vestris at eight o’clock in the + evening have been at Bar and Chatillon in the morning settling accounts + with the conductor of a diligence? Come, my sons, a last look at the map + to choose our spot.” + </p> + <p> + The four young men bent over Cassini’s map. + </p> + <p> + “If I may give you a bit of topographical advice,” said the courier, “it + would be to put yourselves in ambush just beyond Massu; there’s a ford + opposite to the Riceys—see, there!” + </p> + <p> + And the young man pointed out the exact spot on the map. + </p> + <p> + “I should return to Chacource, there; from Chacource you have a department + road, straight as an arrow, which will take you to Troyes; at Troyes you + take carriage again, and follow the road to Sens instead of that to + Coulommiers. The donkeys—there are plenty in the provinces—who + saw you in the morning won’t wonder at seeing you again in the evening; + you’ll get to the opera at ten instead of eight—a more fashionable + hour—neither seen nor recognized, I’ll warrant you.” + </p> + <p> + “Adopted, so far as I am concerned,” said Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Adopted!” cried the other three in chorus. + </p> + <p> + Morgan pulled out one of the two watches whose chains were dangling from + his belt; it was a masterpiece of Petitot’s enamel, and on the outer case + which protected the painting was a diamond monogram. The pedigree of this + beautiful trinket was as well established as that of an Arab horse; it had + been made for Marie-Antoinette, who had given it to the Duchesse de + Polastron, who had given it to Morgan’s mother. + </p> + <p> + “One o’clock,” said Morgan; “come, gentlemen, we must relay at Lagny at + three.” + </p> + <p> + From that moment the expedition had begun, and Morgan became its leader; + he no longer consulted, he commanded. + </p> + <p> + D’Assas, who in Morgan’s absence commanded, was the first to obey on his + return. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later a closed carriage containing four young men wrapped in + their cloaks was stopped at the Fontainebleau barrier by the post-guard, + who demanded their passports. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a joke!” exclaimed one of them, putting his head out of the + window and affecting the pronunciation of the day. “Passpawts to dwive to + Gwobois to call on citizen <i>Ba-as</i>? ‘Word of fluted honor!’ you’re + cwazy, fwend! Go on, dwiver!” + </p> + <p> + The coachman whipped up his horses and the carriage passed without further + opposition. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. FAMILY MATTERS + </h2> + <p> + Let us leave our four <i>hunters</i> on their way to Lagny—where, + thanks to the passports they owed to the obligingness of certain clerks in + citizen Fouché’s employ, they exchanged their own horses for post-horses + and their coachman for a postilion—and see why the First Consul had + sent for Roland. + </p> + <p> + After leaving Morgan, Roland had hastened to obey the general’s orders. He + found the latter standing in deep thought before the fireplace. At the + sound of his entrance General Bonaparte raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “What were you two saying to each other?” asked Bonaparte, without + preamble, trusting to Roland’s habit of answering his thought. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Roland, “we paid each other all sorts of compliments, and + parted the best friends in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “How does he impress you?” + </p> + <p> + “As a perfectly well-bred man.” + </p> + <p> + “How old do you take him to be?” + </p> + <p> + “About my age, at the outside.” + </p> + <p> + “So I think; his voice is youthful. What now, Roland, can I be mistaken? + Is there a new royalist generation growing up?” + </p> + <p> + “No, general,” replied Roland, shrugging his shoulders; “it’s the remains + of the old one.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Roland, we must build up another, devoted to my son—if ever I + have one.” + </p> + <p> + Roland made a gesture which might be translated into the words, “I don’t + object.” Bonaparte understood the gesture perfectly. + </p> + <p> + “You must do more than not object,” said he; “you must contribute to it.” + </p> + <p> + A nervous shudder passed over Roland’s body. + </p> + <p> + “In what way, general?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “By marrying.” + </p> + <p> + Roland burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Good! With my aneurism?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte looked at him, and said: “My dear Roland, your aneurism looks to + me very much like a pretext for remaining single.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and as I am a moral man I insist upon marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that mean that I am immoral,” retorted Roland, “or that I cause any + scandal with my mistresses?” + </p> + <p> + “Augustus,” answered Bonaparte, “created laws against celibates, depriving + them of their rights as Roman citizens.” + </p> + <p> + “Augustus—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll wait until you are Augustus; as yet, you are only Cæsar.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte came closer to the young man, and, laying his hands on his + shoulders, said: “Roland, there are some names I do not wish to see + extinct, and among them is that of Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, general, in my default, supposing that through caprice or obstinacy + I refuse to perpetuate it, there is my little brother.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Your brother? Then you have a brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; I have a brother! Why shouldn’t I have brother?” + </p> + <p> + “How old is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Eleven or twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you never tell me about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I thought the sayings and doings of a youngster of that age could + not interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Roland; I am interested in all that concerns my + friends. You ought to have asked me for something for your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Asked what, general?” + </p> + <p> + “His admission into some college in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! You have enough beggars around you without my swelling their + number.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear; he is to come to Paris and enter college. When he is old + enough, I will send him to the Ecole Militare, or some other school which + I shall have founded before then.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, general,” said Roland, “just as if I had guessed your good + intentions, he is this very day on the point of, starting for Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I wrote to my mother three days ago to bring the boy to Paris. I intended + to put him in college without mentioning it, and when he was old enough to + tell you about him—always supposing that my aneurism had not carried + me off in the meantime. But in that case—” + </p> + <p> + “In that case?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! in that case I have left a bit of a will addressed to you, and + recommending to your kindness my mother, and the boy and the girl—in + short, the whole raft.” + </p> + <p> + “The girl! Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “My sister.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have a sister also?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How old is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Seventeen.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Charming.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take charge of her establishment.” + </p> + <p> + Roland began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” demanded the First Consul. + </p> + <p> + “General, I’m going to put a placard over the grand entrance to the + Luxembourg.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you put on the placard?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Marriages made here.’” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Is it any reason because you don’t wish to marry for your sister + to remain an old maid? I don’t like old maids any better than I do old + bachelors.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say, general, that my sister should remain an old maid; it’s + quite enough for one member of the Montrevel family to have incurred your + displeasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Only that, as the matter concerns my sister, she must, if you will allow + it, be consulted.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha! Some provincial love-affair, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say. I left poor Amélie gay and happy, and I find her pale and + sad. I shall get the truth out of her; and if you wish me to speak to you + again about the matter, I will do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do so—when you get back from the Vendée.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! So I am going to the Vendée?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, is that, like marriage, repugnant, to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are going to the Vendée.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you need not hurry, providing you start to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent; sooner if you wish. Tell me what I am to do there.” + </p> + <p> + “Something of the utmost importance, Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! It isn’t a diplomatic mission, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it is a diplomatic mission for which I need a man who is not a + diplomatist.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’m your man, general! Only, you understand, the less a diplomatist + I am, the more precise my instructions must be.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to give them to you. Do you see that map?” + </p> + <p> + And he showed the young man a large map of Piedmont stretched out on the + floor, under a lamp suspended from the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see it,” replied Roland, accustomed to follow the general along + the unexpected dashes of his genius; “but it is a map of Piedmont.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s a map of Piedmont.” + </p> + <p> + “So there is still a question of Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “There is always a question of Italy.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you spoke of the Vendée?” + </p> + <p> + “Secondarily.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, general, you are not going to send me to the Vendée and go yourself + to Italy, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; don’t be alarmed.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; but I warn you, if you did, I should desert and join you.” + </p> + <p> + “I give you permission to do so; but now let us go back to Mélas.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, general; this is the first time you have mentioned him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I have been thinking of him for a long time. Do you know where I + shall defeat him?” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever you meet him.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Ninny!” he said, with loving familiarity. Then, stooping over the map, he + said to Roland, “Come here.” + </p> + <p> + Roland stooped beside him. “There,” resumed Bonaparte; “that is where I + shall fight him.” + </p> + <p> + “Near Alessandria?” + </p> + <p> + “Within eight or nine miles of it. He has all his supplies, hospitals, + artillery and reserves in Alessandria; and he will not leave the + neighborhood. I shall have to strike a great blow; that’s the only + condition on which I can get peace. I shall cross the Alps”—he + pointed to the great Saint-Bernard—“I shall fall upon Mélas when he + least expects me, and rout him utterly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! trust you for that!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you understand, Roland, that in order to quit France with an + easy mind, I can’t leave it with an inflammation of the bowels—I + can’t leave war in the Vendée.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now I see what you are after. No Vendée! And you are sending me to + the Vendée to suppress it.” + </p> + <p> + “That young man told me some serious things about the Vendée. They are + brave soldiers, those Vendéans, led by a man of brains, Georges Cadoudal. + I have sent him the offer of a regiment, but he won’t accept.” + </p> + <p> + “Jove! He’s particular.” + </p> + <p> + “But there’s one thing he little knows.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, Cadoudal?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Cadoudal. That is that the Abbé Bernier has made me overtures.” + </p> + <p> + “The Abbé Bernier?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is the Abbé Bernier?” + </p> + <p> + “The son of a peasant from Anjou, who may be now about thirty-three or + four years of age. Before the insurrection he was curate of Saint-Laud at + Angers. He refused to take the oath and sought refuge among the Vendéans. + Two or three times the Vendée was pacificated; twice she was thought dead. + A mistake! the Vendée was pacificated, but the Abbé Bernier had not signed + the peace; the Vendée was dead, but the Abbé Bernier was still alive. One + day the Vendée was ungrateful to him. He wished to be appointed general + agent to the royalist armies of the interior; Stofflet influenced the + decision and got his old master, Comte Colbert de Maulevrier, appointed in + Bernier’s stead. When, at two o’clock in the morning, the council broke + up, the Abbé Bernier had disappeared. What he did that night, God and he + alone can tell; but at four o’clock in the morning a Republican detachment + surrounded the farmhouse where Stofflet was sleeping, disarmed and + defenceless. At half-past four Stofflet was captured; eight days later he + was executed at Angers. The next day Autichamp took command, and, to avoid + making the same blunder as Stofflet, he appointed the Abbé Bernier general + agent. Now, do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the Abbé Bernier, general agent of the belligerent forces, and + furnished with plenary powers by the Comte d’Artois—the Abbé Bernier + has made overtures to me.” + </p> + <p> + “To you, to Bonaparte, to the First Consul he deigns to—? Why, + that’s very kind of the Abbé Bernier? Have you accepted them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Roland; if the Vendée will give me peace, I will open her churches + and give her back her priests.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose they chant the <i>Domine, salvum fac regem?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “That would be better than not singing at all. God is omnipotent, and he + will decide. Does the mission suit you, now that I have explained it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, here is a letter for General Hédouville. He is to treat with the + Abbé Bernier as the general-in-chief of the Army of the West. But you are + to be present at all these conferences; he is only my mouthpiece, you are + to be my thought. Now, start as soon as possible; the sooner you get back, + the sooner Mélas will be defeated.” + </p> + <p> + “General, give me time to write to my mother, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “Where will she stop?” + </p> + <p> + “At the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs.” + </p> + <p> + “When do you think she will arrive?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the night of the 21st of January; she will be here the evening of + the 23d, or the morning of the 24th.” + </p> + <p> + “And she stops at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I take it all on myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Take it all on yourself, general?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; your mother can’t stay at a hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Where should she stay?” + </p> + <p> + “With a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “She knows no one in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Monsieur Roland; she knows citizen Bonaparte, First + Consul, and his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to lodge my mother at the Luxembourg. I warn you that + that would embarrass her very much.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I shall lodge her in the Rue de la Victoire.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, general!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come; that’s settled. Go, now, and get back as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + Roland took the First Consul’s hand, meaning to kiss it; but Bonaparte + drew him quickly to him. + </p> + <p> + “Embrace me, my dear Roland,” he said, “and good luck to you.” + </p> + <p> + Two hours later Roland was rolling along in a post-chaise on the road to + Orleans. The next day, at nine in the morning, he entered Nantes, after a + journey of thirty-three hours. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. THE GENEVA DILIGENCE + </h2> + <p> + About the hour when Roland was entering Nantes, a diligence, heavily + loaded, stopped at the inn of the Croix-d’Or, in the middle of the main + street of Châtillon-sur-Seine. + </p> + <p> + In those days the diligences had but two compartments, the coupé and the + interior; the rotunda is an adjunct of modern times. + </p> + <p> + The diligence had hardly stopped before the postilion jumped down and + opened the doors. The travellers dismounted. There were seven in all, of + both sexes. In the interior, three men, two women, and a child at the + breast; in the coupé, a mother and her son. + </p> + <p> + The three men in the interior were, one a doctor from Troyes, the second a + watchmaker from Geneva, the third an architect from Bourg. The two women + were a lady’s maid travelling to Paris to rejoin her mistress, and the + other a wet-nurse; the child was the latter’s nursling, which she was + taking back to its parents. + </p> + <p> + The mother and son in the coupé were people of position; the former, about + forty years of age, still preserving traces of great beauty, the latter a + boy between eleven and twelve. The third place in the coupe was occupied + by the conductor. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast was waiting, as usual, in the dining-room; one of those + breakfasts which conductors, no doubt in collusion with the landlords, + never give travellers the time to eat. The woman and the nurse got out of + the coach and went to a baker’s shop nearby, where each bought a hot roll + and a sausage, with which they went back to the coach, settling themselves + quietly to breakfast, thus saving the cost, probably too great for their + means, of a meal at the hotel. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, the watchmaker, the architect and the mother and son entered + the inn, and, after warming themselves hastily at the large kitchen-fire, + entered the dining-room and took seats at the table. + </p> + <p> + The mother contented herself with a cup of coffee with cream, and some + fruit. The boy, delighted to prove himself a man by his appetite at least, + boldly attacked the viands. The first few moments were, as usual, employed + in satisfying hunger. The watchmaker from Geneva was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, citizen,” said he (the word citizen was still used in public + places), “I tell you frankly I was not at all sorry to see daylight this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot monsieur sleep in a coach?” asked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir,” replied the compatriot of Jean-Jacques; “on the contrary, + I usually sleep straight through the night. But anxiety was stronger than + fatigue this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you afraid of upsetting?” asked the architect. + </p> + <p> + “No. I’m very lucky in that respect; it seems enough for me to be in a + coach to make it unupsettable. No, that wasn’t it.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it, then?” questioned the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “They say in Geneva that the roads in France are not safe.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s according to circumstances,” said the architect. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how’s that?” inquired the watchmaker. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” replied the architect; “if, for example, we were carrying government + money, we would surely be stopped, or rather we would have been already.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” queried the watchmaker. + </p> + <p> + “That has never failed. I don’t know how those devils of Companions of + Jehu manage to keep so well posted; but they never miss an opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor nodded affirmatively. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the watchmaker, addressing the doctor; “do you think so, + too?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you knew there was government money in the coach, would you be so + imprudent as to take passage in it?” + </p> + <p> + “I must admit,” replied the doctor, “that I should think twice about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, sir?” said the questioner to the architect. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I,” replied the latter—“as I am on important business, I should + have started anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I am tempted,” said the watchmaker “to take off my valise and my oases, + and wait for to-morrow’s diligence, because my boxes are filled with + watches worth something like twenty thousand francs. We’ve been lucky so + far, but there’s no use tempting Providence.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not hear these gentlemen say,” remarked the lady, joining in the + conversation for the first time, “that we run the risk of being stopped + only when the coach carries government money?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s exactly it,” replied the watchmaker, looking anxiously around. “We + are carrying it.” + </p> + <p> + The mother blanched visibly and looked at her son. Before fearing for + herself every mother fears for her child. + </p> + <p> + “What! we are carrying it?” asked the doctor and the architect in varying + tones of excitement. “Are you sure of what you are saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly sure, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you should either have told us before, or have told us in a whisper + now.” + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps,” said the doctor, “the gentleman is not quite sure of what + he says.” + </p> + <p> + “Or perhaps he is joking,” added the architect. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “The Genevese are very fond of a laugh,” persisted the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the Genevese, much hurt that any one should think he liked + to laugh, “I saw it put on the coach myself.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The money.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there much?” + </p> + <p> + “A good many bags.” + </p> + <p> + “But where does the money come from?” + </p> + <p> + “The treasury of the bears of Berne. You know, of course, that the bears + of Berne received an income of fifty or even sixty thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly, sir, you are trying to frighten us,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the watchmaker, “I give you my word of honor—” + </p> + <p> + “Take your places gentlemen,” shouted the conductor, opening the door. + “Take your places! We are three-quarters of an hour late.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, conductor, one moment,” Said the architect; “we are + consulting.” + </p> + <p> + “About what?” + </p> + <p> + “Close the door, conductor, and come over here.” + </p> + <p> + “Drink a glass of wine with us, conductor.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, gentlemen; a glass of wine is never to be refused.” + </p> + <p> + The conductor held out his glass, and the three travellers touched it; but + just as he was lifting it to his lips the doctor stopped his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come, conductor, frankly, is it true?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “What this gentleman says?” And he pointed to the Genevese. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Féraud?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know if that is his name.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, that is my name—Féraud & Company, No. 6 Rue du + Rempart, Geneva, at your service,” replied the watchmaker, bowing. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” repeated the conductor, “take your places!” + </p> + <p> + “But you haven’t answered.” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil shall I answer? You haven’t asked me anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we asked you if it is true that you are carrying a large sum of + money belonging to the French Government?” + </p> + <p> + “Blabber!” said the conductor to watchmaker, “did you tell that?” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it, my worthy fellow—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, gentlemen, your places.” + </p> + <p> + “But before getting in we want to know—” + </p> + <p> + “What? Whether I have government money? Yes I have. Now, if we are + stopped, say nothing and all will be well.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave me to arrange matters with these gentry.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do if we are stopped?” the doctor asked the architect. + </p> + <p> + “Faith! I shall follow the conductor’s advice.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the best thing to do,” observed the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shall keep quiet,” repeated the architect. + </p> + <p> + “And so shall I,” added the watchmaker. + </p> + <p> + “Come, gentlemen, take your seats, and let us make haste.” + </p> + <p> + The boy had listened to this conversation with frowning brow and clinched + teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said to his mother, “if we are stopped, I know what I’ll do.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll see.” + </p> + <p> + “What does this little boy say?” asked the watchmaker. + </p> + <p> + “I say you are all cowards,” replied the child unhesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Edouard!” exclaimed his mother, “what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish they’d stop the diligence, that I do!” cried the boy, his eye + sparkling with determination. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, gentlemen, in Heaven’s name, take your places,” called the + conductor once more. + </p> + <p> + “Conductor,” said the doctor, “I presume you have no weapons!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have my pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunate!” + </p> + <p> + The conductor stooped to the doctor’s ear and whispered: “Don’t be + alarmed, doctor; they’re only loaded with powder.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” + </p> + <p> + “Forward, postilion, forward!” shouted the conductor, closing the door of + the interior. Then, while the postilion snapped his whip and started the + heavy vehicle, he also closed that of the coupé. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not coming with us, conductor?” asked the lady. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no, Madame de Montrevel,” replied the conductor; “I have + something to do on the imperial.” Then, looking into the window, he added: + “Take care the Monsieur Edouard does not touch the pistols in the pocket + of the carriage; he might hurt himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” retorted the boy, “as if I didn’t know how to handle a pistol. I + have handsomer ones than yours, that my friend Sir John had sent me from + England; haven’t I, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Edouard,” replied Madame de Montrevel, “I entreat you not to + touch them.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry, little mother.” Then he added softly, “All the same, if the + Companions of Jehu stop us, I know what I shall do.” + </p> + <p> + The diligence was again rolling heavily on its way to Paris. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those fine winter days which makes those who think that + nature is dead at that season admit that nature never dies but only + sleeps. The man who lives to be seventy or eighty years of age has his + nights of ten or twelve hours, and often complains that the length of his + nights adds to the shortness of his days. Nature, which has an everlasting + existence; trees, which live a thousand years; have sleeping periods of + four or five months, which are winters for us but only nights for them. + The poets, in their envious verse, sing the immortality of nature, which + dies each autumn and revives each spring. The poets are mistaken; nature + does not die each autumn, she only falls asleep; she is not resuscitated, + she awakens. The day when our globe really dies, it will be dead indeed. + Then it will roll into space or fall into the abysses of chaos, inert, + mute, solitary, without trees, without flowers, without verdure, without + poets. + </p> + <p> + But on this beautiful day of the 23d of February, 1800, sleeping nature + dreamed of spring; a brilliant, almost joyous sun made the grass in the + ditches on either side of the road sparkle with those deceptive pearls of + the hoarfrost which vanish at a touch, and rejoice the heart of a tiller + of the earth when he sees them glittering at the points of his wheat as it + pushes bravely up through the soil. All the windows of the diligence were + lowered, to give entrance to this earliest smile of the Divine, as though + all hearts were saying: “Welcome back, traveller long lost in the clouds + of the West, or beneath the heaving billows of Ocean!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, about an hour after leaving Châtillon, the diligence stopped at + a bend of the river without any apparent cause. Four horsemen quietly + approached, walking their horses, and one of them, a little in advance of + the others, made a sign with his hand to the postilion, ordering him to + draw up. The postilion obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma!” cried Edouard, standing up and leaning out of the window in + spite of Madame de Montrevel’s protestations; “oh, mamma, what fine + horses! But why do these gentlemen wear masks? This isn’t carnival.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel was dreaming. A woman always dreams a little; young, + of the future; old, of the past. She started from her revery, put her head + out of the window, and gave a little cry. + </p> + <p> + Edouard turned around hastily. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you, mother?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel turned pale and took him in her arms without a word. + Cries of terror were heard in the interior. + </p> + <p> + “But what is the matter?” demanded little Edouard, struggling to escape + from his mother’s encircling arms. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my little man,” said one of the masked men in a gentle voice, + putting his head through the window of the coupé; “nothing but an account + we have to settle with the conductor, which does not in the least concern + you travellers. Tell your mother to accept our respectful homage, and to + pay no more heed to us than if we were not here.” Then passing to the door + of the interior, he added: “Gentlemen, your servant. Fear nothing for your + money or jewels, and reassure that nurse—we have not come here to + turn her milk.” Then to the conductor: “Now, then, Père Jérôme, we have a + hundred thousand francs on the imperial and in the boxes, haven’t we?” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I assure you—” + </p> + <p> + “That the money belongs to the government. It did belong to the bears of + Berne; seventy thousand francs in gold, the rest in silver. The silver is + on the top of the coach, the gold in the bottom of the coupé. Isn’t that + so? You see how well informed we are.” + </p> + <p> + At the words “bottom of the coupe” Madame de Montrevel gave another cry of + terror; she was about to come in contact with men who, in spite of their + politeness, inspired her with the most profound terror. + </p> + <p> + “But what is the matter, mother, what is the matter?” demanded the boy + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, Edouard; be quiet!” + </p> + <p> + “Why must I be quiet?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “The coach has been stopped.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Tell me why? Ah, mother, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Madame de Montrevel, “you don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Those gentlemen are robbers.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care you don’t say so.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you mean they are not robbers? Why, see they are taking the + conductor’s money.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, one of the four was fastening to the saddle of his horse the + bags of silver which the conductor threw down from the imperial. + </p> + <p> + “No,” repeated Madame de Montrevel, “no, they are not robbers.” Then + lowering her voice, she added: “They are Companions of Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried the boy, “they are the ones who assassinated my friend, Sir + John.” + </p> + <p> + And the child turned very pale, and his breath came hissing through his + clinched teeth. + </p> + <p> + At that moment one of the masked men opened the door of the coupé, and + said with exquisite politeness: “Madame la Comtesse, to our great regret + we are obliged to disturb you; but we want, or rather the conductor wants, + a package from the bottom of the coupé. Will you be so kind as to get out + for a moment? Jérôme will get what he wants as quickly as possible.” Then, + with that note of gayety which was never entirely absent from that + laughing voice, he added, “Won’t you, Jérôme?” + </p> + <p> + Jérôme replied from the top of the diligence, confirming these words. + </p> + <p> + With an instinctive movement to put herself between the danger and her + son, Madame de Montrevel, while complying with that request, pushed + Edouard behind her. That instant sufficed for the boy to seize the + conductor’s pistols. + </p> + <p> + The young man with the laughing voice assisted Madame de Montrevel from + the coach with the greatest care, then signed to one of his companions to + give her an arm, and returned to the coach. + </p> + <p> + But at that instant a double report was heard. Edouard had fired a pistol + with each hand at the Companion of Jehu, who disappeared in the smoke. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel screamed, and fainted away. Various cries, expressive + of diverse sentiments, echoed that of the mother. + </p> + <p> + From the interior came one of terror; they had all agreed to offer no + resistance, and now some one had resisted. From the three young men came a + cry of surprise—it was the first time such a thing had happened. + </p> + <p> + They rushed to their companion, expecting to find him reduced to pulp; but + they found him safe and sound, laughing heartily, while the conductor, + with clasped hands, was exclaiming: “Monsieur, I swear there were no + balls; monsieur, I protest, they were only charged with powder.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce,” said the young man, “don’t I see that? But the intention was + good, wasn’t it, my little Edouard?” Then, turning to his companions, he + added: “Confess, gentlemen, that he is a fine boy—a true son of his + father, and brother of his brother. Bravo, Edouard! you’ll make a man some + day!” + </p> + <p> + Taking the boy in his arms, he kissed him, in spite of his struggles, on + both cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Edouard fought like a demon, thinking no doubt that it was very + humiliating to be embraced by a man at whom he had just fired two pistols. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime one of the Companions had carried Edouard’s mother to the + bank by the roadside a little distance from the diligence. The man who had + kissed Edouard with so much affection and persistence now looked around + for her. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried he, on perceiving her, “Madame de Montrevel still unconscious? + We can’t leave a woman in that condition, gentlemen. Conductor, take + Master Edouard.” Placing the boy in Jérôme’s arms, he turned to one of his + companions: “Man of precautions,” said he, “haven’t you smelling salts or + a bottle of essence with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” said the young man he had addressed, pulling a flask of toilet + vinegar from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said the other, who seemed to be the leader of the band. “Do you + finish up the matter with Master Jérôme; I’ll take charge of Madame de + Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed time. The fainting fit was giving place to a violent nervous + attack; spasmodic movements shook her whole body and strangled cries came + from her throat. The young man leaned over her and made her inhale the + salts. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel presently opened her frightened eyes, and called out: + “Edouard! Edouard!” With an involuntary movement she knocked aside the + mask of the man who was supporting her, exposing his face. + </p> + <p> + The courteous, laughing young man—our readers have already + recognized him—was Morgan. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel paused in amazement at sight of those beautiful blue + eyes, the lofty brow, and the gracious lips smiling at her. She realized + that she ran no danger from such a man, and that no harm could have + befallen Edouard. Treating Morgan as a gentleman who had succored her, and + not as a bandit who had caused her fainting-fit, she exclaimed: “Ah, sir! + how kind you are.” + </p> + <p> + In the words, in the tones in which she uttered them, there lay a world of + thanks, not only for herself, but for her child. + </p> + <p> + With singular delicacy, entirely in keeping with his chivalric nature, + Morgan, instead of picking up his fallen mask and covering his face + immediately, so that Madame de Montrevel could only have retained a + fleeting and confused impression of it—Morgan replied to her + compliment by a low bow, leaving his features uncovered long enough to + produce their impression; then, placing d’Assas’ flask in Madame de + Montrevel’s hand—and then only—he replaced his mask. Madame de + Montrevel understood the young man’s delicacy. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir,” said she, “be sure that, in whatever place or situation I see + you again, I shall not recognize you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, madame,” replied Morgan, “it is for me to thank you and repeat, + ‘How kind you are.’” + </p> + <p> + “Come, gentlemen, take your seats!” said the conductor, in his customary + tone, as if nothing unusual had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite restored, madame, or should you like a few minutes more to + rest?” asked Morgan. “The diligence shall wait.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that is quite unnecessary; I feel quite well, and am much indebted to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan offered Madame de Montrevel his arm, and she leaned upon it to + reach the diligence. The conductor had already placed little Edouard + inside. When Madame de Montrevel had resumed her seat, Morgan, who had + already made his peace with the mother, wished to do so with the son. + </p> + <p> + “Without a grudge, my young hero,” he said, offering his hand. + </p> + <p> + But the boy drew back. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t give my hand to a highway robber,” he replied. Madame de + Montrevel gave a start of terror. + </p> + <p> + “You have a charming boy, madame,” said Morgan; “only he has his + prejudices.” Then, bowing with the utmost courtesy, he added, “A + prosperous voyage, madame,” and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” cried the conductor. + </p> + <p> + The carriage gave a lurch. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! pardon me, sir!” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel; “your flask!” + </p> + <p> + “Keep it, madame,” said Morgan; “although I trust you are sufficiently + recovered not to need it.” + </p> + <p> + But Edouard, snatching the flask from his mother’s hands, flung it out of + the window, crying: “Mamma doesn’t receive presents from robbers.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” murmured Morgan, with the first sigh his Companions had ever + heard him give. “I think I am right not to ask for my poor Amélie in + marriage.” Then, turning to his Companions, he said: “Well, gentlemen, is + it finished?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” they answered with one voice. + </p> + <p> + “Then let us mount and be off. Don’t forget we have to be at the Opera at + nine o’clock this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Springing into his saddle, he was the first to jump the ditch, reach the + river, and there unhesitatingly took the ford which the pretended courier + had pointed out on Cassini’s map. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the opposite bank, followed by the other young men, + d’Assas said to him: “Say, didn’t your mask falloff?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but no one saw my face but Madame de Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” muttered d’Assas. “Better no one had seen it.” + </p> + <p> + Putting their horses to a gallop, all four disappeared across the fields + in the direction of Chacource. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. CITIZEN FOUCHÉ’S REPORT + </h2> + <p> + On arriving the next day, toward eleven in the morning, at the Hôtel des + Ambassadeurs, Madame de Montrevel was astonished to find, instead of + Roland, a stranger awaiting her. The stranger approached her. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the widow of General de Montrevel, madame?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur,” replied Madame de Montrevel, not a little astonished. + </p> + <p> + “And you are looking for your son?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I do not understand, after the letter he wrote me—” + </p> + <p> + “Man proposes, the First Consul disposes,” replied the stranger, laughing. + “The First Consul has disposed of your son for a few days, and has sent me + to receive you in his stead.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel bowed. + </p> + <p> + “To whom have I the honor of speaking?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “To citizen Fauvelet de Bourrienne, his first secretary,” replied the + stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Will you thank the First Consul for me,” replied Madame de Montrevel, + “and have the kindness to express to him the profound regret I feel at not + being able to do so myself?” + </p> + <p> + “But nothing can be more easy, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “The First Consul has ordered me to bring you to the Luxembourg.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “You and your son.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am going to see General Bonaparte; I am going to see General + Bonaparte!” cried the child, jumping for joy and clapping his hands. “What + happiness!” + </p> + <p> + “Edouard, Edouard!” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel. Then, turning to + Bourrienne, “You must excuse him, sir; he is a little savage from the Jura + Mountains.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne held out his hand to the boy. + </p> + <p> + “I am a friend of your brother’s,” said he. “Will you kiss me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! willingly, sir,” replied Edouard. “You are not a thief, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no; I trust not,” replied the secretary, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse him once again, sir. Our diligence was stopped on the + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Stopped?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “By robbers?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” asked Edouard, “when people take other people’s money, are + they not thieves?” + </p> + <p> + “That is what they are generally called, my dear child.” + </p> + <p> + “There, you see, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Edouard, be quiet, I beg of you.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne glanced at Madame de Montrevel, and saw clearly from the + expression of her face that the subject was disagreeable to her; he + therefore dropped it. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said he, “may I remind you that I have I orders to take you to + the Luxembourg, and to add that Madame Bonaparte is expecting you?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray give me time to change my gown and to dress Edouard, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How long will that take, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Is half an hour too much to ask?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed; if half an hour really suffices I shall think you most + reasonable.” + </p> + <p> + “Be easy, sir; it will be sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame,” said the secretary, bowing, “I will attend to an errand, + and return in half an hour to place myself at your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be annoyed if I should be punctual.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not keep you waiting.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne left. Madame de Montrevel dressed Edouard first, then herself, + and was ready five minutes before Bourrienne reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, madame,” said Bourrienne laughing, “lest I tell the First + Consul of your extreme punctuality.” + </p> + <p> + “What should I have to fear if you did?” + </p> + <p> + “He would keep you near him to give lessons in punctuality to Madame + Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel, “you must forgive unpunctuality in a + Creole.” + </p> + <p> + “But I believe you are a Creole also, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Bonaparte sees her husband every day,” said Madame de Montrevel, + laughing, “whereas I am to see the First Consul for the first time.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, mother, let us go!” said Edouard. + </p> + <p> + The secretary drew aside to allow Madame de Montrevel to pass out. Fifteen + minutes later they had reached the Luxembourg. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte occupied the suite of rooms on the ground floor to the right. + Josephine’s chamber and boudoir were on the first floor; a stairway led + from the First Consul’s study to her room. + </p> + <p> + She was expecting Madame de Montrevel, for as soon as she saw her she + opened her arms as to a friend. Madame de Montrevel had stopped + respectfully at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! come in, come in, madame!” said Josephine. “To-day is not the first + that I know you; I have long known you through your excellent son, Roland. + Shall I tell you what comforts me when Bonaparte leaves me? It is that + Roland goes with him; for I fancy that, so long as Roland is with him, no + harm will befall him. Well, won’t you kiss me?” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel was confused by so much kindness. + </p> + <p> + “We are compatriots, you know,” continued Josephine. “Oh! how well I + remember M. de la Clémencière, and his beautiful gardens with the splendid + fruit. I remember having seen a young girl who seemed its queen. You must + have married very young, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “At fourteen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you could not have been older to have a son of Roland’s age. But + pray sit down.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way, making a sign to Madame de Montrevel to sit beside her. + </p> + <p> + “And that charming boy,” she said, pointing to Edouard, “is he also your + son?” And she gave a sigh. “God has been prodigal to you, madame, and as + He has given you all you can desire, will you not implore Him to send me a + son.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed her lips enviously to Edouard’s forehead. + </p> + <p> + “My husband will be delighted to see you, he is so fond of your son, + madame! You would not have been brought to me in the first instance, if he + were not engaged with the minister of police. For that matter,” she added, + laughing, “you have arrived at an unfortunate moment; he is furious!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Madame de Montrevel, frightened; “if that is so, I would + rather wait.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! On the contrary, the sight of you will calm him. I don’t know + just what is the matter; but it seems a diligence was stopped on the + outskirts of the Black Forest in broad daylight. Fouché will find his + credit in danger if the thing goes on.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel was about to answer when the door opened and an usher + appeared. + </p> + <p> + “The First Consul awaits Madame de Montrevel,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” said Josephine; “Bonaparte’s time is so precious that he is almost + as impatient as Louis XV., who had nothing to do. He does not like to + wait.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel rose hastily and turned to take Edouard with her. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Josephine; “leave this beautiful boy with me. You will stay and + dine with us, and Bonaparte can see him then. Besides, if my husband takes + a fancy to see him, he can send for him. For the time, I am his second + mamma. Come, what shall we do to amuse ourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “The First Consul must have a fine lot of weapons, madame,” replied the + boy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very fine ones. Well, I will show you the First Consul’s arms.” + </p> + <p> + Josephine, leading the child, went out of one door, and Madame de + Montrevel followed the usher through the other. + </p> + <p> + On the way the countess met a fair man, with a pale face and haggard eye, + who looked at her with an uneasiness that seemed habitual to him. She drew + hastily aside to let him pass. The usher noticed her movement. + </p> + <p> + “That is the minister of police,” he said in a low voice. Madame de + Montrevel watched him as he disappeared, with a certain curiosity. Fouché + was already at that time fatally celebrated. Just then the door of + Bonaparte’s study opened and his head was seen through the aperture. He + caught sight of Madame de Montrevel. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, madame,” he said; “come in.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel hastened her steps and entered the study. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said Bonaparte, closing the door himself. “I have kept you + waiting much against my will; but I had to give Fouché a scolding. You + know I am very well satisfied with Roland, and that I intend to make a + general of him at the first opportunity. When did you arrive?” + </p> + <p> + “This very moment, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Where from? Roland told me, but I have forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “From Bourg.” + </p> + <p> + “What road?” + </p> + <p> + “Through Champagne.” + </p> + <p> + “Champagne! Then when did you reach Châtillon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday morning at nine o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, you must have heard of the stoppage of the diligence.” + </p> + <p> + “General—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a diligence was stopped at ten in the morning, between Châtillon and + Bar-sur-Seine.” + </p> + <p> + “General, it was ours.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You were in the diligence that was stopped?” + </p> + <p> + “I was.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now I shall get the exact details! Excuse me, but you understand my + desire for correct information, don’t you? In a civilized country which + has General Bonaparte for its chief magistrate, diligences can’t be + stopped in broad daylight on the highroads with impunity, or—” + </p> + <p> + “General, I can tell you nothing, except that those who stopped it were on + horseback and masked.” + </p> + <p> + “How many were there?” + </p> + <p> + “Four.” + </p> + <p> + “How many men were there in the diligence?” + </p> + <p> + “Four, including the conductor.” + </p> + <p> + “And they didn’t defend themselves?” + </p> + <p> + “No, general.” + </p> + <p> + “The police report says, however, that two shots were fired.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general, but those two shots—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Were fired by my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Your son? Why, he is in Vendée!” + </p> + <p> + “Roland, yes; but Edouard was with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Edouard! Who is Edouard?” + </p> + <p> + “Roland’s brother.” + </p> + <p> + “True, he spoke of him; but he is only a child.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not yet twelve, general.” + </p> + <p> + “And it was he who fired the two shots?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you bring him with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I left him with Madame Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte rang, and an usher appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Josephine to bring the boy to me.” Then, walking up and down his + study, he muttered, “Four men! And a child taught them courage! Were any + of the robbers wounded?” + </p> + <p> + “There were no balls in the pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “What! no balls?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they belonged to the conductor, and he had taken the precaution to + load them with powder only.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good; his name shall be known.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the door opened, and Madame Bonaparte entered, leading the boy + by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Come here,” Bonaparte said to him. + </p> + <p> + Edouard went up to him without hesitation and made a military salute. + </p> + <p> + “So you fired at the robbers twice, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “There, you see, mamma, they were robbers!” interrupted the child. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they were robbers; I should like to hear any one declare they + were not! Was it you who fired at them, when the men were afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was I, general. But unfortunately that coward of a conductor had + loaded his pistols only with powder; otherwise I should have killed their + leader.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you were not afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “I?” replied the boy. “No, I am never afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be named Cornelia, madame,” exclaimed Bonaparte, turning to + Madame de Montrevel, who was leaning on Josephine’s arm. Then he said to + the child, kissing him: “Very good; we will take care of you. What would + you like to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Soldier first.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by first?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, first a soldier, then later a colonel like my brother, and then a + general like my father.” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t be my fault if you are not,” answered the First Consul. + </p> + <p> + “Nor mine,” retorted the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Edouard!” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Now don’t scold him for answering properly;” and Bonaparte, lifting the + child to the level of his face, kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “You must dine with us,” said he, “and to-night Bourrienne, who met you at + the hotel, will install you in the Rue de la Victoire. You must stay there + till Roland gets back; he will then find you suitable lodgings. Edouard + shall go to the Prytanée, and I will marry off your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “General!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all settled with Roland.” Then, turning to Josephine, he said: + “Take Madame de Montrevel with you, and try not to let her be bored.—And, + Madame de Montrevel, if <i>your friend</i> (he emphasized the words) + wishes to go to a milliner, prevent it; she can’t want bonnets, for she + bought thirty-eight last month.” + </p> + <p> + Then, giving Edouard a friendly tap, he dismissed the two women with a + wave of the hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. THE SON OF THE MILLER OF LEGUERNO + </h2> + <p> + We have said that at the very moment when Morgan and his three companions + stopped the Geneva diligence between Bar-sur-Seine and Châtillon, Roland + was entering Nantes. + </p> + <p> + If we are to know the result of his mission we must not grope our way, + step by step, through the darkness in which the Abbé Bernier wrapped his + ambitious projects, but we must join him later at the village of Muzillac, + between Ambon and Guernic, six miles above the little bay into which the + Vilaine River falls. + </p> + <p> + There we find ourselves in the heart of the Morbihan; that is to say, in + the region that gave birth to the Chouannerie. It was close to Laval, on + the little farm of the Poiriers, that the four Chouan brothers were born + to Pierre Cottereau and Jeanne Moyné. One of their ancestors, a + misanthropical woodcutter, a morose peasant, kept himself aloof from the + other peasants as the <i>chat-huant</i> (screech-owl) keeps aloof from the + other birds; hence the name Chouan, a corruption of <i>chat-huant</i>. + </p> + <p> + The name became that of a party. On the right bank of the Loire they said + Chouans when they meant Bretons, just as on the left bank they said + brigands when they meant Vendéans. + </p> + <p> + It is not for us to relate the death and destruction of that heroic + family, nor follow to the scaffold the two sisters and a brother, nor tell + of battlefields where Jean and René, martyrs to their faith, lay dying or + dead. Many years have elapsed since the executions of Perrine, René and + Pierre, and the death of Jean; and the martyrdom of the sisters, the + exploits of the brothers have passed into legends. We have now to do with + their successors. + </p> + <p> + It is true that these gars (lads) are faithful to their traditions. As + they fought beside la Rouërie, Bois-Hardy and Bernard de Villeneuve, so + did they fight beside Bourmont, Frotté, and Georges Cadoudal. Theirs was + always the same courage, the same devotion—that of the Christian + soldier, the faithful royalist. Their aspect is always the same, rough and + savage; their weapons, the same gun or cudgel, called in those parts a + “ferte.” Their garments are the same; a brown woollen cap, or a + broad-brimmed hat scarcely covering the long straight hair that fell in + tangles on their shoulders, the old <i>Aulerci Cenomani</i>, as in Cæsar’s + day, <i>promisso capillo</i>; they are the same Bretons with wide breeches + of whom Martial said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Tam laxa est...</i> + <i>Quam veteres braccoe Britonis pauperis.</i> +</pre> + <p> + To protect themselves from rain and cold they wore goatskin garments, made + with the long hair turned outside; on the breasts of which, as + countersign, some wore a scapulary and chaplet, others a heart, the heart + of Jesus; this latter was the distinctive sign of a fraternity which + withdrew apart each day for common prayer. + </p> + <p> + Such were the men, who, at the time we are crossing the borderland between + the Loire-Inférieure and Morbihan, were scattered from La Roche-Bernard to + Vannes, and from Quertemberg to Billiers, surrounding consequently the + village of Muzillac. + </p> + <p> + But it needed the eye of the eagle soaring in the clouds, or that of the + screech-owl piercing the darkness, to distinguish these men among the + gorse and heather and underbrush where they were crouching. + </p> + <p> + Let us pass through this network of invisible sentinels, and after fording + two streams, the affluents of a nameless river which flows into the sea + near Billiers, between Arzal and Dangau, let us boldly enter the village + of Muzillac. + </p> + <p> + All is still and sombre; a single light shines through the blinds of a + house, or rather a cottage, which nothing distinguishes from its fellows. + It is the fourth to the right on entering the village. + </p> + <p> + Let us put our eye to one of these chinks and look in. + </p> + <p> + We see a man dressed like the rich peasants of Morbihan, except that gold + lace about a finger wide stripes the collar and buttonholes of his coat + and also the edges of his hat. The rest of his dress consists of leathern + trousers and high-topped boots. His sword is thrown upon a chair. A brace + of pistols lies within reach of his hand. Within the fireplace the barrels + of two or three muskets reflect the light of a blazing fire. + </p> + <p> + The man is seated before a table; a lamp lights some papers which he is + reading with great attention, and illuminates his face at the same time. + </p> + <p> + The face is that of a man of thirty. When the cares of a partisan warfare + do not darken it, its expression must surely be frank and joyous. + Beautiful blond hair frames it; great blue eyes enliven it; the head, of a + shape peculiarly Breton, seems to show, if we believe in Gall’s system, an + exaggerated development of the organs of self-will. And the man has two + names. That by which he is known to his soldiers, his familiar name, is + Round-head; and his real name, received from brave and worthy parents, + Georges Cadudal, or rather Cadoudal, tradition having changed the + orthography of a name that is now historic. + </p> + <p> + Georges was the son of a farmer of the parish of Kerléano in the commune + of Brech. The story goes that this farmer was once a miller. Georges had + just received at the college of Vannes—distant only a few leagues + from Brech—a good and solid education when the first appeals for a + royalist insurrection were made in Vendée. Cadoudal listened to them, + gathered together a number of his companions, and offered his services to + Stofflet. But Stofflet insisted on seeing him at work before he accepted + him. Georges asked nothing better. Such occasions were not long to seek in + the Vendéan army. On the next day there was a battle; Georges went into it + with such determination and made so desperate a rush that M. de + Maulevrier’s former huntsman, on seeing him charge the Blues, could not + refrain from saying aloud to Bonchamp, who was near him: + </p> + <p> + “If a cannon ball doesn’t take off that <i>Big Round Head</i>, it will + roll far, I warrant you.” + </p> + <p> + The name clung to Cadoudal—a name by which, five centuries earlier, + the lords of Malestroit, Penhoël, Beaumanoir and Rochefort designated the + great Constable, whose ransom was spun by the women of Brittany. + </p> + <p> + “There’s the Big Round Head,” said they; “now we’ll exchange some good + sword-play with the English.” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, at this time it was not Breton sword-thrusts against + English, but Frenchmen against Frenchmen. + </p> + <p> + Georges remained in Vendée until after the defeat of Savenay. The whole + Vendéan army was either left upon the battlefield or vanished in smoke. + For three years, Georges had performed prodigies of valor, strength and + dexterity; he now crossed the Loire and re-entered Morbihan with only one + man left of all who had followed him. + </p> + <p> + That man became his aide-de-camp, or rather his brother-in-arms. He never + left him, and in memory of the hard campaign they had made together he + changed his name from Lemercier to Tiffauges. We have seen him at the ball + of the Victims charged with a message to Morgan. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Cadoudal returned to his own part of the country, he fomented + insurrection on his own responsibility. Bullets respected that big round + head, and the big round head justified Stofflet’s prediction. He succeeded + La Rochejacquelin, d’Elbée, Bonchamp, Lescure, even Stofflet himself, and + became their rival for fame, their superior in power; for it happened (and + this will give an idea of his strength) that Cadoudal, almost + single-handed, had been able to resist the government of Bonaparte, who + had been First Consul for the last three months. The two leaders who + continued with him, faithful to the Bourbon dynasty, were Frotté and + Bourmont. + </p> + <p> + At the time of which we are now speaking, that is to say, the 26th of + January, 1800, Cadoudal commanded three or four thousand men with whom he + was preparing to blockade General Hatry in Vannes. + </p> + <p> + During the time that he awaited the First Consul’s answer to the letter of + Louis XVIII. he had suspended hostilities; but Tiffauges had arrived a + couple of days before with it. + </p> + <p> + That letter was already on the way to England, whence it would be sent to + Mittau; and since the First Consul would not accept peace on the terms + dictated by Louis XVIII., Cadoudal, commander-in-chief of Louis XVIII. in + the West, renewed his warfare against Bonaparte, intending to carry it on + alone, if necessary, with his friend Tiffauges. For the rest, the latter + was at Pouancé, where conferences were being held between Châtillon, + d’Autichamp, the Abbé Bernier, and General Hédouville. + </p> + <p> + He was reflecting—this last survivor of the great warriors of the + civil war—and the news he had just received was indeed a matter for + deep reflection. + </p> + <p> + General Brune, the conqueror of Alkmaar and Castricum, the savior of + Holland, had just been appointed to the command of the Republican forces + in the West. He had reached Nantes three days previous, intending, at any + cost, to annihilate Cadoudal and his Chouans. + </p> + <p> + At any cost, therefore, Cadoudal and his Chouans must prove to the + commander-in-chief that they knew no fear, and had nothing to expect from + intimidation. + </p> + <p> + Just then the gallop of a horse was heard; the rider no doubt had the + countersign, for he passed without difficulty the various patrols + stationed along the toad to La Roche-Bernard, and entered the village of + Muzillac, also without difficulty. + </p> + <p> + He stopped before the door of the cottage in which Georges was sitting. + The latter raised his head, listened, and, by way of precaution, laid his + hands on his pistols, though it was probable that the new-comer was a + friend. + </p> + <p> + The rider dismounted, strode up the path, and opened the door of the room + where Georges was waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it’s you, Coeur-de-Roi,” said Cadoudal. “Where do you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “From Pouancé, general.” + </p> + <p> + “What news?” + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Tiffauges.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Georges snatched the letter hastily from Coeur-de-Roi’s hand and read it. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Then he read it a second time, + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen the man whose coming he speaks of?” inquired Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general,” replied the courier. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a man is he?” + </p> + <p> + “A handsome young fellow of twenty-six or seven.” + </p> + <p> + “What manner?” + </p> + <p> + “Determined.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it. When does he arrive?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you safe-guard him along the road?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he’ll come safely.” + </p> + <p> + “Do it again. Nothing must happen to him; he is protected by Morgan.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s understood, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything more to say?” + </p> + <p> + “The advanced guard of the Republicans has reached La Roche-Bernard.” + </p> + <p> + “How many men?” + </p> + <p> + “About a thousand. They have a guillotine with them, and the commissioner + of the executive power, Millière.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “I met them on the road. The commissioner was riding near the colonel, and + I recognized him perfectly. He executed my brother, and I have sworn he + shall die by my own hand.” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ll risk your life to keep your oath?” + </p> + <p> + “At the first opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it won’t be long coming.” + </p> + <p> + The gallop of a horse echoed through the street. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Coeur-de-Roi, “that is probably the man you expect.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Cadoudal, “this rider comes from the direction of Vannes.” + </p> + <p> + The sound became more distinct, and it proved that Cadoudal was right. + </p> + <p> + The second horseman, like the first, halted at the gate, dismounted, and + came into the room. The royalist leader recognized him at once, in spite + of the large cloak in which he was wrapped. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, Bénédicité?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “From Vannes, where you sent me to watch the Blues. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are the Blues doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Scaring themselves about dying of hunger if you blockade the town. In + order to procure provisions General Hatry intends to carry off the + supplies at Grandchamp. The general is to command the raid in person; and, + to act more quickly, only a hundred men are to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you tired, Bénédicité?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, general.” + </p> + <p> + “And your horse?” + </p> + <p> + “He came fast, but he can do twelve or fifteen miles more without killing + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Give him two hours’ rest, a double feed of oats, and make him do thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “On those conditions he can do them.” + </p> + <p> + “Start in two hours. Be at Grandchamp by daybreak. Give the order in my + name to evacuate the village. I’ll take care of General Hatry and his + column. Is that all you have to say?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I heard other news.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That Vannes has a new bishop.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! so they are giving us back our bishops?” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems; but if they are all like this one, they can keep them.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Audrein!” + </p> + <p> + “The regicide?” + </p> + <p> + “Audrein the renegade.” + </p> + <p> + “When is he coming?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night or to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not go to meet him; but let him beware of falling into my men’s + hands.” + </p> + <p> + Bénédicité and Coeur-de-Roi burst into a laugh which completed Cadoudal’s + thought. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” cried Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + The three men listened. + </p> + <p> + “This time it is probably he,” observed Georges. + </p> + <p> + The gallop of a horse could be heard coming from the direction of La + Roche-Bernard. + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly he,” repeated Coeur-de-Roi. + </p> + <p> + “Then, my friends, leave me alone. You, Bénédicité, get to Grandchamp as + soon as possible. You, Coeur-de-Roi, post thirty men in the courtyard; I + want messengers to send in different directions. By the way, tell some one + to bring the best that can be got for supper in the village.” + </p> + <p> + “For how many, general?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! two.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going out?” + </p> + <p> + “No, only to meet the man who is coming.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three men had already taken the horses of the messengers into the + courtyard. The messengers themselves disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Georges reached the gate on the street just as a horseman, pulling up his + horse, looked about him and seemed to hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “He is here, sir,” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Who is here?” + </p> + <p> + “He whom you seek.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know whom I am seeking?” + </p> + <p> + “I presume it is Georges Cadoudal, otherwise called Round-head.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I bid you welcome, Monsieur Roland de Montrevel, for I am the person + you seek.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah!” exclaimed the young man, amazed. + </p> + <p> + Then, dismounting, he looked about as if for some one to take his mount. + </p> + <p> + “Throw the bridle over your horse’s neck, and don’t be uneasy about him. + You will find him when you want him. Nothing is ever lost in Brittany; you + are in the land of honesty.” + </p> + <p> + The young man made no remark, threw the bridle over his horse’s neck as he + had been told, and followed Cadoudal, who walked before him. + </p> + <p> + “Only to show you the way, colonel,” said the leader of the Chouans. + </p> + <p> + They both entered the cottage, where an invisible hand had just made up + the fire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. WHITE AND BLUE + </h2> + <p> + Roland entered, as we have said, behind Georges, and as he entered cast a + glance of careless curiosity around him. That glance sufficed to show him + that they were alone. + </p> + <p> + “Are these your quarters, general?” asked Roland with a smile, turning the + soles of his boots to the blaze. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “They are singularly guarded.” + </p> + <p> + Georges smiled in turn. + </p> + <p> + “Do you say that because you found the road open from La Roche-Bernard + here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I did not meet a soul.” + </p> + <p> + “That does not prove that the road was not guarded.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless by the owls, who seemed to fly from tree to tree, and accompanied + me all the way, general. In that case, I withdraw my assertion.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” replied Cadoudal. “Those owls were my sentinels, sentinels with + good eyes, inasmuch as they have this advantage over the eyes of men, they + can see in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not the less true that I was fortunate in having inquired my way at + La Roche-Bernard; for I didn’t meet even a cat who could have told me + where to find you.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you had raised your voice at any spot on the road and asked: + ‘Where shall I find Georges Cadoudal?’ a voice would have answered: ‘At + the village of Muzillac, fourth house to the right.’ You saw no one, + colonel; but at that very moment fifteen hundred men, or thereabout, knew + that Colonel Roland, the First Consul’s aide-de-camp, was on his way to a + conference with the son of the miller of Leguerno.” + </p> + <p> + “But if they knew that I was a colonel in the Republican service and + aide-de-camp to the First Consul, how came they to let me pass?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they were ordered to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you knew that I was coming?” + </p> + <p> + “I not only knew that you were coming, but also why you have come.” + </p> + <p> + Roland looked at him fixedly. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is useless for me to tell you; and you will answer me even though + I say nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “You are about right.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! I should like to have a proof of this superiority of your + police over ours.” + </p> + <p> + “I will supply it, colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall receive it with much satisfaction, especially before this + excellent fire, which also seems to have been expecting me.” + </p> + <p> + “You say truer than you know, colonel; and it is not the fire only that is + striving to welcome you warmly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it does not tell me, any more than you have done, the object of + my mission.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mission, which you do me the honor to extend to me, was primarily + intended for the Abbé Bernier alone. Unhappily the Abbé Bernier, in the + letter he sent his friend Martin Duboys, presumed a little on his + strength. He offered his mediation to the First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” interrupted Roland, “you tell me something I did not know; + namely that the Abbé Bernier had written to General Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + “I said he wrote to his friend Martin Duboys, which is very different. My + men intercepted the letter and brought it to me. I had it copied, and + forwarded the original, which I am certain reached the right hands. Your + visit to General Hédouville proves it.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that General Hédouville is no longer in command at Nantes. + General Brune has taken his place.” + </p> + <p> + “You may even say that General Brune commands at La Roche-Bernard, for a + thousand Republican soldiers entered that town to-night about six o’clock, + bringing with them a guillotine and the citizen commissioner-general + Thomas Millière. Having the instrument, it was necessary to have the + executioner.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you say, general, that I came to see the Abbé Bernier?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the Abbé Bernier had offered his mediation. But he forgot that at + the present there are two Vendées—the Vendée of the left bank, and + the Vendée of the right bank—and that, after treating with + d’Autichamp, Châtillon, and Suzannet at Pouancé, it would still be + necessary to negotiate with Frotté, Bourmont and Cadoudal—and where? + That no one could tell—” + </p> + <p> + “Except you, general.” + </p> + <p> + “So, with the chivalry that is the basis of your nature, you undertook to + bring me the treaty signed on the 25th. The Abbé Bernier, d’Autichamp, + Châtillon, and Suzannet signed your pass, and here you are.” + </p> + <p> + “On my word, general, I must admit that you are perfectly well-informed. + The First Consul desires peace with all his heart. He knows that in you he + has a brave and honorable adversary, and being unable to meet you himself, + since you were not likely to come to Paris, he expedited me to you in his + behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, to the Abbé Bernier.” + </p> + <p> + “That can hardly matter to you, general, if I bind myself to make the + First Consul ratify what may be agreed upon between you and me. What are + your conditions of peace?” + </p> + <p> + “They are very simple, colonel: that the First Consul shall restore his + Majesty Louis XVIII. to the throne; that he himself be constable, + lieutenant-general, general-in-chief by land and sea, and I his first + subordinate.” + </p> + <p> + “The First Consul has already replied to that demand.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is why I have decided to reply myself to his response.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “This very night, if occasion offers.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “By resuming hostilities.” + </p> + <p> + “But are you aware that Châtillon, d’Autichamp and Suzannet have laid down + their arms?” + </p> + <p> + “They are the leaders of the Vendéans, and in the name of the Vendéans + they can do as they see fit. I am the leader of the Chouans, and in the + name of the Chouans I shall do what suits me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you condemn this unhappy land to a war of extermination, general!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a martyrdom to which I summon all Christians and royalists.” + </p> + <p> + “General Brune is at Nantes with the eight thousand prisoners just + returned to us by the English after their defeats at Alkmaar and + Castricum.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the last time they will have the chance. The Blues have taught us + the bad habit of not making prisoners. As for the number of our enemies, + we don’t care for that; it is a mere detail.” + </p> + <p> + “If General Brune with his eight thousand men, joined to the twenty + thousand he has received from General Hédouville, is not sufficient, the + First Consul has decided to march against you in person with one hundred + thousand men.” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal smiled. + </p> + <p> + “We will try to prove to him,” he said, “that we are worthy to fight + against him.” + </p> + <p> + “He will burn your towns.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall retire to our huts.” + </p> + <p> + “He will burn your huts.” + </p> + <p> + “We will live in the woods.” + </p> + <p> + “Reflect, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Do me the honor to remain here forty-eight hours, colonel, and you will + see that my reflections are already made.” + </p> + <p> + “I am tempted to accept.” + </p> + <p> + “Only, colonel, don’t ask for more than I can give; a night’s sleep + beneath a thatched roof or wrapped in a cloak under an oak tree, a horse + to follow me, and a safe-guard when you leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “I accept.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I your word, colonel, that you will not interfere with any orders I + give, and will do nothing to defeat the surprises I may attempt?” + </p> + <p> + “I am too curious to see for that. You have my word, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever takes place before your eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever takes place before my eyes, I renounce the rôle of actor and + confine myself wholly to that of spectator. I wish to say to the First + Consul: ‘I have seen.’” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you shall see,” said he. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the door opened, and two peasants brought in a table all + laid, on which stood a smoking bowl of cabbage-soup and a piece of lard; + an enormous pot of cider, just drawn from the cask, was foaming over the + edges of the jug between two glasses. A few buckwheat cakes served as a + desert to this modest repast. The table was laid for two. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Monsieur de Montrevel, that my lads hoped you would do me the + honor to sup with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith! they were not far wrong. I should have asked for supper, had you + not invited me; and I might have been forced to seize some had you not + invited me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then fall to!” + </p> + <p> + The young colonel sat down gayly. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse the repast I offer you,” said Cadoudal; “unlike your generals, I + don’t make prize money; my soldiers feed me. Have you anything else for + us, Brise-Bleu?” + </p> + <p> + “A chicken fricassee, general.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s your dinner, Monsieur de Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + “A feast! Now, I have but one fear, general.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “All will go well for the eating, but when it comes to drinking—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you like cider? The devil! I’m sorry; cider or water, that’s my + cellar.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that’s not it; but whose health are we going to drink?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all, sir?” said Cadoudal, with great dignity. “We will drink to + the health of our common mother, France. We are serving her with different + minds, but, I hope, the same hearts. To <i>France</i>, Monsieur,” said + Cadoudal, filling the two glasses. + </p> + <p> + “To <i>France</i>, general!” replied Roland, clinking his glass against + that of Georges. + </p> + <p> + And both gayly reseated themselves, their consciences at rest, and + attacked the soup with appetites that were not yet thirty years old. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE LAW OF RETALIATION + </h2> + <p> + “Now, general,” said Roland, when supper was over and the two young men, + with their elbows on the table and their legs stretched out before the + blazing fire, began to feel that comfortable sensation that comes of a + meal which youth and appetite have seasoned. “Now for your promise to show + me things which I can report to the First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “You promised, remember, not to object to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I reserve the right, in case you wound my conscience too + severely, to withdraw.” + </p> + <p> + “Only give time to throw a saddle on the back of your horse, or of mine, + if yours is too tired, colonel, and you are free.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good.” + </p> + <p> + “As it happens,” said Cadoudal, “events will serve you. I am here, not + only as general, but as judge, though it is long since I have had a case + to try. You told me, colonel, that General Brune was at Nantes; I knew it. + You told me his advanced guard was only twelve miles away, at La + Roche-Bernard; I knew that also. But a thing you may not know is that this + advanced guard is not commanded by a soldier like you and me, but by + citizen Thomas Millière, Commissioner of the Executive authorities. + Another thing of which you may perhaps be ignorant is that citizen Thomas + Millière does not fight like us with cannon, guns, bayonets, pistols and + swords, but with an instrument invented by your Republican + philanthropists, called the guillotine.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, sir,” cried Roland, “that under the First Consul any + one can make that kind of war.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! let us understand each other, colonel. I don’t say that the First + Consul makes it; I say it is made in his name.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is the scoundrel that abuses the authority given him, to make war + with a staff of executioners?” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you his name; he is called Thomas Millière. Question whom you + please, colonel, and throughout all Vendée and Brittany you’ll hear but + one voice on that man. From the day of the rising in Vendée and Brittany, + now six years ago, Millière has been, always and everywhere, the most + active agent of the Terror. For him the Terror did not end with + Robespierre. He denounced to his superiors, or caused to be denounced to + himself, the Breton and Vendéan soldiers, their parents, friends, + brothers, sisters, wives, even the wounded and dying; he shot or + guillotined them all without a trial. At Daumeray, for instance, he left a + trail of blood behind him which is not yet, can never be, effaced. More + than eighty of the inhabitants were slaughtered before his eyes. Sons were + killed in the arms of their mothers, who vainly stretched those bloody + arms to Heaven imploring vengeance. The successive pacifications of + Brittany and Vendée have never slaked the thirst for murder which burns + his entrails. He is the same in 1800 that he was in 1793. Well, this man—” + </p> + <p> + Roland looked at the general. + </p> + <p> + “This man,” continued the general, with the utmost calmness, “is to die. + Seeing that society did not condemn him, I have condemned him.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Die at La Roche-Bernard, in the midst of the Republicans; in spite + of his bodyguard of assassins and executioners?” + </p> + <p> + “His hour has struck; he is to die.” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal pronounced these words with such solemnity that no doubt remained + in Roland’s mind, not only as to the sentence, but also the execution of + it. He was thoughtful for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “And you believe that you have, the right to judge and condemn that man, + guilty as he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for that man has judged and condemned, not the guilty but the + innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “If I said to you: ‘On my return to Paris I will demand the arrest and + trial of that man,’ would you not trust my word?” + </p> + <p> + “I would trust your word; but I should say to you: ‘A maddened wild beast + escapes from its cage, a murderer from his prison; men are men, subject to + error. They have sometimes condemned the innocent, they might spare the + guilty.’ My justice is more certain than yours, colonel, for it is the + justice of God. The man will die.” + </p> + <p> + “And by what right do you claim that your justice, the justice of a man + liable to error like other men, is the justice of God?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have made God a sharer in that justice. Oh! my condemnation of + that man is not of yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “In the midst of a storm when thunder roared without cessation, and the + lightning flashed from minute to minute, I raised my arms to heaven, and I + said to God: ‘O God! whose look is that lightning, whose voice is that + thunder, if this man ought to die, extinguish that lightning, still the + thunder for ten minutes. The silence of the skies, the darkness of the + heavens shall be thy answer!’ Watch in hand, I counted eleven minutes + without a flash or a sound. I saw at the point of a promontory a boat, + tossed by a terrible tempest, a boat with but one man in it, in danger + every minute of sinking; a wave lifted it as the breath of an infant lifts + a plume, and cast it on the rocks. The boat flew to pieces; the man clung + to the rock, and all the people cried out: ‘He is lost!’ His father was + there, his two brothers were there, but none dared to succor him. I raised + my arms to the Lord and said: ‘If Millière is condemned by Thee as by me, + O God, let me save that man; with no help but thine let me save him!’ I + stripped, I knotted a rope around my arm, and I swam to the rock. The + water seemed to subside before my breast. I reached the man. His father + and brothers held the rope. He gained the land. I could have returned as + he did, fastening the rope to the rocks. I flung it away from me; I + trusted to God and cast myself into the waves. They floated me gently and + surely to the shore, even as the waters of the Nile bore Moses’ basket to + Pharaoh’s daughter. The enemy’s outposts were stationed around the village + of Saint-Nolf; I was hidden in the woods of Grandchamp with fifty men. + Recommending my soul to God, I left the woods alone. ‘Lord God,’ I said, + ‘if it be Thy will that Millière die, let that sentry fire upon me and + miss me; then I will return to my men and leave that sentry unharmed, for + Thou wilt have been with him for an instant.’ I walked to the Republican; + at twenty paces he fired and missed me. Here is the hole in my hat, an + inch from my head; the hand of God had aimed that weapon. That happened + yesterday. I thought that Millière was at Nantes. To-night they came and + told me that Millière and his guillotine were at La Roche-Bernard. Then I + said: ‘God has brought him to me; he shall die.’” + </p> + <p> + Roland listened with a certain respect to the superstitious narrative of + the Breton leader. He was not surprised to find such beliefs and such + poetry in a man born in face of a savage sea, among the Druid monuments of + Karnac. He realized that Millière was indeed condemned, and that God, who + had thrice seemed to approve his judgment, alone could save him. But one + last question occurred to him. + </p> + <p> + “How will you strike him?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Georges, “I do not trouble myself about that; he will be + executed.” + </p> + <p> + One of the two men who had brought in the supper table now entered the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Brise-Bleu,” said Cadoudal, “tell Coeur-de-Roi that I wish to speak to + him.” + </p> + <p> + Two minutes later the Breton presented himself. + </p> + <p> + “Coeur-de-Roi,” said Cadoudal, “did you not tell me that the murderer + Thomas Millière was at Roche-Bernard?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him enter the town side by side with the Republican colonel, who + did not seem particularly flattered by such companionship.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not add that he was followed by his guillotine?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you his guillotine followed between two cannon, and I believe if + the cannon could have got away the guillotine would have been left to go + its way alone.” + </p> + <p> + “What precautions does Millière take in the towns he visits?” + </p> + <p> + “He has a special guard about him, and the streets around his house are + barricaded. He carries pistols always at hand.” + </p> + <p> + “In spite of that guard, in spite of that barricade and the pistols, will + you undertake to reach him?” + </p> + <p> + “I will, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Because of his crimes, I have condemned that man; he must die.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Coeur-de-Roi, “the day of justice has come at last!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you undertake to execute my sentence, Coeur-de-Roi?” + </p> + <p> + “I will, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Go then, Coeur-de-Roi. Take the number of men you need; devise what + stratagem you please, but reach the man, and strike.” + </p> + <p> + “If I die, general—” + </p> + <p> + “Fear not; the curate of Leguerno shall say enough masses in your behalf + to keep your poor soul out of purgatory. But you will not die, + Coeur-de-Roi.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, general. Now that I am sure of the masses, I ask + nothing more. I have my plan.” + </p> + <p> + “When will you start?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night.” + </p> + <p> + “When will he die?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Go. See that three hundred men are ready to follow me in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Coeur-de-Roi went out as simply as he had entered. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Cadoudal, “the sort of men I command. Is your First Consul + as well served as I, Monsieur de Montrevel?” + </p> + <p> + “By some, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, with me it is not some, but all.” + </p> + <p> + Bénédicité entered and questioned Georges with a look. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Georges, with voice and nod. + </p> + <p> + Bénédicité went out. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see any one on your way here?” asked Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “Not one.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked for three hundred men in half an hour, and they will be here in + that time. I might have asked for five hundred, a thousand, two thousand, + and they would have responded as promptly.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Roland, “you have, in number at least, a limit you cannot + exceed.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to know my effective? It is easily told, I won’t tell you + myself, for you wouldn’t believe me. Wait. I will have some one tell you.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the door and called out: “Branche-d’Or!” + </p> + <p> + Two seconds later Branche-d’Or appeared. + </p> + <p> + “This is my major-general,” said Cadoudal, laughing. “He fulfils the same + functions for me that General Berthier does for the First Consul. + Branche-d’Or—” + </p> + <p> + “General.” + </p> + <p> + “How many men are stationed along the road from here to La Roche-Bernard, + which the gentleman followed in coming to see me?” + </p> + <p> + “Six hundred on the Arzal moor, six hundred among the Marzan gorse, three + hundred at Péaule, three hundred at Billiers.” + </p> + <p> + “Total, eighteen hundred. How many between Noyal and Muzillac?” + </p> + <p> + “Four hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “Two thousand two hundred. How many between here and Vannes?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty at Theix, three hundred at the Trinité, six hundred between the + Trinité and Muzillac.” + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand two hundred. And from Ambon to Leguerno?” + </p> + <p> + “Twelve hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “Four thousand four hundred. And in the village around me, in the houses, + the gardens, the cellars?” + </p> + <p> + “Five to six hundred, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Bénédicité.” + </p> + <p> + He made a sign with his head and Bénédicité went out. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Cadoudal, simply, “about five thousand. Well, with those + five thousand men, all belonging to this country, who know every tree, + every stone, every bush, I can make war against the hundred thousand men + the First Consul threatens to send against me.” + </p> + <p> + Roland smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You think that is saying too much, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are boasting a little, general; boasting of your men, + rather.” + </p> + <p> + “No; for my auxiliaries are the whole population. None of your generals + can make a move unknown to me; send a despatch without my intercepting it; + find a retreat where I shall not pursue him. The very soil is royalist and + Christian! In default of the inhabitants, it speaks and tells me: ‘The + Blues passed here; the slaughterers are hidden there!’ For the rest, you + can judge for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “We are going on an expedition about twenty-four miles from here. What + time is it?” + </p> + <p> + Both young men looked at their watches. + </p> + <p> + “Quarter to twelve,” they said together. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Georges, “our watches agree; that is a good sign. Perhaps + some day our hearts will do the same.” + </p> + <p> + “You were saying, general?” + </p> + <p> + “I was saying that it was a quarter to twelve, colonel; and that at six + o’clock, before day, we must be twenty miles from here. Do you want to + rest?” + </p> + <p> + “I!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you can sleep an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks; it’s unnecessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we will start whenever you are ready.” + </p> + <p> + “But your men?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my men are ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see them.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever agreeable to you. My men are very discreet, and never show + themselves till I make the signal.” + </p> + <p> + “So that whenever I want to see them—” + </p> + <p> + “You will tell me; I shall give the signal and they’ll appear.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us start, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let us start.” + </p> + <p> + The two young men wrapped themselves in their cloaks and went out. At the + door Roland collided against a small group of five men. These five men + wore Republican uniforms; one of them had sergeant stripes on his sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “What is all this?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” replied Cadoudal, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “But who are these men?” + </p> + <p> + “Coeur-de-Roi and his party; they are starting on that expedition you know + of.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they expect by means of this uniform—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you shall know all, colonel; I have no secrets from you.” Then, + turning to the little group, Cadoudal called: “Coeur-de-Roi!” + </p> + <p> + The man with the stripes on his sleeves left the group, and came to + Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “Did you call me, general?” asked the pretended sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I want to know your plan.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! general, it is very simple.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me judge of that.” + </p> + <p> + “I put this paper in the muzzle of my gun.” Coeur-de-Roi showed a large + envelope with an official red seal, which had once, no doubt, contained + some Republican despatch intercepted by the Chouans. “I present myself to + the sentries, saying: ‘Despatch from the general of division.’ I enter the + first guardhouse and ask to be shown the house of the + citizen-commissioner; they show me, I thank them; always best to be + polite. I reach the house, meet a second sentry to whom I tell the same + tale as to the first; I go up or down to citizen Millière accordingly as + he lives in the cellar or the garret. I enter without difficulty, you + understand—‘Despatch from the general of division’. I find him in + his study or elsewhere, present my paper, and while he opens it, I kill + him with this dagger, here in my sleeve.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you and your men?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, faith! In God’s care; we are defending his cause, it is for him to + take care of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, colonel,” said Cadoudal, “how easy it all is. Let us + mount, colonel! Good luck, Coeur-de-Roi!” + </p> + <p> + “Which of these two horses am I to take?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Either; one is as good as the other; each has an excellent pair of + English pistols in its holsters.” + </p> + <p> + “Loaded?” + </p> + <p> + “And well-loaded, colonel; that’s a job I never trust to any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we’ll mount.” + </p> + <p> + The two young men were soon in their saddles, and on the road to Vannes; + Cadoudal guiding Roland, and Branche-d’Or, the major-general of the army, + as Georges called him, following about twenty paces in the rear. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the end of the village, Roland darted his eyes along the + road, which stretches in a straight line from Muzillac to the Trinité. The + road, fully exposed to view, seemed absolutely solitary. + </p> + <p> + They rode on for about a mile and a half, then Roland said: “But where the + devil are your men?” + </p> + <p> + “To right and left, before and behind us.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, what a joke!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not a joke, colonel; do you think I should be so rash as to risk + myself thus without scouts?” + </p> + <p> + “You told me, I think, that if I wished to see your men I had only to say + so.” + </p> + <p> + “I did say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wish to see them.” + </p> + <p> + “Wholly, or in part?” + </p> + <p> + “How many did you say were with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Three hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I want to see one hundred and fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” cried Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + Putting his hands to his mouth he gave the hoot of the screech-owl, + followed by the cry of an owl; but he threw the hoot to the right and the + cry to the left. + </p> + <p> + Almost instantly, on both sides of the road, human forms could be seen in + motion, bounding over the ditch which separated the bushes from the road, + and then ranging themselves beside the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Who commands on the right?” asked Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “I, Moustache,” replied a peasant, coming near. + </p> + <p> + “Who commands on the left?” repeated the general. + </p> + <p> + “I, Chante-en-hiver,” replied another peasant, also approaching him. + </p> + <p> + “How many men are with you, Moustache?” + </p> + <p> + “One hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “How many men are with you, Chante-en-hiver?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “One hundred and fifty in all, then?” asked Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the two Breton leaders. + </p> + <p> + “Is that your number, colonel?” asked Cadoudal laughing. + </p> + <p> + “You are a magician, general.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I am a poor peasant like them; only I command a troop in which each + brain knows what it does, each heart beats singly for the two great + principles of this world, religion and monarchy.” Then, turning to his + men, Cadoudal asked: “Who commands the advanced guard?” + </p> + <p> + “Fend-l’air,” replied the two Chouans. + </p> + <p> + “And the rear-guard?” + </p> + <p> + “La Giberne.” + </p> + <p> + The second reply was made with the same unanimity as the first. + </p> + <p> + “Then we can safely continue our way?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general; as if you were going to mass in your own village.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us ride on then, colonel,” said Cadoudal to Roland. Then turning to + his men he cried: “Be lively, my lads.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly every man jumped the ditch and disappeared. For a few seconds + the crackling of twigs on the bushes, and the sound of steps among the + underbrush, was heard. Then all was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” asked Cadoudal, “do you think that with such men I have anything + to fear from the Blues, brave as they may be?” + </p> + <p> + Roland heaved a sigh; he was of Cadoudal’s opinion. + </p> + <p> + They rode on. About three miles from Trinité they caught sight of a black + spot approaching along the road with great rapidity. As it became more + distinct this spot stopped suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “As you see, a man,” replied Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “Of course; but who is this man?” + </p> + <p> + “You might have guessed from the rapidity of his coming; he is a + messenger.” + </p> + <p> + “Why does he stop?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he has seen us, and does not know whether to advance or retreat.” + </p> + <p> + “What will he do?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait before deciding.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “A signal.” + </p> + <p> + “Will he answer the signal?” + </p> + <p> + “He will not only answer but obey it. Will you have him advance or + retreat; or will you have him step aside.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish him to advance; by that means we shall know the news he brings.” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal gave the call of the cuckoo with such perfection that Roland + looked about him for the bird. + </p> + <p> + “It was I,” said Cadoudal, “you need not look for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the messenger going to come?” + </p> + <p> + “Not-going to, he is coming.” + </p> + <p> + The messenger had already started, and was rapidly approaching; in a few + seconds he was beside his general. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the latter, “is that you, Monte-à-l’assaut?” + </p> + <p> + The general stooped, and Monte-à-l’assaut said a few words in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Bénédicité has already warned me,” said Georges. Then turning to Roland, + he said, “Something of importance is to happen in the village of the + Trinité in a quarter of an hour, which you ought to see. Come, hurry up.” + </p> + <p> + And, setting the example, he put his horse to a gallop. Roland did the + same. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the village they could see from a distance, by the light + of some pine torches, a tumultuous mob in the market square. The cries and + movements of this mob bespoke some grave occurrence. + </p> + <p> + “Fast, fast!” cried Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + Roland asked no better; he dug his spurs in his horse’s belly. + </p> + <p> + At the clatter of horses’ hoofs the peasants scattered. There were five or + six hundred of them at least, all armed. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal and Roland found themselves in a circle of light in the midst of + cries and agitation. + </p> + <p> + The crowd was pressing more particularly toward the opening of a street + which led to the village of Tridon. A diligence was coming down that + street escorted by a dozen Chouans; two on either side of the postilion, + ten others guarding the doors. The carriage stopped in the middle of the + market-square. All were so intent upon the diligence that they paid but + scant attention to Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “Hola,” shouted Georges. “What is all this?” + </p> + <p> + At this well known voice, everyone turned round, and heads were uncovered. + </p> + <p> + “The Big Round Head!” they murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + A man went up to Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t Bénédicité and Monte-à-l’assaut notify you?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Is that the diligence from Ploermel to Vannes that you are bringing + back?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general. It was stopped between Tréfléon and Saint-Nolf.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he in it?” + </p> + <p> + “We think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Act according to your consciences; if it is a crime toward God, take it + on yourselves; I take only the responsibility toward men. I will be + present at what takes place; but I will not share in it—either to + hinder or help.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” demanded a hundred voices, “what does he say, Sabre-tout?” + </p> + <p> + “He says we must act according to our consciences, and that he washes his + hands of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Long live the Big Round Head!” cried all the people, rushing toward the + diligence. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal remained motionless in the midst of this crowd. Roland stood near + him, also motionless, but full of curiosity; for he was completely + ignorant of who, or what, was in question. + </p> + <p> + The man who had just spoken to Cadoudal, and whom his companions called + Sabre-tout, opened the door. The travellers were huddled together and + trembling in the darkness within. + </p> + <p> + “If you have nothing to reproach yourselves with against God or the king,” + said Sabre-tout in a full sonorous voice, “descend without fear. We are + not brigands, we are Christians and royalists.” + </p> + <p> + This declaration no doubt reassured the travellers, for a man got out, + then two women, then a mother pressing her child in her arms, and finally + another man. The Chouans examined them attentively as they came down the + carriage steps; not finding the man they wanted, they said to each + traveller, “Pass on.” + </p> + <p> + One man alone remained in the coach. A Chouan thrust a torch in the + vehicle, and by its light they could see he was a priest. + </p> + <p> + “Minister of the Lord,” said Sabre-tout, “why did you not descend with the + others? Did you not hear me say we were Christians and royalists?” + </p> + <p> + The priest did not move; but his teeth chattered. + </p> + <p> + “Why this terror?” continued Sabre-tout. “Does not your cloth plead for + you? The man who wears a cassock can have done nothing against royalty or + religion.” + </p> + <p> + The priest crouched back, murmuring: “Mercy! mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “Why mercy?” demanded Sabre-tout, “do you feel that you are guilty, + wretch?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh!” exclaimed Roland, “is that how you royalists and Christians + speak to a man of God!” + </p> + <p> + “That man,” said Cadoudal, “is not a man of God, but a man of the devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Both an atheist and a regicide; he denied his God and voted for the death + of the king. That is the Conventional Audrein.” + </p> + <p> + Roland shuddered. “What will they do?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He gave death, he will receive death,” answered Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + During this time the Chouans had pulled Audrein out of the diligence. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! is it you, bishop of Vannes?” cried Sabre-tout. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” begged the bishop. + </p> + <p> + “We were informed of your arrival, and were waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” repeated the bishop for the third time. + </p> + <p> + “Have you your pontifical robes with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friends, I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Then dress yourself as a prelate; it is long since we have seen one.” + </p> + <p> + A trunk marked with the prelate’s name was taken from the diligence and + opened. They took the bishop’s robes from it, and handed them to Audrein, + who put them on. Then, when every vestment was in its place, the peasants + ranged themselves in a circle, each with his musket in his hand. The glare + of the torches was reflected on the barrels, casting evil gleams. + </p> + <p> + Two men took the priest and led him into the circle, supporting him + beneath his arms. He was pale as death. There was a moment of lugubrious + silence. + </p> + <p> + A voice broke it. It was that of Sabre-tout. + </p> + <p> + “We are about to judge you,” said the Chouan. “Priest of God, you have + betrayed the Church; child of France, you have condemned your king to + death.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! alas!” stammered the priest. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not deny it.” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is impossible to deny. What have you to say in justification?” + </p> + <p> + “Citizens—” + </p> + <p> + “We are not citizens,” cried Sabre-tout, in a voice thunder, “we are + royalists.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen—” + </p> + <p> + “We are not gentlemen; we are Chouans.” + </p> + <p> + “My friends—” + </p> + <p> + “We are not your friends; we are your judges. You judges are questioning + you; answer.” + </p> + <p> + “I repent of what I did, and I ask pardon of God and men.” + </p> + <p> + “Men cannot pardon you,” replied the same implacable voice; “for, pardoned + to-day, you would sin to-morrow. You may change your skin, but never your + heart. You have nothing to expect from men but death; as for God, implore + his mercy.” + </p> + <p> + The regicide bowed his head; the renegade bent his knee. But suddenly + drawing himself up, he cried: “I voted the king’s death, it is true, but + with a reservation—” + </p> + <p> + “What reservation?” + </p> + <p> + “The time of the execution.” + </p> + <p> + “Sooner or later, it was still the king’s death which you voted, and the + king was innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “True, true,” said the priest, “but I was afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not only a regicide, and an apostate, but also a coward. We + are not priests, but we are more just than you. You voted the death of the + innocent; we vote the death of the guilty. You have ten minutes in which + to prepare to meet your God.” + </p> + <p> + The bishop gave a cry of terror and fell upon both knees; the church bells + rang, as if of their own impulse, and two of the men present, accustomed + to the offices of the church, intoned the prayers for the dying. It was + some time before the bishop found words with which to respond. He turned + affrighted glances in supplication to his judges one after the other, but, + not one face met his with even the consolation of mere pity. The torches, + flickering in the wind, lent them, on the contrary, a savage and terrible + expression. Then at last he mingled his voice with the voices that were + praying for him. + </p> + <p> + The judges allowed him time to follow the funeral prayer to its close. In + the meantime others were preparing a pile of wood. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried the priest, beholding these preparations with growing terror; + “would you have the cruelty to kill me thus?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied his inflexible accuser, “flames are the death of martyrs; + you are not worthy of such a death. Apostate, the hour has come!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God! my God!” cried the priest, raising his arms to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Stand up!” said the Chouan. + </p> + <p> + The priest tried to obey, but his strength failed him, and he fell again + to his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let that murder be done before your eyes?” Roland asked + Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “I said that I washed my hands of it,” replied the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Pilate said that, and Pilate’s hands are to this day red with the blood + of Jesus Christ.” + </p> + <p> + “Because Jesus Christ was a righteous man; this man is a Barabbas.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss your cross! kiss your cross!” cried Sabre-tout. + </p> + <p> + The prelate looked at him with a terrified air, but without obeying. It + was evident that he no longer saw, no longer heard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Roland, making an effort to dismount, “it shall never be said + that I let a man be murdered before me, and did not try to, save him.” + </p> + <p> + A threatening murmur rose around him; his words had been overheard. That + was all that was needed to excite the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! is that the way of it?” he cried, carrying his hand to one of his + holsters. + </p> + <p> + But with a movement rapid as thought, Cadoudal seized his hand, and, while + Roland struggled vainly to free himself from this grip of iron, he + shouted: “Fire!” + </p> + <p> + Twenty shots resounded instantly, and the bishop fell, an inert mass. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Roland. “What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “Forced you to keep your promise,” replied Cadoudal; “you swore to see all + and hear all without offering any opposition.” + </p> + <p> + “So perish all enemies of God and the king,” said Sabre-tout, in a solemn + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” responded the spectators with one voice of sinister unanimity. + </p> + <p> + Then they stripped the body of its sacerdotal ornaments, which they flung + upon the pile of wood, invited the other travellers to take their places + in the diligence, replaced the postilion in his saddle, and, opening their + ranks to give passage to the coach, cried: “Go with God!” + </p> + <p> + The diligence rolled rapidly away. + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us go,” cried Cadoudal, “we have still twelve miles to do, and + we have lost an hour here.” Then, addressing the executioners, he said: + “That man was guilty; that man is punished. Human justice and divine + justice are satisfied. Let prayers for the dead be said over his body, and + give him Christian burial; do you hear?” And sure of being obeyed, + Cadoudal put his horse to a gallop. + </p> + <p> + Roland seemed to hesitate for a moment whether to follow him or not; then, + as if resolving to accomplish a duty, he said: “I will go to the end.” + </p> + <p> + Spurring his horse in the direction taken by Cadoudal he reached the + Chouan leader in a few strides. Both disappeared in the darkness, which + grew thicker and thicker as the men left the place where the torches were + illuminating the dead priest’s face and the fire was consuming his + vestments. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. THE DIPLOMACY OF GEORGES CADOUDAL + </h2> + <p> + The feeling that Roland experienced as he followed Georges Cadoudal + resembled that of a man half-awakened, who is still under the influence of + a dream, and returns gradually from the confines which separate night from + day. He strives to discover whether the ground he walks on is that of + fiction or reality, and the more he burrows in the dimness of his brain + the further he buries himself in doubt. + </p> + <p> + A man existed for whom Roland felt a worship almost divine. Accustomed to + live in the atmosphere of glory which surrounded that man, to see others + obey his orders, and to obey them himself with a promptness and abnegation + that were almost Oriental, it seemed amazing to him to encounter, at the + opposite ends of France, two organized powers, enemies of the power of + that man, and prepared to struggle against it. Suppose a Jew of Judas + Maccabeus, a worshipper of Jehovah, having, from his infancy, heard him + called the King of kings, the God of strength, of vengeance, of armies, + the Eternal, coming suddenly face to face with the mysterious Osiris of + the Egyptians, or the thundering Jupiter of the Greeks. + </p> + <p> + His adventures at Avignon and Bourg with Morgan and the Company of Jehu, + his adventures in the villages of Muzillac and the Trinité with Cadoudal + and his Chouans, seemed to him some strange initiation in an unknown + religion; but like those courageous neophytes who risk death to learn the + secrets of initiation, he resolved to follow to the end. + </p> + <p> + Besides he was not without a certain admiration for these exceptional + characters; nor did he measure without a certain amazement these revolted + Titans, challenging his god; he felt they were in no sense common men—neither + those who had stabbed Sir John in the Chartreuse of Seillon, nor those who + had shot the bishop of Vannes at the village of the Trinité. + </p> + <p> + And now, what was he to see? He was soon to know, for they had ridden five + hours and a half and the day was breaking. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the village of Tridon they turned across country; leaving Vannes to + the left, they reached Tréfléon. At Tréfléon, Cadoudal, still followed by + his major-general, Branche-d’Or, had found Monte-à-l’assaut and + Chante-en-hiver. He gave them further orders, and continued on his way, + bearing to the left and skirting the edges of a little wood which lies + between Grandchamp and Larré. There Cadoudal halted, imitated, three + separate times in succession, the cry of an owl, and was presently + surrounded by his three hundred men. + </p> + <p> + A grayish light was spreading through the sky beyond Tréfléon and + Saint-Nolf; it was not the rising of the sun, but the first rays of dawn. + A heavy mist rose from the earth and prevented the eye from seeing more + than fifty feet beyond it. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal seemed to be expecting news before risking himself further. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, about five hundred paces distant, the crowing of a cock was + heard. Cadoudal pricked up his ears; his men looked at each other and + laughed. + </p> + <p> + The cock crowed again, but nearer. + </p> + <p> + “It is he,” said Cadoudal; “answer him.” + </p> + <p> + The howling of a dog came from within three feet of Roland, but so + perfectly imitated that the young man, although aware of what it was, + looked about him for the animal that was uttering such lugubrious plaints. + Almost at the same moment he saw a man coming rapidly through the mist, + his form growing more and more distinct as he approached. The new-comer + saw the two horsemen, and went toward them. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal rode forward a few paces, putting his finger to his lips, as if + to request the man to speak low. The latter, therefore, did not pause + until he was close beside his general. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Fleur-d’épine,” asked Georges, “have we got them?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a mouse in a trap; not one can re-enter Vannes, if you say the + word.” + </p> + <p> + “I desire nothing better. How many are there?” + </p> + <p> + “One hundred men, commanded by the general himself.” + </p> + <p> + “How many wagons?” + </p> + <p> + “Seventeen.” + </p> + <p> + “When did they start?” + </p> + <p> + “They must be about a mile and three-quarters from here.” + </p> + <p> + “What road have they taken?” + </p> + <p> + “Grandchamp to Vannes.” + </p> + <p> + “So that, if I deploy from Meucon to Plescop—” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll bar the way.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal called his four lieutenants, Chante-en-hiver, Monte-à-l’assaut, + Fend-l’air, and La Giberne, to him, gave each of them fifty men, and each + with his men disappeared like shadows in the heavy mist, giving the + well-known hoot, as they vanished. Cadoudal was left with a hundred men, + Branche-d’Or and Fleur-d’épine. He returned to Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Well, general,” said the latter, “is everything satisfactory?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, colonel, fairly so,” replied the Chouan; “but you can judge for + yourself in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be difficult to judge of anything in that mist.” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal looked about him. + </p> + <p> + “It will lift in half an hour,” said he. “Will you utilize the time by + eating a mouthful and drinking a glass?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith!” said the young man, “I must admit that the ride has hollowed me.” + </p> + <p> + “I make a point,” said Georges, “of eating the best breakfast I can before + fighting.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are going to fight?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Against whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the Republicans, and as we have to do with General Hatry, I doubt if + he surrenders without resistance.” + </p> + <p> + “Do the Republicans know they are going to fight you?” + </p> + <p> + “They haven’t the least idea.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is to be a surprise?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly, inasmuch as when the fog lifts they will see us as soon as + we see them.” Then, turning to the man who seemed to be in charge of the + provisions, Cadoudal added, “Brise-Bleu, is there anything for breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + Brise-Bleu nodded affirmatively, went into the wood, and came out dragging + after him a donkey loaded with two baskets. He spread a cloak on a rise of + the ground, and placed on it a roast chicken, a bit of cold salt pork, + some bread and buckwheat cakes. This time Brise-Bleu had provided luxury + in the shape of a bottle of wine and a glass. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal motioned Roland to the table and the improvised repast. The young + man sprang from his horse, throwing the bridle to a Chouan. Cadoudal did + likewise. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the latter, turning to his men, “you have half an hour to do + as we do. Those who have not breakfasted in half an hour are notified that + they must fight on empty stomachs.” + </p> + <p> + The invitation seemed equivalent to an order, so promptly and precisely + was it executed. Every man pulled from his bag or his pocket a bit of + bread or a buckwheat cake, and followed the example of his general, who + had already divided the chicken between Roland and himself. As there was + but one glass, both officers shared it. + </p> + <p> + While they were thus breakfasting, side by side, like two friends on a + hunt, the sun rose, and, as Cadoudal had predicted, the mist became less + and less dense. Soon the nearest trees could be distinguished; then the + line of the woods, stretching to the right from Meucon to Grand-champ, + while to the left the plain of Plescop, threaded by a rivulet, sloped + gradually toward Vannes. This natural declivity of the ground became more + and more perceptible as it neared the ocean. + </p> + <p> + On the road from Grandchamp to Plescop, a line of wagons were now visible, + the tail of which was still hidden in the woods. This line was motionless; + evidently some unforeseen obstacle had stopped it. + </p> + <p> + In fact, about a quarter of a mile before the leading wagon they perceived + the two hundred Chouans, under Monte-à-l’assaut, Chante-en-hiver, + Fend-l’air, and Giberne, barring the way. + </p> + <p> + The Republicans, inferior in number—we said that there were but a + hundred—had halted and were awaiting the complete dispersion of the + fog to determine the number and character of the men they were about to + meet. Men and wagons were now in a triangle, of which Cadoudal and his + hundred men formed one of the angles. + </p> + <p> + At sight of this small number of men thus surrounded by triple forces, and + of the well-known uniform, of which the color had given its name to the + Republican forces, Roland sprang hastily to his feet. As for Cadoudal, he + remained where he was, nonchalantly finishing his meal. Of the hundred men + surrounding the general, not one seemed to perceive the spectacle that was + now before their eyes; it seemed almost as if they were waiting for + Cadoudal’s order to look at it. + </p> + <p> + Roland had only to cast his eyes on the Republicans to see that they were + lost. Cadoudal watched the various emotions that succeeded each other on + the young man’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” asked the Chouan, after a moment’s silence, “do you think my + dispositions well taken?” + </p> + <p> + “You might better say your precautions, general,” replied Roland, with a + sarcastic smile. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it the First Consul’s way to make the most of his advantages when + he gets them?” asked Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + Roland bit his lips; then, instead of replying to the royalist leader’s + question, he said: “General, I have a favor to ask which I hope you will + not refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Permission to let me go and be killed with my comrades.” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal rose. “I expected that request,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then you will grant it?” cried Roland, his eyes sparkling with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but, first, I have a favor to ask of you,” said the royalist leader, + with supreme dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Ask it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “To bear my flag of truce to General Hatry.” + </p> + <p> + “For what purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “I have several proposals to make to him before the fight begins.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume that among those proposals which you deign to intrust to me you + do not include that of laying down his arms?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, colonel, you understand that that is the first of my + proposals.” + </p> + <p> + “General Hatry will refuse it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is probable.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall give him his choice between two others, either of which he + can, I think, accept without forfeiting his honor.” + </p> + <p> + “What are they?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you in due time. Begin with the first.” + </p> + <p> + “State it.” + </p> + <p> + “General Hatry and his hundred men are surrounded by a triple force. I + offer them their lives; but they must lay down their arms, and make oath + not to serve again in the Vendée for five years.” + </p> + <p> + Roland shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Better that than to see his men annihilated.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so; but he would prefer to have his men annihilated, and be + annihilated with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think,” asked Cadoudal, laughing, “that it might be as well, in + any case, to ask him?” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Well, colonel, be so good as to mount your horse, make yourself known to + him, and deliver my proposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied Roland. + </p> + <p> + “The colonel’s horse,” said Cadoudal, motioning to the Chouan who was + watching it. The man led it up. The young man sprang upon it, and rapidly + covered the distance which separated him from the convoy. + </p> + <p> + A group of men were gathered on its flank, evidently composed of General + Hatry and his officers. Roland rode toward them, scarcely three gunshots + distant from the Chouans. General Hatry’s astonishment was great when he + saw an officer in the Republican uniform approaching him. He left the + group and advanced three paces to meet the messenger. + </p> + <p> + Roland made himself known, related how he came to be among the Whites, and + transmitted Cadoudal’s proposal to General Hatry. + </p> + <p> + As he has foreseen, the latter refused it. Roland returned to Cadoudal + with a proud and joyful heart. “He refuses!” he cried, as soon as his + voice could be heard. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal gave a nod that showed he was not surprised by the refusal. + </p> + <p> + “Then, in that case,” he answered, “go back with my second proposition. I + don’t wish to have anything to reproach myself with in answering to such a + judge of honor as you.” + </p> + <p> + Roland bowed. “What is the second proposition?” + </p> + <p> + “General Hatry shall meet me in the space that separates the two troops, + he shall carry the same arms as I—that is, his sabre and pistols—and + the matter shall be decided between us. If I kill him, his men are to + submit to the conditions already named, for we cannot take prisoners; if + he kills me his men shall pass free and be allowed to reach Vannes safely. + Come, I hope that’s a proposition you would accept, colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “I would accept it myself,” replied Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” exclaimed Cadoudal, “but you are not General Hatry. Content + yourself with being a negotiator this time, and if this proposition, + which, if I were he, I wouldn’t let escape me, does not please him, come + to me. I’m a good fellow, and I’ll make him a third.” + </p> + <p> + Roland rode off a second time; his coming was awaited by the Republicans + with visible impatience. He transmitted the message to General Hatry. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen,” replied the general, “I must render account of my conduct to + the First Consul. You are his aide-de-camp, and I charge you on your + return to Paris to bear testimony on my behalf to him. What would you do + in my place? Whatever you would do, that I shall do.” + </p> + <p> + Roland started; his face assumed the grave expression of a man who is + arguing a point of honor in his own mind. Then, at the end of a few + seconds, he said: “General, I should refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Your reasons, citizen?” demanded the general. + </p> + <p> + “The chances of a duel are problematic; you cannot subject the fate of a + hundred brave men to a doubtful chance. In an affair like this, where all + are concerned, every man had better defend his own skin as best he can.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your opinion, colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “On my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “It is also mine; carry my reply to the royalist general.” + </p> + <p> + Roland galloped back to Cadoudal, and delivered General Hatry’s reply. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal smiled. “I expected it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn’t have expected it, because it was I who advised him to make + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You thought differently a few moments ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you yourself reminded me that I was not General Hatry. Come, + what is your third proposition?” said Roland impatiently; for he began to + perceive, or rather he had perceived from the beginning, that the noble + part in the affair belonged to the royalist general. + </p> + <p> + “My third proposition,” said Cadoudal, “is not a proposition but an order; + an order for two hundred of my men to withdraw. General Hatry has one + hundred men; I will keep one hundred. My Breton forefathers were + accustomed to fight foot to foot, breast to breast, man to man, and + oftener one to three than three to one. If General Hatry is victorious, he + can walk over our bodies and tranquilly enter Vannes; if he is defeated, + he cannot say it is by numbers. Go, Monsieur de Montrevel, and remain with + your friends. I give them thus the advantage of numbers, for you alone are + worth ten men.” + </p> + <p> + Roland raised his hat. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing, sir?” demanded Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “I always bow to that which is grand, general; I bow to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, colonel,” said Cadoudal, “a last glass of wine; let each of us + drink to what we love best, to that which we grieve to leave behind, to + that we hope to meet in heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Taking the bottle and the one glass, he filled it half full, and offered + it to Roland. “We have but one glass, Monsieur de Montrevel; drink first.” + </p> + <p> + “Why first?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, in the first place, you are my guest, and also because there is + a proverb that whoever drinks after another knows his thought.” Then, he + added, laughing: “I want to know your thought, Monsieur de Montrevel.” + </p> + <p> + Roland emptied the glass and returned it to Cadoudal. The latter filled + his glass half full, as he had done for Roland, and emptied it in turn. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” asked Roland, “now do you know my thought, general?” + </p> + <p> + “My thought,” said Roland, with his usual frankness, “is that you are a + brave man, general. I shall feel honored if, at this moment when we are + going to fight against each other, you will give me your hand.” + </p> + <p> + The two young men clasped hands, more like friends parting for a long + absence than two enemies about to meet on the battlefield. There was a + simple grandeur, full of majesty, in this action. Each raised his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Good luck!” said Roland to Cadoudal; “but allow me to doubt it. I must + even confess that it is from my lips, not my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “God keep you, sir,” said Cadoudal, “and I hope that my wish will be + realized. It is the honest expression of my thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “What is to be the signal that you are ready?” inquired Roland. + </p> + <p> + “A musket shot fired in the air, to which you will reply in the same way.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, general,” replied Roland. And putting his horse to a gallop, + he crossed the space between the royalist general and the Republican + general for the third time. + </p> + <p> + “Friends,” said Cadoudal, pointing to Roland, “do you see that young man?” + </p> + <p> + All eyes were bent upon Roland. “Yes,” came from every mouth. + </p> + <p> + “He came with a safe-guard from our brothers in the Midi; his life is + sacred to you; he may be captured, but it must be living—not a hair + of his head must be touched.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, general,” replied the Chouans. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my friends, remember that you are the sons of those thirty + Bretons who fought the thirty British between Ploermel and Josselin, ten + leagues from here, and conquered them.” Then, in a low voice, he added + with a sigh, “Unhappily we have not to do with the British this time.” + </p> + <p> + The fog had now lifted completely, and, as usually happens, a few rays of + the wintry sun tinged the plain of Plescop with a yellow light. + </p> + <p> + It was easy therefore to distinguish the movements of the two troops. + While Roland was returning to the Republicans, Branche-d’Or galloped + toward the two hundred men who were blocking the way. He had hardly spoken + to Cadoudal’s four lieutenants before a hundred men were seen to wheel to + the right and a hundred more to wheel to the left and march in opposite + directions, one toward Plumergat, the other toward Saint-Ave, leaving the + road open. Each body halted three-quarters of a mile down the road, + grounded arms and remained motionless. Branche-d’Or returned to Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any special orders to give me, general?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one,” answered Cadoudal, “take eight men and follow me. When you see + the young Republican, with whom I breakfasted, fall under his horse, fling + yourself upon him, you and your eight men, before he has time to free + himself, and take him prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that I must have him safe and sound.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s understood, general” + </p> + <p> + “Choose your eight men. Monsieur de Montrevel once captured, and his + parole given, you can do as you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he won’t give his parole?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must surround him so that he can’t escape, and watch him till + the fight is over.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Branche-d’Or, heaving a sigh; “but it’ll be a little + hard to stand by with folded arms while the others are having their fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! who knows?” said Cadoudal; “there’ll probably be enough for every + body.” + </p> + <p> + Then, casting a glance over the plain and seeing his own men stationed + apart, and the Republicans massed for battle, he cried: “A musket!” + </p> + <p> + They brought one. Cadoudal raised it above his head and fired in the air. + Almost at the same moment, a shot fired in the same manner from the midst + of the Republicans answered like an echo to that of Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + Two drums beating the advance and a bugle were heard. Cadoudal rose in his + stirrups. + </p> + <p> + “Children,” he cried, “have you all said your morning prayers?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” answered almost every voice. “If any of you forgot them, or + did not have time, let them pray now.” + </p> + <p> + Five or six peasants knelt down and prayed. + </p> + <p> + The drums and bugle drew nearer. + </p> + <p> + “General, general,” cried several voices impatiently, “they are coming.” + </p> + <p> + The general motioned to the kneeling peasants. + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied the impatient ones. + </p> + <p> + Those who prayed rose one by one, according as their prayers had been long + or short. By the time they were all afoot, the Republicans had crossed + nearly one-third of the distance. They marched, bayonets fixed, in three + ranks, each rank three abreast. + </p> + <p> + Roland rode at the head of the first rank, General Hatry between the first + and second. Both were easily recognized, being the only men on horseback. + Among the Chouans, Cadoudal was the only rider, Branche-d’Or having + dismounted to take command of the eight men who were to follow Georges. + </p> + <p> + “General,” said a voice, “the prayer is ended, and every one is standing.” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal looked around him to make sure it was true; then he cried in a + loud voice: “Forward! Enjoy yourselves, my lads!” + </p> + <p> + This permission, which to Vendéans and Chouans, was equivalent to sounding + a charge, was scarcely given before the Chouans spread over the fields to + cries of “Vive le roi!” waving their hats with one hand and their guns + with the other. + </p> + <p> + Instead of keeping in rank like the Republicans, they scattered like + sharpshooters, forming an immense crescent, of which Georges and his horse + were the centre. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the Republicans were flanked and the firing began. + Cadoudal’s men were nearly all poachers, that is to say, excellent + marksmen, armed with English carbines, able to carry twice the length of + the army musket. Though the first shots fired might have seemed wide of + range, these messengers of death nevertheless brought down several men in + the Republican ranks. + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” cried the general. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers marched on, bayonets fixed; but in a few moments there was no + enemy before them. Cadoudal’s hundred men had turned skirmishers; they had + separated, and fifty men were harassing both of the enemy’s flanks. + General Hatry ordered his men to wheel to the right and left. Then came + the order: “Fire!” + </p> + <p> + Two volleys followed with the precision and unanimity of well disciplined + troops; but they were almost without result, for the Republicans were + firing upon scattered men. Not so with the Chouans, who fired on a mass; + with them every shot told. + </p> + <p> + Roland saw the disadvantage of the position. He looked around and, amid + the smoke, distinguished Cadoudal, erect and motionless as an equestrian + statue. He understood that the royalist leader was waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + With a cry he spurred his horse toward him. As if to save him part of the + way, Cadoudal put his horse to a gallop. But a hundred feet from Cadoudal + he drew rein. “Attention!” he said to Branche-d’Or and his companions. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be alarmed, general; here we are,” said Branche-d’Or. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal drew a pistol from his holster and cocked it. Roland, sabre in + hand, was charging, crouched on his horse’s neck. When they were twenty + paces apart, Cadoudal slowly raised his hand in Roland’s direction. At ten + paces he fired. + </p> + <p> + The horse Roland was riding had a white star on its forehead. The ball + struck the centre of that star, and the horse, mortally wounded, rolled + over with its rider at Cadoudal’s feet. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal put spurs to his own horse and jumped both horse and rider. + </p> + <p> + Branche-d’Or and his men were ready. They sprang, like a pack of jaguars, + upon Roland, entangled under the body of his horse. The young man dropped + his sword and tried to seize his pistols, but before he could lay hand + upon the holsters two men had him by the arms, while the four others + dragged his horse from between his legs. The thing was done with such + unanimity that it was easy to see the manoeuvre had been planned. + </p> + <p> + Roland roared with rage. Branche-d’Or came up to him and put his hat in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I do not surrender!” shouted Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Useless to do so, Monsieur de Montrevel,” replied Branche-d’Or with the + utmost politeness. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” demanded Roland, exhausting his strength in a struggle + as desperate as it was useless. + </p> + <p> + “Because you are captured, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was so true that there could be no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Then kill me!” cried Roland. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t want to kill you, sir,” replied Branche-d’Or. + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Give us your parole not to fight any more, and you are free.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” exclaimed Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Monsieur de Montrevel,” said Branche-d’Or, “but that is not + loyal!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” shrieked Roland, in a fury, “not loyal! You insult me, villain, + because you know I can’t defend myself or punish you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a villain, and I didn’t insult you, Monsieur de Montrevel; but I + do say that by not giving your word, you deprive the general of nine men, + who might be useful to him and who are obliged to stay here to guard you. + That’s not the way the Big Round Head acted toward you. He had two hundred + men more than you, and he sent them away. Now we are only eighty-nine + against one hundred.” + </p> + <p> + A flame crossed Roland’s face; then almost as suddenly he turned pale as + death. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Branche-d’Or,” he replied. “Succor or no succor, I + surrender. You and your men can go and fight with your comrades.” + </p> + <p> + The Chouans gave a cry of joy, let go their hold of Roland, and rushed + toward the Republicans, brandishing their hats and muskets, and shouting: + “Vive le roi!” + </p> + <p> + Roland, freed from their grip, but disarmed physically by his fall, + morally by his parole, went to the little eminence, still covered by the + cloak which had served as a tablecloth for their breakfast, and sat down. + From there he could see the whole combat; not a detail was lost upon him. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal sat erect upon his horse amid fire and smoke, like the Demon of + War, invulnerable and implacable. + </p> + <p> + Here and there the bodies of a dozen or more Chouans lay stretched upon + the sod. But it was evident that the Republicans, still massed together, + had lost double that number. Wounded men dragged themselves across the + open space, meeting, rearing their bodies like mangled snakes, to fight, + the Republicans with their bayonets, and the Chouans with their knives. + Those of the wounded Chouans who were too far off to fight their wounded + enemies hand to hand, reloaded their guns, and, struggling to their knees, + fired and fell again. + </p> + <p> + On either side the struggle was pitiless, incessant, furious; civil war—that + is war without mercy or compassion—waved its torch above the + battlefield. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal rode his horse around these living breastworks, firing at twenty + paces, sometimes his pistols, sometimes a musket, which he discharged, + cast aside, and picked up again reloaded. At each discharge a man fell. + The third time he made this round General Hatry honored him with a + fusillade. He disappeared in the flame and smoke, and Roland saw him go + down, he and his horse, as if annihilated. Ten or a dozen Republicans + sprang from the ranks and met as many Chouans; the struggle was terrible, + hand to hand, body to body, but the Chouans, with their knives, were sure + of the advantage. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Cadoudal appeared, erect, a pistol in each hand; it was the death + of two men; two men fell. Then through the gap left by these ten or twelve + he flung himself forward with thirty men. He had picked up an army musket, + and, using it like a club, he brought down a man with each blow. He broke + his way through the battalion, and reappeared at the other side. Then, + like a boar which returns upon the huntsman he has ripped up and trampled, + he rushed back through the gaping wound and widened it. From that moment + all was over. + </p> + <p> + General Hatry rallied a score of men, and, with bayonets down, they fell + upon the circle that enveloped them. He marched at the head of his + soldiers on foot; his horse had been killed. Ten men had fallen before the + circle was broken, but at last he was beyond it. The Chouans wanted to + pursue them, but Cadoudal, in a voice of thunder, called them back. + </p> + <p> + “You should not have allowed him to pass,” he cried, “but having passed he + is free to retreat.” + </p> + <p> + The Chouans obeyed with the religious faith they placed in the words of + their chief. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Cadoudal, “cease firing; no more dead; make prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + The Chouans drew together and surrounded the heaps of dead, and the few + living men, more or less wounded, who lay among the dead. + </p> + <p> + Surrendering was still fighting in this fatal war, where on both sides the + prisoners were shot—on the one side, because Chouans and Vendéans + were considered brigands; on the other, because they knew not where to put + the captives. + </p> + <p> + The Republicans threw their guns away, that they might not be forced to + surrender them. When their captors approached them every cartridge-box was + open; every man had fired his last shot. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal walked back to Roland. + </p> + <p> + During the whole of this desperate struggle the young man had remained on + the mound. With his eyes fixed on the battle, his hair damp with sweat, + his breast heaving, he waited for the result. Then, when he saw the day + was lost, his head fell upon his hands, and he still sat on, his forehead + bowed to the earth. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal reached him before he seemed to hear the sound of footsteps. He + touched the young man’s shoulder. Roland raised his head slowly without + attempting to hide the two great tears that were rolling down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “General,” said Roland, “do with me what you will. I am your prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t make the First Consul’s ambassador a prisoner,” replied Cadoudal, + laughing, “but I can ask him to do me a service.” + </p> + <p> + “Command me, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I need a hospital for the wounded, and a prison for prisoners; will you + take the Republican soldiers, wounded and prisoners, back to Vannes.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, general?” exclaimed Roland. + </p> + <p> + “I give them, or rather I confide them to you. I regret that your horse + was killed; so is mine. But there is still that of Brise-Bleu; accept it.” + </p> + <p> + The young man made a motion of rejection. + </p> + <p> + “Until you can obtain another, of course,” added Cadoudal, bowing. + </p> + <p> + Roland felt that he must put himself, at least in simplicity, on a level + with the man with whom he was dealing. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I see you again, general?” he asked, rising. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it, sir. My operations call me to the coast near Port-Louis; your + duty recalls you to the Luxembourg.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I tell the First Consul, general?” + </p> + <p> + “What you have seen, sir. He must judge between the Abbé Bernier’s + diplomacy and that of Georges Cadoudal.” + </p> + <p> + “After what I have seen, sir, I doubt if you ever have need of me,” said + Roland; “but in any case remember that you have a friend near the First + Consul.” + </p> + <p> + And he held out his hand to Cadoudal. The royalist took it with the same + frankness and freedom he had shown before the battle. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, Monsieur de Montrevel,” said he, “I need not ask you to justify + General Hatry. A defeat like that is fully as glorious as a victory.” + </p> + <p> + During this time Brise-Bleu’s horse had been led up for the Republican + colonel. + </p> + <p> + He sprang into the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “By the bye,” said Cadoudal, “as you go through La Roche-Bernard, just + inquire what has happened to citizen Thomas Millière.” + </p> + <p> + “He is dead,” said a voice. + </p> + <p> + Coeur-de-Roi and his four men, covered with mud and sweat, had just + arrived, but too late for the battle. + </p> + <p> + Roland cast a last glance at the battlefield, sighed, and, waving a last + farewell to Cadoudal, started at a gallop across the fields to await, on + the road to Vannes, the wagon-load of wounded and the prisoners he was + asked to deliver to General Hatry. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal had given a crown of six sous to each man. + </p> + <p> + Roland could not help reflecting that the gift was made with the money of + the Directory sent to the West by Morgan and the Companions of Jehu. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE + </h2> + <p> + Roland’s first visit on arriving in Paris was to the First Consul. He + brought him the twofold news of the pacification of the Vendée, and the + increasingly bitter insurrection in Brittany. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte knew Roland; consequently the triple narrative of Thomas + Millière’s murder, the execution of Bishop Audrein, and the fight at + Grandchamp, produced a deep impression upon him. There was, moreover, in + the young man’s manner a sombre despair in which he could not be mistaken. + </p> + <p> + Roland was miserable over this lost opportunity to get himself killed. An + unknown power seemed to watch over him, carrying him safe and sound + through dangers which resulted fatally to others. Sir John had found + twelve judges and a death-warrant, where he had seen but a phantom, + invulnerable, it is true, but inoffensive. + </p> + <p> + He blamed himself bitterly for singling out Cadoudal in the fight, thus + exposing himself to a pre-arranged plan of capture, instead of flinging + himself into the fray and killing or being killed. + </p> + <p> + The First Consul watched him anxiously as he talked; the longing for death + still lingered in his mind, a longing he hoped to cure by this return to + his native land and the endearments of his family. + </p> + <p> + He praised and defended General Hatry, but, just and impartial as a + soldier should be, he gave full credit to Cadoudal for the courage and + generosity the royalist general had displayed. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte listened gravely, almost sadly; ardent as he was for foreign war + with its glorious halo, his soul revolted at the internecine strife which + drained the life-blood of the nation and rent its bowels. It was a case in + which, to his thinking, negotiation should be substituted for war. But how + negotiate with a man like Cadoudal? + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte was not unaware of his own personal seductions when he chose to + exercise them. He resolved to see Cadoudal, and without saying anything on + the subject to Roland, he intended to make use of him for the interview + when the time came. In the meantime he wanted to see if Brune, in whose + talent he had great confidence, would be more successful than his + predecessors. + </p> + <p> + He dismissed Roland, after telling him of his mother’s arrival and her + installation in the little house in the Rue de la Victoire. + </p> + <p> + Roland sprang into a coach and was driven there at once. He found Madame + de Montrevel as happy and as proud as a woman and a mother could be. + Edouard had gone, the day before, to the Prytanée Français, and she + herself was preparing to return to Amélie, whose health continued to give + her much anxiety. + </p> + <p> + As for Sir John, he was not only out of danger, but almost well again. He + was in Paris, had called upon Madame de Montrevel, and, finding that she + had gone with Edouard to the Prytanée, he had left his card. It bore his + address, Hôtel Mirabeau, Rue de Richelieu. + </p> + <p> + It was eleven o’clock, Sir John’s breakfast hour, and Roland had every + chance of finding him at that hour. He got back into his carriage, and + ordered the coachman to stop at the Hôtel Mirabeau. + </p> + <p> + He found Sir John sitting before an English breakfast, a thing rarely seen + in those days, drinking large cups of tea and eating bloody chops. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the Englishman saw Roland he gave a cry of joy and ran to meet + him. Roland himself had acquired a deep affection for that exceptional + nature, where the noblest qualities of the heart seemed striving to hide + themselves beneath national eccentricities. + </p> + <p> + Sir John was pale and thin, but in other respects he was well. His wound + had completely healed, and except for a slight oppression, which was + diminishing daily and would soon disappear altogether, he had almost + recovered his former health. He now welcomed Roland with a tenderness + scarcely to be expected from that reserved nature, declaring that the joy + he felt in seeing him again was all he wanted for his complete recovery. + </p> + <p> + He begged Roland to share the meal, telling him to order his own + breakfast, a la Française. Roland accepted. Like all soldiers who had + fought the hard wars of the Revolution, when bread was often lacking, + Roland cared little for what he ate; he had acquired the habit of eating + whatever was put before him as a precaution against the days when there + might be nothing at all. Sir John’s attention in asking him to make a + French breakfast was scarcely noticed by him at all. + </p> + <p> + But what Roland did notice was Sir John’s preoccupation of mind. It was + evident that Sir John had something on his lips which he hesitated to + utter. Roland thought he had better help him. + </p> + <p> + So, when breakfast was nearly over, Roland, with his usual frankness, + which almost bordered upon brutality at times, leaned his elbows on the + table, settled his chin in his hands, and said: “Well, my dear Sir John, + you have something to say to your friend Roland that you don’t dare put + into words.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John started, and, from pale as he was, turned crimson. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” continued Roland, “it must be hard to get out; but, Sir + John, if you have many things to ask me, I know but few that I have the + right to refuse you. So, go on; I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + And Roland closed his eyes as if to concentrate all his attention on what + Sir John was about to say. But the matter was evidently, from Sir John’s + point of view, so extremely difficult to make known, that at the end of a + dozen seconds, finding that Sir John was still silent, Roland opened his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + The Englishman was pale again; but this time he was paler than before. + Roland held out his hand to him. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “I see you want to make some compliment about the way you + were treated at the Château des Noires-Fontaines.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, my friend; for the happiness or misery of my life will date + from my sojourn at the château.” + </p> + <p> + Roland looked fixedly at Sir John. “The deuce!” he exclaimed, “can I be so + fortunate—” Then he stopped, remembering that what he was about to + say was most unconventional from the social point of view. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Sir John, “my dear Roland, finish what you were saying.” + </p> + <p> + “You wish it?” + </p> + <p> + “I implore you.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I am mistaken; if I should say something nonsensical.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend, my friend, go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as I was saying, my lord, can I be so fortunate as to find your + lordship in love with my sister?” + </p> + <p> + Sir John gave a cry of joy, and with a rapid movement, of which so + phlegmatic a man might have been thought incapable, he threw himself in + Roland’s arms. + </p> + <p> + “Your sister is an angel, my dear Roland,” he exclaimed, “and I love her + with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you entirely free to do so, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely. For the last twelve years, as I told you, I have had my fortune + under my own control; it amounts to twenty-five thousand pounds sterling a + year.” + </p> + <p> + “Too much, my dear fellow, for a woman who can only bring you fifty + thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the Englishman, with that national accent that returned to him + occasionally in moments of strong excitement, “if I must get rid of a part + of it, I can do so.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Roland, laughing, “that’s not necessary. You’re rich; it’s + unfortunate, but what’s to be done?—No, that’s not the question. Do + you love my sister?” + </p> + <p> + “I adore her.” + </p> + <p> + “And she,” resumed Roland, “does she love you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you understand,” returned Sir John, “that I have not asked her. + I was bound, my dear Roland, to speak to you first, and if the matter were + agreeable, to beg you to plead my cause with your mother. After I have + obtained the consent of both, I shall make my offer. Or rather, you will + make it for me, for I should never dare.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am the first to receive your confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “You are my best friend, and it ought to be so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear friend, as far as I am concerned, your suit is won—naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother and sister remain.” + </p> + <p> + “They will be one. You understand that my mother will leave Amélie free to + make her own choice; and I need not tell you that if it falls upon you she + will be delighted. But there is a person whom you have forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” said Sir John, in the tone of a man who, having weighed all + chances for and against, believes he knows them all, and is met by an + obstacle he has never thought of. + </p> + <p> + “The First Consul,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “God—” ejaculated the Englishman, swallowing the last words of the + national oath. + </p> + <p> + “He spoke to me just before I left for the Vendée of my sister’s + marriage,” continued Roland; “saying that it no longer concerned my mother + and myself, for he would take charge of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Sir John, “I am lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “The First Consul does not like the English.” + </p> + <p> + “Say rather that the English do not like the First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “But who will present my wishes to the First Consul?” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you speak of them as agreeable to yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll turn you into a dove of peace between the two nations,” said Roland, + rising. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! thank you,” cried Sir john, seizing the young man’s hand. Then he + added, regretfully, “Must you leave me?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend, I have only a few hours’ leave. I have given one to my mother, + two to you, and I owe one to your friend Edouard. I want to kiss him and + ask his masters to let him scuffle as he likes with his comrades. Then I + must get back to the Luxembourg.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, take him my compliments, and tell him I have ordered another pair + of pistols for him, so that the next time he is attacked by bandits he + needn’t use the conductor’s.” + </p> + <p> + Roland looked at Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “What! Don’t you know?” + </p> + <p> + “No. What is it I don’t know?” + </p> + <p> + “Something that nearly killed our poor Amélie?” + </p> + <p> + “What thing?” + </p> + <p> + “The attack on the diligence.” + </p> + <p> + “But what diligence?” + </p> + <p> + “The one which your mother was in.” + </p> + <p> + “The diligence my mother was in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “The diligence my mother was in was attacked?” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen Madame de Montrevel, and she didn’t tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word about that, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Edouard proved a hero; as no one else defended the coach, + he did. He took the conductor’s pistols and fired.” + </p> + <p> + “Brave boy!” exclaimed Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but, unluckily or luckily the conductor had taken the precaution to + remove the bullets. Edouard was praised and petted by the Companions of + Jehu as the bravest of the brave; but he neither killed nor wounded them.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of what you are telling me?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you your sister almost died of fright.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “How very good?” exclaimed Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, all the more reason why I should see Edouard.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you say that.” + </p> + <p> + “A plan.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith! no. My plans don’t turn out well for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know, my dear Roland, that if there are any reprisals to make—” + </p> + <p> + “I shall make them for both. You are in love, my dear fellow; live in your + love.” + </p> + <p> + “You promise me your support?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s understood! I am most anxious to call you brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you tired of calling me friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, yes; it is too little.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + They pressed each other’s hands and parted. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later Roland reached the Prytanée Français, which + stood then on the present site of the Lyceum of Louis-le-Grand—that + is to say, at the head of the Rue Saint-Jacques, behind the Sorbonne. At + the first words of the director, Roland saw that his young brother had + been especially recommended to the authorities. The boy was sent for. + Edouard flung himself into the arms of his “big brother” with that + passionate adoration he had for him. + </p> + <p> + After the first embraces were over, Roland inquired about the stoppage of + the diligence. Madame de Montrevel had been chary of mentioning it; Sir + John had been sober in statement, but not so Edouard. It was his Iliad, + his very own. He related it with every detail—Jérôme’s connivance + with the bandits, the pistols loaded with powder only, his mother’s + fainting-fit, the attention paid to her by those who had caused it, his + own name known to the bandits, the fall of the mask from the face of the + one who was restoring his mother, his certainty that she must have seen + the man’s face. + </p> + <p> + Roland was above all struck with this last particular. Then the boy + related their audience with the First Consul, and told how the latter had + kissed and petted him, and finally recommended him to the director of the + Prytanée Français. + </p> + <p> + Roland learned from the child all that he wished to know, and as it took + but five minutes to go from the Rue Saint Jacques to the Luxembourg, he + was at the palace in that time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. SCULPTURE AND PAINTING + </h2> + <p> + When Roland returned to the Luxembourg, the clock of the palace marked one + hour and a quarter after mid-day. + </p> + <p> + The First Consul was working with Bourrienne. + </p> + <p> + If we were merely writing a novel, we should hasten to its close, and in + order to get there more expeditiously we should neglect certain details, + which, we are told, historical figures can do without. That is not our + opinion. From the day we first put pen to paper—now some thirty + years ago—whether our thought were concentrated on a drama, or + whether it spread itself into a novel, we have had a double end—to + instruct and to amuse. + </p> + <p> + And we say instruct first, for amusement has never been to our mind + anything but a mask for instruction. Have we succeeded? We think so. + Before long we shall have covered with our narratives an enormous period + of time; between the “Comtesse de Salisbury” and the “Comte de + Monte-Cristo” five centuries and a half are comprised. Well, we assert + that we have taught France as much history about those five centuries and + a half as any historian. + </p> + <p> + More than that; although our opinions are well known; although, under the + Bourbons of the elder branch as under the Bourbons of the younger branch, + under the Republic as under the present government, we have always + proclaimed them loudly, we do not believe that that opinion has been + unduly manifested in our books and dramas. + </p> + <p> + We admire the Marquis de Posa in Schiller’s “Don Carlos”; but, in his + stead, we should not have anticipated the spirit of that age to the point + of placing a philosopher of the eighteenth century among the heroes of the + sixteenth, an encyclopedist at the court of Philippe II. Therefore, just + as we have been—in literary parlance—monarchical under the + Monarchy, republican under the Republic, we are to-day reconstructionists + under the Consulate. + </p> + <p> + That does not prevent our thought from hovering above men, above their + epoch, and giving to each the share of good and evil they do. Now that + share no one, except God, has the right to award from his individual point + of view. The kings of Egypt who, at the moment they passed into the + unknown, were judged upon the threshold of their tombs, were not judged by + a man, but by a people. That is why it is said: “The judgment of a people + is the judgment of God.” + </p> + <p> + Historian, novelist, poet, dramatic author, we are nothing more than the + foreman of a jury who impartially sums up the arguments and leaves the + jury to give their verdict. The book is the summing up; the readers are + the jury. + </p> + <p> + That is why, having to paint one of the most gigantic figures, not only of + modern times but of all times; having to paint the period of his + transition, that is to say the moment when Bonaparte transformed himself + into Napoleon, the general into an emperor—that is why we say, in + the fear of becoming unjust, we abandon interpretations and substitute + facts. + </p> + <p> + We are not of those who say with Voltaire that, “no one is a hero to his + valet.” + </p> + <p> + It may be that the valet is near-sighted or envious—two infirmities + that resemble each other more closely than people think. We maintain that + a hero may become a kind man, but a hero, for being kind, is none the less + a hero. + </p> + <p> + What is a hero in the eyes of the public? A man whose genius is + momentarily greater than his heart. What is a hero in private life? A man + whose heart is momentarily greater than his genius. + </p> + <p> + Historians, judge the genius! + </p> + <p> + People, judge the heart! + </p> + <p> + Who judged Charlemagne? The historians. Who judged Henri IV.? The people. + Which, in your opinion, was the most righteously judged? + </p> + <p> + Well, in order to render just judgment, and compel the court of appeals, + which is none other than posterity, to confirm contemporaneous judgments, + it is essential not to light up one side only of the figure we depict, but + to walk around it, and wherever the sunlight does not reach, to hold a + torch, or even a candle. + </p> + <p> + Now, let us return to Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + He was working, as we said, with Bourrienne. Let us inquire into the usual + division of the First Consul’s time. + </p> + <p> + He rose at seven or eight in the morning, and immediately called one of + his secretaries, preferably Bourrienne, and worked with him until ten. At + ten, breakfast was announced; Josephine, Hortense and Eugène either waited + or sat down to table with the family, that is with the aides-de-camp on + duty and Bourrienne. After breakfast he talked with the usual party, or + the invited guests, if there were any; one hour was devoted to this + intercourse, which was generally shared by the First Consul’s two + brothers, Lucien and Joseph, Regnault de Saint-Jean-d’Angely, Boulay (de + la Meurthe), Monge, Berthollet, Laplace and Arnault. Toward noon + Cambacérès arrived. As a general thing Bonaparte devoted half an hour to + his chancellor; then suddenly, without warning, he would rise and say: “Au + revoir, Josephine! au revoir, Hortense! Come, Bourrienne, let us go to + work.” + </p> + <p> + This speech, which recurred almost regularly in the same words, was no + sooner uttered than Bonaparte left the salon and returned to his study. + There, no system of work was adopted; it might be some urgent matter or + merely a caprice. Either Bonaparte dictated or Bourrienne read, after + which the First Consul went to the council. + </p> + <p> + In the earlier months of the Consulate, he was obliged to cross the + courtyard of the little Luxembourg to reach the council-chamber, which, if + the weather were rainy, put him in bad humor; but toward the end of + December he had the courtyard covered; and from that time he almost always + returned to his study singing. Bonaparte sang almost as false as Louis XV. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he was back he examined the work he had ordered done, signed + his letters, and stretched himself out in his armchair, the arms of which + he stabbed with his penknife as he talked. If he was not inclined to talk, + he reread the letters of the day before, or the pamphlets of the day, + laughing at intervals with the hearty laugh of a great child. Then + suddenly, as one awakening from a dream, he would spring to his feet and + cry out: “Write, Bourrienne!” + </p> + <p> + Then he would sketch out the plan for some building to be erected, or + dictate some one of those vast projects which have amazed—let us say + rather, terrified the world. + </p> + <p> + At five o’clock he dined; after dinner the First Consul ascended to + Josephine’s apartments, where he usually received the visits of the + ministers, and particularly that of the minister of foreign affairs, M. de + Talleyrand. At midnight, sometimes earlier, but never later, he gave the + signal for retiring by saying, brusquely: “Let us go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, at seven in the morning, the same life began over again, + varied only by unforeseen incidents. + </p> + <p> + After these details of the personal habits of the great genius we are + trying to depict under his first aspect, his personal portrait ought, we + think, to come. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, First Consul, has left fewer indications of his personal + appearance than Napoleon, Emperor. Now, as nothing less resembles the + Emperor of 1812 than the First Consul of 1800; let us endeavor, if + possible, to sketch with a pen those features which the brush has never + fully portrayed, that countenance which neither bronze nor marble has been + able to render. Most of the painters and sculptors who flourished during + this illustrious period of art—Gros, David, Prud’hon, Girodet and + Bosio—have endeavored to transmit to posterity the features of the + Man of Destiny, at the different epochs when the vast providential vistas + which beckoned him first revealed themselves. Thus, we have portraits of + Bonaparte, commander-in-chief, Bonaparte, First Consul, and Napoleon, + Emperor; and although some painters and sculptors have caught more or less + successfully the type of his face, it may be said that there does not + exist, either of the general, the First Consul, or the emperor, a single + portrait or bust which perfectly resembles him. + </p> + <p> + It was not within the power of even genius to triumph over an + impossibility. During the first part of Bonaparte’s life it was possible + to paint or chisel Bonaparte’s protuberant skull, his brow furrowed by the + sublime line of thought, his pale elongated face, his granite complexion, + and the meditative character of his countenance. During the second part of + his life it was possible to paint or to chisel his broadened forehead, his + admirably defined eyebrows, his straight nose, his close-pressed lips, his + chin modelled with rare perfection, his whole face, in short, like a coin + of Augustus. But that which neither his bust nor his portrait could + render, which was utterly beyond the domain of imitation, was the mobility + of his look; that look which is to man what the lightning is to God, + namely, the proof of his divinity. + </p> + <p> + In Bonaparte, that look obeyed his will with the rapidity of lightning; in + one and the same minute it dared from beneath his eyelids, now keen and + piercing as the blade of a dagger violently unsheathed, now soft as a sun + ray or a kiss, now stern as a challenge, or terrible as a threat. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte had a look for every thought that stirred his soul. In Napoleon, + this look, except in the momentous circumstances of his life, ceased to be + mobile and became fixed, but even so it was none the less impossible to + render; it was a drill sounding the heart of whosoever he looked upon, the + deepest, the most secret thought of which he meant to sound. Marble or + painting might render the fixedness of that look, but neither the one nor + the other could portray its life—that is to say, its penetrating and + magnetic action. Troubled hearts have veiled eyes. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, even in the days of his leanness, had beautiful hands, and he + displayed them with a certain coquetry. As he grew stouter his hands + became superb; he took the utmost care of them, and looked at them when + talking, with much complacency. He felt the same satisfaction in his + teeth, which were handsome, though not with the splendor of his hands. + </p> + <p> + When he walked, either alone or with some one, whether in a room or in a + garden, he always bent a little forward, as though his head were heavy to + carry, and crossed his hands behind his back. He frequently made an + involuntary movement with the right shoulder, as if a nervous shudder had + passed through it, and at the same time his mouth made a curious movement + from right to left, which seemed to result from the other. These + movements, however, had nothing convulsive about them, whatever may have + been said notwithstanding; they were a simple trick indicative of great + preoccupation, a sort of congestion of the mind. It was chiefly manifested + when the general, the First Consul, or the Emperor, was maturing vast + plans. It was after such promenades, accompanied by this twofold movement + of the shoulders and lips, that he dictated his most important notes. On a + campaign, with the army, on horseback, he was indefatigable; he was almost + as much so in ordinary life, and would often walk five or six hours in + succession without perceiving it. + </p> + <p> + When he walked thus with some one with whom he was familiar, he commonly + passed his arm through that or his companion and leaned upon him. + </p> + <p> + Slender and thin as he was at the period when we place him before our + readers’ eyes, he was much concerned by the fear of future corpulence; it + was to Bourrienne that he usually confided this singular dread. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Bourrienne, how slim and abstemious I am. Well, nothing can rid + me of the idea that when I am forty I shall be a great eater and very fat. + I foresee that my constitution will undergo a change. I take exercise + enough, but what will you!—it’s a presentiment; and it won’t fail to + happen.” + </p> + <p> + We all know to what obesity he attained when a prisoner at Saint Helena. + </p> + <p> + He had a positive passion for baths, which no doubt contributed not a + little to make him fat; this passion became an irresistible need. He took + one every other day, and stayed in it two hours, during which time the + journals and pamphlets of the day were read to him. As the water cooled he + would turn the hot-water faucet until he raised the temperature of his + bathroom to such a degree that the reader could neither bear it any + longer, nor see to read. Not until then would he permit the door to be + opened. + </p> + <p> + It has been said that he was subject to epileptic attacks after his first + campaign in Italy. Bourrienne was with him eleven years, and never saw him + suffer from an attack of this malady. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, though indefatigable when necessity demanded it, required much + sleep, especially during the period of which we are now writing. + Bonaparte, general or First Consul, kept others awake, but he slept, and + slept well. He retired at midnight, sometimes earlier, as we have said, + and when at seven in the morning they entered his room to awaken him he + was always asleep. Usually at the first call he would rise; but + occasionally, still half asleep, he would mutter: “Bourrienne, I beg of + you, let me sleep a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + Then, if there was nothing urgent, Bourrienne would return at eight + o’clock; if it was otherwise, he insisted, and then, with much grumbling, + Bonaparte would get up. He slept seven, sometimes eight, hours out of the + twenty-four, taking a short nap in the afternoon. He also gave particular + instruction for the night. + </p> + <p> + “At night,” he would say, “come in my room as seldom as possible. Never + wake me if you have good news to announce—good news can wait; but if + there is bad news, wake me instantly, for then there is not a moment to be + lost in facing it.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Bonaparte had risen and made his morning ablutions, which were + very thorough, his valet entered and brushed his hair and shaved him; + while he was being shaved, a secretary or an aide-de-camp read the + newspapers aloud, always beginning with the “Moniteur.” He gave no real + attention to any but the English and German papers. + </p> + <p> + “Skip that,” he would say when they read him the French papers; “<i>I know + what they say, because they only say what I choose.</i>” + </p> + <p> + His toilet completed, Bonaparte went down to his study. We have seen above + what he did there. At ten o’clock the breakfast as announced, usually by + the steward, in these words: “The general is served.” No title, it will be + observed, not even that of First Consul. + </p> + <p> + The repast was a frugal one. Every morning a dish was served which + Bonaparte particularly liked—a chicken fried in oil with garlic; the + same dish that is now called on the bills of fare at restaurants “Chicken + à la Marengo.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte drank little, and then only Bordeaux or Burgundy, preferably the + latter. After breakfast, as after dinner, he drank a cup of black coffee; + never between meals. When he chanced to work until late at night they + brought him, not coffee, but chocolate, and the secretary who worked with + him had a cup of the same. Most historians, narrators, and biographers, + after saying that Bonaparte drank a great deal of coffee, add that he took + snuff to excess. + </p> + <p> + They are doubly mistaken. From the time he was twenty-four, Bonaparte had + contracted the habit of taking snuff: but only enough to keep his brain + awake. He took it habitually, not, as biographers have declared, from the + pocket of his waistcoat, but from a snuff-box which he changed almost + every day for a new one—having in this matter of collecting + snuff-boxes a certain resemblance to the great Frederick. If he ever did + take snuff from his waistcoat pocket, it was on his battle days, when it + would have been difficult, while riding at a gallop under fire, to hold + both reins and snuff-box. For those days he had special waistcoats, with + the right-hand pocket lined with perfumed leather; and, as the sloping cut + of his coat enabled him to insert his thumb and forefinger into this + pocket without unbuttoning his coat, he could, under any circumstances and + at any gait, take snuff when he pleased. + </p> + <p> + As general or First Consul, he never wore gloves, contenting himself with + holding and crumpling them in his left hand. As Emperor, there was some + advance in this propriety; he wore one glove, and as he changed his + gloves, not once, but two or three times a day, his valet adopted the + habit of giving him alternate gloves; thus making one pair serve as two. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte had two great passions which Napoleon inherited—for war + and architectural monuments to his fame. + </p> + <p> + Gay, almost jolly in camp, he was dreamy and sombre in repose. To escape + this gloom he had recourse to the electricity of art, and saw visions of + those gigantic monumental works of which he undertook many, and completed + some. He realized that such works are part of the life of peoples; they + are history written in capitals, landmarks of the ages, left standing long + after generations are swept away. He knew that Rome lives in her ruins, + that Greece speaks by her statues, that Egypt, splendid and mysterious + spectre, appeared through her monuments on the threshold of civilized + existence. + </p> + <p> + What he loved above everything, what he hugged in preference to all else, + was renown, heroic uproar; hence his need of war, his thirst for glory. He + often said: + </p> + <p> + “A great reputation is a great noise; the louder it is, the further it is + heard. Laws, institutions, monuments, nations, all fall; but sound remains + and resounds through other generations. Babylon and Alexandria are fallen; + Semiramis and Alexander stand erect, greater perhaps through the echo of + their renown, waxing and multiplying through the ages, than they were in + their lifetimes.” Then he added, connecting these ideas with himself: “My + power depends on my fame and on the battles I win. Conquest has made me + what I am, and conquest alone can sustain me. A new born government must + dazzle, must amaze. The moment it no longer flames, it dies out; once it + ceases to grow, it falls.” + </p> + <p> + He was long a Corsican, impatient under the conquest of his country; but + after the 13th Vendemiaire he became a true Frenchman, and ended by loving + France with true passion. His dream was to see her great, happy, powerful, + at the head of the nations in glory and in art. It is true that, in making + France great, he became great with her, and attached his name indissolubly + to her grandeur. To him, living eternally in this thought, actuality + disappeared in the future; wherever the hurricane of war may have swept + him, France, above all things else, above all nations, filled his + thoughts. “What will my Athenians think?” said Alexander, after Issus and + Arbela. “I hope the French will be content with me,” said Bonaparte, after + Rivoli and the Pyramids. + </p> + <p> + Before battle, this modern Alexander gave little thought to what he should + do in case of victory, but much in case of defeat. He, more than any man, + was convinced that trifles often decide the greatest events; he was + therefore more concerned in foreseeing such events than in producing them. + He watched them come to birth, and ripen; then, when the right time came, + he appeared, laid his hand on them, mastered and guided them, as an able + rider roasters and guides a spirited horse. + </p> + <p> + His rapid rise in the midst of revolutions and political changes he had + brought about, or seen accomplished, the events which he had controlled, + had given him a certain contempt for men; moreover, he was not inclined by + nature to think well of them. His lips were often heard to utter the + grievous maxim—all the more grievous because he personally knew its + truth—“There are two levers by which men are moved, fear and + self-interest.” + </p> + <p> + With such opinions Bonaparte did not, in fact, believe in friendship. + </p> + <p> + “How often,” said Bourrienne, “has he said to me, ‘Friendship is only a + word; I love no one, not even my brothers—Joseph a little possibly; + but if I love him it is only from habit, and because he is my elder. + Duroc, yes, I love him; but why? Because his character pleases me; because + he is stern, cold, resolute; besides, Duroc never sheds a tear. But why + should I love any one? Do you think I have any true friends? As long as I + am what I am, I shall have friends—apparently at least; but when my + luck ceases, you’ll see! Trees don’t have leaves in winter. I tell you, + Bourrienne, we must leave whimpering to the women, it’s their business; as + for me, no feelings. I need a vigorous hand and a stout heart; if not, + better let war and government alone.’” + </p> + <p> + In his familiar intercourse, Bonaparte was what schoolboys call a tease; + but his teasings were never spiteful, and seldom unkind. His ill-humor, + easily aroused, disappeared like a cloud driven by the wind; it evaporated + in words, and disappeared of its own will. Sometimes, however, when + matters of public import were concerned, and his lieutenants or ministers + were to blame, he gave way to violent anger; his outbursts were then hard + and cruel, and often humiliating. He gave blows with a club, under which, + willingly or unwillingly, the recipient had to bow his head; witness his + scene with Jomini and that with the Duc de Bellune. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte had two sets of enemies, the Jacobins and the royalists; he + detested the first and feared the second. In speaking of the Jacobins, he + invariably called them the murderers of Louis XVI.; as for the royalists, + that was another thing; one might almost have thought he foresaw the + Restoration. He had about him two men who had voted the death of the king, + Fouché and Cambacérès. + </p> + <p> + He dismissed Fouché, and, if he kept Cambacérès, it was because he wanted + the services of that eminent legist; but he could not endure him, and he + would often catch his colleague, the Second Consul, by the ear, and say: + “My poor Cambacérès, I’m so sorry for you; but your goose is cooked. If + ever the Bourbons get back they will hang you.” + </p> + <p> + One day Cambacérès lost his temper, and with a twist of his head he pulled + his ear from the living pincers that held it. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “have done with your foolish joking.” + </p> + <p> + Whenever Bonaparte escaped any danger, a childish habit, a Corsican habit, + reappeared; he always made a rapid sign of the cross on his breast with + the thumb. + </p> + <p> + Whenever he met with any annoyance, or was haunted with a disagreeable + thought, he hummed—what air? An air of his own that was no air at + all, and which nobody ever noticed, he sang so false. Then, still singing, + he would sit down before his writing desk, tilting in his chair, tipping + it back till he almost fell over, and mutilating, as we have said, its + arms with a penknife, which served no other purpose, inasmuch as he never + mended a pen himself. His secretaries were charged with that duty, and + they mended them in the best manner possible, mindful of the fact that + they would have to copy that terrific writing, which, as we know, was not + absolutely illegible. + </p> + <p> + The effect produced on Bonaparte by the ringing of bells is known. It was + the only music he understood, and it went straight to his heart. If he was + seated when the vibrations began he would hold up his hand for silence, + and lean toward the sound. If he was walking, he would stop, bend his + head, and listen. As long as the bell rang he remained motionless; when + the sound died away in space, he resumed his work, saying to those who + asked him to explain this singular liking for the iron voice: “It reminds + me of my first years at Brienne; I was happy then!” + </p> + <p> + At the period of which we are writing, his greatest personal interest was + the purchase he had made of the domain of Malmaison. He went there every + night like a schoolboy off for his holiday, and spent Sunday and often + Monday there. There, work was neglected for walking expeditions, during + which he personally superintended the improvements he had ordered. + Occasionally, and especially at first, he would wander beyond the limits + of the estate; but these excursions were thought dangerous by the police, + and given up entirely after the conspiracy of the Aréna and the affair of + the infernal machine. + </p> + <p> + The revenue derived from Malmaison, calculated by Bonaparte himself, on + the supposition that he should sell his fruits and vegetables, did not + amount to more than six thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + “That’s not bad,” he said to Bourrienne; “but,” he added with a sigh, “one + must have thirty thousand a year to be able to live here.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte introduced a certain poesy in his taste for the country. He + liked to see a woman with a tall flexible figure glide through the dusky + shrubberies of the park; only that woman must be dressed in white. He + hated gowns of a dark color and had a horror of stout women. As for + pregnant women, he had such an aversion for them that it was very seldom + he invited one to his soirées or his fêtes. For the rest, with little + gallantry in his nature, too overbearing to attract, scarcely civil to + women, it was rare for him to say, even to the prettiest, a pleasant + thing; in fact, he often produced a shudder by the rude remarks he made + even to Josephine’s best friends. To one he remarked: “Oh! what red arms + you have!” To another, “What an ugly headdress you are wearing!” To a + third, “Your gown is dirty; I have seen you wear it twenty times”; or, + “Why don’t you change your dressmaker; you are dressed like a fright.” + </p> + <p> + One day he said to the Duchesse de Chevreuse, a charming blonde, whose + hair was the admiration of everyone: + </p> + <p> + “It’s queer how red your hair is!” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” replied the duchess, “but this is the first time any man has + told me so.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte did not like cards; when he did happen to play it was always + vingt-et-un. For the rest, he had one trait in common with Henry IV., he + cheated; but when the game was over he left all the gold and notes he had + won on the table, saying: + </p> + <p> + “You are ninnies! I have cheated all the time we’ve been playing, and you + never found out. Those who lost can take their money back.” + </p> + <p> + Born and bred in the Catholic faith, Bonaparte had no preference for any + dogma. When he re-established divine worship it was done as a political + act, not as a religious one. He was fond, however, of discussions bearing + on the subject; but he defined his own part in advance by saying: “My + reason makes me a disbeliever in many things; but the impressions of my + childhood and the inspirations of my early youth have flung me back into + uncertainty.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless he would never hear of materialism; he cared little what the + dogma was, provided that dogma recognized a Creator. One beautiful evening + in Messidor, on board his vessel, as it glided along between the twofold + azure of the sky and sea, certain mathematicians declared there was no + God, only animated matter. Bonaparte looked at the celestial arch, a + hundred times more brilliant between Malta and Alexandria than it is in + Europe, and, at a moment when they thought him unconscious of the + conversation, he exclaimed, pointing to the stars: “You may say what you + please, but it was a God who made all that.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, though very exact in paying his private debts, was just the + reverse about public expenses. He was firmly convinced that in all past + transactions between ministers and purveyors or contractors, that if the + minister who had made the contract was not a dupe, the State at any rate + was robbed; for this reason he delayed the period of payment as long as + possible; there were literally no evasions, no difficulties he would not + make, no bad reasons he would not give. It was a fixed idea with him, an + immutable principle, that every contractor was a cheat. + </p> + <p> + One day a man who had made a bid that was accepted was presented to him. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” he asked, with his accustomed brusqueness. + </p> + <p> + “Vollant, citizen First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “Good name for a contractor.” + </p> + <p> + “I spell it with two l’s, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “To rob the better, sir,” retorted Bonaparte, turning his back on him. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte seldom changed his decisions, even when he saw they were unjust. + No one ever heard him say: “I was mistaken.” On the contrary, his favorite + saying was: “I always believe the worst”—a saying more worthy of + Simon than Augustus. + </p> + <p> + But with all this, one felt that there was more of a desire in Bonaparte’s + mind to seem to despise men than actual contempt for them. He was neither + malignant nor vindictive. Sometimes, it is true, he relied too much upon + necessity, that iron-tipped goddess; but for the rest, take him away from + the field of politics and he was kind, sympathetic, accessible to pity, + fond of children (great proof of a kind and pitying heart), full of + indulgence for human weakness in private life, and sometimes of a + good-humored heartiness, like that of Henri IV. playing with his children + in the presence of the Spanish ambassador. + </p> + <p> + If we were writing history we should have many more things to say of + Bonaparte without counting those which—after finishing with + Bonaparte—we should still have to say of Napoleon. But we are + writing a simple narrative, in which Bonaparte plays a part; + unfortunately, wherever Bonaparte shows himself, if only for a moment, he + becomes, in spite of himself, a principal personage. + </p> + <p> + The reader must pardon us for having again fallen into digression; that + man, who is a world in himself, has, against our will, swept us along in + his whirlwind. + </p> + <p> + Let us return to Roland, and consequently to our legitimate tale. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. THE AMBASSADOR + </h2> + <p> + We have seen that Roland, on returning to the Luxembourg, asked for the + First Consul and was told that he was engaged with Fouché, the minister of + police. + </p> + <p> + Roland was a privileged person; no matter what functionary was with + Bonaparte, he was in the habit, on his return from a journey, or merely + from an errand, of half opening the door and putting in his head. The + First Consul was often so busy that he paid no attention to this head. + When that was the case, Roland would say “General!” which meant, in the + close intimacy which still existed between the two schoolmates: “General, + I am here; do you need me? I’m at your orders.” If the First Consul did + not need him, he replied: “Very good.” If on the contrary he did need him, + he said, simply: “Come in.” Then Roland would enter, and wait in the + recess of a window until the general told him what he wanted. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, Roland put his head in as usual, saying: “General!” + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” replied the First Consul, with visible satisfaction; “come in, + come in!” + </p> + <p> + Roland entered. Bonaparte was, as he had been told, busy with the minister + of police. The affair on which the First Consul was engaged, and which + seemed to absorb him a great deal, had also its interest for Roland. + </p> + <p> + It concerned the recent stoppages of diligences by the Companions of Jehu. + </p> + <p> + On the table lay three <i>procès-verbaux</i> relating the stoppage of one + diligence and two mail-coaches. Tribier, the paymaster of the Army of + Italy, was in one of the latter. The stoppages had occurred, one on the + highroad between Meximieux and Montluel, on that part of the road which + crosses the commune of Bellignieux; the second, at the extremity of the + lake of Silans, in the direction of Nantua; the third, on the highroad + between Saint-Etienne and Bourg, at a spot called Les Carronnières. + </p> + <p> + A curious fact was connected with these stoppages. A sum of four thousand + francs and a case of jewelry had been mixed up by mistake with the + money-bags belonging to the government. The owners of the money had + thought them lost, when the justice of the peace at Nantua received an + unsigned letter telling him the place where these objects had been buried, + and requesting him to return them to their rightful owners, as the + Companions of Jehu made war upon the government and not against private + individuals. + </p> + <p> + In another case; that of the Carronnières—where the robbers, in + order to stop the mail-coach, which had continued on its way with + increased speed in spite of the order to stop, were forced to fire at a + horse—the Companions of Jehu had felt themselves obliged to make + good this loss to the postmaster, who had received five hundred francs for + the dead horse. That was exactly what the animal had cost eight days + before; and this valuation proved that they were dealing with men who + understood horses. + </p> + <p> + The <i>procès-verbaux</i> sent by the local authorities were accompanied + by the affidavits of the travellers. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte was singing that mysterious tune of which we have spoken; which + showed that he was furious. So, as Roland might be expected to bring him + fresh information, he had called him three times to come in. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “your part of the country is certainly in revolt against + me; just look at that.” + </p> + <p> + Roland glanced at the papers and understood at once. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly what I came to speak to you about, general,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Then begin at once; but first go ask Bourrienne for my department atlas.” + </p> + <p> + Roland fetched the atlas, and, guessing what Bonaparte desired to look at, + opened it at the department of the Ain. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said Bonaparte; “show me where these affairs happened.” + </p> + <p> + Roland laid his finger on the edge of the map, in the neighborhood of + Lyons. + </p> + <p> + “There, general, that’s the exact place of the first attack, near the + village of Bellignieux.” + </p> + <p> + “And the second?” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said Roland, pointing to the other side of the department, toward + Geneva; “there’s the lake of Nantua, and here’s that of Silans.” + </p> + <p> + “Now the third?” + </p> + <p> + Roland laid his finger on the centre of the map. + </p> + <p> + “General, there’s the exact spot. Les Carronnières are not marked on the + map because of their slight importance.” + </p> + <p> + “What are Les Carronnières?” asked the First Consul. + </p> + <p> + “General, in our part of the country the manufactories of tiles are called + <i>carronnières</i>; they belong to citizen Terrier. That’s the place they + ought to be on the map.” + </p> + <p> + And Roland made a pencil mark on the paper to show the exact spot where + the stoppage occurred. + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Bonaparte; “why, it happened less than a mile and a half + from Bourg!” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely that, general; that explains why the wounded horse was taken + back to Bourg and died in the stables of the Belle-Alliance.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear all these details, sir!” said Bonaparte, addressing the + minister of police. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen First Consul,” answered the latter. + </p> + <p> + “You know I want this brigandage to stop?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall use every effort—” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not a question of your efforts, but of its being done.” + </p> + <p> + The minister bowed. + </p> + <p> + “It is only on that condition,” said Bonaparte, “that I shall admit you + are the able man you claim to be.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll help you, citizen,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + “I did not venture to ask for your assistance,” said the minister. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I offer it; don’t do anything that we have not planned + together.” + </p> + <p> + The minister looked at Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” said Bonaparte; “you can go. Roland will follow you to the + ministry.” + </p> + <p> + Fouché bowed and left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” continued the First Consul, “your honor depends upon your + exterminating these bandits, Roland. In the first place, the thing is + being carried on in your department; and next, they seem to have some + particular grudge against you and your family.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” said Roland, “that’s what makes me so furious; they + spare me and my family.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go over it again, Roland. Every detail is of importance; it’s a war + of Bedouins over again.” + </p> + <p> + “Just notice this, general. I spend a night in the Chartreuse of Seillon, + because I have been told that it was haunted by ghosts. Sure enough, a + ghost appears, but a perfectly inoffensive one. I fire at it twice, and it + doesn’t even turn around. My mother is in a diligence that is stopped, and + faints away. One of the robbers pays her the most delicate attentions, + bathes her temples with vinegar, and gives her smelling-salts. My brother + Edouard fights them as best he can; they take him in their arms, kiss him, + and make him all sorts of compliments on his courage; a little more and + they would have given him sugar-plums as a reward for his gallant conduct. + Now, just the reverse; my friend Sir John follows my example, goes where I + have been; he is treated as a spy and stabbed, as they thought, to death.” + </p> + <p> + “But he didn’t die.” + </p> + <p> + “No. On the contrary, he is so well that he wants to marry my sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah ha! Has he asked for her?” + </p> + <p> + “Officially.” + </p> + <p> + “And you answered?” + </p> + <p> + “I answered that the matter depended on two persons.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother and you; that’s true.” + </p> + <p> + “No; my sister herself—and you.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sister I understand; but I?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you tell me general, that you would take charge of marrying her?” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte walked up and down the room with his arms crossed; then, + suddenly stopping before Roland, he said: “What is your Englishman like?” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mean physically; all Englishmen are alike—blue eyes, red + hair, white skin, long jaws.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s their <i>th</i>,” said Roland, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Their <i>th</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Did you ever learn English, general?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith! I tried to learn it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your teacher must have told you that the <i>th</i> was sounded by + pressing the tongue against the teeth. Well, by dint of punching their + teeth with their tongues the English have ended by getting those elongated + jaws, which, as you said just now, is one of the distinctive + characteristics of their physiognomy.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte looked at Roland to see if that incorrigible jester were + laughing or speaking seriously. Roland was imperturbable. + </p> + <p> + “Is that your opinion?” said Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general, and I think that physiologically it is as good as any + other. I have a lot of opinions like it, which I bring to light as the + occasion offers.” + </p> + <p> + “Come back to your Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked you what he was like.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is a gentleman; very brave, very calm, very impassible, very + noble, very rich, and, moreover—which may not be a recommendation to + you—a nephew of Lord Grenville, prime minister to his Britannic + Majesty.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “I said, prime minister to his Britannic Majesty.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte resumed his walk; then, presently returning to Roland, he said: + “Can I see your Englishman?” + </p> + <p> + “You know, general, that you can do anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Go find him and bring him here.” + </p> + <p> + Roland was in the habit of obeying without reply; he took his hat and went + toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Send Bourrienne to me,” said the First Consul, just as Roland passed into + the secretary’s room. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later Bourrienne appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down there, Bourrienne,” said the First Consul, “and write.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne sat down, arranged his paper, dipped his pen in the ink, and + waited. + </p> + <p> + “Ready?” asked the First Consul, sitting down upon the writing table, + which was another of his habits; a habit that reduced his secretary to + despair, for Bonaparte never ceased swinging himself back and forth all + the time he dictated—a motion that shook the table as much as if it + had been in the middle of the ocean with a heaving sea. + </p> + <p> + “I’m ready,” replied Bourrienne, who had ended by forcing himself to + endure, with more or less patience, all Bonaparte’s eccentricities. + </p> + <p> + “Then write.” And he dictated: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bonaparte, First Consul of the Republic, to his Majesty the King + of Great Britain and Ireland. + + Called by the will of the French nation to the chief magistracy + of the Republic, I think it proper to inform your Majesty + personally of this fact. + + Must the war, which for two years has ravaged the four quarters + of the globe, be perpetuated? Is there no means of staying it? + + How is it that two nations, the most enlightened of Europe, + more powerful and strong than their own safety and + independence require; how is it that they sacrifice to their + ideas of empty grandeur or bigoted antipathies the welfare + of commerce, eternal prosperity, the happiness of families? + How is it that they do not recognize that peace is the first + of needs and the first of a nation’s glories? + + These sentiments cannot be foreign to the heart of a king who + governs a free nation with the sole object of rendering it happy. + + Your Majesty will see in this overture my sincere desire to + contribute efficaciously, for the second time, to a general + pacification, by an advance frankly made and free of those + formalities which, necessary perhaps to disguise the dependence + of feeble states, only disclose in powerful nations a mutual + desire to deceive. + + France and England can, for a long time yet, by the abuse of + their powers, and to the misery of their people, carry on the + struggle without exhaustion; but, and I dare say it, the fate + of all the civilized nations depends on the conclusion of a + war which involves the universe. +</pre> + <p> + Bonaparte paused. “I think that will do,” said he. “Read it over, + Bourrienne.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne read the letter he had just written. After each paragraph the + First Consul nodded approvingly; and said: “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + Before the last words were fairly uttered, he took the letter from + Bourrienne’s hands and signed it with a new pen. It was a habit of his + never to use the same pen twice. Nothing could be more disagreeable to him + than a spot of ink on his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “That’s good,” said he. “Seal it and put on the address: ‘To Lord + Grenville.’” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne did as he was told. At the same moment the noise of a carriage + was heard entering the courtyard of the Luxembourg. A moment later the + door opened and Roland appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I tell you you could have anything you wanted, general?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you brought your Englishman?” + </p> + <p> + “I met him in the Place de Buci; and, knowing that you don’t like to wait, + I caught him just as he was, and made him get into the carriage. Faith! I + thought I should have to drive round to the Rue Mazarine, and get a guard + to bring him. He’s in boots and a frock-coat.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him come in,” said Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Sir John,” cried Roland, turning round. + </p> + <p> + Lord Tanlay appeared on the threshold. Bonaparte had only to glance at him + to recognize a perfect gentleman. A trifling emaciation, a slight pallor, + gave Sir John the characteristics of great distinction. He bowed, awaiting + the formal introduction, like the true Englishman he was. + </p> + <p> + “General,” said Roland, “I have the honor to present to you Sir John + Tanlay, who proposed to go to the third cataract for the purpose of seeing + you, but who has, to-day, obliged me to drag him by the ear to the + Luxembourg.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, my lord; come in,” said Bonaparte. “This is not the first time + we have seen each other, nor the first that I have expressed the wish to + know you; there was therefore positive ingratitude in trying to evade my + desire.” + </p> + <p> + “If I hesitated,” said Sir John, in excellent French, as usual, “it was + because I could scarcely believe in the honor you do me.” + </p> + <p> + “And besides, very naturally, from national feeling, you detest me, don’t + you, like the rest of your countrymen?” + </p> + <p> + “I must confess, general,” answered Sir John, smiling, “that they have not + got beyond admiration.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you share the absurd prejudice that claims that national honor + requires you to hate to-day the enemy who may be a friend to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “France has been almost a second mother country to me, and my friend + Roland will tell you that I long for the moment when, of my two countries, + the one to which I shall owe the most will be France.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you ought to see France and England shaking hands for the good of + the world, without repugnance.” + </p> + <p> + “The day when I see that will be a happy day for me.” + </p> + <p> + “If you could contribute to bring it about would you do so?” + </p> + <p> + “I would risk my life to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Roland tells me you are a relative of Lord Grenville.” + </p> + <p> + “His nephew.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you on good terms with him?” + </p> + <p> + “He was very fond of my mother, his eldest sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you inherited the fondness he bore your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; only I think he holds it in reserve till I return to England.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you deliver a letter for me?” + </p> + <p> + “To whom?” + </p> + <p> + “King George III.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be greatly honored.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you undertake to say to your uncle that which cannot be written in a + letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Without changing a syllable; the words of General Bonaparte are history.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, tell him—” but, interrupting himself, he turned to + Bourrienne, saying: “Bourrienne, find me the last letter from the Emperor + of Russia.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne opened a box, and, without searching, laid his hand on a letter + that he handed to Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + The First Consul cast his eye over the paper and then gave it to Lord + Tanlay. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him,” said he, “first and before all, that you have read this + letter.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John bowed and read as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CITIZEN FIRST CONSUL—I have received, each armed and newly + clothed in the uniform of his regiment, the nine thousand + Russians, made prisoners in Holland, whom you have returned + to me without ransom, exchange, or condition of any kind. + + This is pure chivalry, and I boast of being chivalrous. + + I think that which I can best offer you in exchange for this + magnificent present, citizen First Consul, is my friendship. + Will you accept it? + + As an earnest of that friendship, I am sending his passports + to Lord Whitworth, the British Ambassador to Saint Petersburg. + + Furthermore, if you will be, I do not say my second, but my + witness, I will challenge personally every king who will not + take part against England and close his ports to her. + + I begin with my neighbor the King of Denmark, and you will + find in the “Gazette de la Cour” the ultimatum I have sent him. + + What more can I say to you? Nothing, unless it be that you and + I together can give laws to the world. + + I am your admirer and sincere friend, PAUL. +</pre> + <p> + Lord Tanlay turned to the First Consul. “Of course you know,” said he, + “that the Emperor of Russia is mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it that letter that makes you think so, my lord?” asked Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “No; but it confirms my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a madman who gave Henry VI. of Lancaster the crown of Saint-Louis, + and the blazon of England still bears—until I scratch them out with + my sword—the fleur-de-lis of France.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John smiled; his national pride revolted at this assumption in the + conqueror of the Pyramids. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Bonaparte, “that is not the question to-day; everything in its + own time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” murmured Sir John, “we are too near Aboukir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall never defeat you at sea,” said Bonaparte; “it would take + fifty years to make France a maritime nation; but over there,” and he + motioned with his hand to the East, “at the present moment, I repeat, that + the question is not war but peace. I must have peace to accomplish my + dream, and, above all, peace with England. You see, I play aboveboard; I + am strong enough to speak frankly. If the day ever comes when a + diplomatist tells the truth, he will be the first diplomatist in the + world; for no one will believe him, and he will attain, unopposed, his + ends.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am to tell my uncle that you desire peace.” + </p> + <p> + “At the same time letting him know that I do not fear war. If I can’t ally + myself with King George, I can, as you see, do so with the Emperor Paul; + but Russia has not reached that point of civilization that I desire in an + ally.” + </p> + <p> + “A tool is sometimes more useful than an ally.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but, as you said, the Emperor is mad, and it is better to disarm + than to arm a madman. I tell you that two nations like France and England + ought to be inseparable friends or relentless enemies; friends, they are + the poles of the world, balancing its movements with perfect equilibrium; + enemies, one must destroy the other and become the world’s sole axis.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose Lord Grenville, not doubting your genius, still doubts your + power; if he holds the opinion of our poet Coleridge, that our island + needs no rampart, no bulwark, other than the raucous murmur of the ocean, + what shall I tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “Unroll the map of the world, Bourrienne,” said Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne unrolled a map; Bonaparte stepped over to it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see those two rivers?” said he, pointing to the Volga and the + Danube. “That’s the road to India,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “I thought Egypt was, general,” said Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “So did I for a time; or, rather, I took it because I had no other. But + the Czar opens this one; your government can force me to take it. Do you + follow me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; citizen; go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if England forces me to fight her, if I am obliged to accept this + alliance with Catherine’s successor, this is what I shall do: I shall + embark forty thousand Russians on the Volga; I shall send them down the + river to Astrakhan; they will cross the Caspian and await me at + Asterabad.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John bowed in sign of deep attention. Bonaparte continued: “I shall + embark forty thousand Frenchmen on the Danube.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, citizen First Consul, but the Danube is an Austrian river.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall have taken Vienna.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John stared at Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have taken Vienna,” continued the latter. “I shall then embark + forty thousand Frenchmen on the Danube; I find Russian vessels at its + mouth ready to transport them to Taganrog; I march them by land along the + course of the Don to Pratisbianskaïa, whence they move to Tzaritsin; there + they descend the Volga in the same vessels that have transported the forty + thousand Russians to Asterabad; fifteen days later I have eighty thousand + men in western Persia. From Asterabad, these united corps will march to + the Indus; Persia, the enemy of England, is our natural ally.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but once in the Punjab, the Persian alliance will do you no good; + and an army of eighty thousand men cannot drag its provisions along with + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget one thing,” said Bonaparte, as if the expedition were already + under way, “I have left bankers at Teheran and Caboul. Now, remember what + happened nine years ago in Lord Cornwallis’ war with Tippo Saïb. The + commander-in-chief fell short of provisions, and a simple captain—I + forget his name.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Malcolm,” said Lord Tanlay. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it!” cried Bonaparte. “You know the story! Captain Malcolm had + recourse to the Brinjaries, those Bohemians of India, who cover the whole + Hindostan peninsula with their encampments, and control the grain + supplies. Well, those Bohemians are faithful to the last penny to those + who pay them; they will feed me.” + </p> + <p> + “You must cross the Indus.” + </p> + <p> + “What of that!” exclaimed Bonaparte, “I have a hundred and eighty miles of + bank between Déra-Ismaël-Khan and Attok to choose from. I know the Indus + as well as I do the Seine. It is a slow current flowing about three miles + an hour; its medium depth is, I should say, at the point I mentioned, from + twelve to fifteen feet, and there are ten or more fords on the line of my + operations.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your line is already traced out?” asked Sir John smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in so far as it follows a broad uninterrupted stretch of fertile, + well-watered provinces; that I avoid the sandy deserts which separate the + lower valley of the Indus from Rajputana; and also that I follow the + general bases of all invasions of India that have had any success, from + Mahmoud of Ghazni, in the year 1000, to Nadir Shah, in 1739. And how many + have taken the route I mean to take between the two epochs! Let us count + them. After Mahmoud of Ghazni came Mohammed Ghori, in 1184, with one + hundred and twenty thousand men; after him, Timur Tang, or Timur the Lame, + whom we call Tamerlane, with sixty thousand men; after Tamerlane, Babar; + after Babar, Humajan, and how many more I can’t remember. Why, India is + there for whoever will go and take it!” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, citizen First Consul, that all the conquerors you have named + had only the aboriginal populations to deal with, whereas you have the + English. We hold India—” + </p> + <p> + “With from twenty to twenty-two thousand men.” + </p> + <p> + “And a hundred thousand Sepoys.” + </p> + <p> + “I have counted them all, and I regard England and India, the one with the + respect, the other with the contempt, they merit. Wherever I meet European + infantry, I prepare a second, a third, and if necessary, a fourth line of + reserves, believing that the first three might give way before the British + bayonets; but wherever I find the Sepoys, I need only the postilion’s whip + to scatter the rabble. Have you any other questions to put to me, my + lord?” + </p> + <p> + “One, citizen First Consul: are you sincerely desirous of peace?” + </p> + <p> + “Here is the letter in which I ask it of your king, my lord, and it is to + be quite sure that it reaches his Britannic Majesty that I ask Lord + Grenville’s nephew to be my messenger.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be done as you desire, citizen; and were I the uncle, instead of + the nephew, I should promise more.” + </p> + <p> + “When can you start?” + </p> + <p> + “In an hour I shall be gone.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no wish to express to me before leaving?” + </p> + <p> + “None. In any case, if I have any, I leave my affairs to my friend, + Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “Shake hands with me, my lord; it will be a good omen, as you represent + England and I France.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John accepted the honor done him by Bonaparte, with the exact measure + of cordiality that indicated both his sympathy for France, and his mental + reserves for the honor of his own nation. + </p> + <p> + Then, having pressed Roland’s hand with fraternal effusion, he bowed again + to the First Consul and went out. Bonaparte followed him reflectively with + his eyes; then he said suddenly: “Roland, I not only consent to your + sister’s marriage with Lord Tanlay, but I wish it. Do you understand? <i>I + wish it</i>.” + </p> + <p> + He laid such emphasis upon those three words, that to any one who knew him + they signified plainly, not “I wish,” but “I will.” + </p> + <p> + The tyranny was sweet to Roland, and he accepted it with grateful thanks. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE TWO SIGNALS + </h2> + <p> + Let us now relate what happened at the Château des Noires-Fontaines three + days after the events we have just described took place in Paris. + </p> + <p> + Since the successive departures of Roland, then Madame de Montrevel and + her son, and finally Sir John—Roland to rejoin his general, Madame + de Montrevel to place Edouard in school, and Sir John to acquaint Roland + with his matrimonial plans—Amélie had remained alone with Charlotte + at the Château des Noires-Fontaines. We say <i>alone</i>, because Michel + and his son Jacques did not live in the house, but in the little lodge at + the gate where he added the duties of porter to those of gardener. + </p> + <p> + It therefore happened that at night all the windows, excepting those of + Amélie, which, as we have said, were on the first floor overlooking the + garden, and that of Charlotte in the attic, were left in darkness. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel had taken the second chambermaid with her. The two + young girls were perhaps rather isolated in their part of the house, which + consisted of a dozen bedrooms on three floors, especially at a time when + so many rumors of robberies on the highroads reached them. Michel, + therefore, proposed to his young mistress that he sleep in the main + building, so as to be near her in case of need. But she, in a firm voice, + assured him that she felt no fear, and desired no change in the customary + routine of the château. + </p> + <p> + Michel did not insist, and retired, saying that Mademoiselle might, in any + case, sleep in peace, for he and Jacques would make the rounds of the + house during the night. + </p> + <p> + Amélie at first seemed anxious about those rounds; but she soon noticed + that Michel and Jacques contented themselves with watching on the edge of + the forest of Seillon, and the frequent appearance of a jugged hare, or a + haunch of venison on the table, proved to her that Michel kept his word + regarding the promised rounds. + </p> + <p> + She therefore ceased to trouble about Michel’s rounds, which were always + on the side of the house opposite to that where she feared them. + </p> + <p> + Now, as we have said, three days after the events we have just related, + or, to speak more correctly, during the night following the third day, + those who were accustomed to see no light save in Amélie’s windows on the + first floor and Charlotte’s on the third, might have observed with + surprise that, from eleven o’clock until midnight, the four windows on the + first floor were illuminated. It is true that each was lighted by a single + wax-candle. They might also have seen the figure of a young girl through + the shades, staring in the direction of the village of Ceyzeriat. + </p> + <p> + This young girl was Amélie, pale, breathing with difficulty, and seeming + to watch anxiously for a signal. + </p> + <p> + At the end of a few minutes she wiped her forehead and drew a joyous + breath. A fire was lighted in the direction she had been watching. Then + she passed from room to room, putting out the three candles one after the + other, leaving only the one which was burning in her own room. As if the + fire awaited this return signal, it was now extinguished. + </p> + <p> + Amélie sat down by her window and remained motionless, her eyes fixed on + the garden. The night was dark, without moon or stars, and yet at the end + of a quarter of an hour she saw, or rather divined, a shadow crossing the + lawn and approaching the window. She placed her single candle in the + furthest corner of her room, and returned to open her window. + </p> + <p> + He whom she was awaiting was already on the balcony. + </p> + <p> + As on the first night when we saw him climb it, the young man put his arm + around the girl’s waist and drew her into the room. She made but slight + resistance; her hand sought the cord of the Venetian blind, unfastened it + from the hook that held it, and let it fall with more noise than prudence + would have counselled. + </p> + <p> + Behind the blind, she closed the window; then she fetched the candle from + the corner where she had hidden it. The light illuminated her face, and + the young man gave a cry of alarm, for it was covered with tears. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A great misfortune!” replied the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I feared it when I saw the signal by which you recalled me after + receiving me last night. But is it irreparable?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost,” answered Amélie. + </p> + <p> + “I hope, at least, that it threatens only me.” + </p> + <p> + “It threatens us both.” + </p> + <p> + The young man passed his hand over his brow to wipe away the sweat that + covered it. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” said he; “you know I am strong.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have the strength to hear it,” said she, “I have none to tell it.” + Then, taking a letter from the chimney-piece, she added: “Read that; that + is what I received by the post to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The young man took the letter, opened it, and glanced hastily at the + signature. + </p> + <p> + “From Madame de Montrevel,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with a postscript from Roland.” + </p> + <p> + The young man read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAREST DAUGHTER—I hope that the news I announce will give + you as much joy as it has already given our dear Roland and me. + Sir John, whose heart you doubted, claiming that it was only a + mechanical contrivance, manufactured in the workshops at + Vaucanson, admits that such an opinion was a just one until the + day he saw you; but he maintains that since that day he has a + heart, and that that heart adores you. + + Did you suspect it, my dear Amélie, from his aristocratic and + polished manners, when your mother’s eyes failed to discern this + tenderness. + + This morning, while breakfasting with your brother, he formally + asked your hand. Your brother received the offer with joy, but + he made no promises at first. The First Consul, before Roland’s + departure for the Vendée, had already spoken of making himself + responsible for your establishment. But since then he has asked to + see Lord Tanlay, and Sir John, though he maintained his national + reserve, was taken into the first Consul’s good graces at once, to + such a degree that he received from him, at their first interview, + a mission to his uncle, Lord Grenville. Sir John started for + England immediately. + + I do not know how many days Sir John will be absent, but on his + return he is certain to present himself to you as your betrothed. + + Lord Tanlay is still young, pleasing in appearance, and immensely + rich; he is highly connected in England, and Roland’s friend. I + do not know a man who has more right, I will not say to your love, + but to your profound esteem. + + The rest of my news I can tell you in two words. The First Consul + is still most kind to me and to your two brothers, and Madame + Bonaparte has let me know that she only awaits your marriage to + place you near her. + + There is talk of leaving the Luxembourg, and removing to the + Tuileries. Do you understand the full meaning of this change of + domicile? + + Your mother, who loves you, + CLOTILDE DE MONTREVEL. +</pre> + <p> + Without pausing, the young man turned to Roland’s postscript. It was as + follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You have read, my dear little sister, what our good mother has + written. This marriage is a suitable one under all aspects. It + is not a thing to be childish about; the First Consul <i>wishes</i> + you to become Lady Tanlay; that is to say, he <i>wills</i> it. + + I am leaving Paris for a few days. Though you may not see me, + you will hear of me. + + I kiss you, ROLAND. +</pre> + <p> + “Well, Charles,” asked Amélie, when the young man had finished reading, + “what do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + “That it is something we had to expect from day to day, my poor angel, but + it is none the less terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “There are three things we can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, resist if you have the strength; it is the shortest + and surest way.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie dropped her head. + </p> + <p> + “You will never dare, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you are my wife, Amélie; a priest has blessed our union.” + </p> + <p> + “But they say that marriage before a priest is null before the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not enough for you, the wife of a proscribed man?” asked Morgan, + his voice trembling as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + Amélie flung herself into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “But my mother,” said she; “our marriage did not have her presence and + blessing.” + </p> + <p> + “Because there were too many risks to run, and we wished to run them + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “But that man—Did you notice that my brother says he <i>wills</i> + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you loved me, Amélie, that man would see that he may change the + face of the State, carry war from one end of the world to the other, make + laws, build a throne, but that he cannot force lips to say yes when the + heart says no.” + </p> + <p> + “If I loved you!” said Amélie, in a tone of soft reproach. “It is + midnight, you are here in my room, I weep in your arms—I, the + daughter of General de Montrevel and the sister of Roland—and you + say, ‘If you loved me.’” + </p> + <p> + “I was wrong, I was wrong, my darling Amélie. Yes, I know that you were + brought up in adoration of that man; you cannot understand that any one + should resist him, and whoever does resist him is a rebel in your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Charles, you said there were three things that we could do. What is the + second?” + </p> + <p> + “Accept apparently the marriage they propose to you, and gain time, by + delaying under various pretexts. The man is not immortal.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but is too young for us to count on his death. The third way, dear + friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Fly—but that is a last resource, Amélie; there are two objections: + first, your repugnance.” + </p> + <p> + “I am yours, Charles; I will surmount my repugnance.” + </p> + <p> + “And,” added the young man, “my engagements.” + </p> + <p> + “Your engagements?” + </p> + <p> + “My companions are bound to me, Amélie; but I, too, am bound to them. We + also have a man to whom we have sworn obedience. That man is the future + king of France. If you accept your brother’s devotion to Bonaparte, accept + ours to Louis XVIII.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie let her face drop into her hands with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said she, “we are lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? On various pretexts, your health above all, you can gain a year. + Before the year is out Bonaparte will probably be forced to begin another + war in Italy. A single defeat will destroy his prestige; in short, a great + many things can happen in a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you read Roland’s postscript, Charles?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I didn’t see anything in it that was not in your mother’s + letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Read the last sentence again.” And Amélie placed the letter before him. + He read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am leaving Paris for a few days; though you may not see me, + you will hear of me. +</pre> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what that means?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “It means that Roland is in pursuit of you.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that matter? He cannot die by the hand of any of us.” + </p> + <p> + “But you, unhappy man, you can die by his!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I should care so very much if he killed me, Amélie?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! even in my gloomiest moments I never thought of that.” + </p> + <p> + “So you think your brother is on the hunt for us?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you so certain?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he swore over Sir John’s body, when he thought him dead, to + avenge him.” + </p> + <p> + “If he had died,” exclaimed the young man, bitterly, “we should not be + where we are, Amélie.” + </p> + <p> + “God saved him, Charles; it was therefore good that he did not die.” + </p> + <p> + “For us?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot fathom the ways of the Lord. I tell you, my beloved Charles, + beware of Roland; Roland is close by.” + </p> + <p> + Charles smiled incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that he is not only near here, but he has been seen.” + </p> + <p> + “He has been seen! Where? Who saw him?” + </p> + <p> + “Who saw him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte, my maid, the jailer’s daughter. She asked permission to visit + her parents yesterday, Sunday; you were coming, so I told her she could + stay till this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “She therefore spent the night with her parents. At eleven o’clock the + captain of the gendarmerie brought in some prisoners. While they were + locking them up, a man, wrapped in a cloak, came in and asked for the + captain. Charlotte thought she recognized the new-comer’s voice. She + looked at him attentively; his cloak slipped from his face, and she saw + that it was my brother.” + </p> + <p> + The young man made a movement. + </p> + <p> + “Now do you understand, Charles? My brother comes to Bourg, mysteriously, + without letting me know; he asks for the captain of the gendarmerie, + follows him into the prison, speaks only to him, and disappears. Is that + not a threatening outlook for our love? Tell me, Charles!” + </p> + <p> + As Amélie spoke, a dark cloud spread slowly over her lover’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Amélie,” said he, “when my companions and I bound ourselves together, we + did not deceive ourselves as to the risks we ran.” + </p> + <p> + “But, at least,” said Amélie, “you have changed your place of refuge; you + have abandoned the Chartreuse of Seillon?” + </p> + <p> + “None but our dead are there now.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the grotto of Ceyzeriat perfectly safe?” + </p> + <p> + “As safe as any refuge can be that has two exit.” + </p> + <p> + “The Chartreuse of Seillon had two exits; yet, as you say, you left your + dead there.” + </p> + <p> + “The dead are safer than the living; they are sure not to die on the + scaffold.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie felt a shudder go through her. + </p> + <p> + “Charles!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said the young man. “God is my witness, and you too, that I have + always put laughter and gayety between your presentiments and my fears; + but to-day the aspect of things has changed; we are coming face to face + with the crisis. Whatever the end brings us, it is approaching. I do not + ask of you, my Amélie, those selfish, unreasonable things that lovers in + danger of death exact from their mistresses; I do not ask you to bind your + heart to the dead, your love to a corpse—” + </p> + <p> + “Friend,” said the young girl, laying her hand on his arm, “take care; you + are doubting me.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I do you the highest honor in leaving you free to accomplish the + sacrifice to its full extent; but I do not want you to be bound by an + oath; no tie shall fetter you.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” said Amélie. + </p> + <p> + “What I ask of you,” continued the young man, “and I ask you to swear it + on our love, which has been, alas! so fatal to you, is this: if I am + arrested and disarmed, if I am imprisoned and condemned to death, I + implore you, Amélie, I exact of you, that in some way you will send me + arms, not only for myself, but for my companions also, so that we may + still be masters of our lives.” + </p> + <p> + “But in such a case, Charles, may I not tell all to my brother? May I not + appeal to his tenderness; to the generosity of the First Consul?” + </p> + <p> + Before the young girl had finished, her lover seized her violently by the + wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Amélie,” said he, “it is no longer one promise I ask of you, there are + two. Swear to me, in the first place, and above all else, that you will + not solicit my pardon. Swear it, Amélie; swear it!” + </p> + <p> + “Do I need to swear, dear?” asked the young girl, bursting into tears. “I + promise it.” + </p> + <p> + “Promise it on the hour when I first said I loved you, on the hour when + you answered that I was loved!” + </p> + <p> + “On your life, on mine, on the past, on the future, on our smiles, on our + tears.” + </p> + <p> + “I should die in any case, you see, Amélie, even though I had to beat my + brains out against the wall; but I should die dishonored.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise you, Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “Then for my second request, Amélie: if we are taken and condemned, send + me arms—arms or poison, the means of dying, any means. Coming from + you, death would be another joy.” + </p> + <p> + “Far or near, free or a prisoner, living or dead, you are my master, I am + your slave; order and I obey.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all, Amélie; it is simple and clear, you see, no pardon, and the + means of death.” + </p> + <p> + “Simple and clear, but terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do it, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “You wish me to?” + </p> + <p> + “I implore you.” + </p> + <p> + “Order or entreaty, Charles, your will shall be done.” + </p> + <p> + The young man held the girl, who seemed on the verge of fainting, in his + left arm, and approached his mouth to hers. But, just as their lips were + about to touch, an owl’s cry was heard, so close to the window that Amélie + started and Charles raised his head. The cry was repeated a second time, + and then a third. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” murmured Amélie, “do you hear that bird of ill-omen? We are doomed, + my friend.” + </p> + <p> + But Charles shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “That is not an owl, Amélie,” he said; “it is the call of our companions. + Put out the light.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie blew it out while her lover opened the window. + </p> + <p> + “Even here,” she murmured; “they seek you even here!” + </p> + <p> + “It is our friend and confidant, the Comte de Jayat; no one else knows + where I am.” Then, leaning from the balcony, he asked: “Is it you, + Montbar?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; is that you, Morgan?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + A man came from behind a clump of trees. + </p> + <p> + “News from Paris; not an instant to lose; a matter of life and death to us + all.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear, Amélie?” + </p> + <p> + Taking the young girl in his arms, he pressed her convulsively to his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” she said, in a faint voice, “go. Did you not hear him say it was a + matter of life and death for all of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, my Amélie, my beloved, farewell!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t say farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + “Morgan, Morgan!” cried the voice of the man waiting below in the garden. + </p> + <p> + The young man pressed his lips once more to Amélie’s; then, rushing to the + window, he sprang over the balcony at a bound and joined his friend. + </p> + <p> + Amélie gave a cry, and ran to the balustrade; but all she saw was two + moving shadows entering the deepening shadows of the fine old trees that + adorned the park. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. THE GROTTO OF CEYZERIAT + </h2> + <p> + The two young men plunged into the shadow of the trees. Morgan guided his + companion, less familiar than he with the windings of the park, until they + reached the exact spot where he was in the habit of scaling the wall. It + took but an instant for both of them to accomplish that feat. The next + moment they were on the banks of the Reissouse. + </p> + <p> + A boat was fastened to the foot of a willow; they jumped into it, and + three strokes of the oar brought them to the other side. There a path led + along the bank of the river to a little wood which extends from Ceyzeriat + to Etrez, a distance of about nine miles, and thus forms, on the other + side of the river, a pendant to the forest of Seillon. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the edge of the wood they stopped. Until then they had been + walking as rapidly as it was possible to do without running, and neither + of them had uttered a word. The whole way was deserted; it was probable, + in fact certain, that no one had seen them. They could breathe freely. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the Companions?” asked Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “In the grotto,” replied Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t we go there at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Because we shall find one of them at the foot of that beech, who will + tell us if we can go further without danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “D’Assas.” + </p> + <p> + A shadow came from behind the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am,” it said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there you are,” exclaimed the two young men. + </p> + <p> + “Anything new?” inquired Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; they are waiting for you to come to a decision.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, let us hurry.” + </p> + <p> + The three young men continued on their way. After going about three + hundred yards, Montbar stopped again, and said softly: “Armand!” + </p> + <p> + The dry leaves rustled at the call, and a fourth shadow stepped from + behind a clump of trees, and approached his companions. + </p> + <p> + “Anything new?” asked Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; a messenger from Cadoudal.” + </p> + <p> + “The same one who came before?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “With the brothers, in the grotto.” + </p> + <p> + “Come.” + </p> + <p> + Montbar rushed on ahead; the path had grown so narrow that the four young + men could only walk in single file. It rose for about five hundred paces + with an easy but winding slope. Coming to an opening, Montbar stopped and + gave, three times, the same owl’s cry with which he had called Morgan. A + single hoot answered him; then a man slid down from the branches of a + bushy oak. It was the sentinel who guarded the entrance to the grotto, + which was not more than thirty feet from the oak. The position of the + trees surrounding it made it almost impossible of detection. + </p> + <p> + The sentinel exchanged a few whispered words with Montbar, who seemed, by + fulfilling the duties of leader, desirous of leaving Morgan entirely to + his thoughts. Then, as his watch was probably not over, the bandit climbed + the oak again, and was soon so completely blended with the body of the + tree that those he had left might have looked for him in vain in that + aerial bastion. + </p> + <p> + The glade became narrower as they neared the entrance to the grotto. + Montbar reached it first, and from a hiding-place known to him he took a + flint, a steel, some tinder, matches, and a torch. The sparks flew, the + tinder caught fire, the match cast a quivering bluish flame, to which + succeeded the crackling, resinous flames of the torch. + </p> + <p> + Three or four paths were then visible. Montbar took one without + hesitation. The path sank, winding into the earth, and turned back upon + itself, as if the young men were retracing their steps underground, along + the path that had brought them. It was evident that they were following + the windings of an ancient quarry, probably the one from which were built, + nineteen hundred years earlier, the three Roman towns which are now mere + villages, and Cæsar’s camp which overlooked them. + </p> + <p> + At intervals this subterraneous path was cut entirely across by a deep + ditch, impassable except with the aid of a plank, that could, with a kick, + be precipitated into the hollow beneath. Also, from place to place, + breastworks could still be seen, behind which men could intrench + themselves and fire without exposing their persons to the sight or fire of + the enemy. Finally, at five hundred yards from the entrance, a barricade + of the height of a man presented a final obstacle to those who sought to + enter a circular space in which ten or a dozen men were now seated or + lying around, some reading, others playing cards. + </p> + <p> + Neither the readers nor the players moved at the noise made by the + new-comers, or at the gleam of their light playing upon the walls of the + quarry, so certain were they that none but friends could reach this spot, + guarded as it was. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, the scene of this encampment was extremely picturesque; wax + candles were burning in profusion (the Companions of Jehu were too + aristocratic to make use of any other light) and cast their reflection + upon stands of arms of all kinds, among which double-barrelled muskets and + pistols held first place. Foils and masks were hanging here and there upon + the walls; several musical instruments were lying about, and a few mirrors + in gilt frames proclaimed the fact that dress was a pastime by no means + unappreciated by the strange inhabitants of that subterranean dwelling. + </p> + <p> + They all seemed as tranquil as though the news which had drawn Morgan from + Amélie’s arms was unknown to them, or considered of no importance. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, when the little group from outside approached, and the + words: “The captain! the captain!” were heard, all rose, not with the + servility of soldiers toward their approaching chief, but with the + affectionate deference of strong and intelligent men for one stronger and + more intelligent than they. + </p> + <p> + Then Morgan shook his head, raised his eyes, and, passing before Montbar, + advanced to the centre of the circle which had formed at his appearance, + and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, friends, it seems you have had some news.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, captain,” answered a voice; “the police of the First Consul does us + the honor to be interested in us.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the messenger?” asked Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” replied a young man, wearing the livery of a cabinet courier, who + was still covered with mud and dust. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any despatches?” + </p> + <p> + “Written, no, verbal, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do they come from?” + </p> + <p> + “The private office of the minister of police.” + </p> + <p> + “Can they be trusted?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll answer for them; they are positively official.” + </p> + <p> + (“It’s a good thing to have friends everywhere,” observed Montbar, + parenthetically.) + </p> + <p> + “Especially near M. Fouché,” resumed Morgan; “let us hear the news.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to tell it aloud, or to you privately?” + </p> + <p> + “I presume we are all interested, so tell it aloud.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the First Consul sent for citizen Fouché at the Louvre, and + lectured him on our account.” + </p> + <p> + “Capital! what next?” + </p> + <p> + “Citizen Fouché replied that we were clever scamps, very difficult to + find, and still more difficult to capture when we had been found, in + short, he praised us highly.” + </p> + <p> + “Very amiable of him. What next?” + </p> + <p> + “Next, the First Consul replied that that did not concern him, that we + were brigands, and that it was our brigandage which maintained the war in + Vendée, and that the day we ceased sending money to Brittany there would + be no more Brittany.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent reasoning, it seems to me.” + </p> + <p> + “He said the West must be fought in the East and the Midi.” + </p> + <p> + “Like England in India.” + </p> + <p> + “Consequently he gave citizen Fouché full powers, and, even if it cost a + million and he had to kill five hundred men, he must have our heads.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he knows his man when he makes his demand; remains to be seen if we + let him have them.” + </p> + <p> + “So citizen Fouché went home furious, and vowed that before eight days + passed there should not be a single Companion of Jehu left in France.” + </p> + <p> + “The time is short.” + </p> + <p> + “That same day couriers started for Lyons, Mâcon, Sons-le-Saulnier, + Besançon and Geneva, with orders to the garrison commanders to do + personally all they could for our destruction; but above all to obey + unquestioningly M. Roland de Montrevel, aide-de-camp to the First Consul, + and to put at his disposal as many troops as he thought needful.” + </p> + <p> + “And I can add,” said Morgan, “that M. Roland de Montrevel is already in + the field. He had a conference with the captain of the gendarmerie, in the + prison at Bourg, yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Does any one know why?” asked a voice. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” said another, “to engage our cells.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you still mean to protect him?” asked d’Assas. + </p> + <p> + “More than ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s too much!” muttered a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Why so,” retorted Morgan imperiously, “isn’t it my right as a Companion?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said two other voices. + </p> + <p> + “Then I use it; both as a Companion and as your leader.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose in the middle of the fray a stray ball should take him?” said + a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Then, it is not a right I claim, nor an order that I give, but an + entreaty I make. My friends, promise me, on your honor, that the life of + Roland de Montrevel will be sacred to you.” + </p> + <p> + With unanimous voice, all stretching out their hands, they replied: “We + swear on our honor!” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” resumed Morgan, “let us look at our position under its true aspect, + without deluding ourselves in any way. Once an intelligent police force + starts out to pursue us, and makes actual war against us, it will be + impossible for us to resist. We may trick them like a fox, or double like + a boar, but our resistance will be merely a matter of time, that’s all. At + least that is my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan questioned his companions with his eyes, and their acquiescence was + unanimous, though it was with a smile on their lips that they recognized + their doom. But that was the way in those strange days. Men went to their + death without fear, and they dealt it to others without emotion. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” asked Montbar, “have you anything further to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Morgan, “I have to add that nothing is easier than to + procure horses, or even to escape on foot; we are all hunters and more or + less mountaineers. It will take us six hours on horse back to get out of + France, or twelve on foot. Once in Switzerland we can snap our fingers at + citizen Fouché and his police. That’s all I have to say.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be very amusing to laugh at citizen Fouché,” said Montbar, “but + very dull to leave France.” + </p> + <p> + “For that reason, I shall not put this extreme measure to a vote until + after we have talked with Cadoudal’s messenger.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, true,” exclaimed two or three voices; “the Breton! where is the + Breton?” + </p> + <p> + “He was asleep when I left,” said Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “And he is still sleeping,” said Adler, pointing to a man lying on a heap + of straw in a recess of the grotto. + </p> + <p> + They wakened the Breton, who rose to his knees, rubbing his eyes with one + hand and feeling for his carbine with the other. + </p> + <p> + “You are with friends,” said a voice; “don’t be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid!” said the Breton; “who are you, over there, who thinks I am + afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Some one who probably does not know what fear is, my dear Branche-d’Or,” + said Morgan, who recognized in Cadoudal’s messenger the same man whom they + had received at the Chartreuse the night he himself arrived from Avignon. + “I ask pardon on his behalf.” + </p> + <p> + Branche-d’Or looked at the young men before him with an air that left no + doubt of his repugnance for a certain sort of pleasantry; but as the group + had evidently no offensive intention, their gayety having no insolence + about it, he said, with a tolerably gracious air: “Which of you gentlemen + is captain? I have a letter for him from my captain.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan advanced a step and said: “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Your name?” + </p> + <p> + “I have two.” + </p> + <p> + “Your fighting name?” + </p> + <p> + “Morgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s the one the general told me; besides, I recognize you. You + gave me a bag containing sixty thousand francs the night I saw the monks. + The letter is for you then.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + The peasant took off his hat, pulled out the lining, and from between it + and the felt he took a piece of paper which resembled another lining, and + seemed at first sight to be blank. Then, with a military salute, he + offered the paper to Morgan, who turned it over and over and could see no + writing; at least none was apparent. + </p> + <p> + “A candle,” he said. + </p> + <p> + They brought a wax light; Morgan held the paper to the flame. Little by + little, as the paper warmed, the writing appeared. The experience appeared + familiar to the young men; the Breton alone seemed surprised. To his naive + mind the operation probably seemed like witchcraft; but so long as the + devil was aiding the royalist cause the Chouan was willing to deal with + him. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said Morgan, “do you want to know what the master says?” + </p> + <p> + All bowed and listened, while the young man read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR MORGAN—If you hear that I have abandoned the cause, and + am in treaty with the government of the First Consul and the + Vendéan leaders, do not believe it. I am a Breton of Brittany, + and consequently as stubborn as a true Breton. The First Consul + sent one of his aides-de-camp to offer me an amnesty for all my + men, and the rank of colonel for myself. I have not even consulted + my men, I refused for them and for me. + + Now, all depends on us; as we receive from the princes neither + money nor encouragement, you are our only treasurer; close your + coffers, or rather cease to open those of the government for us, + and the royalist opposition, the heart of which beats only in + Brittany, will subside little by little, and end before long. + + I need not tell you that my life will have ended first. + + Our mission is dangerous; probably it will cost us our heads; but + what can be more glorious than to hear posterity say of us, if + one can hear beyond the grave: “All others despaired; but they, + never!” + + One of us will survive the other, but only to succumb later. Let + that survivor say as he dies: <i>Etiamsi omnes, ego non.</i> + + Count on me as I count on you. CADOUDAL. + + P.S.—You know that you can safely give Branche-d’Or all the money + you have for the Cause. He has promised me not to let himself be + taken, and I trust his word. +</pre> + <p> + A murmur of enthusiasm ran through the group, as Morgan finished the last + words of the letter. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard it, gentlemen?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, yes,” repeated every voice. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, how much money have we to give to Branche-d’Or?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirteen thousand francs from the Lake of Silans, twenty-two thousand + from Les Carronnières, fourteen thousand from Meximieux, forty-nine + thousand in all,” said one of the group. + </p> + <p> + “You hear, Branche-d’Or?” said Morgan; “it is not much—only half + what we gave you last time, but you know the proverb: ‘The handsomest girl + in the world can only give what she has.’” + </p> + <p> + “The general knows what you risk to obtain this money, and he says that, + no matter how little you send, he will receive it gratefully.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more, that the next will be better,” said a young man who had + just joined the group, unperceived, so absorbed were all present in + Cadoudal’s letter. “More especially if we say two words to the mail-coach + from Chambéry next Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! is that you, Valensolle?” said Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “No real names, if you please, baron; let us be shot, guillotined, drawn + and quartered, but save our family honor. My name is Adler; I answer to no + other.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, I did wrong—you were saying?” + </p> + <p> + “That the mail-coach from Paris to Chambéry will pass through + Chapelle-de-Guinchay and Belleville next Saturday, carrying fifty thousand + francs of government money to the monks of Saint-Bernard; to which I may + add that there is between those two places a spot called the + Maison-Blanche, which seems to me admirably adapted for an ambuscade.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, gentlemen?” asked Morgan, “Shall we do citizen Fouché + the honor to worry about his police? Shall we leave France? Or shall we + still remain faithful Companions of Jehu?” + </p> + <p> + There was but one reply—“We stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” said Morgan. “Brothers, I recognize you there. Cadoudal points + out our duty in that admirable letter we have just received. Let us adopt + his heroic motto: <i>Etiamsi omnes, ego non.</i>” Then addressing the + peasant, he said, “Branche-d’Or, the forty-nine thousand francs are at + your disposal; you can start when you like. Promise something better next + time, in our name, and tell the general for me that, wherever he goes, + even though it be to the scaffold, I shall deem it an honor to follow, or + to precede him. Au revoir, Branche-d’Or.” Then, turning to the young man + who seemed so anxious to preserve his incognito, “My dear Adler,” he said, + like a man who has recovered his gayety, lost for an instant, “I undertake + to feed and lodge you this night, if you will deign to accept me as a + host.” + </p> + <p> + “Gratefully, friend Morgan,” replied the new-comer. “Only let me tell you + that I could do without a bed, for I am dropping with fatigue, but not + without supper, for I am dying of hunger.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have a good bed and an excellent supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Where must I go for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Follow me.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Then come on. Good-night, gentlemen! Are you on watch, Montbar?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we can sleep in peace.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Morgan passed his arm through that of his friend, took a torch + in his other hand, and passed into the depths of the grotto, where we will + follow him if our readers are not too weary of this long session. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time that Valensolle, who came, as we have said, from the + neighborhood of Aix, had had occasion to visit the grotto of Ceyzeriat, + recently adopted as the meeting-place of the Companions of Jehu. At the + preceding meetings he had occasion to explore only the windings and + intricacies of the Chartreuse of Seillon, which he now knew so well that + in the farce played before Roland the part of ghost was intrusted to him. + Everything was, therefore, curious and unknown to him in this new + domicile, where he now expected to take his first sleep, and which seemed + likely to be, for some days at least, Morgan’s headquarters. + </p> + <p> + As is always the case in abandoned quarries—which, at the first + glance, partake somewhat of the character of subterranean cities—the + different galleries excavated by the removal of the stone end in a cul de + sac; that is to say, at a point in the mine where the work stops. One of + these streets seemed to prolong itself indefinitely. Nevertheless, there + came a point where the mine would naturally have ended, but there, in the + angle of the tunnelled way, was cut (For what purpose? The thing remains a + mystery to this day among the people of the neigbborhood) an opening + two-thirds the width of the gallery, wide enough, or nearly so, to give + passage to two men abreast. + </p> + <p> + The two friends passed through this opening. The air there became so + rarefied that their torch threatened to go out at every step. Vallensolle + felt drops of ice-cold water falling on his hands and face. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me,” said he, “does it rain down here?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Morgan, laughing; “only we are passing under the Reissouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we are going to Bourg?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s about it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; you are leading me; you have promised me supper and a bed, so + I have nothing to worry about—unless that light goes out,” added the + young man, looking at the paling flame of the torch. + </p> + <p> + “That wouldn’t matter; we can always find ourselves here.” + </p> + <p> + “In the end!” said Valensolle. “And when one reflects that we are + wandering through a grotto under rivers at three o’clock in the morning, + sleeping the Lord knows where, with the prospect of being taken, tried, + and guillotined some fine morning, and all for princes who don’t even know + our names, and who if they did know them one day would forget them the + next—I tell you, Morgan, it’s stupid!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” said Morgan, “what we call stupid, what ordinary minds + never do understand in such a case, has many a chance to become sublime.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Valensolle, “I see that you will lose more than I do in + this business; I put devotion into it, but you put enthusiasm.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are,” said he, letting the conversation drop, like a burden too + heavy to be carried longer. In fact, his foot had just struck against the + first step of a stairway. + </p> + <p> + Preceding Valensolle, for whom he lighted the way, Morgan went up ten + steps and reached the gate. Taking a key from his pocket, he opened it. + They found themselves in the burial vault. On each side of the vault stood + coffins on iron tripods: ducal crowns and escutcheons, blazoned azure, + with the cross argent, indicated that these coffins belonged to the family + of Savoy before it came to bear the royal crown. A flight of stairs at the + further end of the cavern led to an upper floor. + </p> + <p> + Valensolle cast a curious glance around him, and by the vacillating light + of the torch, he recognized the funereal place he was in. + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” said he, “we are just the reverse of the Spartans, it seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Inasmuch as they were Republicans and we are royalists?” asked Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “No; because they had skeletons at the end of their suppers, and we have + ours at the beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure it was the Spartans who proved their philosophy in that + way?” asked Morgan, closing the door. + </p> + <p> + “They or others—what matter?” said Vallensolle. “Faith! My citation + is made, and like the Abbé Vertot, who wouldn’t rewrite his siege, I’ll + not change it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, another time you had better say the Egyptians.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Valensolle, with an indifference that was not without a + certain sadness, “I’ll probably be a skeleton myself before I have another + chance to display my erudition. But what the devil are you doing? Why did + you put out the torch? You’re not going to make me eat and sleep here I + hope?” + </p> + <p> + Morgan had in fact extinguished the torch at the foot of the steps leading + to the upper floor. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand,” said the young man. + </p> + <p> + Valensolle seized his friend’s band with an eagerness that showed how very + slight a desire he had to make a longer stay in the gloomy vaults of the + dukes of Savoy, no matter what honor there might be in such illustrious + companionship. + </p> + <p> + Morgan went up the steps. Then, by the tightening of his hand, Valensolle + knew he was making an effort. Presently a stone was raised, and through + the opening a trembling gleam of twilight met the eyes of the young men, + and a fragrant aromatic odor came to comfort their sense of smell after + the mephitic atmosphere of the vaults. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Valensolle, “we are in a barn; I prefer that.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan did not answer; he helped his companion to climb out of the vault, + and then let the stone drop back in its place. + </p> + <p> + Valensolle looked about him. He was in the midst of a vast building filled + with hay, into which the light filtered through windows of such exquisite + form that they certainly could not be those of a barn. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” said Valensolle, “we are not in a barn!” + </p> + <p> + “Climb up the hay and sit down near that window,” replied Morgan. + </p> + <p> + Valensolle obeyed and scrambled up the hay like a schoolboy in his + holidays; then he sat down, as Morgan had told him, before a window. The + next moment Morgan placed between his friend’s legs a napkin containing a + paté, bread, a bottle of wine, two glasses, two knives and two forks. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” cried Valensolle, “‘Lucullus sups with Lucullus.’” + </p> + <p> + Then gazing through the panes at a building with numberless windows, which + seemed to be a wing of the one they were in, and before which a sentry was + pacing, he exclaimed: “Positively, I can’t eat my supper till I know where + we are. What is this building? And why that sentry at the door?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Morgan, “since you absolutely must know, I will tell you. We + are in the church of Brou, which was converted into a fodder storehouse by + a decree of the Municipal Council. That adjoining building is now the + barracks of the gendarmerie, and that sentry is posted to prevent any one + from disturbing our supper or surprising us while we sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Brave fellows,” said Valensolle, filling his glass; “their health, + Morgan!” + </p> + <p> + “And ours!” said the young man, laughing; “the devil take me if any one + could dream of finding us here.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan had hardly drained his glass, when, as if the devil had accepted + the challenge, the sentinel’s harsh, strident voice cried: “<i>Qui vive!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” exclaimed the two young men, “what does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + A body of thirty men came from the direction of Pont d’Ain, and, after + giving the countersign to the sentry, at once dispersed; the larger + number, led by two men, who seemed to be officers, entered the barracks; + the others continued on their way. + </p> + <p> + “Attention!” said Morgan. + </p> + <p> + And both young men, on their knees, their ears alert, their eyes at the + window, waited. + </p> + <p> + Let us now explain to the reader the cause of this interruption of a + repast which, though taken at three o’clock in the morning, was not, as we + have seen, over-tranquil. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. A FALSE SCENT + </h2> + <p> + The jailer’s daughter had not been mistaken; it was indeed Roland whom she + had seen in the jail speaking to the captain of the gendarmerie. Neither + was Amélie wrong in her terror. Roland was really in pursuit of Morgan. + </p> + <p> + Although he avoided going to the Château des Noires-Fontaines, it was not + that he had the slightest suspicion of the interest his sister had in the + leader of the Companions of Jehu; but he feared the indiscretion of one of + his servants. He had recognized Charlotte at the jail, but as the girl + showed no astonishment, he believed she had not recognized him, all the + more because, after exchanging a few words with the captain, he went out + to wait for the latter on the Place du Bastion, which was always deserted + at that hour. + </p> + <p> + His duties over, the captain of gendarmerie joined him. He found Roland + impatiently walking back and forth. Roland had merely made himself known + at the jail, but here he proceeded to explain the matter, and to initiate + the captain into the object of his visit. + </p> + <p> + Roland had solicited the First Consul, as a favor to himself, that the + pursuit of the Companions of Jehu be intrusted to him personally, a favor + he had obtained without difficulty. An order from the minister of war + placed at his disposal not only the garrison of Bourg, but also those of + the neighboring towns. An order from the minister of police enjoined all + the officers of the gendarmerie to render him every assistance. + </p> + <p> + He naturally applied in the first instance to the captain of the + gendarmerie at Bourg, whom he had long known personally as a man of great + courage and executive ability. He found what he wanted in him. The captain + was furious against the Companions of Jehu, who had stopped diligences + within a mile of his town, and on whom he was unable to lay his hand. He + knew of the reports relating to the last three stoppages that had been + sent to the minister of police, and he understood the latter’s anger. But + Roland brought his amazement to a climax when he told him of the night he + had spent at the Chartreuse of Seillon, and of what had happened to Sir + John at that same Chartreuse during the succeeding night. + </p> + <p> + The captain had heard by common rumor that Madame de Montrevel’s guest had + been stabbed; but as no one had lodged a complaint, he did not think he + had the right to investigate circumstances which it seemed to him Roland + wished to keep in the dark. In those troublous days more indulgence was + shown to officers of the army than they might have received at other + times. + </p> + <p> + As for Roland, he had said nothing because he wished to reserve for + himself the satisfaction of pursuing the assassins and sham ghosts of the + Chartreuse when the time came. He now arrived with full power to put that + design into execution, firmly resolved not to return to the First Consul + until it was accomplished. Besides, it was one of those adventures he was + always seeking, at once dangerous and picturesque, an opportunity of + pitting his life against men who cared little for their own, and probably + less for his. Roland had no conception of Morgan’s safe-guard which had + twice protected him from danger—once on the night he had watched at + the Chartreuse, and again when he had fought against Cadoudal. How could + he know that a simple cross was drawn above his name, and that this symbol + of redemption guaranteed his safety from one end of France to the other? + </p> + <p> + For the rest, the first thing to be done was to surround the Chartreuse of + Seillon, and to search thoroughly into its most secret places—a + thing Roland believed himself perfectly competent to do. + </p> + <p> + The night was now too far advanced to undertake the expedition, and it was + postponed until the one following. In the meantime Roland remained quietly + in hiding in the captain’s room at the barracks that no one might suspect + his presence at Bourg nor its cause. The following night he was to guide + the expedition. In the course of the morrow, one of the gendarmes, who was + a tailor, agreed to make him a sergeant’s uniform. He was to pass as a + member of the brigade at Sons-le-Saulnier, and, thanks to the uniform, + could direct the search at the Chartreuse without being recognized. + </p> + <p> + Everything happened as planned. Roland entered the barracks with the + captain about one o’clock, ascended to the latter’s room, where he slept + on a bed on the floor like a man who has just passed two days and two + nights in a post-chaise. The next day he restrained his impatience by + drawing a plan of the Chartreuse of Seillon for the captain’s instruction, + with which, even without Roland’s help, that worthy officer could have + directed the expedition without going an inch astray. + </p> + <p> + As the captain had but eighteen men under him, and it was not possible to + surround the monastery completely with that number, or rather, to guard + the two exits and make a thorough search through the interior, and, as it + would have taken three or four days to bring in all the men of the brigade + scattered throughout the neighborhood, the officer, by Roland’s order, + went to the colonel of dragoons, garrisoned at Bourg, told him of the + matter in hand, and asked for twelve men, who, with his own, made thirty + in all. + </p> + <p> + The colonel not only granted the twelve men, but, learning that the + expedition was to be commanded by Colonel Roland de Montrevel, + aide-de-camp to the First Consul, he proposed that he himself should join + the party at the head of his twelve men. + </p> + <p> + Roland accepted his co-operation, and it was agreed that the colonel (we + employ the words colonel and chief of brigade indifferently, both being + interchangeable terms indicating the same rank) and his twelve dragoons + should pick up Roland, the captain, and his eighteen men, the barracks + being directly on their road to the Chartreuse. The time was set for + eleven that night. + </p> + <p> + At eleven precisely, with military punctuality, the colonel of dragoons + and his twelve men joined the gendarmes, and the two companies, now united + in one, began their march. Roland, in his sergeant’s uniform, made himself + known to his brother colonel; but to the dragoons and gendarmes he + remained, as agreed upon, a sergeant detached from the brigade at + Sons-le-Saulnier. Only, as it might otherwise have seemed extraordinary + that a sergeant, wholly unfamiliar with these localities, should be their + guide, the men were told that Roland had been in his youth a novice at + Seillon, and was therefore better acquainted than most persons with the + mysterious nooks of the Chartreuse. + </p> + <p> + The first feeling of these brave soldiers had been a slight humiliation at + being guided by an ex-monk; but, on the other hand, as that ex-monk wore + the three-cornered hat jauntily, and as his whole manner and appearance + was that of a man who has completely forgotten that he formerly wore a + cowl, they ended by accepting the humiliation, and reserved their final + judgment on the sergeant until they could see how he handled the musket he + carried on his arm, the pistols he wore in his belt, and the sword that + hung at his side. + </p> + <p> + The party was supplied with torches, and started in perfect silence. They + were divided into three squads; one of eight men, led by the captain of + gendarmerie, another of ten, commanded by the colonel, and the third of + twelve men, with Roland at its head. On leaving the town they separated. + </p> + <p> + The captain of the gendarmerie, who knew the localities better than the + colonel of dragoons, took upon himself to guard the window of La Correrie, + giving upon the forest of Seillon, with his eight men. The colonel of + dragoons was commissioned by Roland to watch the main entrance of the + Chartreuse; with him were five gendarmes and five dragoons. Roland was to + search the interior, taking with him five gendarmes and seven dragoons. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour was allowed each squad to reach its post; it was more than + was needed. Roland and his men were to scale the orchard wall when + half-past eleven was ringing from the belfry at Péronnaz. The captain of + gendarmerie followed the main road from Pont d’Ain to the edge of the + woods, which he skirted until he reached his appointed station. The + colonel of dragoons took the crossroad which branches from the highway of + Pont d’Ain and leads to the great portal of the Chartreuse. Roland crossed + the fields to the orchard wall which, as the reader will remember, he had + already climbed on two occasions. + </p> + <p> + Punctually at half-past eleven he gave the signal to his men to scale the + wall. By the time they reached the other side the men, if they did not yet + know that Roland was brave, were at least sure that he was active. + </p> + <p> + Roland pointed in the dusk to a door—the one that led from the + orchard into the cloister. Then he sprang ahead through the rank grasses; + first, he opened the door; first, he entered the cloister. + </p> + <p> + All was dark, silent and solitary. Roland, still guiding his men, reached + the refectory. Absolute solitude; utter silence. + </p> + <p> + They crossed the hall obliquely, and returned to the garden without + alarming a living creature except the owls and the bats. There still + remained the cistern, the mortuary vault, and the pavilion, or rather, the + chapel in the forest, to be searched. Roland crossed the open space + between the cistern and the monastery. After descending the steps, he + lighted three torches, kept one, and handed the other two, one to a + dragoon, the other to a gendarme; then he raised the stone that concealed + the stairway. + </p> + <p> + The gendarmes who followed Roland began to think him as brave as he was + active. + </p> + <p> + They followed the subterranean passage to the first gate; it was closed + but not locked. They entered the funereal vault. Here was more than + solitude, more than silence; here was death. The bravest felt a shiver in + the roots of their hair. + </p> + <p> + Roland went from tomb to tomb, sounding each with the butt of the pistol + he held in his hand. Silence everywhere. They crossed the vault, reached + the second gate, and entered the chapel. The same silence, the same + solitude; all was deserted, as it seemed, for years. Roland went straight + to the choir; there lay the blood on the stones; no one had taken the + trouble to efface it. Here was the end of his search, which had proved + futile. Roland could not bring himself to retreat. He fancied he was not + attacked because of his numerous escort; he therefore left ten men and a + torch in the chapel, told them to put themselves in communication, through + the ruined window, with the captain of the gendarmerie, who was ambushed + in the forest within a few feet of the window, while he himself, with two + men, retraced his steps. + </p> + <p> + This time the two men who followed Roland thought him more than brave, + they considered him foolhardy. But Roland, caring little whether they + followed or not, retraced his own steps in default of those of the + bandits. The two men, ashamed, followed him. + </p> + <p> + Undoubtedly the Chartreuse was deserted. When Roland reached the great + portal, he called to the colonel of dragoons; he and his men were at their + post. Roland opened the door and joined them. They had seen nothing, heard + nothing. The whole party entered the monastery, closing and barricading + the door behind them to cut off the bandits’ retreat, if they were + fortunate enough to meet any. Then they hastened to rejoin their comrades, + who, on their side, had united with the captain and his eight men, and + were waiting for them in the choir. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing for it but to retire. Two o’clock had just struck; + nearly three hours had been spent in fruitless search. Roland, + rehabilitated in the estimation of the gendarmes and the dragoons, who saw + that the ex-novice did not shirk danger, regretfully gave the signal for + retreat by opening the door of the chapel which looked toward the forest. + </p> + <p> + This time Roland merely closed the door behind him, there being no longer + any hope of encountering the brigands. Then the little troop returned to + Bourg at a quick step. The captain of gendarmerie, with his eighteen men + and Roland, re-entered the barracks, while the colonel and his twelve men + continued on their way toward the town. + </p> + <p> + It was the sentinel’s call, as he challenged the captain and his party, + which had attracted the attention of Morgan and Valensolle; and it was the + noise of their return to the barracks which interrupted the supper, and + caused Morgan to cry out at this unforeseen circumstance: “Attention!” + </p> + <p> + In fact, in the present situation of these young men, every circumstance + merited attention. So the meal was interrupted. Their jaws ceased to work + to give the eyes and ears full scope. It soon became evident that the + services of their eyes were alone needed. + </p> + <p> + Each gendarme regained his room without light. The numerous barrack + windows remained dark, so that the watchers were able to concentrate their + attention on a single point. + </p> + <p> + Among those dark windows, two were lighted. They stood relatively back + from the rest of the building, and directly opposite to the one where the + young men were supping. These windows were on the first floor, but in the + position the watchers occupied at the top of bales of hay, Morgan and + Valensolle were not only on a level, but could even look down into them. + These windows were those of the room of the captain of gendarmes. + </p> + <p> + Whether from indifference on the worthy captain’s part, or by reason of + State penury, the windows were bare of curtains, so that, thanks to the + two candles which the captain had lighted in his guest’s honor, Morgan and + Valensolle could see everything that took place in this room. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Morgan grasped Valensolle’s arm, and pressed it with all his + might. + </p> + <p> + “Hey” said Valensolle “what now?” + </p> + <p> + Roland had just thrown his three-cornered hat on a chair and Morgan had + recognized him. + </p> + <p> + “Roland de Montrevel!” he exclaimed, “Roland in a sergeant’s uniform! This + time we are on his track while he is still seeking ours. It behooves us + not to lose it.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” asked Valensolle, observing that his friend + was preparing to leave him. + </p> + <p> + “Inform our companions. You stay here and do not lose sight of him. He has + taken off his sword, and laid his pistols aside, therefore it is probable + he intends to spend the night in the captain’s room. To-morrow I defy him + to take any road, no matter which, without one of us at his heels.” + </p> + <p> + And Morgan sliding down the declivity of the hay, disappeared from sight, + leaving his companion crouched like a sphinx, with his eyes fixed on + Roland de Montrevel. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later Morgan returned. By this time the officer’s + windows were dark like all the others of the barracks. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Valensolle, “it ended most prosaically. They undressed + themselves, blew out the candles, and lay down, the captain on his bed, + Roland on a mattress. They are probably trying to outsnore each other at + the present moment.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said Morgan, “good-night to them, and to us also.” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the wish was granted, and the two young men were + sleeping, as if they did not have danger for a bed-fellow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. THE HÔTEL DE LA POSTE + </h2> + <p> + That same morning, about six o’clock, at the cold gray breaking of a + February day, a rider, spurring a post-hack and preceded by a postilion + who was to lead back the horse, left Bourg by the road to Mâcon or + Saint-Julien. + </p> + <p> + We say Mâcon <i>or</i> Saint-Julien, because about three miles from the + capital of Bresse the road forks; the one to the right keeping straight on + to Saint-Julien, the other, which deviates to the left, leading to Mâcon. + </p> + <p> + When the rider reached this bifurcation, he was about to take the road + leading to Mâcon, when a voice, apparently coming from beneath an upset + cart, implored his pity. The rider called to the postilion to see what the + matter was. + </p> + <p> + A poor market-man was pinned down under a load of vegetables. He had + evidently attempted to hold up the cart just as the wheel, sinking into + the ditch, overbalanced the vehicle. The cart had fallen on him, but + fortunately, he said, he thought no limbs were broken, and all he wanted + was to get the cart righted, and then he could recover his legs. + </p> + <p> + The rider was compassionate to his fellow being, for he not only allowed + the postilion to stop and help the market-man, but he himself dismounted, + and with a vigor one would hardly have expected from so slight a man, he + assisted the postilion not only to right the cart, but to replace it on + the roadbed. After which he offered to help the man to rise; but the + latter had said truly; he really was safe and sound, and if there were a + slight shaking of the legs, it only served to prove the truth of the + proverb that God takes care of drunkards. The man was profuse in his + thanks, and took his horse by the bridle, as much, it was evident, to hold + himself steady as to lead the animal. + </p> + <p> + The riders remounted their homes, put them to a gallop, and soon + disappeared round a bend which the road makes a short distance before it + reaches the woods of Monnet. + </p> + <p> + They had scarcely disappeared when a notable change took place in the + demeanor of our market-man. He stopped his horse, straightened up, put the + mouthpiece of a tiny trumpet to his lips, and blew three times. A species + of groom emerged from the woods which line the road, leading a gentleman’s + horse by the bridle. The market-man rapidly removed his blouse, discarded + his linen trousers, and appeared in vest and breeches of buckskin, and top + boots. He searched in his cart, drew forth a package which he opened, + shook out a green hunting coat with gold braidings, put it on, and over it + a dark-brown overcoat; took from the servant’s hands a hat which the + latter presented him, and which harmonized with his elegant costume, made + the man screw his spurs to his boots, and sprang upon his horse with the + lightness and skill of an experienced horseman. + </p> + <p> + “To-night at seven,” he said to the groom, “be on the road between + Saint-Just and Ceyzeriat. You will meet Morgan. Tell him that he <i>whom + he knows of</i> has gone to Mâcon, but that I shall be there before him.” + </p> + <p> + Then, without troubling himself about his cart and vegetables, which he + left in his servant’s charge, the ex-marketman, who was none other than + our old acquaintance Montbar, turned his horse’s head toward the Monnet + woods, and set out at a gallop. His mount was not a miserable post hack, + like that on which Roland was riding. On the contrary, it was a blooded + horse, so that Montbar easily overtook the two riders, and passed them on + the road between the woods of Monnet and Polliat. The horse, except for a + short stop at Saint-Cyr-sur-Menthon, did the twenty-eight or thirty miles + between Bourg and Mâcon, without resting, in three hours. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at Mâcon, Montbar dismounted at the Hôtel de la Poste, the only + one which at that time was fitted to receive guests of distinction. For + the rest, from the manner in which Montbar was received it was evident + that the host was dealing with an old acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! is it you, Monsieur de Jayat?” said the host. “We were wondering + yesterday what had become of you. It’s more than a month since we’ve seen + you in these parts.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it’s as long as that, friend?” said the young man, affecting + to drop his r’s after the fashion of the day. “Yes, on my honor, that’s + so! I’ve been with friends, the Trefforts and the Hautecourts. You know + those gentlemen by name, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “By name, and in person.” + </p> + <p> + “We hunted to hounds. They’re finely equipped, word of honor! Can I + breakfast here this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Then serve me a chicken, a bottle of Bordeaux, two cutlets, fruit—any + trifle will go.” + </p> + <p> + “At once. Shall it be served in your room, or in the common room?” + </p> + <p> + “In the common room, it’s more amusing; only give me a table to myself. + Don’t forget my horse. He is a fine beast, and I love him better than I do + certain Christians, word of honor!” + </p> + <p> + The landlord gave his orders. Montbar stood before the fire, his + coat-tails drawn aside, warming his calves. + </p> + <p> + “So you still keep to the posting business?” he said to the landlord, as + if desirous of keeping up the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “I should think so!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you relay the diligences?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the diligences, but the mail-coaches.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! tell me—I want to go to Chambéry some of these days—how + many places are there in the mail-coach?” + </p> + <p> + “Three; two inside, and one out with the courier.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I stand any chance of finding a vacant seat?” + </p> + <p> + “It may happen; but the safest way is to hire your own conveyance.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t I engage a place beforehand?” + </p> + <p> + “No; for don’t you see, Monsieur de Jayat, that if travellers take places + from Paris to Lyons, they have the first right.” + </p> + <p> + “See, the aristocrats!” said Montbar, laughing. “Apropos of aristocrats, + there is one behind me posting here. I passed him about a mile the other + side of Polliat. I thought his hack a little wind-broken.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed the landlord, “that’s not astonishing; my brothers in the + business have a poor lot of horses.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there’s our man!” continued Montbar; “I thought I had more of a lead + of him.” + </p> + <p> + Roland was, in fact, just passing the windows at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + “Do you still want chamber No. 1, Monsieur de Jayat?” asked the landlord. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is the best one, and if you don’t take it, I shall give it to + that man, provided he wants to make any stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t bother about me; I shan’t know till later in the day whether I + go or stay. If the new-comer means to remain give him No. l. I will + content myself with No. 2.” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman is served,” said the waiter, looking through the door which + led from the kitchen to the common room. + </p> + <p> + Montbar nodded and accepted the invitation. He entered the common room + just as Roland came into the kitchen. The dinner was on the table. Montbar + changed his plate and sat down with his back to the door. The precaution + was useless. Roland did not enter the common room, and Montbar breakfasted + without interruption. When dessert was over, however, the host himself + brought in his coffee. Montbar understood that the good man was in + talkative humor; a fortunate circumstance, for there were certain things + he was anxious to hear about. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Montbar, “what became of our man? Did he only change horses?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” said the landlord; “as you said, he’s an aristocrat. He + ordered breakfast in his own room.” + </p> + <p> + “His room or my room?” asked Montbar; “for I’m certain you put him in that + famous No. 1.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it! Monsieur de Jayat, it’s your own fault. You told me I could + do as I liked.” + </p> + <p> + “And you took me at my word; that was right. I shall be satisfied with No. + 2.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be very uncomfortable. It’s only separated from No. 1 by a + partition, and you can hear everything that happens from one room to the + other.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, my dear man, do you think I’ve come here to do improper things, + or sing seditious songs, that you are afraid the stranger should hear or + see what I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that’s not it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it then?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not afraid you’ll disturb others. I’m afraid they’ll disturb you.” + </p> + <p> + “So your new guest is a roisterer?” + </p> + <p> + “No; he looks to me like an officer.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “His manner, in the first place. Then he inquired what regiment was in + garrison at Mâcon; and when I told him it was the 7th mounted Chasseurs, + he said: ‘Good! the colonel is a friend of mine. Can a waiter take him my + card and ask him to breakfast with me?’” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “So you see how it is. When officers get together they make so much racket + and noise. Perhaps they’ll not only breakfast, but dine and sup together.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve told you already, my good man, that I am not sure of passing the + night here. I am expecting letters from Paris, <i>paste restante</i>, + which will decide me. In the meantime, light a fire in No. 2, and make as + little noise as possible, to avoid annoying my neighbors. And, at the same + time, send me up pen and ink, and some paper. I have letters to write.” + </p> + <p> + Montbar’s orders were promptly executed, and he himself followed the + waiter to see that Roland was not disturbed by his proximity. + </p> + <p> + The chamber was just what the landlord had said. Not a movement could be + made, not a word uttered in the next room, that was not heard. + Consequently Montbar distinctly heard the waiter announce Colonel + Saint-Maurice, then the resounding steps of the latter in the corridor, + and the exclamations of the two friends, delighted to meet again. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, Roland, who had been for a moment disturbed by the + noise in the adjoining room, forgot it as soon as it had ceased, and there + was no danger of its being renewed. Montbar, left alone, seated himself at + the table, on which were paper, pen and ink, and remained perfectly + motionless. + </p> + <p> + The two officers had known each other in Italy, where Roland was under the + command of Saint-Maurice, the latter being then a captain and Roland a + lieutenant. At present their rank was equal, but Roland had beside a + double commission from the First Consul and the minister of police, which + placed all officers of his own rank under his command, and even, within + the limits of his mission, those of a higher rank. + </p> + <p> + Morgan had not been mistaken in supposing that Amélie’s brother was in + pursuit of the Companions of Jehu. If Roland’s nocturnal search at the + Chartreuse of Seillon was not convincing, the conversation between the + young officer and his colleague was proof positive. In it, it developed + that the First Consul was really sending fifty thousand francs as a gift + to the monks of Saint-Bernard, by post; but that this money was in reality + a trap devised for the capture of the Companions of Jehu, if all means + failed to surprise them in the Chartreuse of Seillon or some other refuge. + </p> + <p> + It now-remained to be seen how these bandits should be captured. The case + was eagerly debated between the two officers while they had breakfast. By + the time dessert was served they were both agreed upon a plan. + </p> + <p> + That same evening, Morgan received the following letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Just as Adler told us, next Friday at five o’clock the mail-coach + will leave Paris with fifty thousand francs for the fathers of + Saint-Bernard. + + The three places, the one in the coupé and the two in the interior, + are already engaged by three travellers who will join the coach, + one at Sens, the other two at Tonnerre. The travellers are, in the + coupé, one of citizen Fouché’s best men: in the interior M. Roland + de Montrevel and the colonel of the 7th Chasseurs, garrisoned at + Mâcon. They will be in civilians’ clothes not to excite suspicion, + but armed to the teeth. + + Twelve mounted Chasseurs, with muskets, pistols, and sabres, will + escort the coach, but at some distance behind it, so as to arrive + during the fray. The first pistol fired will be the signal for + putting their horses to a gallop and falling upon us. + + Now my advice is that, in spite of these precautions, in fact + because of these precautions, the attack should be made at the + place agreed upon, namely the Maison-Blanche. If that is also the + opinion of the comrades, let me know it. I will myself take the + coach, as postilion, from Mâcon to Belleville. I will undertake + to settle the colonel, and one of you must be responsible for + Fouché’s agent. + + As for M. Roland de Montrevel, no harm will befall him, for I + have a means, known to me alone and by me invented, by which he + can be prevented from leaving the coach. + + The precise day and hour at which the mail to Chambéry will pass + the Maison-Blanche is Saturday at six in the evening. Answer in + these words, “Saturday, six of the evening,” and all will go on + rollers. MONTBAR. +</pre> + <p> + At midnight Montbar, who had complained of the noise his neighbor made, + and had removed to a room at the opposite end of the inn, was awakened by + a courier, who was none other than the groom who had brought him his horse + ready bridled and saddled in the morning. The letter contained only these + words, followed by a postscript: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Saturday, six of the evening. MORGAN. + + P.S.—Do not forget, even when fighting, above all when fighting, + that Roland de Montrevel’s life is safeguarded. +</pre> + <p> + The young man read this reply with visible satisfaction. The matter was no + longer a mere stoppage of a diligence, but a species of affair of honor + among men of differing opinions, with clashes of courage and bravery. It + was no longer a matter of gold spilled upon the highroad, but of blood to + be shed—not of pistols loaded with powder, and wielded by a child’s + hands, but of deadly weapons handled by soldiers accustomed to their use. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, as Montbar had all the day that was dawning and the morrow + before him in which to mature his plans, he contented himself with asking + his groom to inquire which postilion would take the coach at Mâcon at five + o’clock for the two stages between Mâcon and Belleville. He also sent him + to buy four screw-rings and two padlocks fastening with keys. + </p> + <p> + He already knew that the mail was due at Mâcon at half past four, waited + for the travellers to dine, and started again punctually at five. No doubt + all his plans were previously laid, for, after giving these directions, + Montbar dismissed his servant and went to sleep like a man who has long + arrears of slumber to make up. + </p> + <p> + The next morning he did not wake, or rather did not come downstairs until + nine o’clock. He asked casually what had become of his noisy neighbor, and + was told that he had started in the Lyons mail at six in the morning, with + his friend the colonel of the Chasseurs; but the landlord thought they had + only engaged places as far as Tonnerre. + </p> + <p> + If Monsieur de Jayat had interested himself in the young officer, the + latter, in turn, had made inquiries about him, asking who he was, whether + he came habitually to the hotel, and whether he would be willing to sell + his horse. The landlord had replied that he knew Monsieur de Jayat well, + for he was in the habit of coming to the hotel whenever business brought + him to Mâcon, and that, as for the horse, he did not believe, considering + the affection the young gentleman showed for the animal, that he would + consent to part with him for any price. On which the traveller had + departed without saying any more. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast M. de Jayat, who seemed to find time hanging heavily on + his hands, ordered his horse, mounted it, and rode out from Mâcon by the + Lyons road. As long as he was in the town he allowed his horse to take the + pace his fancy dictated, but once beyond it, he gathered up the reins and + pressed the animal with his knees. The hint sufficed, and the animal broke + into a gallop. + </p> + <p> + Montbar passed through the villages of Varennes, La Crèche, and + Chapelle-de-Guinchay, and did not stop until he reached the + Maison-Blanche. The spot was exactly as Valensolle had described it, and + was admirably adapted for an ambuscade. + </p> + <p> + The Maison-Blanche stood in a tiny valley between a sharp declivity and a + rise in the ground. A little rivulet without a name flowed past the corner + of the garden and made its way to the Saône just above Challe. Tall bushy + trees followed the course of the little stream, and described a + half-circle, inclosing the house on three sides. The house itself was + formerly an inn which proved unproductive to the innkeeper. It had been + closed for seven or eight years, and was beginning to fall into decay. + Before reaching it, the main road coming from Mâcon made a sharp turn. + </p> + <p> + Montbar examined the locality with the care of an engineer choosing his + ground for a battlefield. He drew a pencil and a note-book from his pocket + and made an accurate plan of the position. Then he returned to Mâcon. + </p> + <p> + Two hours later his groom departed, carrying the plan to Morgan, having + informed his master that Antoine was the name of the postilion who was to + take the coach from Mâcon to Belleville. The groom also gave him the four + screw-rings and the two padlocks he had purchased. + </p> + <p> + Montbar ordered up a bottle of old Burgundy, and sent for Antoine. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later Antoine appeared. He was a fine, handsome fellow, + twenty-five or six years of age, about Montbar’s height; a fact which the + latter, in looking him over from head to foot, remarked with satisfaction. + The postilion paused at the threshold, and, carrying his hand to his hat + in a military salute, he said: “Did the citizen send for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you the man they call Antoine?” asked Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “At your service, and that of your company.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can serve me, friend. But close the door and come here.” + </p> + <p> + Antoine closed the door, came within two steps of Montbar, saluted again, + and said: “Ready, master.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place,” said Montbar, “if you have no objections, we’ll + drink a glass of wine to the health of your mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! My mistress!” cried Antoine. “Can fellows like me afford + mistresses? They’re all very well for gentlemen such as you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, you scamp!” said Montbar. “You can’t make me believe that, with + your make-up, you’ve made a vow of chastity.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I don’t say I’m a monk in that particular. I may have a bit of a + love-affair here and there along the high-road.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at every tavern; and that’s why we stop so often with our return + horses to drink a drop or fill a pipe.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” said Antoine, with an indescribable twist of the shoulders. + “A fellow must have his fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, taste the wine, my lad. I’ll warrant it won’t make you weep.” And + filling a glass, Montbar signed to the postilion to fill the other. + </p> + <p> + “A fine honor for me! To your health and that of your company!” + </p> + <p> + This was an habitual phrase of the worthy postilion, a sort of extension + of politeness which did not need the presence of others to justify it in + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said he, after drinking and smacking his lips, “there’s vintage for + you—and I have gulped it down at a swallow as if it were heel-taps!” + </p> + <p> + “That was a mistake, Antoine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Luckily,” said Montbar, refilling his glass, “you can repair it.” + </p> + <p> + “No higher than my thumb, citizen,” said the facetious postilion, taking + care that his thumb touched the rim of the glass. + </p> + <p> + “One minute,” said Montbar, just as Antoine was putting his glass to his + lips. + </p> + <p> + “Just in time,” said the postilion; “it was on its way. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn’t let me drink to the health of your mistress, but I hope you + won’t refuse to drink to mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that’s never refused, especially with such wine. To the health of + your mistress and her company.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon citizen Antoine swallowed the crimson liquor, tasting and + relishing it this time. + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” exclaimed Montbar, “you’re in too much of a hurry, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” retorted the postilion. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Suppose I have several mistresses. If I don’t name the one we drink + to what good will it do her?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that’s true!” + </p> + <p> + “Sad; but you’ll have to try again, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Try again, of course! Can’t do things half-way with a man like you. + The sin’s committed; we’ll drink again.” And Antoine held out his glass. + Montbar filled it to the brim. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Antoine, eying the bottle, and making sure it was empty, + “there must be no mistake. Her name?” + </p> + <p> + “To the beautiful Josephine!” said Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “To the beautiful Josephine!” repeated Antoine. + </p> + <p> + And he swallowed the Burgundy with increasing satisfaction. Then, after + drinking, and wiping his lips on his sleeve, he said, as he set the glass + on the table: “Hey! one moment, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “What now?” exclaimed Montbar. “Anything wrong this time?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so. We’ve made a great blunder but it’s too late now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “The bottle is empty.” + </p> + <p> + “That one, yes; but not this one.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Montbar took from the chimney corner another bottle, already + uncorked. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Antoine, a radiant smile lighting his face. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any remedy for it?” asked Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “There is,” replied Antoine, holding out his glass. + </p> + <p> + Montbar filled it as scrupulously full as he had the first three. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the postilion, holding the ruby liquid to the light and + admiring its sparkle, “as I was saying, we drank to the health of the + beautiful Josephine—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Antoine, “there are a devilish lot of Josephines in France.” + </p> + <p> + “True. How many do you suppose there are, Antoine?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps a hundred thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Granted. What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, out of that hundred thousand a tenth of them must be beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a good many.” + </p> + <p> + “Say a twentieth.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes five thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! You’re strong in arithmetic!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m the son of a schoolmaster.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, to which of those five thousand did we drink, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “You’re right, Antoine. The family name must follow. To the beautiful + Josephine—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop. This glass was begun; it won’t do. If the health is to do her any + good, we’ll have to empty it and fill it again.” + </p> + <p> + He put the glass to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “There, it’s empty,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And full,” added Montbar, putting the bottle to the glass. + </p> + <p> + “I’m ready. To the beautiful Josephine—” + </p> + <p> + “To the beautiful Josephine—Lollier!” + </p> + <p> + And Montbar emptied his glass. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord!” exclaimed Antoine. “Wait a moment. Josephine Lollier! Why, + I know her.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t say you didn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Josephine Lollier! Why, she’s the daughter of the man who keeps the + post-horses at Belleville.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn it!” exclaimed the postilion, “you’re not to be pitied—a + pretty slip of a girl! To the health of beautiful Josephine Lollier.” + </p> + <p> + And he swallowed his fifth glass of Burgundy. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” asked Montbar, “do you understand why I had you sent up here, my + lad?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I don’t bear you any grudge for it, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s very kind of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I’m a pretty good devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll tell you why I sent for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m all ears.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait. You’ll hear better if your glass is full than if it’s empty.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a doctor for deaf folk?” asked the postilion, banteringly. + </p> + <p> + “No; but I’ve lived a good deal among drunkards,” replied Montbar, filling + Antoine’s glass again. + </p> + <p> + “A man is not a drunkard because he likes wine,” said Antoine. + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you, my good fellow,” replied Montbar. “A man is only a + drunkard when he can’t carry his liquor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well said,” cried Antoine, who seemed to carry his pretty well. “I’m + listening.” + </p> + <p> + “You told me that you didn’t understand why I had sent for you.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I said.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, you must have suspected that I had an object?” + </p> + <p> + “Every man has an object, good or bad, according to our priest,” observed + Antoine, sententiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my friend,” resumed Montbar, “mine is to make my way by night, + without being recognized, into the courtyard of Master Nicolas-Denis + Lollier, postmaster at Belleville.” + </p> + <p> + “At Belleville,” repeated Antoine, who had followed Montbar’s words with + all the attention he was capable of. “You wish to make your way by night, + without being recognized, into the courtyard of Master Nicolas-Denis + Lollier, postmaster at Belleville, in order to see the beautiful + Josephine? Ah, ha! my sly dog!” + </p> + <p> + “You have it, my dear Antoine; and I wish to get in without being + recognized, because Father Lollier has discovered everything, and has + forbidden his daughter to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so. Well, what can I do about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Your wits are still muddled, Antoine. Drink another glass of wine to + brighten them up.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are,” exclaimed Antoine. + </p> + <p> + And he swallowed his sixth glass of wine. + </p> + <p> + “You ask what you can do, Antoine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what can I do? That’s what I ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” + </p> + <p> + “You.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! I’m curious to know what. Clear it up, clear it up!” And he held out + his glass. + </p> + <p> + “You drive the mail to Chambéry to-morrow, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; at six o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose that Antoine is a good fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “No supposing about it; he is!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is what Antoine does—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on; what does he do?” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, he empties his glass.” + </p> + <p> + “Done! that’s not difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he takes these ten louis.” + </p> + <p> + Montbar spread ten louis on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha!” exclaimed Antoine, “yellow boys, real ones. I thought those + little devils had all emigrated.” + </p> + <p> + “You see there are some left.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is Antoine to do to put them in his pocket?” + </p> + <p> + “Antoine must lend me his best postilion’s suit.” + </p> + <p> + “To you?” + </p> + <p> + “And let me take his place to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes; so that you can see the beautiful Josephine to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. I reach Belleville at eight, drive into the courtyard, and say + the horses are tired and must rest from eight till ten, and from eight to + ten—” + </p> + <p> + “You can fool Père Lollier.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there you are, Antoine!” + </p> + <p> + “There I am! When a fellow’s young he goes with the young ‘uns; when he’s + a bachelor he’s in with the bachelors; when he’s old and a papa, he can go + with the papas, and cry, ‘Long live the papas.’” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my good Antoine, you’ll lend me your best jacket and breeches?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve just got a new jacket and breeches that I’ve never worn.” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ll let me take your place?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll give you five louis for earnest money.” + </p> + <p> + “And the rest?” + </p> + <p> + “Tomorrow, when I pull on the boots; only—there’s one precaution you + must take.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s talk of brigands robbing diligences; you’ll be careful to put the + holsters on the saddle.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “For pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Don’t you go and shoot those fine young fellows.” + </p> + <p> + “What! do you call robbers who pillage diligences fine young men?” + </p> + <p> + “A man’s not a robber because he takes government money.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your opinion?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so; besides, it’s the opinion of a good many other people, + too. As for me, if I were a judge, I’d never in the world condemn them.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you would drink to their health?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if the wine was good.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare you to do it,” said Montbar, emptying the last of the second + bottle into Antoine’s glass. + </p> + <p> + “You know the proverb?” said the postilion. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never defy a fool to commit his folly. To the health of the Companions of + Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” responded Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “And the five louis?” asked Antoine, putting his glass on the table. + </p> + <p> + “There they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; you shall have the holsters on your saddle; but take my advice + and don’t put pistols in ‘em; or if you do, follow Père Jérôme’s example—he’s + the conductor of the Geneva diligence—and put powder and no balls in + ‘em.” + </p> + <p> + And with that philanthropic advice, the postilion took his leave, and went + down the stairway singing a postilion’s song in a vinous voice. + </p> + <p> + Montbar followed the song conscientiously through two verses, then, as the + voice died away in the distance, he was obliged to forego the rest of the + song, however interesting he may have found it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. THE CHAMBÉRY MAIL-COACH + </h2> + <p> + The next day, at five in the afternoon, Antoine, anxious, no doubt, not to + be late, was in the courtyard of the Hôtel de la Poste, harnessing the + three horses which were to relay the mail-coach. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after, the coach rumbled into the courtyard at a gallop, and was + pulled up under the windows of a room close to the servants’ stairway, + which had seemed greatly to occupy Antoine’s attention. If any one had + paid attention to so slight a detail it might have been observed that the + window-curtain was somewhat imprudently drawn aside to permit the occupant + of the room to see the persons who got out of the coach. There were three + men, who, with the haste of famished travellers, made their way toward the + brilliantly lighted windows of the common room. + </p> + <p> + They had scarcely entered, when a smart postilion came down the kitchen + staircase, shod simply with thin pumps over which he intended to pull his + heavy riding-boots, These he received from Antoine, slipping five louis + into his hand at the same time, and turned for the man to throw his riding + cape over his shoulders, a protection rendered necessary by the severity + of the weather. + </p> + <p> + This completed, Antoine returned hastily to the stables and hid in the + darkest corner. As for the man who had taken his place, reassured no doubt + by the high collar of the cape that concealed half of his face, he went + straight to the horses which stood ready harnessed, slipped his pistols + into the holsters, and, profitting by the moment when the other horses + were being led into the stable by their postilion, he took a gimlet, which + might in case of need serve as a dagger, from his pocket, and screwed the + four rings into the woodwork of the coach, one into each door, and the + other two into the body of the coach. After which he put the horses to + with a rapidity and skill which bespoke in him a man familiar from + childhood with all the details of an art pushed to extremes in our day by + that honorable class of society which we call “gentlemen riders.” + </p> + <p> + That done, he waited, quieting his restless horses by voice and whip, + judiciously combined, or used in turn. + </p> + <p> + Everyone knows the rapidity with which the meals of the unhappy beings + condemned to travel by mail are hurried through. The half-hour was not up, + when the voice of the conductor was heard, calling: + </p> + <p> + “Come, citizen travellers, take your places.” + </p> + <p> + Montbar placed himself close to the carriage door and recognized Roland + and the colonel of the 7th Chasseurs, perfectly, in spite of their + disguise, as they jumped into the coach, paying no attention whatever to + the postilion. + </p> + <p> + The latter closed the door upon them, slipped the padlock through the two + rings and turned the key. Then, walking around the coach, he pretended to + drop his whip before the other door, and, in stooping for it, slipped the + second padlock through the rings, deftly turned the key as he straightened + up, and, assured that the two officers were securely locked in, he sprang + upon his horse, grumbling at the conductor who had left him to do his + work. In fact the conductor was still squabbling with the landlord over + his bill when the third traveller got into his place in the coupé. + </p> + <p> + “Are you coming this evening, to-night, or to-morrow morning, Père + François?” cried the pretended postilion, imitating Antoine as best he + could. + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right, I’m coming,” answered the conductor; then, looking + around him: “Why, where are the travellers?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” replied the two officers from the interior and the agent from the + coupé. + </p> + <p> + “Is the door properly closed?” persisted Père François. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll answer for that,” said Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “Then off you go, baggage!” cried the conductor, as he climbed into the + coupé and closed the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + The postilion did not wait to be told twice; he started his horses, + digging his spurs into the belly of the one he rode and lashing the others + vigorously. The mail-coach dashed forward at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + Montbar drove as if he had never done anything else in his life; as he + crossed the town the windows rattled and the houses shook; never did real + postilion crack his whip with greater science. + </p> + <p> + As he left Mâcon he saw a little troop of horse; they were the twelve + chasseurs told off to follow the coach without seeming to escort it. The + colonel passed his head through the window and made a sign to the sergeant + who commanded them. + </p> + <p> + Montbar did not seem to notice anything; but after going some four or five + hundred yards, he turned his head, while executing a symphony with his + whip, and saw that the escort had started. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, my babes!” said Montbar, “I’ll make you see the country.” And he + dug in his spurs and brought down his whip. The horses seemed to have + wings, and the coach flew over the cobblestones like the chariot of + thunder rumbling past. The conductor became alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Master Antoine,” cried he, “are you drunk?” + </p> + <p> + “Drunk? fine drinking!” replied Montbar; “I dined on a beetroot salad.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn him! If he goes like that,” cried Roland, thrusting his head through + the window, “the escort can’t keep up.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear what he says!” shrieked the conductor. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Montbar, “I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he says that if you keep this up the escort can’t follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there an escort?” asked Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “Of course; we’re carrying government money.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s different; you ought to have said so at first.” + </p> + <p> + But instead of slacking his pace the coach was whirled along as before; if + there was any change, it was for greater velocity than before. + </p> + <p> + “Antoine, if there’s an accident, I’ll shoot you through the head,” + shouted the conductor. + </p> + <p> + “Run along!” exclaimed Montbar; “everybody knows those pistols haven’t any + balls in them.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly not; but mine have!” cried the police agent. + </p> + <p> + “That remains to be seen,” replied Montbar, keeping on his way at the same + pace without heed to these remonstrances. + </p> + <p> + On they went with the speed of lightning through the village of Varennes, + then through that of La Crêche and the little town of + Chapelle-de-Guinchay; only half a mile further and they would reach the + Maison-Blanche. The horses were dripping, and tossed the foam from their + mouths as they neighed with excitement. + </p> + <p> + Montbar glanced behind him; more than a mile back the sparks were flying + from the escort’s horses. Before him was the mountainous declivity. Down + it he dashed, gathering the reins to master his horses when the time came. + </p> + <p> + The conductor had ceased expostulating, for he saw that the hand which + guided the horses was firm and capable. But from time to time the colonel + thrust his head through the window to look for his men. + </p> + <p> + Half-way down the slope Montbar had his horses under control, without, + however, seeming to check their course. Then he began to sing, at the top + of his voice, the “Réveil du Peuple,” the song of the royalists, just as + the “Marseillaise” was the song of the Jacobins. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that rogue about?” cried Roland, putting his head through the + window. “Tell him to hold his tongue, conductor, or I’ll put a ball + through his loins.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the conductor might have repeated Roland’s threat to Montbar, but + he suddenly saw a black line blocking the road. “Halt, conductor!” + thundered a voice the next moment. + </p> + <p> + “Postilion, drive over the bellies of those bandits!” shouted the police + agent. + </p> + <p> + “Drive on yourself!” said Montbar. “Do you suppose I’m going over the + stomachs of friends? Who-o-ah!” + </p> + <p> + The mail coach stopped as if by magic. + </p> + <p> + “Go on! go on!” cried Roland and the colonel, aware that the escort was + too far behind to help them. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! You villain of a postilion,” cried the police agent, springing out of + the coupé, and pointing his pistol at Montbar, “you shall pay for this.” + </p> + <p> + The words were scarcely uttered when Montbar, forestalling him, fired, and + the agent rolled, mortally wounded, under the wheels of the coach. His + fingers, convulsed by death, touched the trigger and the pistol went off, + but the ball touched no one. + </p> + <p> + “Conductor,” shouted the two officers, “by all the powers of heaven, open, + open, open quickly!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said Morgan, advancing, “we are not attacking your persons, + we merely want the government money. Conductor! that fifty thousand + francs, and quickly too!” + </p> + <p> + Two shots from the interior made answer for the officers, who, after + vainly shaking the doors, were still more fruitlessly attempting to force + themselves through the windows. No doubt one of their shots took effect, + for a cry of rage was heard and a flash illuminated the road. The colonel + gave a sigh, and fell back against Roland. He was killed outright. + </p> + <p> + Roland fired again, but no one replied to him. His pistols were both + discharged; locked in as he was he could not use his sabre, and he howled + with rage. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the conductor was forced, with a pistol at his throat, to give up + the money. Two men took the bags containing the fifty thousand francs, and + fastened them on Montbar’s horse, which his groom had brought ready + saddled and bridled, as if to a meet. Montbar kicked off his heavy boots + and sprang into the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments to the First Consul, Monsieur de Montrevel!” cried Morgan. + Then, turning to his companions, he cried: “Scatter which way you will, + you know the rendezvous for to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” replied ten or a dozen voices. + </p> + <p> + And the band dispersed like a flock of birds, disappearing down the valley + into the shadow of the trees that lined the banks of the little river and + surrounded the Maison-Blanche. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the gallop of horses was heard, and the escort, alarmed by + the pistol shots, appeared on the crest of the hill and came down the + slope like an avalanche. But it came too late; it found only the conductor + sitting dazed by the roadside, the bodies of the colonel and of Fouché’s + agent, and Roland a prisoner, roaring like a lion gnawing at the bars of + its cage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. LORD GRENVILLE’S REPLY + </h2> + <p> + While the events we have just recorded were transpiring, and occupying the + minds and newspapers of the provinces, other events, of very different + import, were maturing in Paris, which were destined to occupy the minds + and newspapers of the whole world. + </p> + <p> + Lord Tanlay had returned, bringing the reply of his uncle, Lord Grenville. + This reply consisted of a letter addressed to M. de Talleyrand, inclosing + a memorandum for the First Consul. The letter was couched in the following + terms: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DOWNING STREET, February 14, 1800 + + Sir—I have received and placed before the King the letter + which you transmitted to me through my nephew, Lord Tanlay. + His Majesty, seeing no reason to depart from the + long-established customs of Europe in treating with foreign + states, directs me to forward you in his name the official + reply which is herewith inclosed. + + I have the honor to be, with the highest esteem, your very + humble and obedient servant, GRENVILLE. +</pre> + <p> + The letter was dry; the memorandum curt. Moreover, the First Consul’s + letter to King George was autographic, and King George, not “departing + from the long-established customs of Europe in treating with foreign + States,” replied by a simple memorandum written by a secretary. + </p> + <p> + True, the memorandum was signed “Grenville.” It was a long recrimination + against France; against the spirit of disorder, which disturbed the + nation; against the fears which that spirit of disorder inspired in all + Europe; and on the necessity imposed on the sovereigns of Europe, for the + sake of their own safety, to repress it. In short, the memorandum was + virtually a continuation of the war. + </p> + <p> + The reading of such a dictum made Bonaparte’s eyes flash with the flame + which, in him, preceded his great decisions, as lightning precedes + thunder. + </p> + <p> + “So, sir,” said he, turning to Lord Tanlay, “this is all you have + obtained?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you did not repeat verbally to your uncle all that I charged you to + say to him?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not omit a syllable.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell him that you had lived in France three years, that you had + seen her, had studied her; that she was strong, powerful, prosperous and + desirous of peace while prepared for war?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you add that the war which England is making against France is a + senseless war; that the spirit of disorder of which they speak, and which, + at the worst, is only the effervescence of freedom too long restrained, + which it were wiser to confine to France by means of a general peace; that + that peace is the sole <i>cordon sanitaire</i> which can prevent it from + crossing our frontiers; and that if the volcano of war is lighted in + France, France will spread like lava over foreign lands. Italy is + delivered, says the King of England; but from whom? From her liberators. + Italy is delivered, but why? Because I conquered Egypt from the Delta to + the third Cataract; Italy is delivered because I was no longer in Italy. + But—I am here: in a month I can be in Italy. What do I need to win + her back from the Alps to the Adriatic? A single battle. Do you know what + Masséna is doing in defending Genoa? Waiting for me. Ha! the sovereigns of + Europe need war to protect their crowns? Well, my lord, I tell you that I + will shake Europe until their crowns tremble on their heads. Want war, do + they? Just wait—Bourrienne! Bourrienne!” + </p> + <p> + The door between the First Consul’s study and the secretary’s office + opened precipitately, and Bourrienne rushed in, his face terrified, as + though he thought Bonaparte were calling for help. But when he saw him + highly excited, crumpling the diplomatic memorandum in one hand and + striking with the other on his desk, while Lord Tanlay was standing calm, + erect and silent near him, he understood immediately that England’s answer + had irritated the First Consul. + </p> + <p> + “Did you call me, general?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the First Consul, “sit down there and write.” + </p> + <p> + Then in a harsh, jerky voice, without seeking his words, which, on the + contrary, seemed to crowd through the portal of his brain, he dictated the + following proclamation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SOLDIERS!—In promising peace to the French people, I was your + mouthpiece; I know your power. + + You are the same men who conquered the Rhine, Holland and Italy, + and granted peace beneath the walls of astounded Vienna. + + Soldiers, it is no longer our own frontiers that you have to + defend; it is the enemy’s country you must now invade. + + Soldiers, when the time comes, I shall be among you, and + astounded Europe shall remember that you belong to the race + of heroes! +</pre> + <p> + Bourrienne raised his head, expectant, after writing the last words. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s all,” said Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I add the sacramental words: ‘Vive la République!’?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because we have issued no proclamation during the last four months, and + something may be changed in the ordinary formulas.” + </p> + <p> + “The proclamation will do as it is,” said Bonaparte, “add nothing to it.” + </p> + <p> + Taking a pen, he dashed rather than wrote his signature at the bottom of + the paper, then handing it to Bourrienne, he said: “See that it appears in + the ‘Moniteur’ to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne left the room, carrying the proclamation with him. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, left alone with Lord Tanlay, walked up and down the room for a + moment, as though he had forgotten the Englishman’s presence; then he + stopped suddenly before him. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” he asked, “do you think you obtained from your uncle all that + another man might have obtained in your place?” + </p> + <p> + “More, citizen First Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “More! more! Pray, what have you obtained?” + </p> + <p> + “I think that the citizen First Consul did not read the royal memorandum + with all the attention it deserves.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” exclaimed Bonaparte, “I know it by heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the citizen First Consul cannot have weighed the meaning and the + wording of a certain paragraph.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it; and if the citizen First Consul will permit me to read + him the paragraph to which I allude—” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte relaxed his hold upon the crumpled note, and handed it to Lord + Tanlay, saying: “Read it.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John cast his eyes over the document, with which he seemed to be + familiar, paused at the tenth paragraph, and read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The best and surest means for peace and security, and for their + continuance, would be the restoration of that line of princes who + for so many centuries have preserved to the French nation its + internal prosperity and the respect and consideration of foreign + countries. Such an event would have removed, and at any time will + remove, the obstacles which are now in the way of negotiations + and peace; it would guarantee to France the tranquil possession + of her former territory, and procure for all the other nations of + Europe, through a like tranquillity and peace, that security which + they are now obliged to seek by other means. +</pre> + <p> + “Well,” said Bonaparte, impatiently, “I have read all that, and perfectly + understood it. Be Monk, labor for another man, and your victories, your + renown, your genius will be forgiven you; humble yourself, and you shall + be allowed to remain great!” + </p> + <p> + “Citizen First Consul,” said Lord Tanlay, “no one knows better than I the + difference between you and Monk, and how far you surpass him in genius and + renown.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you read me that?” + </p> + <p> + “I only read that paragraph,” replied Sir John, “to lead you to give to + the one following its due significance.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s hear it,” said Bonaparte, with repressed impatience. + </p> + <p> + Sir John continued: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But, however desirable such an event may be for France and for + the world, it is not to this means alone that his Majesty + restricts the possibility of a safe and sure pacification. +</pre> + <p> + Sir John emphasized the last words. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Bonaparte, stepping hastily to Sir John’s side. + </p> + <p> + The Englishman continued: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His Majesty does not presume to prescribe to France her form + of government, nor the hands into which she may place the + necessary authority to conduct the affairs of a great and + powerful nation. +</pre> + <p> + “Read that again, sir,” said Bonaparte, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Read it yourself,” replied Sir John. + </p> + <p> + He handed him the note, and Bonaparte re-read it. + </p> + <p> + “Was it you, sir,” he asked, “who added that paragraph?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly insisted on it.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte reflected. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said; “a great step has been taken; the return of the + Bourbons is no longer a condition <i>sine quâ non</i>. I am accepted, not + only as a military, but also as a political power.” Then, holding out his + hand to Sir John, he added: “Have you anything to ask of me, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “The only thing I seek has been asked of you by my friend Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “And I answered, sir, that I shall be pleased to see you the husband of + his sister. If I were richer, or if you were less so, I would offer to + dower her”—Sir John made a motion—“but as I know your fortune + will suffice for two,” added Bonaparte, smiling, “or even more, I leave + you the joy of giving not only happiness, but also wealth to the woman you + love. Bourrienne!” he called. + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I have sent it, general,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” replied the First Consul; “but that is not what I called you + for.” + </p> + <p> + “I await your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “At whatever hour of the day or night Lord Tanlay presents himself, I + shall be happy to receive him without delay; you hear me, my dear + Bourrienne? You hear me, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Tanlay bowed his thanks. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Bonaparte, “I presume you are in a hurry to be off to the + Château des Noires-Fontaines. I won’t detain you, but there is one + condition I impose.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is, general?” + </p> + <p> + “If I need you for another mission—” + </p> + <p> + “That is not a condition, citizen First Consul; it is a favor.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Tanlay bowed and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne prepared to follow him, but Bonaparte called him back. “Is + there a carriage below?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne looked into the courtyard. “Yes, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Then get ready and come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready, general; I have only my hat and overcoat to get, and they are + in the office.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go,” said Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + He took up his hat and coat, went down the private staircase, and signed + to the carriage to come up. Notwithstanding Bourrienne’s haste, he got + down after him. A footman opened the door; Bonaparte sprang in. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we going, general?” asked Bourrienne. + </p> + <p> + “To the Tuileries,” replied Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne, amazed, repeated the order, and looked at the First Consul as + if to seek an explanation; but the latter was plunged in thought, and the + secretary, who at this time was still the friend, thought it best not to + disturb him. + </p> + <p> + The horses started at gallop—Bonaparte’s usual mode of progression—and + took the way to the Tuileries. + </p> + <p> + The Tuileries, inhabited by Louis XVI. after the days of the 5th and 6th + of October, and occupied successively by the Convention and the Council of + Five Hundred, had remained empty and devastated since the 18th Brumaire. + Since that day Bonaparte had more than once cast his eyes on that ancient + palace of royalty; but he knew the importance of not arousing any + suspicion that a future king might dwell in the palace of the abolished + monarchy. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte had brought back from Italy a magnificent bust of Junius Brutus; + there was no suitable place for it at the Luxembourg, and toward the end + of November, Bonaparte had sent for the Republican, David, and ordered him + to place the bust in the gallery of the Tuileries. Who could suppose that + David, the friend of Marat, was preparing the dwelling of a future emperor + by placing the bust of Cæsar’s murderer in the gallery of the Tuileries? + No one did suppose, nor even suspect it. + </p> + <p> + When Bonaparte went to see if the bust were properly placed, he noticed + the havoc committed in the palace of Catherine of Medicis. The Tuileries + were no longer the abode of kings, it is true, but they were a national + palace, and the nation could not allow one of its palaces to become + dilapidated. Bonaparte sent for citizen Lecomte, the architect, and + ordered him to <i>clean</i> the Tuileries. The word might be taken in both + senses—moral and physical. + </p> + <p> + The architect was requested to send in an estimate of the cost of the + cleaning. It amounted to five hundred thousand francs. Bonaparte asked if + for that sum, the Tuileries could be converted into a suitable “palace for + the government.” The architect replied that the sum named would suffice + not only to restore the Tuileries to their former condition, but to make + them habitable. + </p> + <p> + A habitable palace, that was all Bonaparte wanted. How should he, a + Republican, need regal luxury? The “palace of the government” ought to be + severely plain, decorated with marbles and statues only. But what ought + those statues to be? It was the First Consul’s duty to select them. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, Bonaparte chose them from the three great ages and the three + great nations: from the Greeks, from the Romans, from France and her + rivals. From the Greeks he chose Alexander and Demosthenes; the genius of + conquest and the genius of eloquence. From the Romans he chose Scipio, + Cicero, Cato, Brutus and Cæsar, placing the great victim side by side with + the murderer, as great almost as himself. From the modern world he chose + Gustavus Adolphus, Turenne, the great Condé, Duguay-Trouin, Marlborough, + Prince Eugene, and the Maréchal de Saxe; and, finally, the great Frederick + and George Washington—false philosophy upon a throne, and true + wisdom founding a free state. + </p> + <p> + To these he added warlike heroes—Dampierre, Dugommier, Joubert—to + prove that, while he did not fear the memory of a Bourbon in the great + Condé, neither was he jealous of his brothers-in-arms, the victims of a + cause already no longer his. + </p> + <p> + Matters were in this state at the period of which we are now speaking; + that is, the last of February, 1800. The Tuileries had been cleaned, the + busts were in their niches, the statues were on their pedestals; and only + a favorable occasion was wanting. + </p> + <p> + That occasion came when the news of Washington’s death was received. The + founder of the liberty of the United States had ceased to breathe on the + 14th of December, 1799. + </p> + <p> + It was that event of which Bonaparte was thinking, when Bourrienne saw by + the expression of his face that he must be left entirely to the + reflections which absorbed him. + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped before the Tuileries. Bonaparte sprang out with the + same haste with which he had entered it; went rapidly up the stairs, and + through the apartments, examining more particularly those which had been + inhabited by Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette. In the private study of + Louis XVI. he stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s where we will live, Bourrienne,” he said, suddenly, as if the + latter had followed him through the mental labyrinth in which he wandered, + following the thread of Ariadne which we call thought. “Yes, we will lodge + here; the Third Consul can have the Pavilion of Flora, and Cambacérès will + remain at the Chancellerie.” + </p> + <p> + “In that way,” said Bourrienne, “when the time comes, you will have only + one to turn out.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Bonaparte, catching Bourrienne by the ear, “that’s not + bad.” + </p> + <p> + “When shall we move in, general?” asked Bourrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not to-morrow; it will take at least a week to prepare the Parisians + to see me leave the Luxembourg for the Tuileries.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight days,” exclaimed Bourrienne; “that will do.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially if we begin at once. Come, Bourrienne, to the Luxembourg.” + </p> + <p> + With the rapidity that characterized all his movements when serious + matters were in question, he passed through the suites of apartments he + had already visited, ran down the stairs, and sprang into the carriage, + calling out: “To the Luxembourg!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, wait,” cried Bourrienne, still in the vestibule; “general, won’t + you wait for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Laggard!” exclaimed Bonaparte. And the carriage started, as it had come, + at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + When Bonaparte re-entered his study he found the minister of police + awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what now, citizen Fouché? You look upset. Have I, perchance, been + assassinated?” + </p> + <p> + “Citizen First Consul,” said the minister, “you seemed to attach the + utmost importance to the destruction of those bands who call themselves + the Companions of Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently, since I sent Roland himself to pursue them. Have you any news + of them?” + </p> + <p> + “We have.” + </p> + <p> + “From whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Their leader himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Their leader?” + </p> + <p> + “He has had the audacity to send me a report of their last exploit.” + </p> + <p> + “Against whom?” + </p> + <p> + “The fifty thousand francs you sent to the Saint-Bernard fathers.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of them?” + </p> + <p> + “The fifty thousand francs?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “They are in the possession of those brigands, and their leader informs me + he will transfer them shortly to Cadoudal.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Roland is killed?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean, no?” + </p> + <p> + “My agent is killed; Colonel Maurice is killed; but your aide-de-camp is + safe and sound.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he will hang himself,” said Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “What good would that do? The rope would break; you know his luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Or his misfortune, yes—Where is the report?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Letter, report, thing—whatever it was that told you this news.” + </p> + <p> + The minister handed the First Consul a paper inclosed in a perfumed + envelope. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this?” + </p> + <p> + “The thing you asked for.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte read the address: “To the citizen Fouché, minister of police. + Paris.” Then he opened the letter, which contained the following. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CITIZEN MINISTER—I have the honor to inform you that the fifty + thousand francs intended for the monks of Saint-Bernard came + into our hands on the night of February 25, 1800 (old style), + and that they will reach those of citizen Cadoudal within the + week. + + The affair was well-managed, save for the deaths of your agent + and Colonel Saint-Maurice. As for M. Roland de Montrevel, I have + the satisfaction of informing you that nothing distressing has + befallen him. I did not forget that he was good enough to receive + me at the Luxembourg. + + I write you, citizen minister, because I presume that M. Roland + de Montrevel is just now too much occupied in pursuing us to + write you himself. But I am sure that at his first leisure moment + you will receive from him a report containing all the details + into which I cannot enter for lack of time and facilities for + writing. + + In exchange for the service I render you, citizen minister, I + will ask you to do one for me; namely, inform Madame de Montrevel, + without delay, that her son is in safety. MORGAN. + + Maison-Blanche, on the road from Mâcon to Lyons, Saturday, 9 P.M. +</pre> + <p> + “Ha, the devil!” said Bonaparte; “a bold scamp!” Then he added, with a + sigh: “What colonels and captains those men would make me!” + </p> + <p> + “What are your orders, citizen First Consul?” asked the minister of + police. + </p> + <p> + “None; that concerns Roland. His honor is at stake; and, as he is not + killed, he will take his revenge.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the First Consul will take no further notice of the affair?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for the present, at any rate.” Then, turning to his secretary, he + added, “We have other fish to fry, haven’t we, Bourrienne?” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne nodded affirmatively. + </p> + <p> + “When does the First Consul wish to see me again?” asked the minister. + </p> + <p> + “To-night, at ten o’clock. We move out in eight days.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To the Tuileries.” + </p> + <p> + Fouché gave a start of amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Against your opinion, I know,” said the First Consul; “but I’ll take the + whole business on myself; you have only to obey.” + </p> + <p> + Fouché bowed, and prepared to leave the room. + </p> + <p> + “By the way!” exclaimed Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + Fouché turned round. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t forget to notify Madame de Montrevel that her son is safe and + sound; that’s the least you can do for citizen Morgan after the service he + has rendered you.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned his back on the minister of police, who retired, biting his + lips till the blood came. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. CHANGE OF RESIDENCE + </h2> + <p> + That same day, the First Consul, left alone with Bourrienne, dictated the + following order, addressed to the Consulate guard and to the army at + large: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Washington is dead! That great man fought against tyranny. He + consolidated the liberty of America. His memory will ever be dear + to the French people, to all free men in both hemispheres, but + especially to the French soldiers, who, like Washington and his + soldiers, have fought for Liberty and Equality. Consequently, the + First Consul orders that the flags and banners of the Republic + shall be hung with crape for ten days. +</pre> + <p> + But the First Consul did not intend to confine himself to this order of + the day. + </p> + <p> + Among the means he took to facilitate his removal from the Luxembourg to + the Tuileries was one of those fêtes by which he knew, none better, how to + amuse the eyes and also direct the minds of the spectator. This fête was + to take place at the Invalides, or, as they said in those days, the Temple + of Mars. A bust of Washington was to be crowned, and the flags of Aboukir + were to be received from the hands of General Lannes. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those combinations which Bonaparte thoroughly understood—a + flash of lightning drawn from the contact of contrasting facts. He + presented the great man of the New World, and a great victory of the old; + young America coupled with the palms of Thebes and Memphis. + </p> + <p> + On the day fixed for the ceremony, six thousand cavalry were in line from + the Luxembourg to the Invalides. At eight o’clock, Bonaparte mounted his + horse in the main courtyard of the Consular palace; issuing by the Rue de + Tournon he took the line of the quays, accompanied by a staff of generals, + none of whom were over thirty-five years of age. + </p> + <p> + Lannes headed the procession; behind him were sixty Guides bearing the + sixty captured flags; then came Bonaparte about two horse’s-lengths ahead + of his staff. + </p> + <p> + The minister of war, Berthier, awaited the procession under the dome of + the temple. He leaned against a statue of Mars at rest, and the ministers + and councillors of state were grouped around him. The flags of Denain and + Fontenoy, and those of the first campaign in Italy, were already suspended + from the columns which supported the roof. Two centenarian “Invalids” who + had fought beside Maréchal Saxe were standing, one to the right and one to + the left of Berthier, like caryatides of an ancient world, gazing across + the centuries. To the right, on a raised platform, was the bust of + Washington, which was now to be draped with the flags of Aboukir. On + another platform, opposite to the former, stood Bonaparte’s armchair. + </p> + <p> + On each side of the temple were tiers of seats in which was gathered all + the elegant society of Paris, or rather that portion of it which gave its + adhesion to the order of ideas then to be celebrated. + </p> + <p> + When the flags appeared, the trumpets blared, their metallic sounds + echoing through the arches of the temple, + </p> + <p> + Lannes entered first. At a sign from him, the Guides mounted two by two + the steps of the platform and placed the staffs of the flags in the + holders prepared for them. During this time Bonaparte took his place in + the chair, + </p> + <p> + Then Lannes advanced to the minister of war, and, in that voice that rang + out so clearly on the battlefield, crying “Forward!” he said: + </p> + <p> + “Citizen minister, these are the flags of the Ottoman army, destroyed + before your eyes at Aboukir. The army of Egypt, after crossing burning + deserts, surviving thirst and hunger, found itself before an enemy proud + of his numbers and his victories, and believing that he saw an easy prey + in our troops, exhausted by their march and incessant combats. He had yet + to learn that the French soldier is greater because he knows how to suffer + than because he knows how to vanquish, and that his courage rises and + augments in danger. Three thousand Frenchmen, as you know, fell upon + eighteen thousand barbarians, broke their ranks, forced them back, pressed + them between our lines and the sea; and the terror of our bayonets is such + that the Mussulmans, driven to choose a death, rushed into the depths of + the Mediterranean. + </p> + <p> + “On that memorable day hung the destinies of Egypt, France and Europe, and + they were saved by your courage, + </p> + <p> + “Allied Powers! if you dare to violate French territory, and if the + general who was given back to us by the victory of Aboukir makes an appeal + to the nation—Allied Powers! I say to you, that your successes would + be more fatal to you than disasters! What Frenchman is there who would not + march to victory again under the banners of the First Consul, or serve his + apprenticeship to fame with him?” + </p> + <p> + Then, addressing the “Invalids,” for whom the whole lower gallery had been + reserved, he continued in a still more powerful voice: + </p> + <p> + “And you, brave veterans, honorable victims of the fate of battles, you + will not be the last to flock under the orders of him who knows your + misfortunes and your glory, and who now delivers to your keeping these + trophies won by your valor. Ah, I know you, veterans, you burn to + sacrifice the half of your remaining lives to your country and its + freedom!” + </p> + <p> + This specimen of the military eloquence of the conqueror of Montebello was + received with deafening applause. Three times the minister of war + endeavored to make reply; and three times the bravos cut him short. At + last, however, silence came, and Berthier expressed himself as follows: + </p> + <p> + “To raise on the banks of the Seine these trophies won on the banks of the + Nile; to hang beneath the domes of our temples, beside the flags of + Vienna, of Petersburg, of London, the banners blessed in the mosques of + Byzantium and Cairo; to see them here, presented by the same warriors, + young in years, old in glory, whom Victory has so often crowned—these + things are granted only to Republican France. + </p> + <p> + “Yet this is but a part of what he has done, that hero, in the flower of + his age covered with the laurels of Europe, he, who stood a victor before + the Pyramids, from the summits of which forty centuries looked down upon + him while, surrounded by his warriors and learned men, he emancipated the + native soil of art and restored to it the lights of civilization. + </p> + <p> + “Soldiers, plant in this temple of the warrior virtues those ensigns of + the Crescent, captured on the rocks of Canopus by three thousand Frenchmen + from eighteen thousand Ottomans, as brave as they were barbarous. Let them + bear witness, not to the valor of the French soldier—the universe + itself resounds to that—but to his unalterable constancy, his + sublime devotion. Let the sight of these banners console you, veteran + warriors, you, whose bodies, gloriously mutilated on the field of honor, + deprive your courage of other exercise than hope and prayer. Let them + proclaim from that dome above us, to all the enemies of France, the + influence of genius, the value of the heroes who captured them; + forewarning of the horrors of war all those who are deaf to our offers of + peace. Yes, if they will have war, they shall have it—war, terrible + and unrelenting! + </p> + <p> + “The nation, satisfied, regards the Army of the East with pride. + </p> + <p> + “That invincible army will learn with joy that the First Consul is + watchful of its glory. It is the object of the keenest solicitude on the + part of the Republic. It will hear with pride that we have honored it in + our temples, while awaiting the moment when we shall imitate, if need be, + on the fields of Europe, the warlike virtues it has displayed on the + burning sands of Africa and Asia. + </p> + <p> + “Come, in the name of that army, intrepid general, come in the name of + those heroes among whom you now appear, and receive an embrace in token of + the national gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “And in the moment when we again take up our arms in defence of our + independence (if the blind fury of kings refuses the peace we offer), let + us cast a branch of laurel on the ashes of Washington, that hero who freed + America from the yoke of our worst and most implacable enemy. Let his + illustrious shade tell us of the glory which follows a nation’s liberator + beyond the grave!” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte now came down from his platform, and in the name of France was + embraced by Berthier. + </p> + <p> + M. de Fontanes, who was appointed to pronounce the eulogy on Washington, + waited courteously until the echoes of the torrent of applause, which + seemed to fall in cascades through the vast amphitheatre, had died away. + In the midst of these glorious individualities, M. de Fontanes was a + curiosity, half political, half literary. After the 18th Fructidor he was + proscribed with Suard and Laharpe; but, being perfectly hidden in a + friend’s house, and never going out except at night, he managed to avoid + leaving France. Nevertheless, an accident, impossible to foresee, had + betrayed him. He was knocked down one night on the Place du Carrousel by a + runaway horse, and was recognized by a policeman, who ran to his + assistance. But Fouché, who was at once informed, not only of his presence + in France, but also of his actual hiding-place, pretended to know nothing + of him. + </p> + <p> + A few days after the 18th Brumaire, Maret, who became later the Duc de + Bassano, Laplace, who continued to be simply a man of science, and + Regnault de Saint-Jean-d’Angely, who died mad, spoke to the First Consul + of M. de Fontanes and of his presence in Paris, + </p> + <p> + “Present him to me,” replied the First Consul simply. + </p> + <p> + M. de Fontanes was presented to Bonaparte, who, recognizing his supple + nature and the unctuous flattery of his eloquence, chose him to deliver + the eulogy on Washington, and perhaps something of his own at the same + time. + </p> + <p> + M. de Fontanes’ address was too long to be reported here; all that we + shall say about it is, that it was precisely what Bonaparte desired. + </p> + <p> + That evening there was a grand reception at the Luxembourg. During the + ceremony a rumor was spread that the First Consul contemplated removing to + the Tuileries. Persons who were either bold or curious ventured on a few + words to Josephine. She, poor woman, who still saw before her the tumbrel + and the scaffold of Marie Antoinette, had an instinctive horror of all + that might connect her with royalty; she therefore hesitated to reply and + referred all questions to her husband. + </p> + <p> + Then another rumor began to be bruited about which served as a + counterpoise to the former. Murat, it was said, had asked the hand of + Mademoiselle Caroline Bonaparte in marriage. But this marriage was not + without its obstacles; Bonaparte had had a quarrel, lasting over a year, + with the man who aspired to the honor of becoming his brother-in-law. The + cause of this quarrel will seem rather strange to our readers. + </p> + <p> + Murat, the lion of the army; Murat, whose courage had become proverbial; + Murat, who might well have been taken by a sculptor as a model for the god + of war; Murat, on one occasion, when he must have slept ill or breakfasted + badly, had a moment of weakness. + </p> + <p> + It happened before Mantua, in which city Wurmser, after the battle of + Rivoli, was forced to shut himself up with twenty-eight thousand men; + General Miollis, with four thousand only, was investing the place. During + a sortie attempted by the Austrians, Murat, at the head of five hundred + men, received an order to charge three thousand. Murat charged, but + feebly. Bonaparte, whose aide-de-camp he then was, was so irritated that + he would not suffer him to remain about him. This was a great blow to + Murat, all the more because he was at that time desirous of becoming the + general’s brother-in-law; he was deeply in love with Caroline Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + How had that love come about? It can be told in two words. Perhaps those + who read our books singly are surprised that we sometimes dwell on certain + details which seem somewhat long drawn out for the book in which they + appear. The fact is, we are not writing isolated books, but, as we have + already said, we are filling, or trying to fill, an immense frame. To us, + the presence of our characters is not limited to their appearance in one + book. The man you meet in one book may be a king in a second volume, and + exiled or shot in a third. + </p> + <p> + Balzac did a great and noble work with a hundred aspects, and he called it + the “Comédie Humaine.” Our work, begun at the same time as his—although, + be it understood, we do not praise it—may fitly be called “The Drama + of France.” + </p> + <p> + Now, let us return to Murat, and tell how this love, which had so glorious + and, possibly, so fatal an influence on his destiny, came to him. + </p> + <p> + In 1796, Murat was sent to Paris, charged with the duty of presenting to + the Directory the flags and banners taken by the French army at the + battles of Dego and Mondovi. During this voyage he made the acquaintance + of Madame Bonaparte and Madame Tallien. At Madame Bonaparte’s house he + again met Mademoiselle Caroline Bonaparte. We say <i>again</i>, for that + was not the first time he had met the woman who was to share the crown of + Naples with him. They had met in Rome, at her brother’s house, and, in + spite of the rivalry of a young and handsome Roman prince, she had shown + him a marked preference. + </p> + <p> + The three women combined to obtain for him the rank of general of brigade + from the Directory. Murat returned to the Army of Italy, more in love than + ever, and, in spite of his new rank, he solicited and obtained the favor + of remaining with the general-in-chief as aide-de-camp. Unhappily, the + fatal sortie took place soon after, in consequence of which he fell in + disgrace with Bonaparte. This disgrace had for awhile all the + characteristics of actual enmity. Bonaparte dismissed him from his service + as aide-de-camp, and transferred him to Neille’s division, and then to + that of Baraguey-d’Hilliers. The result was, that when Bonaparte returned + to Paris after the treaty of Tolentino, Murat did not accompany him. + </p> + <p> + This did not at all suit the female triumvirate, who had taken the young + general under its direction. The beautiful intriguers entered into the + campaign, and as the expedition to Egypt was then preparing, they induced + the minister of war to send Murat with it. He embarked in the same ship as + Bonaparte, namely the “Orient,” but the latter did not address a single + word to him during the voyage. After they reached Alexandria, Murat was at + first unable to break the icy barrier opposed to him by the general, who, + more to put him at a distance from his own person than to give him an + opportunity to distinguish himself, confronted him with Mourad Bey. But, + during that campaign, Murat performed such prodigies of valor that he + effaced, by such bravery, the memory of that momentary weakness; he + charged so intrepidly, so madly at Aboukir, that Bonaparte had not the + heart to bear him further malice. + </p> + <p> + Consequently Murat had returned to France with Bonaparte. He had + powerfully co-operated with him on the 18th and especially on the 19th + Brumaire. He was, therefore, restored to full favor, and, as a proof of + that favor, had received the command of the Consular guard. + </p> + <p> + He thought this the moment to declare his love, a love already well-known + to Josephine, who favored it; for which she had two reasons. In the first + place, she was a woman in the most charming acceptation of the word; that + is to say, all the gentler passions of women were attractive to her. + Joachim loved Caroline, Caroline loved Joachim; that was enough to make + her wish to protect their love. In the second place, Bonaparte’s brothers + detested Josephine; Joseph and Lucien were her bitterest enemies, and she + was not sorry to make herself two ardent friends in Caroline and Murat. + She therefore encouraged the latter to approach Bonaparte on the subject. + </p> + <p> + Three days before the ceremony we have just described, Murat had entered + Bonaparte’s study, and, after endless hesitation and circumlocution, had + proffered his request. + </p> + <p> + It is probable that the love of the young pair was no news to Bonaparte, + who, however, received it with stern gravity, and contented himself with + replying that he would think it over. The matter, in fact, required + thinking over. Bonaparte came of a noble family, Murat was the son of an + innkeeper. The alliance at such a moment might have great significance. + Was the First Consul, in spite of his noble birth, in spite of the exalted + rank to which he had raised himself, not only sufficiently republican, but + also sufficiently democratic to mingle his blood with that of the common + people. + </p> + <p> + He did not reflect long; his strong, good sense, and his logical mind, + told him that he had every interest in allowing the marriage, and he gave + his consent to it the same day. + </p> + <p> + The double news of this marriage and of the removal to the Tuileries was + launched on the public at the same time; the one was to counterpoise the + other. The First Consul was about to occupy the palace of the former + kings, to sleep in the bed of the Bourbons, as they said at that time, but + he gave his sister to the son of an innkeeper! + </p> + <p> + And now, it may be asked, what dowry did the future Queen of Naples bring + to the hero of Aboukir? Thirty thousand francs and a diamond necklace, + which the First Consul took from his wife, being too poor to buy one. + Josephine, who was very fond of her necklace, pouted a little; but the + gift, thus obtained, was a triumphant reply to those who claimed that + Bonaparte had made a fortune in Italy; besides, why had she taken the + interests of the young couple so to heart? She had insisted on marrying + them, and she ought to contribute to the dowry. + </p> + <p> + The result of this clever combination was that on the day when the Consuls + left the Luxembourg for the “palace of the government,” escorted by the <i>son + of an innkeeper</i>, soon to be Bonaparte’s brother-in-law, it did not + occur to those who saw the procession pass to do otherwise than admire and + applaud. And, in truth, what could be more admirable and worthy of + applause than those processions, which had at their head such men as + Murat, Moreau, Junot, Duroc, Augereau, and Masséna? + </p> + <p> + A grand review had been ordered to take place that same day in the square + of the Carrousel. Madame Bonaparte was to be present—not, to be + sure, in the balcony of the clock-tower, that being evidently too royal, + but at the window of Lebrun’s apartment in the Pavilion of Flora. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte started at one o’clock precisely from the Luxembourg, escorted + by three thousand picked men, among them the splendid regiment of the + Guides, created three years earlier as a bodyguard to Bonaparte during the + Italian campaign, in consequence of a great danger he had escaped on one + occasion. He was resting in a small château, after the exhaustion + attendant upon the passage of the Mincio, and was preparing to take a + bath, when a retreating Austrian detachment, losing its way, invaded the + château, which had no other guard than the sentries. Bonaparte had barely + time to escape in his shirt. + </p> + <p> + A curious difficulty, which deserves to be recorded, arose on the morning + of this removal, which took place the 30th Pluviose, year VIII. The + generals, of course, had their horses and the ministers their carriages, + but the other functionaries had not yet judged it expedient to go to such + an expense. Carriages were therefore lacking. They were supplied from the + hackney coach-stands, and slips of paper of the same color as the + carriages were pasted over their numbers. + </p> + <p> + The carriage of the First Consul alone was harnessed with six white + horses, but as the three consuls were in the same carriage, Bonaparte and + Cambacérès on the front seat, and Lebrun on the back, it was, after all, + but two horses apiece. Besides, were not these six white horses given to + the commander-in-chief by the Emperor Francis himself, after the treaty of + Campo-Formio, a trophy in themselves? + </p> + <p> + The carriage crossed a part of Paris, following the Rue de Thionville, the + Quai Voltaire, and the Pont-Royal. From the archway of the Carrousel to + the great portal of the Tuileries the Consular guard lined the way. As + Bonaparte passed through the archway, he raised his head and read the + inscription it bore. That inscription was as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AUGUST 10, 1792. + ROYALTY IS ABOLISHED IN FRANCE + AND SHALL NEVER RISE AGAIN. +</pre> + <p> + An almost imperceptible smile flickered on the First Consul’s lips. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the Tuileries, Bonaparte left the carriage and sprang into + the saddle to review the troops. When he appeared on his war-horse the + applause burst forth wildly on all sides. + </p> + <p> + After the review was over, he placed himself in front of the clock-tower, + with Murat on his right, Lannes at his left, and the glorious staff of the + Army of Italy behind him. Then began the march past. + </p> + <p> + And now it was that one of those inspirations came to him which engrave + themselves forever on the hearts of soldiers. As the flags of the 30th, + the 96th, and the 33d demi-brigades were borne past him, and he saw that, + of those banners, there remained but a stick and a few rags, riddled with + balls and blackened with powder, he took his hat from his head and bowed. + </p> + <p> + Then, when the march was over, he dismounted from his horse, and, with a + firm step, he walked up the grand stairway of the Valois and the Bourbons. + </p> + <p> + That night, when he was alone with Bourrienne, the latter asked: “Well, + general, are you satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Bonaparte, dreamily, “everything went off nicely, didn’t + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderfully well.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you standing near Madame Bonaparte at the ground-floor window of + the Pavilion of Flora.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you, too, general; you were reading the inscription on the arch of + the Carrousel.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bonaparte, “‘August 10,1792. Royalty is abolished in France, + and shall never rise again.’” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I have it removed?” asked Bourrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Useless,” replied the First Consul, “it will fall of itself.” Then, with + a sigh, he added: “Bourrienne, do you know whom I missed to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “No, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Roland. What the devil is he doing that he doesn’t give me any news of + himself?” + </p> + <p> + We are about to see what Roland was doing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV. THE FOLLOWER OF TRAILS + </h2> + <p> + The reader will not have forgotten the situation in which the escort of + chasseurs found the Chambéry mail-coach. + </p> + <p> + The first thing they did was to look for the obstacle which prevented + Roland from getting out. They found the padlock and wrenched off the door. + </p> + <p> + Roland bounded from the coach like a tiger from its cage. We have said + that the ground was covered with snow. Roland, hunter and soldier, had but + one idea—to follow the trail of the Companions of Jehu. He had seen + them disappear in the direction of Thoissy; but he believed they were not + likely to continue in that direction because, between them and the little + town ran the Saône, and there were no bridges across the river between + Belleville and Mâcon. He ordered the escort and the conductor to wait for + him on the highroad, and alone and on foot, without even waiting to reload + his pistols, he started on the tracks of Morgan and his companions. + </p> + <p> + He was not mistaken. A mile from the highroad the fugitives had come to + the river; there they had halted, probably deliberating, for the trampling + of their horses’ hoofs was plainly visible; then they had separated into + two troops, one going up the river to Mâcon, and the other descending it + in the direction of Belleville. + </p> + <p> + This separation was doubtless intended to puzzle their pursuers, if they + were pursued. Roland had heard the parting call of the leader: “To-morrow + night, you know where!” He had no doubt, therefore, that whichever trail + he followed, whether up or down—if the snow did not melt too fast—would + lead him to the rendezvous, where, either together or singly, the + Companions of Jehu were certain to assemble. + </p> + <p> + He returned upon his own tracks, ordered the conductor to put on the boots + thrown aside by the pretended postilion, mount the horse and take the + coach to the next relay, namely Belleville. The sergeant of chasseurs and + four of his men, who knew how to write, were to accompany the conductor + and sign his report of what had occurred. Roland forbade all mention of + himself and where he had gone, lest the brigands should get word of his + future plans. The rest of the escort were to carry back their colonel’s + body, and make deposition on their own account, along the same lines as + the conductor, to the authorities, and equally without mention of Roland. + </p> + <p> + These orders given, the young man dismounted a chasseur and took his + horse, selecting the one he thought most serviceable. Then he reloaded his + pistols, and put them in the holsters in place of the regulation weapons + of the dismounted chasseur. Having done this, and promised the conductor + and the chasseurs a speedy vengeance, conditioned, however, on their + keeping his present proceedings secret, he mounted the horse and rode off + in the direction he had already investigated. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the spot where the two troops had separated, he had to + decide between the different trails. He chose that which descended the + Saône toward Belleville. He had excellent reason for making this choice, + although it might possibly take him out of his way for six or eight miles. + In the first place he was nearer Belleville than Mâcon; then he had spent + twenty-four hours at Mâcon, and might be recognized there, whereas he had + never stopped at Belleville longer than the time required to change horses + when accident brought him there by post. + </p> + <p> + The events we have just recorded had taken barely an hour to happen. Eight + o’clock was striking from the church clock at Thoissy when Roland started + in pursuit of the fugitives. The way was plain; five or six horses had + left their imprint on the snow; one of these horses had paced. + </p> + <p> + Roland jumped the two or three brooks which watered the space he had to + cross to reach Belleville. A hundred yards from the town he paused, for + here the trail separated again; two of the six travellers had turned to + the right, that is to say, they had struck away from the river, the four + others to the left, continuing on their way to Belleville. At the + outskirts of the town, another secession had taken place; three of the + riders had gone round the town, one had entered it. + </p> + <p> + Roland followed the latter, sure that he could recover the traces of the + others. The one who had entered the town and followed the main street had + stopped at a pretty house between court and garden, numbered 67. He had + rung and some one had let him in; for through the iron grating could be + seen traces of footsteps, and beside them the tracks of a horse being led + to the stable. + </p> + <p> + It was quite evident that one, at least, of the Companions of Jehu had + stopped there. By going to the mayor of the town, exhibiting his + authority, and asking for gendarmes, Roland could have arrested him at + once. But that was not his object; he did not wish to arrest a solitary + individual; he wanted to catch the whole company in a trap. + </p> + <p> + He made a note in his mind of No. 67, and continued on his way. He crossed + the entire town and rode a few hundred paces beyond it without meeting any + fresh traces. He was about to return, when it occurred to him that, if the + tracks of the three riders reappeared anywhere, it would be at the head of + the bridge. And there, sure enough, he found the hoof-prints of three + horses, which were undoubtedly those he sought, for one of them paced. + </p> + <p> + Roland galloped in pursuit. On reaching Monceaux—same precaution, + the riders had skirted the village; but Roland was too good a scout to + trouble himself about that. He kept on his way, and at the other end of + Monceaux he recovered the fugitives’ tracks. Not far from Châtillon one of + the three horses had left the highroad, turning to the right toward a + little château, standing on a hill a short distance from the road between + Châtillon and Trévoux. This time the three remaining riders, evidently + believing they had done enough to mislead any one who might be following, + had kept straight on through Châtillon and taken the road to Neuville. + </p> + <p> + The direction taken by the fugitives was eminently satisfactory to Roland; + they were undoubtedly on their way to Bourg; if they had not intended to + go there they would have taken the road to Marlieux. Now, Bourg was the + headquarters Roland had himself chosen for the centre of his own + operations; it was his own town, and he knew, with the minuteness of + boyish knowledge, every bush, every ruin, every cavern in the + neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + At Neuville the riders had skirted the village. Roland did not trouble + himself about a ruse, already known and thwarted; but on the other side he + found but one trail. He could not be mistaken in that horse, however; it + was the pacer. Certain of recovering the trail again, Roland retraced his + steps. The two riders had separated at a road leading off to Vannes; one + had taken that road, the other had skirted the village, which, as we have + said, was on the road to Bourg. This was the one to follow; besides, the + gait of the horse made it easier, as it could not be confused with any + other. Moreover, he was on his way to Bourg, and between Neuville and + Bourg there was but one other village, that of Saint-Denis. For the rest, + it was not probable that the solitary rider intended to go further than + Bourg. + </p> + <p> + Roland continued on his way with more eagerness than ever, convinced that + he was nearing the end. In fact the rider had not skirted Bourg, but had + boldly entered the town. There, it seemed to Roland that the man had + hesitated, unless this hesitation were a last ruse to hide his tracks. But + after ten minutes spent in following his devious tracks Roland was sure of + his facts; it was not trickery but hesitation. + </p> + <p> + The print of a man’s steps came from a side street; the traveller and the + pedestrian had conferred together for a moment, and then the former had + evidently employed the latter as a guide. From that point on, the + footsteps of a man went side by side with those of the horse. Both came to + an end at the hôtel de la Belle-Alliance. Roland remembered that the horse + wounded in the attack at Les Carronnières had been brought to this inn. In + all probability there was some connivance between the inn-keeper and the + Companion of Jehu. For the rest, in all probability the rider would stay + there until the next evening. Roland felt by his own fatigue that the man + he was following must need rest. And Roland, in order not to force his + horse and the better to reconnoitre the tracks he was following, had taken + six hours to do thirty miles. + </p> + <p> + Three o’olock was striking from the truncated bell-tower of Nôtre-Dame. + Roland debated what to do. Should he stop at some inn in the town? + Impossible, he was too well known in Bourg; besides, his horse with its + cavalry saddle-cloth would excite suspicion. It was one of the conditions + of success that his presence at Bourg should remain unknown. + </p> + <p> + He could hide at the Château des Noires-Fontaines and keep on the watch, + but could he trust the servants? Michel and Jacques would hold their + tongues, Roland was sure of them; but Charlotte, the jailer’s daughter, + she might gossip. However, it was three o’clock in the morning, every one + was asleep, and the safest plan was certainly to put himself in + communication with Michel. Michel would find some way of concealing his + presence. + </p> + <p> + To the deep regret of his horse, who had no doubt scented a stable, Roland + wheeled about and rode off in the direction of Pont-d’Ain. As he passed + the church of Brou he glanced at the barrack of the gendarmes, where, in + all probability, they and their captain were sleeping the sleep of the + righteous. + </p> + <p> + Roland cut through the little strip of forest which jutted into the road. + The snow deadened the sound of his horse’s hoofs. Branching into the road + from the other side, he saw two men slinking along in the ditch, carrying + a deer slung by its forelegs to a sapling. He thought he recognized the + cut of the two men, and he spurred his horse to overtake them. The men + were on the watch; they turned, saw the rider, who was evidently making + for them, flung the animal into the ditch, and made for the shelter of the + forest of Seillon. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Michel!” cried Roland, more and more convinced that he had to do + with his own gardener. + </p> + <p> + Michel stopped short; the other man kept on his way across the fields. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Jacques!” shouted Roland. + </p> + <p> + The other man stopped. If they were recognized, it was useless to fly; + besides, there was nothing hostile in the call; the voice was friendly, + rather than threatening. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” said Jacques, “it sounds like M. Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “I do believe it is he,” said Michel. + </p> + <p> + And the two men, instead of continuing their flight, returned to the + highroad. + </p> + <p> + Roland had not heard what the two poachers had said, but he had guessed. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, the deuce! of course it is I,” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + A minute more and Michel and Jacques were beside him. The questions of + father and son were a crossfire, and it must be owned they had good reason + for amazement. Roland, in civilian’s dress, on a cavalry horse, at three + in the morning, on the road from Bourg to the château! The young officer + cut short all questions. + </p> + <p> + “Silence, poachers!” said he, “put that deer behind me and be off at trot + to the château. No one must know of my presence there, not even my + sister.” + </p> + <p> + Roland spoke with military precision, and both men knew that when he gave + an order there was no replying. They picked up the deer, put it behind his + saddle, and followed the gentle trot of the horse at a run. There was less + than a mile to do, and it took but ten minutes. At a short distance from + the château, Roland pulled up. The two men went forward as scouts to see + if all were quiet. Satisfied on that point, they made a sign to Roland to + advance. + </p> + <p> + Roland came, dismounted, found the door of the lodge open, and entered. + Michel took the horse to the stable and carried the deer to the kitchen; + for Michel belonged to that honorable class of poachers, who kill game for + the pleasure of killing, and not for the selfish interest of sale. There + was no need for precaution, either for horse or deer; for Amélie took no + more notice of what went on in the stable than of what they served her to + eat. + </p> + <p> + During this time Jacques lighted the fire. When Michel returned he brought + the remains of a leg of mutton and some eggs for an omelet. Jacques made + up a bed in the office. + </p> + <p> + Roland warmed himself and ate his supper without saying a word. The two + men looked at each other with an astonishment that was not devoid of a + certain degree of anxiety. A rumor of the expedition to Seillon had got + about, and it was whispered that Roland had led it. Apparently, he had + returned for another similar expedition. + </p> + <p> + When Roland had finished his supper he looked up and saw Michel. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! so there you are?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting for Monsieur’s orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Here they are; listen carefully.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m all ears.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a question of life or death; of more than that, of my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, Monsieur Roland.” + </p> + <p> + Roland pulled out his watch. + </p> + <p> + “It is now five o’clock. When the inn of the Belle-Alliance opens, be + there, as if you were just sauntering by; then stop a minute to chat with + whoever opens it.” + </p> + <p> + “That will probably be Pierre.” + </p> + <p> + “Pierre or another; find out from him who the traveller is who arrived + last night on a pacing horse. You know what pacing is, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! You mean a horse that goes like a bear, both feet forward at + the same time.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! You can also find out whether the traveller is leaving this + morning, or whether he proposes to spend the day at the hotel, can’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can find that out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when you have found out all that, come and tell me; but remember, + not a word about my being here. If any one asks about me, say that they + had a letter from me yesterday, and that I was in Paris with the First + Consul.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s understood.” + </p> + <p> + Michel departed. Roland went to bed and to sleep, leaving Jacques to guard + the building. + </p> + <p> + When Roland awoke Michel had returned. He had found out all that his + master desired to know. The horseman who had arrived in the night was to + leave the next morning, and on the travellers’ register, which every + innkeeper was obliged by law to keep in those days, was entered: + “Saturday, 30th Pluviose, <i>ten at night</i>; the citizen Valensolle, + from Lyons going to Geneva.” Thus the alibi was prepared; for the register + would prove that the citizen Valensolle had arrived at ten o’clock, and it + was impossible that he could have assisted in robbing the mail-coach near + the Maison-Blanche at half-past eight and yet have reached the Hotel de la + Belle-Alliance at ten. + </p> + <p> + But what impressed Roland the most was that the man he had followed + through the night, and whose name and retreat he had just discovered, was + none other than the second of Alfred de Barjols, whom he himself had + killed in a duel near the fountain of Vaucluse; and that that second was, + in all probability, the man who had played the part of ghost at the + Chartreuse of Seillon. + </p> + <p> + So, then, the Companions of Jehu were not mere thieves, but, on the + contrary, as rumor said, gentlemen of good family, who, while the noble + Bretons were laying down their lives for the royalist cause in the West, + were, here in the East, braving the scaffold to send to the combatants the + money they took from the government. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI. AN INSPIRATION + </h2> + <p> + We have seen that during the pursuit of the preceding night Roland could + have arrested one or two of the men he was pursuing. He could now do the + same with M. de Valensolle, who was probably, like Roland himself, taking + a day’s rest after a night of great fatigue. + </p> + <p> + To do it he had only to write a line to the captain of gendarmes, or to + the colonel of dragoons, who had assisted him during that ineffectual + search at Seillon. Their honor was concerned in the affair. They could + instantly surprise M. de Valensolle in bed, and at the cost of two pistol + shots—two men killed or wounded—he would be taken. + </p> + <p> + But M. de Valensolle’s arrest would give warning to the rest of the band, + who would instantly put themselves in safety beyond the frontier. It was + better, therefore, to keep to his first idea; to go slowly, to follow the + different trails which must converge to one centre, and, at the risk of a + general engagement, throw a net over the whole company. + </p> + <p> + To do that, M. de Valensolle must not be arrested. It was better to follow + him on his pretended journey to Geneva, which was probably but a blind to + foil investigation. It was therefore agreed that Roland, whose disguise, + however good, was liable to be penetrated, should remain at the lodge, and + Michel and Jacques should head off the game. In all probabilities, M. de + Valensolle would not set out from the inn before nightfall. + </p> + <p> + Roland made inquiries of Michel about the life his sister had led since + her mother’s departure. He learned that she had never once left the + grounds during that time. Her habits were still the same, except for the + walks and visits she had made with Madame de Montrevel. + </p> + <p> + She rose at seven or eight in the morning, sketched or practiced her music + till breakfast, and afterward read or employed herself at some kind of + embroidery, or took advantage of the sunshine to go out with Charlotte to + the river. Sometimes she bade Michel unfasten the little boat, and then, + well wrapped in furs, would row up the Reissouse as far as Montagnac or + down to Saint-Just. During these trips she spoke to no one. Then she + dined. After dinner, she retired to her bedroom and did not appear again. + </p> + <p> + By half-past six, therefore, Michel and Jacques could decamp without + arousing any suspicion as to their where-about; and, accordingly, at that + hour they took their blouses, game-bags and guns, and started. Roland had + given them their instructions. They were to follow the pacing horse until + they had ascertained his destination, or until they had lost all trace of + him. Michel was to lie in wait opposite the inn of the Belle-Alliance; + Jacques was to station himself outside of Bourg, just where the main road + divides into three branches, one going to Saint-Amour, another to + Saint-Claude, and the third to Nantua. This last was at the same time the + highroad to Geneva. It was evident that unless M. de Valensolle returned + upon his steps, which was not probable, he would take one or another of + these three roads. + </p> + <p> + The father started in one direction, the son in another. Michel went + toward the town by the road to Pont-d’Ain, passing the church of Brou. + Jacques crossed the Reissouse, followed the right bank of the little + river, and found himself, after walking a few hundred yards beyond the + town, at the sharp angle made by the parting of the three roads. Father + and son reached their separate posts at about the same time. + </p> + <p> + At this particular moment, that is to say, about seven o’clock, the + stillness and solitude surrounding the Château des Noires-Fontaines was + broken by the arrival of a post-chaise, which stopped before the iron + gate. A servant in livery got off the box and pulled the chain of the + bell. + </p> + <p> + It was Michel’s business to open the gate, but Michel was away, as we + know. Amélie and Charlotte probably counted on him, for the bell was rung + three times before any one answered it. At last the maid appeared at the + head of the stairs calling Michel. Michel made no reply. Finally, + protected by the locked gates, Charlotte ventured to approach them. In + spite of the obscurity she recognized the servant. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, is it you, Monsieur James?” she cried, somewhat reassured. James was + Sir John’s confidential valet. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle, it is I, or rather it is Sir John.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage door opened at this moment, and his master’s voice was heard + saying: “Mademoiselle Charlotte, will you tell your mistress that I have + just arrived from Paris, that I have called to leave my card, and to ask + permission, not to be received this evening, but to be allowed to call + to-morrow, if she will grant me that favor. Ask her at what hour I shall + least inconvenience her.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Charlotte had a high opinion of Sir John, consequently she + acquitted herself of the commission with the utmost alacrity. Five minutes + later she returned to announce that Sir John would be received the next + day between twelve and one o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Roland knew what the Englishman had come for. In his mind the marriage was + an accomplished fact, and he regarded Sir John already as his + brother-in-law. He hesitated a moment as to whether he should or should + not make himself known to Sir John, and tell his friend about his + projects; but he reflected that Sir John was not a man to let him work + them out alone. He, too, had a revenge to take on the Companions of Jehu; + he would certainly insist on taking part in the expedition, whatever it + was. And that expedition, however it might result, was certain to be + dangerous, and another disaster might befall him. Roland’s luck, as Roland + well knew, did not extend to his friends. Sir John, grievously wounded, + had barely escaped with his life, and the colonel of dragoons had been + killed outright. He therefore allowed Sir John to drive away without + giving any sign of his own proximity. + </p> + <p> + As for Charlotte, she did not seem in the least surprised that Michel was + not there to open the gate. Evidently they were accustomed to his + absences, and they did not disturb either the mistress or the maid. For + the rest, Roland knew his sister well enough to understand this + indifference. Amélie, feeble under a moral suffering wholly unsuspected by + Roland, who attributed to simple nervous crises the fluctuations of his + sister’s character, Amélie was strong and brave before real danger. That + was no doubt why she felt no fear about remaining with Charlotte alone in + the lonely house, without other protection than that afforded by the two + gardeners, who spent their nights in poaching. + </p> + <p> + As for ourselves, we know that Michel and his son did really serve their + mistress’ desire more in absenting themselves thus frequently from the + château than in staying near it. Their absence left the coast clear for + Morgan, [and that] was all Amélie really cared about. + </p> + <p> + That evening and part of the night went by without bringing Roland any + news. He tried to sleep, but succeeded ill. He fancied every minute that + he heard some one at the door. The day was just beginning to glimmer + through the shutters when the door did actually open. Michel and Jacques + were returning, and this is what had happened to them: + </p> + <p> + They had each gone to his post, Michel at the inn door, Jacques to the + junction of the roads. Twenty paces from the door Michel had met Pierre, + and three words sufficed to show him that M. de Valensolle was still at + the inn. The latter had announced that, as he had a long journey before + him, he would let his horse rest and would not start until nightfall. + Pierre did not doubt that he was going to Geneva, as he said. + </p> + <p> + Michel proposed a glass of wine to Pierre. Pierre accepted. After that, + Michel was sure of being warned of any change. Pierre was the hostler, and + nothing could be done in the stable without his knowledge. A lad attached + to the inn promised to convey the news to Michel, in return for which + Michel gave him three charges of powder with which to make firecrackers. + </p> + <p> + At midnight the traveller had not yet started; they had drunk four bottles + of wine, but Michel had partaken sparingly of them. He had found means to + pour three of the four bottles into Pierre’s glass, where they did not + long remain. At midnight the wine-shop closed, and Michel having nowhere + to go for the four hours that still remained until daybreak, Pierre + offered him a bed of straw in the stable. Michel accepted. The two friends + went back arm-in-arm; Pierre staggering, Michel pretending to stagger. + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock in the morning the servant of the hotel awakened Michel. + The traveller wanted his horse. Michel, pretending that he must be off to + see to his game, also rose. His toilet was not long in making; he had only + to shake the straw from his hair, game-bag, and blouse, after which he + took leave of his friend Pierre and hid himself at the corner of the + street. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen minutes later the gate opened and a man rode out on a pacing + horse. It was M. de Valensolle. He took the street that led to the Geneva + road. Michel followed without concealment, whistling a hunting air. Only, + as Michel could not run for fear of attracting the rider’s notice, he lost + sight of him before long. But Jacques was there, thought he, waiting at + the fork of the roads. Yes, Jacques had been there, but he had been there + for over six hours of a winter’s night, in five degrees of cold. Had he + the courage to stand six hours in the snow and kick his soles against a + tree? + </p> + <p> + Thinking thus, Michel took a short cut through the streets and lanes, + running at full speed; but horse and rider, in spite of his haste, had + gone faster than he. He reached the fork of the roads. All was silent and + solitary. The snow, trampled the day before, a Sunday, no longer showed + distinct tracks. The steps of the horse were lost in the mud of the road. + Nor did he waste further time in vain searching. He wondered what had + become of Jacques; but his poacher’s eye soon told him. + </p> + <p> + Jacques had stood on watch at the foot of a tree. For how long? It was + difficult to say, but long enough to become very cold. The snow was well + beaten down by his heavy hunting-boots. He had evidently tried to keep + warm by walking up and down. Then suddenly he must have remembered a + little mud hut on the other side of the road, such as the road-menders + build as a shelter against the rain. He had gone down the ditch and + crossed the road. His trail, lost for a moment in the centre of the road, + was visible on the snow at either side. This trail formed a diagonal line, + making straight for the hut. It was evidently in the hut that Jacques had + passed the night. But when had he left it? And why had he left it? The + first question was unanswerable. But to the most inexperienced scout the + second was plain enough. He had left it to follow M. de Valensolle. The + same footsteps that had approached the hut were to be seen going, as they + left it, in the direction of Ceyzeriat. + </p> + <p> + The traveller had really taken the road to Geneva. Jacques’ footsteps + showed it plainly. The stride was long, like that of a man running, and he + had followed the road behind the trees, evidently to conceal himself from + the rider. At a wretched tavern, one of those with the legend inscribed + over its door: “Here we give food and drink, equestrian and pedestrian + lodgings,” the trail stopped. It was clear that the rider had stopped + before this inn, for Jacques had also paused behind a tree some twenty + feet distant, where the snow was-trampled. Then, probably after the gate + had closed on horse and rider, Jacques had left his tree, crossed the + road, this time with hesitation, his short steps leading, not to the door, + but to the window. + </p> + <p> + Michel put his own feet in his son’s footprints and reached the window. + Through the chinks in the shutter the interior, when lighted, could be + seen; but now all was dark, and Michel could see nothing. But Jacques had + certainly looked through the window; no doubt it was then lighted, and he + had been able to see something. + </p> + <p> + Where had he gone on leaving the window? Round the house, close to the + wall. This excursion was easy to follow. The snow was virgin. As for his + purpose in going round the house that was not difficult to make out. + Jacques, like a lad of sense, had concluded that the traveller had not + left a good hotel, saying that he was going to Geneva, to put up at a + miserable tavern a mile from the town. + </p> + <p> + He must have ridden through the yard and gone out by some other exit. + Jacques had, therefore, skirted the house in the hope of recovering the + trail, if not of the horse, at least of the rider on the other side. + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, from a small gate in the rear, opening toward the forest that + extends from Coterz to Ceyzeriat, footsteps could be seen advancing in a + straight line to the edge of the woods. They were those of a man elegantly + shod, wearing spurs on his heels, for the spurs had left their marks upon + the snow. + </p> + <p> + Jacques had not hesitated to follow these marks. The track of his heavy + shoes could be seen near the prints of the delicate boot—the large + foot of the peasant near the slender foot of the city man. + </p> + <p> + It was now five o’clock. Day was breaking, and Michel resolved to go no + further. Jacques was on the trail, and the young poacher was worth as much + as the old one. Michel circled the open as if he were returning from + Ceyzeriat, resolving to enter the inn and wait for Jacques’ return; + certain that his son would know he had followed him and had stopped short + at this isolated house. + </p> + <p> + Michel knocked on the window-shutter and was soon admitted. He knew the + landlord, who was well accustomed to his nocturnal habits, asked for a + bottle, complaining bitterly of his poor luck, and asked permission to + wait for his son, who was in the woods on the other side, and who, he + hoped, had been more successful in tracking the game. It goes without + saying that this permission was readily accorded. Michel opened the + window-shutters, in order to look out on the road. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before some one knocked on the glass. It was Jacques. His + father called him. + </p> + <p> + Jacques had been as unfortunate as his father. No game; and he was frozen. + An armful of wood was thrown on the fire and a second bottle of wine was + brought. Jacques warmed himself and drank. + </p> + <p> + Then, as it was necessary that the two poachers should be back at the + château before daylight, that their absence might not be noticed, Michel + paid for the wine and the wood, and the pair departed. + </p> + <p> + Neither had said one word before the landlord of the subject that filled + their minds. He was not to suspect that they were on other trail than that + of game. But no sooner were they outside of the house than Michel drew + close to his son. Jacques recounted how he had followed the tracks until + they had reached a crossroad in the forest. There a man, armed with a gun, + had suddenly appeared and asked him what he was doing in the forest at + that hour. Jacques replied that he was watching for game. “Then go + further,” said the man; “don’t you see that this place is taken?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques admitted the justice of this claim, and went on about a hundred + rods further, but, just as he was slanting to the left to return to the + crossroad, another man, armed like the first, had suddenly started up with + the same inopportune question. Jacques gave him the same answer: “Watching + for game.” The man had then pointed to the edge of the woods, saying in a + threatening manner: “If I have any advice to give you, my young friend, it + is to go over there. It will be safer for you than here.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques had taken this advice, or at least had pretended to take it, for + as soon as he had reached the edge of the woods he had crept along in the + ditch, until, convinced that it would be impossible to recover M. de + Valensolle’s track, he had struck into the open, and returned by fields + and the highroad to the tavern, where he hoped to, and in fact did, find + his father. + </p> + <p> + They reached the Château des Noires-Fontaines, as we have seen, just as + day was breaking. + </p> + <p> + All that we have related was repeated to Roland with a multiplicity of + detail which we must omit, and convinced the young officer that the two + armed men, who had warned off Jacques, were not poachers as they seemed, + but Companions of Jehu. But where was their haunt located? + </p> + <p> + There was no deserted convent, no ruin, in that direction. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Roland clapped his hand to his head. “Idiot that I am!” he cried, + “why did I never think of that?” + </p> + <p> + A smile of triumph crossed his lips, and addressing the two men, who were + mortified at having brought him no more definite news, he cried: “My lads, + I know all I want to know. Go to bed and sleep sound; my word, you deserve + to!” He himself, setting the example, slept like a man whose brain has + solved a problem of the utmost importance which has long harassed it. + </p> + <p> + The thought had just flashed through his mind that the Companions of Jehu + had abandoned the Chartreuse of Seillon for the grottoes of Ceyzeriat; and + at the same time he recalled the subterranean passage leading from these + grottoes to the church of Brou. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII. A RECONNOISSANCE + </h2> + <p> + That same day, Sir John, making use of the permission accorded him the + night before, presented himself at the Château des Noires-Fontaines + between twelve and one o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Everything occurred as Morgan had advised. Sir John was received as the + friend of the family, Lord Tanlay as a suitor whose attentions were most + flattering. Amélie made no opposition to the wishes of her mother and + brother, and to the commands of the First Consul, further than to dwell on + the state of her health and to ask for delay on that account. Sir John + bowed and submitted; he had obtained more than he had hoped to obtain. He + was accepted. + </p> + <p> + He felt that his presence in Bourg, if prolonged, would be an impropriety, + Amélie being (still on the plea of ill-health) parted from her mother and + brother. He therefore announced that he would pay her a second visit on + the morrow, and leave Bourg that same evening. He would delay further + visits until Amélie came to Paris, or until Madame de Montrevel returned + to Bourg. The latter arrangement was the more probable of the two, for + Amélie assured him she needed the country air and the spring-like weather + to assist her in recovering her health. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to Sir John’s considerate delicacy, the plan arranged between + Amélie and Morgan was thus carried out, and the two lovers had before them + a period of solitude and a respite in which to form their plans. + </p> + <p> + Michel learned these details from Charlotte and imparted them in turn to + Roland. The latter determined to await Sir John’s departure before he took + any decisive steps against the Companions of Jehu. But this did not + prevent him from endeavoring to set at rest any remaining doubts. + </p> + <p> + When night came he put on a hunting-suit, and over it Michel’s blouse, + concealed his face beneath a broad-brimmed hat, slipped a pair of pistols + in his knife-belt, hidden by the blouse, and boldly took the road from + Noires-Fontaines to Bourg. He stopped at the barracks of the gendarmerie + and asked to see the captain. + </p> + <p> + The captain was in his room. Roland went up and made himself known. Then, + as it was only eight o’clock, and some one passing might recognize him, he + blew out the light, and the two men talked in the dark. The captain knew + already what had happened on the Lyons road three days earlier, and, + certain that Roland was not killed, was expecting him. To his great + astonishment, Roland asked him for only one, or rather for two things: the + key of the church of Brou and a crowbar. + </p> + <p> + The captain gave him the required articles, and offered to accompany him, + but Roland refused. It was evident to his mind that he had been betrayed + by some one connected with the affair of the Maison-Blanche, and he would + not expose himself to a second defeat. He therefore begged the captain to + tell no one of his presence in Bourg, and to await his return, even if it + were delayed some hours. The captain agreed. + </p> + <p> + Roland, the key in his right hand, the crowbar in his left, reached the + side door of the church without making any noise. This he unlocked, + entered, relocked it behind him, and found himself facing a wall of hay. + He listened. The most profound silence reigned. + </p> + <p> + He remembered his boyish habits, took his bearings, put the key in his + pocket, and scrambled up the wall of hay, which was about fifteen feet + high and formed a sort of platform. When he reached the top he slid down + on the other side, as though he were descending the scarp of a + fortification, and reached the flooring of the church, which was almost + wholly composed of mortuary stones. + </p> + <p> + The choir was empty, thanks to a rood-screen which protected it on one + side, and also to the walls which inclosed it to right and left. The door + of the screen was open and Roland entered the choir without difficulty. He + came face to face with the monument of Philippe le Beau. At the head of + the tomb was a large square flagstone. It covered the steps which led to + the burial vaults. + </p> + <p> + Roland must have known the way, for as soon as he reached the stone he + knelt down and felt with his hand for the edge of it. When he found it he + stood up, inserted his lever and raised the slab. With one hand he held it + up while he went down the steps. Then he lowered it slowly. It seemed as + though this nocturnal visitor were voluntarily separating himself from the + land of the living, and descending into the world of the dead. And strange + indeed to him, who sees by night as by day, on the earth and beneath it, + must the impassibility of this young man have seemed, who passed among the + dead in search of the living, and who, in spite of darkness and solitude, + did not shudder at the touch of the mortuary marbles. + </p> + <p> + He walked on, feeling his way among the tombs, until he came to the iron + gate leading to the subterranean passage. He looked for the lock. It was + only bolted. He inserted the end of his lever between the bolt and the + staple, and pushed it gently. The gate opened. He drew it close after him, + but did not lock it, so as to avoid delay on his return. The crowbar he + left at the corner of the gate. + </p> + <p> + Then, with straining ears, dilated pupils, every sense tense with this + effort to hear, the need to breathe, the impossibility of seeing, he + advanced slowly, a pistol in one hand, touching the wall with the other to + guide himself. He walked thus for fifteen minutes. A few drops of ice-cold + water fell through the roof on his hands and shoulders, and told him he + was passing under the river. + </p> + <p> + At the end of this time he found the door which opened from the passage + into the quarry. There he halted a moment. He could now breathe more + freely, and, moreover, he fancied that he heard distant sounds, and could + see flickering lights, like will-o’-the-wisps, on the pillars that + supported the roof. An observer might have thought, not distinguishing the + face of the silent listener, that he showed hesitation; but the moment his + countenance was seen, no one could have mistaken its expression of hope. + </p> + <p> + He then resumed his way, heading toward the light he thought he had seen. + As he advanced, the lights and the noises grew more distinct. It was + evident that the quarry was inhabited. By whom? He did not yet know, but + he would know. + </p> + <p> + He was already within ten feet of that open clearing in the midst of the + granite walls which we described on our first visit to the grotto of + Ceyzeriat. Roland clung closely to the wall, and moved forward almost + imperceptibly. In the dim half-light he looked like a gliding bass-relief. + </p> + <p> + At last his head passed beyond an angle of the wall, and his glance rested + upon what we may call the camp of the Companions of Jehu. + </p> + <p> + A dozen or more of the members sat there at supper. Roland was seized with + a wild desire to precipitate himself into their midst, attacking them + singly, and fighting until he died. But he repressed the insensate + thought, withdrew his head as slowly as he had advanced it, and, with + beaming eyes and heart full of joy, returned, unseen and unsuspected, + along the way he had come. Everything was now explained; the deserted + Chartreuse, M. de Valensolle’s disappearance, and the counterfeit poachers + near the entrance to the grotto of Ceyzeriat. + </p> + <p> + This time he was sure of his vengeance, his deadly, terrible vengeance—deadly, + because, in like manner as he had been spared (he suspected + intentionally), he meant to spare others; with this difference that, + whereas he had been spared for life, he would order these men spared for + death, death on the scaffold. + </p> + <p> + Half-way back he thought he heard a noise behind him. He turned and was + certain he saw a gleam of light. He quickened his steps. The gate once + passed, there was no danger of losing his way. It was no longer a quarry + with a thousand windings; it was a straight and narrow vaulted passage + leading to the mortuary grating. At the end of ten minutes he again passed + under the river; a couple of minutes later, his outstretched hand touched + the iron gate. + </p> + <p> + He took the crowbar from the place where he had left it, entered the + vault, pulled the gate to, closed it gently and noiselessly, and, guiding + himself by the tombs, he regained the staircase, pushed up the flagstone + with his head, and stood once more in the land of the living. + </p> + <p> + There it was comparative daylight. He left the choir, closed the door of + the screen as he had found it, scaled the hay, crossed the platform, and + slid down the other side. The key was still in his pocket. He unlocked the + door and stepped out into the street. + </p> + <p> + The captain of gendarmerie was anxiously awaiting him. They conferred + together for a few moments, and then they returned to Bourg by the outer + road to avoid being seen. Here they entered the town through the + market-gate, and followed the Rue de la Révolution, the Rue de la Liberté, + and the Rue d’Espagne, since called the Rue Simonneau. There Roland + ensconced himself in a corner of the Rue du Greffe and waited. The captain + continued on his way alone. He went down the Rue des Ursules (for the last + seven years called the Rue des Casernes). This was where the colonel of + dragoons lived. He had just gone to bed when the captain of the + gendarmerie entered his room; in two words the latter told all, and he + rose at once and dressed in haste. + </p> + <p> + When the colonel of dragoons and the captain of gendarmerie appeared in + the square, a shadow detached itself from the opposite wall and came up to + them. That shadow was Roland. The three men stood talking for about ten + minutes, Roland giving his orders, the other two listening and approving. + </p> + <p> + Then they separated. The colonel returned home. Roland and the captain + followed the Rue de l’Etoile, climbed the steps of the Jacobins, passed + down the Rue du Bourgneuf, and reached the outer road once more. Then they + struck diagonally across to the highroad of Pont-d’Ain. The captain + stopped at the barracks, which were on the way, and Roland continued alone + to the château. + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later—in order not to awaken Amélie—instead of + ringing the bell he knocked on Michel’s window-blind. Michel opened, and + with one bound Roland, devoured by that fever which took possession of him + whenever he incurred, or merely dreamed of some danger, sprang into the + room. + </p> + <p> + He would not have awakened Amélie had he rung, for Amélie was not asleep. + Charlotte had been into town ostensibly to see her father, but really to + take a letter from her mistress to Morgan. She had seen Morgan and brought + back his answer. + </p> + <p> + Amélie was reading that answer, which was as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR LOVE OF MINE—Yes, all goes well on your side, for you are + an angel; but I greatly fear that all may go ill on mine, for I + am the demon. + + I must see you, I must hold you in my arms and press you to my + Heart. I know not what presentiment hangs over me; but I am sad, + sad as death. + + Send Charlotte to-morrow to make sure that Sir John is gone, and + then, if you are certain, make the accustomed signal. Do not be + alarmed; do not talk to me of the snow, or tell me that my + footsteps will be seen. This time it is not I who will go to you, + but you who must come to me. Do you understand? You can safely + walk in the park, and no one will notice your footsteps. + + Put on your warmest shawl and your thickest furs. Then we will + spend an hour in the boat under the willows together, and change + our roles for once. Usually I tell you of my hopes and you tell + me of your fears; but to-morrow, you will tell me of your hopes + and I will tell you of my fears, my darling Amélie. + + Only, be sure to come out as soon as you have made the signal. I + will await it at Montagnac, and from Montagnac to the Reissouse + it will not take a love like mine five minutes to reach you. + + Au revoir, my poor Amélie; had you never met me you would have + been the happiest of the happy. Fatality placed me in your path, + and I have made a martyr of you. + + Your CHARLES. + + P.S.—To-morrow without fail, unless some insurmountable obstacle + prevents. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII. IN WHICH MORGAN’S PRESENTIMENTS ARE VERIFIED + </h2> + <p> + It often happens that the skies are never so calm or so serene as before a + storm. The day was beautiful and still; one of those glorious days of + February when, in spite of the tingling cold of the atmosphere, in spite + of a winding-sheet of snow covering the earth, the sun smiles down upon + mankind with a promise of spring. + </p> + <p> + Sir John came at noon to make his farewell visit to Amélie. He had, or + thought he had, her promise, and that satisfied him. His impatience was + altogether personal; but Amélie, in accepting his suit, even though she + relegated the period of her marriage to the vaguest possible future, had + crowned his hopes. He trusted to the First Consul and to Roland’s + friendship for the rest. He therefore returned to Paris to do much of his + courting with Madame de Montrevel, not being able to remain at Bourg and + carry it on with Amélie. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour after he had left the Château des Noires-Fontaines, + Charlotte was also on her way to Bourg. At four o’clock she returned, + bringing word that she had seen Sir John with her own eyes getting into + his travelling carriage, and that he had taken the road to Mâcon. + </p> + <p> + Amélie could therefore feel perfectly at ease on that score. She breathed + freer. She had tried to inspire Morgan with a peace of mind which she + herself did not share. Since the day that Charlotte had brought back the + news of Roland’s presence at Bourg, she had had a presentiment, like that + of Morgan himself, that they were approaching some terrible crisis. She + knew all that had happened at the Chartreuse of Seillon. She foresaw the + struggle between her brother and her lover, and, with her mind at rest + about her brother, thanks to Morgan’s protection, she, knowing Roland’s + character, trembled for her lover’s life. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, she had heard of the stoppage of the Chambéry mail-coach and the + death of the colonel of Chasseurs. She also knew that her brother had + escaped, but that he had disappeared since that time. She had received no + letter from him herself. This disappearance and silence, to her who knew + her brother so well, was even worse than open and declared war. + </p> + <p> + As for Morgan, she had not seen him since the scene we have narrated, when + she promised to send him arms wherever he might be, in case he were + condemned to death. Amélie therefore awaited this interview, for which + Morgan had asked, with as much impatience as he who had asked it. As soon + as she thought Michel and his son were in bed, she lighted the four + windows with the candles which were to summon Morgan to her. + </p> + <p> + Then, following her lover’s injunctions, she wrapped herself in a cashmere + shawl, which Roland had brought her from the battlefield of the Pyramids, + and which he had unwound from the head of a chieftain whom he had killed. + Over this she flung a fur mantle, left Charlotte behind to keep her + informed in case of eventualities, which she trusted would not be + forthcoming, opened the park gate, and hastened toward the river. + </p> + <p> + During the day she had gone to the Reissouse and back several times to + trace a line of footsteps, among which the nocturnal ones would not be + noticed. She now descended, if not tranquilly at least boldly, the slope + leading to the river. Once there, she looked about her for the boat + beneath the willows. A man was waiting in it—Morgan. With two + strokes of the oar he reached a spot where Amélie could come to him. The + young girl sprang down and he caught her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + The first thing the young girl noticed was the joyous radiance which + illuminated, if we may say so, the face of her lover. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried, “you have something nice to tell me.” “What makes you + think so, dearest?” asked Morgan with his tenderest smile. + </p> + <p> + “There is something in your face, my darling Charles, something more than + the mere happiness of seeing me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Morgan, throwing the boat-chain around a willow and + letting the oars float idly beside the boat. Then, taking Amélie in his + arms, he said, “You were right, my Amélie. Oh! blind weak beings! It is at + the very moment that happiness knocks at our door that we despair and + doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, speak, speak!” said Amélie, “tell me what has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember, my Amélie, how you answered me the last time we met, + when I asked you to fly and spoke to you of your probable repugnance to + the step?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember, Charles. I said that I was yours, and that, though I + felt that repugnance, I would conquer it for your sake.” + </p> + <p> + “And I replied that I had engagements which would prevent my leaving the + country; that I was bound to others, and they to me; that our duty was to + one man to whom we owed absolute obedience—the future King of + France, Louis XVIII.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you told me that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we are now released from our pledges, Amélie, not only by the King, + but by our general, Georges Cadoudal.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my friend, then you will be as other men, only above all others.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall become a simple exile, Amélie. There is no hope of our being + included in the Breton or Vendéan amnesty.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “We are not soldiers, my darling child. We are not even rebels. We are + Companions of Jehu.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie sighed. + </p> + <p> + “We are bandits, brigands, highwaymen,” said Morgan, dwelling on the words + with evident intention. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Amélie, laying her hand on her lover’s lips. “Hush! don’t let + us speak of that. Tell me how it is that your king has released you, and + your general also.” + </p> + <p> + “The First Consul wished to see Cadoudal. In the first place, he sent your + brother to him with certain proposals. Cadoudal refused to come to terms; + but, like ourselves, he received orders from Louis XVIII. to cease + hostilities. Coincident with that order came another message from the + First Consul to Cadoudal. It was a safeguard for the Vendéan general, and + an invitation to come to Paris; an overture from one power to another + power. Cadoudal accepted, and is now on his way to Paris. If it is not + peace, it is at least a truce.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what joy, my Charles!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t rejoice too much, my love.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why they have issued this order to suspend hostilities?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Because M. Fouché is a long-headed man. He realized that, since he could + not defeat us, he must dishonor us. He has organized false companies of + Jehu, which he has set loose in Maine and Anjou, who don’t stop at the + government money, but pillage and rob travellers, and invade the châteaux + and farms by night, and roast the feet of the owners to make them tell + where their treasure is hidden. Well, these men, these bandits, these <i>roasters</i>, + have taken our name, and claim to be fighting for the same principles, so + that M. Fouché and his police declare that we are not only beyond the pale + of the law, but beyond that of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I wished to tell you before I ask you to fly with me, my + Amélie. In the eyes of France, in the eyes of foreigners, even in the eyes + of the prince we have served, and for whom we have risked the scaffold, we + shall be hereafter, and probably are now, dishonored men worthy of the + scaffold.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but to me you are my Charles, the man of devoted convictions, the + firm royalist, continuing to struggle for a cause when other men have + abandoned it. To me you are the loyal Baron de Sainte-Hermine, or, if you + like it better, you are to me the noble, courageous, invincible Morgan.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is what I longed to hear, my darling. If you feel thus, you will + not hesitate, in spite of the cloud of infamy that hangs over our honor, + you will not hesitate—I will not say to give yourself to me, for + that you have already done—but to become my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Hesitate! No, not for an instant, not for a second! To do it is the joy + of my soul, the happiness of my life! Your wife? I am your wife in the + sight of God, and God will have granted my every prayer on the day that he + enables me to be your wife before men.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan fell on his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he said, “here at your feet, with clasped hands and my whole heart + supplicating, I say to you, Amélie, will you fly with me? Will you leave + France with me? Will you be my wife in other lands?” + </p> + <p> + Amélie sprang erect and clasped her head in her hands, as though her brain + were bursting with the force of the blood that rushed to it. Morgan caught + both her hands and looked at her anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hesitate?” he asked in a broken, trembling voice. + </p> + <p> + “No, not an instant!” she cried resolutely. “I am yours in the past, in + the present, in the future, here, everywhere. Only the thought convulses + me. It is so unexpected.” + </p> + <p> + “Reflect well, Amélie. What I ask of you is to abandon country and family, + all that is dear to you, all that is sacred. If you follow me, you leave + the home where you were born, the mother who nurtured you, the brother who + loves you, and who, perhaps, when he hears that you are the wife of a + brigand, will hate you. He will certainly despise you.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, Morgan’s eyes were anxiously questioning Amélie’s face. Over + that face a tender smile stole gradually, and then it turned from heaven + to earth, and bent upon Morgan, who was still on his knees before her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Charles!” she murmured, in a voice as soft as the clear limpid river + flowing at her feet, “the love that comes direct from the Divine is very + powerful indeed, since, in spite of those dreadful words you have just + uttered, I say to you without hesitation, almost without regret: Charles, + I am here; Charles, I am yours. Where shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + “Amélie, our fate is not one to discuss. If we go, if you follow me, it + must be at once. To-morrow we must be beyond the frontier.” + </p> + <p> + “How do we go?” + </p> + <p> + “I have two horses, ready saddled at Montagnac, one for you, Amélie, and + one for me. I have letters of credit for two hundred thousand francs on + London and Vienna. We will go wherever you prefer.” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever you are, Charles. What difference does it make so long as you + are there?” + </p> + <p> + “Then come.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I have five minutes, Charles; is that too much?” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To say good-by to many things, to fetch your precious letters and the + ivory chaplet used at my first communion. Oh! there are many sacred + cherished souvenirs of my childhood which will remind me over there of my + mother, of France. I will fetch them and return.” + </p> + <p> + “Amélie!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot leave you. If I part with you an instant now I feel that I shall + lose you forever. Amélie, let me go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, come. What matter if they see your footsteps now? We shall be far + enough away to-morrow. Come!” The young man sprang from the boat and gave + his hand to Amélie to help her out. Then he folded his arm about her and + they walked to the house. + </p> + <p> + On the portico Charles stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Go on alone,” said he; “memory is a chaste thing. I know that, and I will + not embarrass you by my presence. I will wait here and watch for you. So + long as I know you are close by me I do not fear to lose you. Go, dear, + and come back quickly.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie answered with a kiss. Then she ran hastily up to her room, took the + little coffer of carved oak clamped with iron, her treasury, which + contained her lover’s letters from first to last, unfastened from the + mirror above her bed the white and virginal chaplet that hung there; put + into her belt a watch her father had given her, and passed into her + mother’s bedchamber. There she stooped and kissed the pillow where her + mother’s head had lain, knelt before the Christ at the foot of the bed, + began a thanksgiving she dared not finish, changed it to a prayer, and + then suddenly stopped—she fancied she heard Charles calling her. + </p> + <p> + She listened and heard her name a second time, uttered in a tone of agony + she could not understand. She quivered, sprang to her feet, and ran + rapidly down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” cried Amélie, seizing the young man’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, listen!” said he. + </p> + <p> + Amélie strained her ears to catch the sound which seemed to her like + musketry. It came from the direction of Ceyzeriat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Morgan, “I was right in doubting my happiness to the last. My + friends are attacked. Adieu, Amélie, adieu!” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu!” cried Amélie, turning pale. “What, will you leave me?” + </p> + <p> + The sound of the firing grew more distinct. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you hear them? They are fighting, and I am not there to fight with + them.” + </p> + <p> + Daughter and sister of a soldier, Amélie understood him and she made no + resistance. + </p> + <p> + “Go!” she said, letting her hands drop beside her. “You were right, we are + lost.” + </p> + <p> + The young man uttered a cry of rage, caught her to his breast, and pressed + her to him as though he would smother her. Then, bounding from the + portico, he rushed in the direction of the firing with the speed of a deer + pursued by hunters. + </p> + <p> + “I come! I come, my friends!” he cried. And he disappeared like a shadow + beneath the tall trees of the park. + </p> + <p> + Amélie fell upon her knees, her hands stretched toward him without the + strength to recall him, or, if she did so, it was in so faint a voice that + Morgan did not stop or even check his speed to answer her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX. ROLAND’S REVENGE + </h2> + <p> + It is easy to guess what had happened. Roland had not wasted his time with + the captain of gendarmerie and the colonel of dragoons. They on their side + did not forget that they had their own revenge to take. + </p> + <p> + Roland had informed them of the subterranean passage that led from the + church of Brou to the grotto of Ceyzeriat. At nine in the evening the + captain and the eighteen men under his command were to go to the church, + descend into the burial vault of the Dukes of Savoy, and prevent with + their bayonets all communication between the subterranean passage and the + quarry. + </p> + <p> + Roland, at the head of twenty men, was to inclose the woods in a + semicircle, drawing in upon it until the two ends should meet at the + grotto of Ceyzeriat. The first movement of the party was to be made at + nine o’clock, in conjunction with the captain of the gendarmerie. + </p> + <p> + We have seen, from what Morgan told Amélie, the nature of the present + intentions of the Companions of Jehu. The news brought from Mittau and + from Brittany had put them at ease. Each man felt that he was free, and, + knowing that the struggle had been a hopeless one, he rejoiced in his + liberty. + </p> + <p> + There was therefore a full meeting at the grotto of Ceyzeriat, almost a + fête. At twelve o’clock the Companions of Jehu were to separate, and each + one, according to his facilities, was to cross the frontier and leave + France. + </p> + <p> + We know how their leader employed his last moments. The others, who had + not the same ties of the heart, were supping together in the broad open + space of the quarry, brilliantly illuminated—a feast of separation + and farewell; for, once out of France, the Vendée and Brittany + pacificated, Condé’s army destroyed, who knew when and where they should + meet again in foreign lands. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the report of a shot fell upon their ears. + </p> + <p> + Every man sprang to his feet as if moved by an electric shock. A second + shot, and then through the depths of the quarry rang the cry, quivering on + the wings of the bird of ill-omen, “To arms!” + </p> + <p> + To the Companions of Jehu, subjected to all the vicissitudes of life of an + outlaw, the occasional rest they snatched was never that of peace. + Pistols, daggers, carbines, were ever near at hand. At the cry, given no + doubt by the sentinel, each man sprang to his weapons and stood with + panting breast and strained ears, waiting. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the silence a step as rapid as well could be in the + darkness was heard. Then, within the circle of light thrown by the torches + and candles, a man appeared. + </p> + <p> + “To arms!” he cried again, “we are attacked!” + </p> + <p> + The two shots the Companions of Jehu had heard were from the + double-barrelled gun of the sentry. It was he who now appeared, his + smoking gun in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Morgan?” cried twenty voices. + </p> + <p> + “Absent,” replied Montbar; “consequently I command. Put out the lights and + retreat to the church. A fight is useless now. It would only be waste of + blood.” + </p> + <p> + He was obeyed with an alacrity that showed that every one appreciated the + danger. The little company drew together in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Montbar, who knew the windings of the subterranean passage almost as well + as Morgan, directed the troop, and, followed by his companions, he plunged + into the heart of the quarry. Suddenly, as he neared the gate of the + passage, he fancied he heard an order given in a low tone not fifty feet + away, then a sound like the cocking of guns. He stretched out both arms + and muttered in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” At the same instant came the command, this time perfectly audible: + “Fire!” + </p> + <p> + It was hardly given before the cavern was lighted with a glare, followed + by a frightful volley. Ten carbines had been discharged at once into the + narrow passage. By their light Montbar and his companions recognized the + uniform of the gendarmes. + </p> + <p> + “Fire!” cried Montbar in turn. + </p> + <p> + Seven or eight shots answered the command. Again the darkness was + illuminated. Two of the Companions of Jehu lay upon the ground, one killed + outright, the other mortally wounded. + </p> + <p> + “Our retreat is cut off, my friends,” cried Montbar. “To the right-about! + If we have a chance, it is through the forest.” + </p> + <p> + The movement was executed with the precision of a military manoeuvre. + Montbar, again at the head of his companions, retraced his steps. At that + moment the gendarmes fired again. But no one replied. Those who had + discharged their guns reloaded them. Those who had not, reserved their + fire for the real struggle which was to come. One or two sighs alone told + that the last volley of the gendarmes had not been without result. + </p> + <p> + At the end of five minutes Montbar stopped. The little party had reached + the open space of the quarry. + </p> + <p> + “Are your pistols and guns all loaded?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered a dozen voices. + </p> + <p> + “Remember the order for those who fall into the hands of the police. We + belong to the army of M. de Teyssonnet, and we are here to recruit men for + the royalist cause. If they talk to us of mail-coaches and diligences, we + don’t know what they mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “In either case it will be death. We know that well enough; but the death + of a soldier is better than that of thieves—the volley of a platoon + rather than the guillotine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” cried a mocking voice, “we know what that is—Vive la + fusillade!” + </p> + <p> + “Forward, friends!” said Montbar, “and let us sell our lives for what they + are worth; that is to say, as dearly as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” they all cried. + </p> + <p> + Then, as rapidly as was possible in the profound darkness, the little + troop resumed its march, still under the guidance of Montbar. As they + advanced, the leader noticed a smell of smoke which alarmed him. At the + same time gleams of light began to flicker on the granite walls at the + angles of the path, showing that something strange was happening at the + opening of the grotto. + </p> + <p> + “I believe those scoundrels are smoking us out,” exclaimed Montbar. + </p> + <p> + “I fear so,” replied Adler. + </p> + <p> + “They think we are foxes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” replied the same voice, “they shall know by our claws that we are + lions.” + </p> + <p> + The smoke became thicker and thicker, the light more and more vivid. + </p> + <p> + They turned the last corner. A pile of dried wood had been lighted in the + quarry about fifty feet from the entrance, not for the smoke, but for the + light it gave. By the blaze of that savage flame the weapons of the + dragoons could be seen gleaming at the entrance of the grotto. + </p> + <p> + Ten steps in advance of the men stood an officer, waiting. He was leaning + on his carbine, not only exposed to attack, but apparently courting it. It + was Roland. He was easily recognized. He had flung his cap away, his head + was bare, and the fitful light of the flames played upon his features. But + that which should have cost him his life saved him. Montbar recognized him + and stepped backward. + </p> + <p> + “Roland de Montrevel!” he said. “Remember Morgan’s injunction.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the other Companions, in muffled tones. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Montbar, “let us die, but dearly!” + </p> + <p> + And he sprang forward into the space illuminated by the fire, and + discharged one barrel of his gun at the dragoons, who replied with a + volley. + </p> + <p> + It would be impossible to relate all that followed. The grotto was filled + with smoke, which the flame of each weapon pierced like a flash of + lightning. The two bands clinched and fought hand to hand, pistols and + daggers serving them in turn. At the noise of the struggle, the gendarmes + poured in from the rear—few more demons added to this fight of + devils—but the groups of friends and enemies were so confused they + dared not fire. They struggled in the red and lurid atmosphere, fell down + and rose again; a roar of rage was heard, then a cry of agony—the + death sigh of a man. The survivor sought another man, and the struggle was + renewed. + </p> + <p> + This work of death lasted fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty. At the end of + those twenty minutes twenty corpses could be counted in the grotto of + Ceyzeriat. Thirteen were those of the gendarmes and the dragoons, nine + belonged to the Companions of Jehu. Five of the latter were still living; + overwhelmed by numbers, crippled by wounds, they were taken alive. The + gendarmes and the dragoons, twenty-five in number, surrounded them. + </p> + <p> + The captain of gendarmes had his arm shattered, the colonel of dragoons + was wounded in the thigh. Roland alone, covered with blood that was not + his own, had not a scratch. Two of the prisoners were so grievously + wounded that it was impossible for them to walk, and the soldiers were + obliged to carry them on an improvised litter. Torches were lighted, and + the whole troop, with the prisoners, took the road to the town. + </p> + <p> + As they were leaving the forest to branch into the high-road, the gallop + of a horse was heard. It came on rapidly. “Go on,” said Roland; “I will + stay here and find out what this means.” + </p> + <p> + It was a rider, who, as we have said, was advancing at full speed. + </p> + <p> + “Who goes there?” cried Roland, raising his carbine when the rider was + about twenty paces from him. + </p> + <p> + “One more prisoner, Monsieur de Montrevel,” replied the rider, “I could + not be in at the fight, but I will at least go to the scaffold. Where are + my friends?” + </p> + <p> + “There, sir,” replied Roland, who had recognized, not the face, but the + voice of the rider, a voice which he now heard for the third time. As he + spoke, he pointed to the little group in the centre of the soldiers who + were making their way along the road from Ceyzeriat to Bourg. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see that no harm has befallen you, M. de Montrevel,” said + the young man, with great courtesy; “I assure you it gives me much + happiness.” And spurring his horse, he was beside the soldiers and + gendarmes in a few strides. “Pardon me, gentlemen,” he said, springing + from his horse, “I claim a place among my three friends, the Vicomte de + Jayat, the Comte de Valensolle, and the Marquis de Ribier.” + </p> + <p> + The three prisoners gave a cry of admiration and held out their hands to + their friend. The two wounded men lifted themselves up on their litters, + and murmured: “Well done, Sainte-Hermine, well done!” + </p> + <p> + “I do believe, God help me!” cried Roland, “that those brigands will have + the nobler side of the affair!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L. CADOUDAL AT THE TUILERIES + </h2> + <p> + The day but one after the events which we have just related took place, + two men were walking side by side up and down the grand salon of the + Tuileries. They were talking eagerly, accompanying their words with hasty + and animated gestures. These men were the First Consul, Bonaparte, and + Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal, impelled by the misery that might be entailed by a prolonged + struggle in Brittany, had just signed a peace with Brune. It was after + this signing of the peace that he had released the Companions of Jehu from + their obligations. Unhappily, this release had reached them, as we have + seen, twenty-four hours too late. + </p> + <p> + When treating with Brune, Cadoudal had asked nothing for himself save the + liberty to go immediately to England. But Brune had been so insistent, + that he had consented to an interview with the First Consul. He had, in + consequence, come to Paris. The very morning of his arrival he went to the + Tuileries, sent in his name, and had been received. It was Rapp who, in + Roland’s absence, introduced him. As the aide-de-camp withdrew, he left + both doors open, so as to see everything from Bourrienne’s room, and to be + able to go to the assistance of the First Consul if necessary. + </p> + <p> + But Bonaparte, who perfectly understood Rapp’s motive, closed the door. + Then, returning hastily to Cadoudal’s side, he said: “Ah! so it is you at + last! One of your enemies, my aide-de-camp, Roland de Montrevel, has told + me fine things of you.” + </p> + <p> + “That does not surprise me,” replied Cadoudal. “During the short time I + saw M. de Montrevel, I recognized in him a most chivalrous nature.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and that touched you?” asked the First Consul, fixing his falcon eye + on the royalist chief. “Listen, Georges. I need energetic men like you to + accomplish the work I have undertaken. Will you be one of them? I have + already offered you the rank of colonel, but you are worth more than that. + I now offer you the rank of general of division.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you from the bottom of my heart, citizen First Consul,” replied + Cadoudal; “but you would despise me if I accepted.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” queried Bonaparte, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Because I have pledged myself to the House of Bourbon; and I shall remain + faithful to it under all circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us discuss the matter,” resumed the First Consul. “Is there no way to + bind you?” + </p> + <p> + “General,” replied the royalist leader, “may I be permitted to repeat to + you what has been said to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it touches upon the deepest political interests.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! some nonsense,” said the First Consul, smiling uneasily. + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal stopped short and looked fixedly at his companion. + </p> + <p> + “It is said that an agreement was made between you and Commodore Sidney + Smith at Alexandria, the purport of which was to allow you to return to + France on the condition, accepted by you, of restoring the throne to our + former kings.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “How astonishing you are, you plebeians!” he said, “with your love for + your former kings! Suppose that I did re-establish the throne (a thing, I + assure you, I have not the smallest desire to do), what return will you + get, you who have shed your blood for the cause? Not even the confirmation + of the rank you have won in it, colonel. Have you ever known in the + royalist ranks a colonel who was not a noble? Did you ever hear of any man + rising by his merits into that class of people? Whereas with me, Georges, + you can attain to what you will. The higher I raise myself, the higher I + shall raise those who surround me. As for seeing me play the part of Monk, + dismiss that from your mind. Monk lived in an age in which the prejudices + we fought and overthrew in 1789 were in full force. Had Monk wished to + make himself king, he could not have done so. Dictator? No! It needed a + Cromwell for that! Richard could not have maintained himself. It is true + that he was the true son of a great man—in other words a fool. If I + had wished to make myself king, there was nothing to hinder me; and if + ever the wish takes me there will be nothing to hinder. Now, if you have + an answer to that, give it.” + </p> + <p> + “You tell me, citizen First Consul, that the situation in France in 1800 + is not the same as England in 1660. Charles I. was beheaded in 1649, Louis + XVI. in 1793. Eleven years elapsed in England between the death of the + king and the restoration of his son. Seven years have already elapsed in + France since the death of Louis XVI. Will you tell me that the English + revolution was a religious one, whereas the French revolution was a + political one? To that I reply that a charter is as easy to make as an + abjuration.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte smiled. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I should not tell you that. I should say to you simply + this: that Cromwell was fifty years old when Charles I. died. I was + twenty-four at the death of Louis XVI. Cromwell died at the age of + fifty-nine. In ten years’ time he was able to undertake much, but to + accomplish little. Besides, his reform was a total one—a vast + political reform by the substitution of a republican government for a + monarchical one. Well, grant that I live to be Cromwell’s age, fifty-nine; + that is not too much to expect; I shall still have twenty years, just the + double of Cromwell. And remark, I change nothing, I progress; I do not + overthrow, I build up. Suppose that Cæsar, at thirty years of age, instead + of being merely the first roué of Rome, had been its greatest citizen; + suppose his campaign in Gaul had been made; that his campaign in Egypt was + over, his campaign in Spain happily concluded; suppose that he was thirty + years old instead of fifty—don’t you think he would have been both + Cæsar and Augustus?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, unless he found Brutus, Cassius, and Casca on his path.” + </p> + <p> + “So,” said Bonaparte, sadly, “my enemies are reckoning on assassination, + are they? In that case the thing is easy, and you, my enemy, have the + first chance. What hinders you at this moment, if you feel like Brutus, + from striking me as he struck Cæsar? I am alone with you, the doors are + shut; and you would have the time to finish me before any one could reach + you.” + </p> + <p> + Cadoudal made a step backward. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, “we do not count upon assassination, and I think our + extremity must be great indeed before any of us would become a murderer; + but there are the chances of war. A single reverse would destroy your + prestige. One defeat would bring the enemy to the heart of France. The + camp-fires of the Austrians can already be seen from the frontiers of + Provence. A cannon-ball may take off your head, as it did that of Marshal + Berwick, and then what becomes of France? You have no children, and your + brothers—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Bonaparte, “from that point of view you are right enough; but, + if you don’t believe in Providence, I do. I believe that nothing happens + by chance. I believe that when, on the 15th of August, 1769 (one year, day + for day, after Louis XV. issued the decree reuniting Corsica to France), a + child was born in Ajaccio, destined to bring about the 13th Vendémiaire + and the 18th Brumaire, and that Providence had great designs, mighty + projects, in view for that child. I am that child. If I have a mission, I + have nothing to fear. My mission is a buckler. If I have no mission, if I + am mistaken, if, instead of living the twenty-five or thirty years I need + to accomplish my work, I am stabbed to the heart like Cæsar, or knocked + over by a cannon-ball like Berwick, Providence will have had its reasons + for acting so, and on Providence will devolve the duty of providing for + France. We spoke just now of Cæsar. When Rome followed his body, mourning, + and burned the houses of his murderers, when the Eternal City turned its + eyes to the four quarters of the globe, asking whence would come the + genius to stay her civil wars, when she trembled at the sight of drunken + Antony and treacherous Lepidus, she never thought of the pupil of + Apollonius, the nephew of Cæsar, the young Octavius. Who then remembered + that son of the Velletri banker, whitened with the flour of his ancestors? + No one; not even the far-sighted Cicero. ‘<i>Orandum et tollendum</i>,’ he + said. Well, that lad fooled all the graybeards in the Senate, and reigned + almost as long as Louis XIV. Georges, Georges! don’t struggle against the + Providence which created me, or that Providence will destroy you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall be destroyed while following the path and the religion of my + fathers,” replied Cadoudal, bowing; “and I hope that God will pardon my + error, which will be that of a fervent Christian and a faithful son.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte laid his hands on the shoulders of the young leader. + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” said he; “but at least remain neuter. Leave events to complete + themselves. Watch the thrones as they topple, the crowns as they fall. + Usually spectators pay for a show; I will pay you to look on.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will you pay me for that, citizen First Consul?” asked Cadoudal, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “One hundred thousand francs a year,” replied Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “If you would give a hundred thousand francs to one poor rebel leader,” + said Cadoudal, “what would you give to the prince for whom he fought?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir. I pay you for your courage, not for the principle for which + you fought. I prove to you that I, man of my own works, judge men solely + by theirs. Accept, Georges, I beg of you.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose I refuse?” + </p> + <p> + “You will do wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Will I still be free to depart when I please?” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte went to the door and opened it. + </p> + <p> + “The aide-de-camp on duty,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He waited, expecting to see Rapp. Roland appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, is it you!” he cried. Then, turning to Cadoudal, he said: “Colonel, I + do not need to present to you my aide-de-camp, M. Roland de Montrevel. He + is already one of your acquaintances. Roland, tell the colonel that he is + as free in Paris as you were in his camp at Muzillac, and that if he + wishes a passport for any country in the world, Fouché has orders to give + it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Your word suffices, citizen First Consul,” replied Cadoudal, bowing. “I + leave to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask where you are going?” + </p> + <p> + “To London, general.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so much the better?” + </p> + <p> + “Because there you will be near the men for whom you have fought.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, when you have seen them—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “You will compare them with those against whom you have fought. But, once + out of France, colonel—” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte paused. + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting,” said Cadoudal. + </p> + <p> + “Do not return without warning me, or, if you do, do not be surprised if I + treat you as an enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be an honor, general. By treating me so you will show that you + consider me a man to be feared.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Georges bowed to the First Consul, and retired. + </p> + <p> + “Well, general,” asked Roland, after the door had closed on the Breton + leader, “is he the man I represented him to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” responded Bonaparte, thoughtfully; “only he sees things awry. But + the exaggeration of his ideas arises from noble sentiments, which must + give him great influence over his own people.” Then he added, in a low + voice, “But we must make an end of him. And now what have you been doing, + Roland?” + </p> + <p> + “Making an end of my work,” replied Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha! Then the Companions of Jehu—” + </p> + <p> + “No longer exist, general. Three-fourths are dead, the rest prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are safe and sound?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak of it, general. I do verily believe I have a compact with the + devil.” + </p> + <p> + That same evening Cadoudal, as he said, left Paris for England. On + receiving the news that the Breton leader was in London, Louis XVIII. + wrote him the following letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have learned with the greatest satisfaction, general, that + you have at last <i>escaped</i> from the bands of the tyrant who + misconceived you so far as to offer you service under him. I + deplore the unhappy circumstances which obliged you to treat + with him; but I did not feel the slightest uneasiness; the + heart of my faithful Bretons, and yours in particular, are + too well known to me. To-day you are free, you are near my + brother, all my hopes revive. I need not say more to such a + Frenchman as you. + + LOUIS. +</pre> + <p> + To this letter were added a lieutenant-general’s commission and the grand + cordon of Saint-Louis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI. THE ARMY OF THE RESERVES + </h2> + <p> + The First Consul had reached the point he desired. The Companions of Jehu + were destroyed and the Vendée was pacificated. + </p> + <p> + When demanding peace from England he had hoped for war. He understood very + well that, born of war, he could exist only by war. He seemed to foresee + that a poet would arise and call him “The Giant of War.” + </p> + <p> + But war—what war? Where should he wage it? An article of the + constitution of the year VIII. forbade the First Consul to command the + armies in person, or to leave France. + </p> + <p> + In all constitutions there is inevitably some absurd provision. Happy the + constitutions that have but one! The First Consul found a means to evade + this particular absurdity. + </p> + <p> + He established a camp at Dijon. The army which occupied this camp was + called the Army of the Reserves. The force withdrawn from Brittany and the + Vendée, some thirty thousand men in all, formed the nucleus of this army. + Twenty thousand conscripts were incorporated in it; General Berthier was + appointed commander-in-chief. The plan which Bonaparte explained to Roland + in his study one day was still working in his mind. He expected to recover + Italy by a single battle, but that battle must be a great victory. + </p> + <p> + Moreau, as a reward for his co-operation on the 18th Brumaire, received + the command he had so much desired. He was made commander-in-chief of the + Army of the Rhine, with eighty thousand men under him. Augereau, with + twenty-five thousand more, was on the Dutch frontier. And Masséna, + commanding the Army of Italy, had withdrawn to the country about Genoa, + where he was tenaciously maintaining himself against the land forces of + the Austrian General Ott, and the British fleet under Admiral Keith. + </p> + <p> + While the latter movements were taking place in Italy, Moreau had assumed + the offensive on the Rhine, and defeated the enemy at Stockach and + Moeskirch. A single victory was to furnish an excuse to put the Army of + Reserves under waiting orders. Two victories would leave no doubt as to + the necessity of co-operation. Only, how was this army to be transported + to Italy? + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte’s first thought was to march up the Valais and to cross the + Simplon. He would thus turn Piedmont and enter Milan. But the operation + was a long one, and must be done overtly. Bonaparte renounced it. His plan + was to surprise the Austrians and to appear with his whole army on the + plains of Piedmont before it was even suspected that he had crossed the + Alps. He therefore decided to make the passage of the Great Saint-Bernard. + It was for this purpose that he had sent the fifty thousand francs, seized + by the Companions of Jehu, to the monks whose monastery crowns that + mountain. Another fifty thousand had been sent since, which had reached + their destination safely. By the help of this money the monastery was to + be amply provisioned for an army of fifty thousand men halting there for a + day. + </p> + <p> + Consequently, toward the end of April the whole of the artillery was + advanced to Lauzanne, Villeneuve, Martigny, and Saint-Pierre. General + Marmont, commanding the artillery, had already been sent forward to find a + means of transporting cannon over the Alps. It was almost an impracticable + thing to do; and yet it must be achieved. No precedent existed as a guide. + Hannibal with his elephants, Numidians, and Gauls; Charlemagne with his + Franks, had no such obstacles to surmount. + </p> + <p> + During the campaign in Italy in 1796, the army had not crossed the Alps, + but turned them, descending from Nice to Cerasco by the Corniche road. + This time a truly titanic work was undertaken. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, was the mountain unoccupied? The mountain without the + Austrians was in itself difficult enough to conquer! Lannes was despatched + like a forlorn hope with a whole division. He crossed the peak of the + Saint-Bernard without baggage or artillery, and took possession of + Châtillon. The Austrians had left no troops in Piedmont, except the + cavalry in barracks and a few posts of observation. There were no + obstacles to contend with except those of nature. Operations were begun at + once. + </p> + <p> + Sledges had been made to transport the guns; but narrow as they might be, + they were still too wide for the road. Some other means must be devised. + The trunks of pines were hollowed and the guns inserted. At one end was a + rope to pull them, at the other a tiller to guide them. Twenty grenadiers + took the cables. Twenty others carried the baggage of those who drew them. + An artilleryman commanded each detachment with absolute power, if need be, + over life and death. The iron mass in such a case was far more precious + than the flesh of men. + </p> + <p> + Before leaving each man received a pair of new shoes and twenty biscuits. + Each put on his shoes and hung his biscuits around his neck. The First + Consul, stationed at the foot of the mountain, gave to each cannon + detachment the word to start. + </p> + <p> + A man must traverse the same roads as a tourist, on foot or on mule-back, + he must plunge his eye to the depth of the precipice, before he can have + any idea of what this crossing was. Up, always up those beetling slopes, + by narrow paths, on jagged stones, which cut the shoes first, the feet + next! + </p> + <p> + From time to time they stopped, drew breath, and then on again without a + murmur. The ice-belt was reached. Before attempting it the men received + new shoes; those of the morning were in shreds. A biscuit was eaten, a + drop of brandy from the canteen was swallowed, and on they went. No man + knew whither he was climbing. Some asked how many more days it would take; + others if they might stop for a moment at the moon. At last they came to + the eternal snows. There the toil was less severe. The gun-logs slid upon + the snow, and they went faster. + </p> + <p> + One fact will show the measure of power given to the artilleryman who + commanded each gun. + </p> + <p> + General Chamberlhac was passing. He thought the advance not fast enough. + Wishing to hasten it, he spoke to an artilleryman in a tone of command. + </p> + <p> + “You are not in command here,” replied the man; “I am. I am responsible + for the gun; I direct its march. Pass on.” + </p> + <p> + The general approached the artilleryman as if to take him by the throat. + But the man stepped back, saying: “General, don’t touch me, or I will send + you to the bottom of that precipice with a blow of this tiller.” + </p> + <p> + After unheard-of toil they reached the foot of the last rise, at the + summit of which stands the convent. There they found traces of Lannes’ + division. As the slope was very steep, the soldiers had cut a sort of + stairway in the ice. The men now scaled it. The fathers of Saint-Bernard + were awaiting them on the summit. As each gun came up the men were taken + by squads into the hospice. Tables were set along the passage with bread + and Gruyere cheese and wine. + </p> + <p> + When the soldiers left the convent they pressed the hands of the monks and + embraced the dogs. + </p> + <p> + The descent at first seemed easier than the ascent, and the officers + declared it was their turn to drag the guns. But now the cannon + outstripped the teams, and some were dragged down faster than they wished. + General Lannes and his division were still in the advance. He had reached + the valley before the rest of the army, entered the Aosta, and received + his orders to march upon Ivrea, at the entrance to the plains of Piedmont. + There, however, he encountered an obstacle which no one had foreseen. + </p> + <p> + The fortress of Bard is situated about twenty-four miles from Aosta. On + the road to Ivrea, a little behind the village, a small hill closes the + valley almost hermetically. The river Dora flows between this hill and the + mountain on the right. The river, or rather, the torrent, fills the whole + space. The mountain on the left presents very much the same aspect; only, + instead of the river, it is the highroad which passes between the hill and + the mountain. It is there that the fortress of Bard stands. It is built on + the summit of the hill, and extends down one side of it to the highroad. + </p> + <p> + How was it that no one had thought of this obstacle which was well nigh + insurmountable? There was no way to assault it from the bottom of the + valley, and it was impossible to scale the rocks above it. + </p> + <p> + Yet, by dint of searching, they did find a path that they were able to + level sufficiently for the cavalry and the infantry to pass; but they + tried in vain to get the artillery over it, although they took the guns + apart as at the Mont Saint-Bernard. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte ordered two cannon levelled on the road, and opened fire on the + fortress; but it was soon evident that these guns made no effect. + Moreover, a cannon ball from the fortress struck one of the two cannon and + shattered it. The First Consul then ordered an assault by storm. + </p> + <p> + Columns formed in the village, and armed with ladders dashed up at a run + and reached the fortress at several points; but to insure success, not + only celerity, but silence was needed. It ought to have been a surprise; + but Colonel Dufour, who commanded one column, ordered the advance to be + sounded, and marched boldly to the assault. The column was repulsed, and + the colonel received a ball through his body. + </p> + <p> + Then a company of picked marksmen were chosen. They were supplied with + provisions and cartridges, and crept between the rocks until they reached + a ledge, from which they commanded the fort. From this ledge they + discovered another, not quite so high, but which also overlooked the fort. + To this they contrived, with extreme difficulty, to hoist two guns, with + which they formed a battery. These two pieces on one side, and the + sharpshooters on the other, began to make the enemy uneasy. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, General Marmont proposed a plan to the First Consul, so + bold that the enemy could not suspect it. It was nothing less than to move + the artillery along the highroad, notwithstanding that the enemy could + rake it. + </p> + <p> + Manure and wool from the mattresses were found in the villages and were + spread upon the road. The wheels and chains, and all the jingling portions + of the gun-carriages were swathed in hay. The horses belonging to the guns + and caissons were taken out, and fifty men supplied their places. This + latter precaution had two advantages: first, the horses might neigh, while + the men had every interest in keeping dead silence; secondly, a dead horse + will stop a whole convoy, whereas a dead man, not being fastened to the + traces, can be pushed aside and his place taken without even stopping the + march. An officer and a subordinate officer of artillery were placed in + charge of each carriage or caisson, with the promise of six hundred francs + for the transport of each gun or wagon beyond the range of the fort. + </p> + <p> + General Marmont, who had proposed the plan, superintended the first + operation himself. Happily, a storm prevailed and made the night extremely + dark. The first six cannon and the first six caissons passed without a + single shot from the fortress. The men returned, picking their steps + silently, one after another, in single file; but this time the enemy must + have heard some noise, and, wishing to knew the cause, threw + hand-grenades. Fortunately, they fell beyond the road. + </p> + <p> + Why should these men, who had once passed, return? Merely to get their + muskets and knapsacks. This might have been avoided had they been stowed + on the caissons; but no one can think of everything, and, as it happened, + no one in the fort at Bard had thought at all. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the possibility of the passage was demonstrated, the transport + of the artillery became a duty like any other; only, now that the enemy + were warned, it was more dangerous. The fort resembled a volcano with its + belching flames and smoke; but, owing to the vertical direction in which + it was forced to fire, it made more noise than it did harm. Five or six + men were killed to each wagon; that is to say, a tenth of each fifty; but + the cannon once safely past, the fate of the campaign was secure. + </p> + <p> + Later it was discovered that the pass of the Little Saint-Bernard would + have been practicable, and that the whole artillery could have crossed it + without dismounting a gun or losing a man. It is true, however, that the + feat would have been less glorious because less difficult. + </p> + <p> + The army was now in the fertile plains of Piedmont. It was reinforced on + the Ticino by a corps of twelve thousand men detached from the Army of the + Rhine by Moreau, who, after the two victories he had just won, could + afford to lend this contingent to the Army of Italy. He had sent them by + the Saint-Gothard. Thus strengthened, the First Consul entered Milan + without striking a blow. + </p> + <p> + By the bye, how came the First Consul, who, according to a provision of + the constitution of the year VIII., could not assume command of the army, + nor yet leave France, to be where he was? We shall now tell you. + </p> + <p> + The evening before the day on which he left Paris—that is to say, + the 15th of May, or, according to the calendars of the time, the 15th + Floreal—he had sent for the two other consuls and all the ministers, + saying to Lucien: “Prepare a circular letter to the prefects to-morrow.” + Then he said to Fouché: “You will publish the circular in all the + newspapers. You are to say that I have left for Dijon to inspect the Army + of the Reserves. Add, but without affirming it positively, that I may go + as far as Geneva. In any case, let it be well impressed on everyone that I + shall not be absent more than a fortnight. If anything unusual happens I + shall return like a thunderclap. I commend to your keeping all the great + interests of France; and I hope you will soon hear of me by way of Vienna + and London.” + </p> + <p> + On the 6th he started. From that moment his strong determination was to + make his way to the plains of Piedmont, and there to fight a decisive + battle. Then, as he never doubted that he would conquer, he would answer, + like Scipio, to those who accused him of violating the constitution: “On + such a day, at such an hour, I fought the Carthagenians; let us go to the + capitol, and render thanks to the gods.” + </p> + <p> + Leaving France on the 6th of May, the First Consul was encamped with his + whole army between Casale and Turin on the 26th of the same month. It had + rained the whole day; but, as often happens in Italy, toward evening the + sky had cleared, changing in a few moments from murky darkness to + loveliest azure, and the stars came sparkling out. + </p> + <p> + The First Consul signed to Roland to follow him, and together they issued + from the little town of Chivasso and walked along the banks of the river. + About a hundred yards beyond the last house a tree, blown down by the + wind, offered a seat to the pedestrians. Bonaparte sat down and signed to + Roland to join him. He apparently had something to say, some confidence to + make to his young aide-de-camp. + </p> + <p> + Both were silent for a time, and then Bonaparte said: “Roland, do you + remember a conversation we had together at the Luxembourg?” + </p> + <p> + “General,” said Roland, laughing, “we had a good many conversations + together at the Luxembourg; in one of which you told me we were to cross + into Italy in the spring, and fight General Mélas at Torre di Gallifolo or + San-Guiliano. Does that still hold good?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but that is not the conversation I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it, general?” + </p> + <p> + “The day we talked of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes! My sister’s marriage. That has probably taken place by this + time, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mean your sister’s marriage; I mean yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Roland, with a bitter smile. “I thought that had been + disposed of, general.” And he made a motion as if to rise. Bonaparte + caught him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know whom I meant you to marry at that time, Roland?” he said, + with a gravity that showed he was determined to be heard. + </p> + <p> + “No, general.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my sister Caroline.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Does that astonish you?” + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea you had ever thought of doing me that honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Either you are ungrateful, Roland, or you are saying what you do not + mean. You know that I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my general!” + </p> + <p> + He took the First Consul’s two hands and pressed them with the deepest + gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should have liked you for my brother-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sister and Murat love each other, general,” said Roland. “It is much + better that the plan should have gone no further. Besides,” he added, in + muffled tones, “I thought I told you that I did not care to marry.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte smiled. “Why don’t you say offhand that you intend becoming a + Trappist father?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, general, re-establish the cloisters and remove these opportunities + for me to try to get myself killed, which, thank God! are not lacking, and + you have guessed what my end will be.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in love? Is this the result of some woman’s faithlessness?” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Roland, “so you think I am in love! That is the last straw!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you complain of my affection when I wished to marry you to my sister?” + </p> + <p> + “But the thing is impossible now! Your three sisters are all married—one + to General Leduc, one to Prince Bacciocchi, and the third to Murat.” + </p> + <p> + “In short,” said Bonaparte, laughing, “you feel easy and settled in your + mind. You think yourself rid of my alliance.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, general!” exclaimed Roland. + </p> + <p> + “You are not ambitious, it seems?” + </p> + <p> + “General, let me love you for all the good you have done to me, and not + for what you seek to do.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose it is for my own interests that I seek to bind you to me, not + by the ties of friendship alone, but also by those of matrimony. Suppose I + say to you: In my plans for the future I cannot rely upon my two brothers, + whereas I could never for one instant doubt you?” + </p> + <p> + “In heart, yes, you are right.” + </p> + <p> + “In all respects! What can I do with Leclerc—a commonplace man; with + Bacciocchi—who is not French; with Murat—lion-hearted and + feather-brained? And yet some day I shall have to make princes of them + because they are my sisters’ husbands. When that time comes, what can I + make of you?” + </p> + <p> + “A marshal of France.” + </p> + <p> + “And afterward?” + </p> + <p> + “Afterward? I should say that was enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And then you would be one of twelve, and not a unity of your own.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me be simply your friend. Let me always thresh out the truth with + you, and then I’ll warrant I shall be out of the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be enough for you, Roland, but it is not enough for me,” + persisted Bonaparte. Then, as Roland said nothing, he continued, “I have + no more sisters, Roland, it is true; but I have dreamed that you might be + something more to me than a brother.” Then, as Roland still said nothing, + he went on: “I know a young girl, Roland, a charming child, whom I love as + a daughter. She is just seventeen. You are twenty-six, and a + brigadier-general <i>de facto</i>. Before the end of the campaign you will + be general of division. Well, Roland, when the campaign is over, we will + return together to Paris, and you shall marry her—” + </p> + <p> + “General,” interrupted Roland, “I think I see Bourrienne looking for you.” + </p> + <p> + And in fact the First Consul’s secretary was already within two feet of + the friends. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Bourrienne?” asked Bonaparte, somewhat impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general, a courier from France.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “And a letter from Madame Bonaparte.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said the First Consul, rising eagerly, “give it to me.” And he + almost snatched the letter from Bourrienne’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “And for me?” asked Roland. “Nothing for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “That is strange,” said the young man, pensively. + </p> + <p> + The moon had risen, and by its clear, beautiful light Bonaparte was able + to read his letters. Through the first two pages his face expressed + perfect serenity. Bonaparte adored his wife; the letters published by + Queen Hortense bear witness to that fact. Roland watched these expressions + of the soul on his general’s face. But toward the close of the letter + Bonaparte’s face clouded; he frowned and cast a furtive glance at Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the young man, “it seems there is something about me in + the letter.” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte did not answer and continued to read. When he had finished, he + folded the letter and put it in the side pocket of his coat. Then, turning + to Bourrienne, he said: “Very well, we will return. I shall probably have + to despatch a courier. Go mend some pens while you are waiting for me.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne bowed and returned to Chivasso. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte then went up to Roland and laid his hand on his shoulder, + saying: “I have no luck with the marriages I attempt to make.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Your sister’s marriage is off.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she refused?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she has not.” + </p> + <p> + “She has not? Can it be Sir John?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Refused to marry my sister after asking her of me, of my mother, of you, + of herself?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, don’t begin to get angry. Try to see that there is some mystery in + all this.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see any mystery, I see an insult!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there you are, Roland. That explains why your mother and sister did + not write to you. But Josephine thought the matter so serious that you + ought to be informed. She writes me this news and asks me to tell you of + it if I think best. You see I have not hesitated.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you sincerely, general. Does Lord Tanlay give any reason for this + refusal?” + </p> + <p> + “A reason that is no reason.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It can’t be the true one.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is only necessary to look at the man and to talk with him for five + minutes to understand that.” + </p> + <p> + “But, general, what reason does he give for breaking his word?” + </p> + <p> + “That your sister is not as rich as he thought she was.” + </p> + <p> + Roland burst into that nervous laugh which was a sign with him of violent + agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said he, “that was the very first thing I told him.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “That my sister hadn’t a penny. How can the children of republican + generals be rich?” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he answer?” + </p> + <p> + “That he was rich enough for two.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, therefore, that that was not the real reason for his refusal.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is your opinion that one of your aides-de-camp can receive such an + insult, and not demand satisfaction?” + </p> + <p> + “In such situations the person who feels affronted must judge of the + matter for himself, my dear Roland.” + </p> + <p> + “General, how many days do you think it will be before we have a decisive + action?” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte calculated. + </p> + <p> + “Not less than fifteen days, or three weeks,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then, general, I ask you for a furlough of fifteen days.” + </p> + <p> + “On one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That you will first go to Bourg and ask your sister from which side the + refusal came.” + </p> + <p> + “That is my intention.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case you have not a moment to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “You see I lose none,” said the young man, already on his way to the + village. + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” said Bonaparte; “you will take my despatches to Paris, won’t + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I see; I am the courier you spoke of just now to Bourrienne.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “Come then.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait one moment. The young men you arrested—” + </p> + <p> + “The Companions of Jehu?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Well, it seems that they were all of noble families. They were + fanatics rather than criminals. It appears that your mother has been made + the victim of some judicial trick or other in testifying at their trial + and has called their conviction.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. My mother was in the coach stopped by them, as you know, and + saw the face of their leader.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your mother implores me, through Josephine, to pardon those poor + madmen—that is the very word she uses. They have appealed their + case. You will get there before the appeal can be rejected, and, if you + think it desirable, tell the minister of Justice for me to suspend + matters. After you get back we can see what is best to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, general. Anything more?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bonaparte, “except to think over our conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it about?” + </p> + <p> + “Your marriage.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII. THE TRIAL + </h2> + <p> + “Well, I’ll say as you did just now, we’ll talk about it when I return, if + I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” exclaimed Bonaparte, “I’m not afraid; you’ll kill him as you + have the others; only this time, I must admit, I shall be sorry to have + him die.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are going to feel so badly about it, general, I can easily be + killed in his stead.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t do anything foolish, ninny!” cried Bonaparte; hastily; “I should + feel still worse if I lost you.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, general, you are the hardest man to please that I know of,” said + Roland with his harsh laugh. + </p> + <p> + And this time he took his way to Chivasso without further delay. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, Roland was galloping along the road to Ivrae in a + post-chaise. He was to travel thus to Aosta, at Aosta take a mule, cross + the Saint-Bernard to Martigny, thence to Geneva, on to Bourg, and from + Bourg to Paris. + </p> + <p> + While he is galloping along let us see what has happened in France, and + clear up the points in the conversation between Bonaparte and his + aide-de-camp which must be obscure to the reader’s mind. + </p> + <p> + The prisoners which Roland had made at the grotto of Ceyzeriat had + remained but one night in the prison at Bourg. They had been immediately + transferred to that of Besançon, where they were to appear before a + council of war. + </p> + <p> + It will be remembered that two of these prisoners were so grievously + wounded that they were carried into Bourg on stretchers. One of them died + that same night, the other, three days after they reached Besançon. The + number of prisoners was therefore reduced to four; Morgan, who had + surrendered himself voluntarily and who was safe and sound, and Montbar, + Adler, and d’Assas, who were more or less wounded in the fight, though + none of them dangerously. These four aliases hid, as the reader will + remember, the real names of the Baron de Sainte-Hermine, the Comte de + Jayat, the Vicomte de Valensolle, and the Marquis de Ribier. + </p> + <p> + While the evidence was being taken against the four prisoners before the + military commission at Besançon, the time expired when under the law such + cases were tried by courts-martial. The prisoners became accountable + therefore to the civil tribunals. This made a great difference to them, + not only as to the penalty if convicted, but in the mode of execution. + Condemned by a court-martial, they would be shot; condemned by the courts, + they would be guillotined. Death by the first was not infamous; death by + the second was. + </p> + <p> + As soon as it appeared that their case was to be brought before a jury, it + belonged by law to the court of Bourg. Toward the end of March the + prisoners were therefore transferred from the prison of Besançon to that + of Bourg, and the first steps toward a trial were taken. + </p> + <p> + But here the prisoners adopted a line of defence that greatly embarrassed + the prosecuting officers. They declared themselves to be the Baron de + Sainte-Hermine, the Comte de Jayat, the Vicomte de Valensolle, and the + Marquis de Ribier, and to have no connection with the pillagers of + diligences, whose names were Morgan, Montbar, Adler, and d’Assas. They + acknowledged having belonged to armed bands; but these forces belonged to + the army of M. de Teyssonnet and were a ramification of the army of + Brittany intended to operate in the East and the Midi, while the army of + Brittany, which had just signed a peace, operated in the North. They had + waited only to hear of Cadoudal’s surrender to do likewise, and the + despatch of the Breton leader was no doubt on its way to them when they + were attacked and captured. + </p> + <p> + It was difficult to disprove this. The diligences had invariably been + pillaged by masked, men, and, apart from Madame de Montrevel and Sir John + Tanlay, no one had ever seen the faces of the assailants. + </p> + <p> + The reader will recall those circumstances: Sir John, on the night they + had tried, condemned, and stabbed him; Madame de Montrevel, when the + diligence was stopped, and she, in her nervous struggle, had struck off + the mask of the leader. + </p> + <p> + Both had been summoned before the preliminary court and both had been + confronted with the prisoners; but neither Sir John nor Madame de + Montrevel had recognized any of them. How came they to practice this + deception? As for Madame de Montrevel, it was comprehensible. She felt a + double gratitude to the man who had come to her assistance, and who had + also forgiven, and even praised, Edouard’s attack upon himself. But Sir + John’s silence was more difficult to explain, for among the four prisoners + he must have recognized at least two of his assailants. + </p> + <p> + They had recognized him, and a certain quiver had run through their veins + as they did so, but their eyes were none the less resolutely fixed upon + him, when, to their great astonishment, Sir John, in spite of the judge’s + insistence, had calmly replied: “I have not the honor of knowing these + gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie—we have not spoken of her, for there are sorrows no pen can + depict—Amélie, pale, feverish, almost expiring since that fatal + night when Morgan was arrested, awaited the return of her mother and Sir + John from the preliminary trial with dreadful anxiety. Sir John arrived + first. Madame de Montrevel had remained behind to give some orders to + Michel. As soon as Amélie saw him she rushed forward, crying out: “What + happened?” + </p> + <p> + Sir John looked behind him, to make sure that Madame de Montrevel could + neither see nor hear him, then he said: “Your mother and I recognized no + one.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how noble you are I how generous! how good, my lord!” cried the young + girl, trying to kiss his hand. + </p> + <p> + But he, withdrawing his hand, said hastily: “I have only done as I + promised you; but hush—here is your mother.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie stepped back. “Ah, mamma!” she said, “so you did not say anything + to compromise those unfortunate men?” + </p> + <p> + “What!” replied Madame de Montrevel; “would you have me send to the + scaffold a man who had helped me, and who, instead of punishing Edouard, + kissed him?” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Amélie, trembling, “you recognized him, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” replied Madame de Montrevel. “He is the fair man with the + black eyebrows who calls himself the Baron de Sainte-Hermine.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie gave a stifled cry. Then, making an effort to control herself, she + said: “Is that the end of it for Sir John and you? Will you be called to + testify again?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably not,” replied Madame de Montrevel. + </p> + <p> + “In any case,” observed Sir John, “as neither your mother nor I recognized + any one, she will persist in that declaration.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! most certainly,” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel. “God keep me from + causing the death of that unhappy young man. I should never forgive + myself. It is bad enough that Roland should have been the one to capture + him and his companions.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie sighed, but nevertheless her face assumed a calmer expression. She + looked gratefully at Sir John, and then went up to her room, where + Charlotte was waiting for her. Charlotte had become more than a maid, she + was now Amélie’s friend. Every day since the four young men had returned + to the prison at Bourg she had gone there to see her father for an hour or + so. During these visits nothing was talked of but the prisoners, whom the + worthy jailer, royalist as he was, pitied with all his heart. Charlotte + made him tell her everything, even to their slightest words, and later + reported all to Amélie. + </p> + <p> + Matters stood thus when Madame de Montrevel and Sir John arrived at + Noires-Fontaines. Before leaving Paris, the First Consul had informed + Madame de Montrevel, both through Josephine and Roland, that he approved + of her daughter’s marriage, and wished it to take place during his + absence, and as soon as possible. Sir John had declared to her that his + most ardent wishes were for this union, and that he only awaited Amélie’s + commands to become the happiest of men. Matters having reached this point, + Madame de Montrevel, on the morning of the day on which she and Sir John + were to give their testimony, had arranged a private interview between her + daughter and Sir John. + </p> + <p> + The interview lasted over an hour, and Sir John did not leave Amélie until + the carriage came to the door which was to take Madame de Montrevel and + himself to the court. We have seen that his deposition was all in the + prisoners’ favor, and we have also seen how Amélie received him on his + return. + </p> + <p> + That evening Madame de Montrevel had a long conversation with her + daughter. To her mother’s pressing inquiries, Amélie merely replied that + the state of her health was such that she desired a postponement of her + marriage, and that she counted on Sir John’s delicacy to grant it. + </p> + <p> + The next day Madame de Montrevel was obliged to return to Paris, her + position in Madame Bonaparte’s household not admitting of longer absence. + The morning of her departure she urged Amélie to accompany her; but again + the young girl dwelt upon the feebleness of her health. The sweetest and + most reviving months in the year were just opening, and she begged to be + allowed to spend then in the country, for they were sure, she said, to do + her good. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel, always unable to deny Amélie anything, above all + where it concerned her health, granted her request. + </p> + <p> + On her return to Paris, Madame de Montrevel travelled as before, with Sir + John. Much to her surprise, during the two days’ journey he did not say + anything to her about his marriage to Amélie. But Madame Bonaparte, as + soon as she saw her friend, asked the usual question: “Well, when shall we + marry Amélie and Sir John? You know how much the First Consul desires it.” + </p> + <p> + To which Madame de Montrevel replied: “It all depends on Sir John.” + </p> + <p> + This response furnished Madame Bonaparte with much food for reflection. + Why should a man who had been so eager suddenly grow cold? Time alone + could explain the mystery. + </p> + <p> + Time went by, and the trial of the prisoners began. They were confronted + with all the travellers who had signed the various depositions, which, as + we have seen, were in the possession of the minister of police. No one had + recognized them, for no one had seen their faces uncovered. Moreover, the + travellers asserted that none of their property, either money or jewels, + had been taken. Jean Picot testified that the two hundred louis which had + been taken from him by accident had been returned. + </p> + <p> + These preliminary inquiries lasted over two months. At the end of that + time the accused, against whom there was no evidence connecting them with + the pillage of the coaches, were under no accusation but that of their own + admissions; that is to say, of being affiliated with the Breton and + Vendéan insurrection. They were simply one of the armed bands roaming the + Jura under the orders of M. de Teyssonnet. + </p> + <p> + The judges delayed the final trial as long as possible, hoping that some + more direct testimony might be discovered. This hope was balked. No one + had really suffered from the deeds imputed to these young men, except the + Treasury, whose misfortunes concerned no one. The trial could not be + delayed any longer. + </p> + <p> + The prisoners, on their side, had made the best of their time. By means, + as we have seen, of an exchange of passports, Morgan had travelled + sometimes as Ribier, and Ribier as Sainte-Hermine, and so with the others. + The result was a confusion in the testimony of the innkeepers, which the + entries in their books only served to increase. The arrival of travellers, + noted on the registers an hour too early or an hour too late, furnished + the prisoners with irrefutable alibis. The judges were morally convinced + of their guilt; but their conviction was impossible against such + testimony. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, it must be said that public sympathy was wholly with + the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + The trial began. The prison at Bourg adjoins the courtroom. The prisoners + could be brought there through the interior passages. Large as the hall + was, it was crowded on the opening day. The whole population of Bourg + thronged about the doors, and persons came from Mâcon, Sons-le-Saulnier, + Besançon, and Nantua, so great was the excitement caused by the stoppages, + and so popular were the exploits of the Companions of Jehu. + </p> + <p> + The entrance of the four prisoners was greeted by a murmur in which there + was nothing offensive. Public sentiment seemed equally divided between + curiosity and sympathy. Their presence, it must be admitted, was well + calculated to inspire both. Very handsome, dressed in the latest fashion + of the day, self-possessed without insolence, smiling toward the audience, + courteous to their judges, though at times a little sarcastic, their + personal appearance was their best defence. + </p> + <p> + The oldest of the four was barely thirty. Questioned as to their names, + Christian and family, their age, and places of birth, they answered as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “Charles de Sainte-Hermine, born at Tours, department of the + Indre-et-Loire, aged twenty-four.” + </p> + <p> + “Louis-André de Jayat, born at Bage-le-Château, department of the Ain, + aged twenty-nine.” + </p> + <p> + “Raoul-Frederic-Auguste de Valensolle, born at Sainte-Colombe, department + of the Rhone, aged twenty-seven.” + </p> + <p> + “Pierre-Hector de Ribier, born at Bollène, department of Vaucluse, aged + twenty-six.” + </p> + <p> + Questioned as to their social condition and state, all four said they were + of noble rank and royalists. + </p> + <p> + These fine young men, defending themselves against death on the scaffold, + not against a soldier’s death before the guns—who asked the death + they claimed to have merited as insurrectionists, but a death of honor—formed + a splendid spectacle of youth, courage, and gallant bearing. + </p> + <p> + The judges saw plainly that on the accusation of being insurrectionists, + the Vendée having submitted and Brittany being pacificated, they would + have to be acquitted. That was not a result to satisfy the minister of + police. Death awarded by a council of war would not have satisfied him; he + had determined that these men should die the death of malefactors, a death + of infamy. + </p> + <p> + The trial had now lasted three days without proceeding in the direction of + the minister’s wishes. Charlotte, who could reach the courtroom through + the prison, was there each day, and returned each night to Amélie with + some fresh word of hope. On the fourth day, Amélie could bear the suspense + no longer. She dressed herself in a costume similar to the one that + Charlotte wore, except that the black lace of the head-dress was longer + and thicker than is usual with the Bressan peasant woman. It formed a veil + and completely hid her features. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte presented Amélie to her father as one of her friends who was + anxious to see the trial. The good man did not recognize Mademoiselle de + Montrevel, and in order to enable the young girls to see the prisoners + well he placed them in the doorway of the porter’s room, which opened upon + the passage leading to the courtroom. This passage was so narrow at this + particular point that the four gendarmes who accompanied the prisoners + changed the line of march. First came two officers, then the prisoners one + by one, then the other two officers. The girls stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + When Amélie heard the doors open she was obliged to lean upon Charlotte’s + shoulder for support, the earth seemed to give way under her feet and the + wall at her back. She heard the sound of feet and the rattle of the + gendarmes’ sabres, then the door of the prison opened. + </p> + <p> + First one gendarme appeared, then another, then Sainte-Hermine, walking + first, as though he were still Morgan, the captain of the Companions of + Jehu. + </p> + <p> + As he passed Amélie murmured: “Charles!” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner recognized the beloved voice, gave a faint cry, and felt a + paper slip into his hand. He pressed that precious hand, murmured her + name, and passed on. + </p> + <p> + The others who followed did not, or pretended not to, notice the two + girls. As for the gendarmes, they had seen and heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the party stepped into the light, Morgan unfolded the note and + read as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Do not be anxious, my beloved Charles; I am and ever will be + your faithful Amélie, in life or death. I have told all to Lord + Tanlay. He is the most generous man on earth; he has promised me + to break off the marriage and to take the whole responsibility + on himself. I love you. +</pre> + <p> + Morgan kissed the note and put it in his breast. Then he glanced down the + corridor and saw the two Bressan women leaning against the door. Amélie + had risked all to see him once more. It is true, however, that at this + last session of the court no additional witnesses were expected who could + injure the accused, and in the absence of proof it was impossible to + convict them. + </p> + <p> + The best lawyers in the department, those of Lyons and Besançon, had been + retained by the prisoners for their defence. Each had spoken in turn, + destroying bit by bit the indictment, as, in the tournaments of the Middle + Ages, a strong and dexterous knight was wont to knock off, piece by piece, + his adversary’s armor. Flattering applause had followed the more + remarkable points of their arguments, in spite of the usher’s warnings and + the admonitions of the judge. + </p> + <p> + Amélie, with clasped hands, was thanking God, who had so visibly + manifested Himself in the prisoners’ favor. A dreadful weight was lifted + from her tortured breast. She breathed with joy, and looked through tears + of gratitude at the Christ which hung above the judge’s head. + </p> + <p> + The arguments were all made, and the case about to be closed. Suddenly an + usher entered the courtroom, approached the judge, and whispered something + in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the judge, “the court is adjourned for a time. Let the + prisoners be taken out.” + </p> + <p> + There was a movement of feverish anxiety among the audience. What could + have happened? What unexpected event was about to take place? Every one + looked anxiously at his neighbor. Amélie’s heart was wrung by a + presentiment. She pressed her hand to her breast; it was as though an + ice-cold iron had pierced it to the springs of life. + </p> + <p> + The gendarmes rose. The prisoners did likewise, and were then marched back + to their cells. One after the other they passed Amélie. The hands of the + lovers touched each other; those of Amélie were as cold as death. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever happens, thank you,” said Charles, as he passed. + </p> + <p> + Amélie tried to answer, but the words died on her lips. + </p> + <p> + During this time the judge had risen and passed into the council-chamber. + There he found a veiled woman, who had just descended from a carriage at + the door of the courthouse, and had not spoken to any one on her way in. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the judge, “I offer you many excuses for the way in which I + have brought you from Paris; but the life of a man depends upon it, and + before that consideration everything must yield.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no need to excuse yourself, sir,” replied the veiled lady, “I + know the prerogatives of the law, and I am here at your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the judge, “the court and myself recognize the feeling of + delicacy which prompted you, when first confronted with the prisoners, to + decline to recognize the one who assisted you when fainting. At that time + the prisoners denied their identity with the pillagers of the diligences. + Since then they have confessed all; but it is our wish to know the one who + showed you that consideration, in order that we may recommend him to the + First Consul’s clemency.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed the lady, “have they really confessed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame, but they will not say which of their number helped you, + fearing, no doubt, to contradict your testimony, and thus cause you + embarrassment.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it you request of me, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “That you will save the gentleman who assisted you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! willingly,” said the lady, rising; “what am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Answer a question which I shall ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait here a moment. You will be sent for presently.” + </p> + <p> + The judge went back into the courtroom. A gendarme was placed at each door + to prevent any one from approaching the lady. The judge resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said he, “the session is reopened.” + </p> + <p> + General excitement prevailed. The ushers called for silence, and silence + was restored. + </p> + <p> + “Bring in the witness,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + An usher opened the door of the council-chamber, and the lady, still + veiled, was brought into court. All eyes turned upon her. Who was she? Why + was she there? What had she come for? Amélie’s eyes fastened upon her at + once. + </p> + <p> + “O my God!” she murmured, “grant that I be mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the judge, “the prisoners are about to be brought in. Have + the goodness to point out the one who, when the Geneva diligence was + stopped, paid you those attentions.” + </p> + <p> + A shudder ran through the audience. They felt that some fatal trap had + been laid for the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + A dozen voices began to shout: “Say nothing!” but the ushers, at a sign + from the judge, cried out imperatively: “Silence!” + </p> + <p> + Amélie’s heart turned deadly cold. A cold sweat poured from her forehead. + Her knees gave way and trembled under her. + </p> + <p> + “Bring in the prisoners,” said the judge, imposing silence by a look as + the usher had with his voice. “And you, madame, have the goodness to + advance and raise your veil.” + </p> + <p> + The veiled lady obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “My mother!” cried Amélie, but in a voice so choked that only those near + her heard the words. + </p> + <p> + “Madame de Montrevel!” murmured the audience. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the first gendarme appeared at the door, then the second. + After him came the prisoners, but not in the same order as before. Morgan + had placed himself third, so that, separated as he was from the gendarmes + by Montbar and Adler in front and d’Assas behind, he might be better able + to clasp Amélie’s hand. + </p> + <p> + Montbar entered first. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel shook her head. + </p> + <p> + Then came Adler. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel made the same negative sign. + </p> + <p> + Just then Morgan passed before Amélie. + </p> + <p> + “We are lost!” she said. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in astonishment as she pressed his hand convulsively. + Then he entered. + </p> + <p> + “That is he,” said Madame de Montrevel, as soon as she saw Morgan—or, + if the reader prefers it, Baron Charles de Sainte-Hermine—who was + now proved one and the same man by means of Madame de Montrevel’s + identification. + </p> + <p> + A long cry of distress burst from the audience. Montbar burst into a + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! by my faith!” he cried, “that will teach you, dear friend, to play + the gallant with fainting women.” Then, turning to Madame de Montrevel, he + added: “With three short words, madame, you have decapitated four heads.” + </p> + <p> + A terrible silence fell, in the midst of which a groan was heard. + </p> + <p> + “Usher,” said the judge, “have you warned the public that all marks of + approbation or disapproval are forbidden?” + </p> + <p> + The usher inquired who had disobeyed the order of the court. It was a + woman wearing the dress of a Bressan peasant, who was being carried into + the jailer’s room. + </p> + <p> + From that moment the accused made no further attempt at denial; but, just + as Morgan had united with them when arrested, they now joined with him. + Their four heads should be saved, or fall together. + </p> + <p> + That same day, at ten in the evening, the jury rendered a verdict of + guilty, and the court pronounced the sentence of death. + </p> + <p> + Three days later, by force of entreaties, the lawyers obtained permission + for the accused to appeal their case; but they were not admitted to bail. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIII. IN WHICH AMÉLIE KEEPS HER WORD + </h2> + <p> + The verdict rendered by the jury of the town of Bourg had a terrible + effect, not only in the courtroom, but throughout the entire town. The + four prisoners had shown such chivalric brotherhood, such noble bearing, + such deep conviction in the faith they professed, that their enemies + themselves admired the devotion which had made robbers and highwaymen of + men of rank and family. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel, overwhelmed by the part she had been made to play at + the crucial point of this drama, saw but one means of repairing the evil + she had done, and that was to start at once for Paris and fling herself at + the feet of the First Consul, imploring him to pardon the four condemned + men. She did not even take time to go to the Château des Noires-Fontaines + to see Amélie. She knew that Bonaparte’s departure was fixed for the first + week in May, and this was already the 6th. When she last left Paris + everything had been prepared for that departure. + </p> + <p> + She wrote a line to Amélie explaining by what fatal deception she had been + instrumental in destroying the lives of four men, when she intended to + save the life of one. Then, as if ashamed of having broken the pledge she + had made to Amélie, and above all to herself, she ordered fresh + post-horses and returned to Paris. + </p> + <p> + She arrived there on the morning of the 8th of May. Bonaparte had started + on the evening of the 6th. He said on leaving that he was only going to + Dijon, possibly as far as Geneva, but in any case he should not be absent + more than three weeks. The prisoners’ appeal, even if rejected, would not + receive final consideration for five or six weeks. All hope need not + therefore be abandoned. + </p> + <p> + But, alas! it became evident that the review at Dijon was only a pretext, + that the journey to Geneva had never been seriously thought of, and that + Bonaparte, instead of going to Switzerland, was really on his way to + Italy. + </p> + <p> + Then Madame de Montrevel, unwilling to appeal to her son, for she had + heard his oath when Lord Tanlay had been left for dead, and knew the part + he had played in the capture of the Companions of Jehu—then Madame + de Montrevel appealed to Josephine, and Josephine promised to write to the + First Consul. That same evening she kept her promise. + </p> + <p> + But the trial had made a great stir. It was not with these prisoners as + with ordinary men. Justice made haste, and thirty-five days after the + verdict had been rendered the appeal was rejected. This decision was + immediately sent to Bourg with an order to execute the prisoners within + twenty-four hours. But notwithstanding the haste of the minister of police + in forwarding this decision, the first intimation of the fatal news was + not received by the judicial authorities at Bourg. While the prisoners + were taking their daily walk in the courtyard a stone was thrown over the + outer wall and fell at their feet. Morgan, who still retained in relation + to his comrades the position of leader, picked it up, opened the letter + which inclosed the stone, and read it. Then, turning to his friends, he + said: “Gentlemen, the appeal has been rejected, as we might have expected, + and the ceremony will take place in all probability to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Valensolle and Ribier, who were playing a species of quoits with + crown-pieces and louis, left off their game to hear the news. Having heard + it they returned to their game without remark. + </p> + <p> + Jayat, who was reading “La Nouvelle Héloise,” resumed his book, saying: + “Then, I shall not have time to finish M. Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s + masterpiece, and upon my word I don’t regret it, for it is the most + utterly false and wearisome book I ever read in my life!” + </p> + <p> + Sainte-Hermine passed his hand over his forehead, murmuring: “Poor + Amélie!” Then observing Charlotte, who was at the window of the jailer’s + room overlooking the courtyard, he went to her. “Tell Amélie that she must + keep the promise she made me, to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The jailer’s daughter closed the window, kissed her father, and told him + that in all probability he would see her there again that evening. Then + she returned to Noires-Fontaines, a road she had taken twice every day for + the last two months, once at noon on her way to the prison, once in the + evening on returning to the château. + </p> + <p> + Every night she found Amélie in the same place, sitting at the window + which, in happier days, had given admittance to her beloved Charles. Since + the day she had fainted in the courtroom she had shed no tears, and, we + may almost add, had uttered no word. Unlike the marble of antiquity + awakening into life, she might have been compared to a living woman + petrifying into stone. Every day she grew paler. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte watched her with astonishment. Common minds, always impressed by + noisy demonstrations, that is to say, by cries and tears, are unable to + understand a mute sorrow. Dumbness to them means indifference. She was + therefore astonished at the calmness with which Amélie received the + message she was charged to deliver. She did not see in the dimness of the + twilight that Amélie’s face from being pale grew livid. She did not feel + the deadly clutch which, like an iron wrench, had seized her heart. She + did not know that as her mistress walked to the door an automatic + stiffness was in her limbs. Nevertheless she followed her anxiously. But + at the door Amélie stretched out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Wait for me there,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte obeyed. Amélie closed the door behind her, and went up to + Roland’s room. + </p> + <p> + Roland’s room was veritably that of a soldier and a huntsman, and its + chief adornments were trophies and weapons. Arms of all kinds were here, + French and foreign, from the blue-barrelled pistol of Versailles to the + silver-handled pistol of Cairo, from the tempered blade of Catalonia to + the Turkish cimeter. + </p> + <p> + Amélie took down from this arsenal four daggers, sharp-edged and pointed, + and eight pistols of different shapes. She put balls in a bag and powder + in a horn. Thus supplied she returned to her own room. There Charlotte + assisted her in putting on the peasant gown. Then she waited for the + night. + </p> + <p> + Night comes late in June. Amélie stood motionless, mute, leaning against + the chimney-piece, and looking through the open window at the village of + Ceyzeriat, which was slowly disappearing in the gathering shades of night. + When she could no longer distinguish anything but the lights which were + being lighted one by one, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Come, it is time to go.” + </p> + <p> + The two young girls went out. Michel paid no attention to Amélie, + supposing her to be some friend of Charlotte’s, who had called to see her + and whom the jailer’s daughter was now escorting home. + </p> + <p> + Ten o’clock was striking as they passed the church of Brou. It was quarter + past when Charlotte knocked at the prison door. Old Courtois opened it. + </p> + <p> + We have already shown the political opinions of the worthy jailer. He was + a royalist. He therefore felt the deepest sympathy for the four condemned + men, and had hoped, like nearly every one in Bourg—like Madame de + Montrevel, whose despair at what she had done was known to him—that + the First Consul would pardon them. He had therefore mitigated their + captivity as much as possible, without failing in his duty, by relieving + them of all needless restrictions. On the other hand, it is true that he + had refused a gift of sixty thousand francs (a sum which in those days was + worth nearly treble what it is now) to allow them to escape. + </p> + <p> + We have seen how, being taken into confidence by his daughter, he had + allowed Amélie, disguised as a Bressan peasant, to be present at the + trial. The reader will also remember the kindness the worthy man had shown + to Amélie and her mother when they themselves were prisoners. This time, + as he was still ignorant of the rejection of the appeal, he allowed his + feelings to be worked upon. Charlotte had told him that her young mistress + was to start that night for Paris to endeavor to hasten the pardon, and + that she desired before leaving to see the Baron de Sainte-Hermine and + obtain his last instructions. + </p> + <p> + There were five doors to break through to reach the street, a squad of + guards in the courtyard, and sentinels within and without the prison. + Consequently Père Courtois felt no anxiety lest his prisoners escape. He + therefore consented that Amélie should see Morgan. + </p> + <p> + We trust our readers will excuse us if we use the names Morgan, Charles, + and the Baron de Sainte-Hermine, interchangeably, since they are aware + that by that triple appellation we intend to designate the same man. + </p> + <p> + Courtois took a light and walked before Amélie. The young girl, as though + prepared to start by the mail-coach at once on leaving the prison, carried + a travelling bag in her hand. Charlotte followed her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “You will recognize the cell, Mademoiselle de Montrevel,” said Courtois. + “It is the one in which you were confined with your mother. The leader of + these unfortunate young men, the Baron Charles de Sainte-Hermine, asked me + as a favor to put them in cage No. 1. You know that’s the name we give our + cells. I did not think I ought to refuse him that consolation, knowing how + the poor fellow loved you. Oh, don’t be uneasy, Mademoiselle Amélie, I + will never breathe your secret. Then he questioned me, asking which had + been your mother’s bed, and which yours. I told him, and then he wanted + his to stand just where yours did. That wasn’t hard, for the bed was not + only in the same place, but it was the very one you had used. So, since + the poor fellow entered your cell, he has spent nearly all his time lying + on your bed.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie gave a sigh that resembled a groan. She felt—and it was long + since she had done so—a tear moisten her eyelids. Yes! she was loved + as she loved, and the lips of a disinterested stranger gave her the proof + of it. At this moment of eternal separation this conviction shone like a + diamond of light in its setting of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + The doors opened one by one before Père Courtois. When they reached the + last one, Amélie laid her hand on the jailer’s shoulder. She thought she + heard a chant. Listening attentively, she became aware that it was a voice + repeating verses. + </p> + <p> + But the voice was not Morgan’s; it was unknown to her. Here is what it + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have bared all my heart to the God of the just, + He has witnessed my penitent tears; + He has stilled my remorse, He has armed me with trust, + He has pitied and calmed all my fears. + + My enemies, scoffing, have said in their rage: + “Let him die, be his mem’ry accursed!” + Saith the merciful Father, my grief to assuage, + “Their hatred hath now done its worst. + + “I have heard thy complaints, and I know that the ban + Of remorse hath e’en brought thee so low; + I can pity the soul of the penitent man + That was weak in this valley of woe; + + “I will crown thy lost name with the just acclaim + Of the slow-judging righteous years; + Their pity and justice in time shall proclaim + Thine honor; then layoff thy fears!” + + I bless thee, O God! who hast deigned to restore + Mine honor that Thou hast made whole + From shame and remorse; as I enter Death’s door + To Thee I commend my poor soul! + + To the banquet of life, an unfortunate guest, + I came for a day, and I go— + I die in my vigor; I sought not to rest + In the grave where the weary lie low. + + Farewell to thee, earth! farewell, tender verdure + Of woodland! Farewell, sunny shore! + Green fields that I love, azure skies, smiling Nature, + Farewell! I shall see thee no more. + + May thy beauty still gladden the friends that I love, + Whom I long for—but stern fate denies; + May they pass full of years, though I wait them above; + May a last loving hand close their eyes. +</pre> + <p> + The voice was silent; no doubt the last verse was finished. Amélie, who + would not interrupt the last meditations of the doomed men, and who had + recognized Gilbert’s beautiful ode written on a hospital bed the night + before his death, now signed to the jailer to open the door. Père + Courtois, jailer as he was, seemed to share the young girl’s emotion, for + he put the key in the lock and turned it as softly as he could. The door + opened. + </p> + <p> + Amélie saw at a glance the whole interior of the cell, and the persons in + it. + </p> + <p> + Valensolle was standing, leaning against the wall, and still holding the + book from which he had just read the lines that Amélie had overheard. + Jayat was seated near a table with his head resting on his hands. Ribier + was sitting on the table itself. Near him, but further back, + Sainte-Hermine, his eyes closed as if in sleep, was lying on the bed. At + sight of the young girl, whom they knew to be Amélie, Ribier and Jayat + rose. Morgan did not move; he had heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + Amélie went directly to him, and, as if the love she felt for him were + sanctified by the nearness of death, she gave no heed to the presence of + his friends, but pressed her lips to his, murmuring: “Awake, my Charles, + it is I, Amélie. I have come to keep my promise.” + </p> + <p> + Morgan gave a cry of joy and clasped her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Courtois,” said Montbar, “you are a worthy man. Leave those poor + young people alone. It would be sacrilege to trouble their last moments + together on earth by our presence.” + </p> + <p> + Père Courtois, without a word, opened the door of the adjoining cell. + Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier entered it, and the door was closed upon + them. Then, making a sign to Charlotte, Courtois himself went away. The + lovers were alone. + </p> + <p> + There are scenes that should not be described, words that must not be + repeated. God, who sees and hears them from his immortal throne, alone + knows what sombre joys, what bitter pleasures they contain. + </p> + <p> + At the end of an hour the two young people heard the key turn once more in + the lock. They were sad but calm. The conviction that their separation + would not be for long gave them a sweet serenity. The worthy jailer seemed + more grieved and distressed at his second appearance than at his first; + but Morgan and Amélie thanked him with a smile. + </p> + <p> + He went to the cell where the others were locked up and opened it, + murmuring to himself: “Faith! It would have been hard if they couldn’t + have been alone together on their last night.” + </p> + <p> + Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier returned. Amélie, with her left arm wound + around Morgan, held out her right hand to them. All three, one after the + other, kissed that cold, damp hand. Then Morgan led her to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Au revoir!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Soon!” she answered. + </p> + <p> + And then this parting at the gates of death was sealed by a long kiss, + followed by a groan so terrible that it seemed to rend their hearts in + twain. + </p> + <p> + The door closed again, the bolts and bars shot into their places. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” cried Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier with one accord. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” replied Morgan, emptying the travelling bag upon the table. + </p> + <p> + The three young men gave a cry of joy as they saw the shining pistols and + gleaming blades. It was all that they desired next to liberty—the + joy, the dolorous precious joy of knowing themselves masters of their own + lives, and, if need be, that of others. + </p> + <p> + During this time the jailer led Amélie to the street. When they reached it + he hesitated a moment, then he touched Amélie’s arm, saying as he did so: + “Mademoiselle de Montrevel, forgive me for causing you so much pain, but + it is useless for you to go to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Because the appeal has been rejected and the execution takes place + to-morrow, I suppose you mean,” said Amélie. + </p> + <p> + The jailer in his astonishment stepped back a pace. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it, my friend,” said Amélie. Then turning to Charlotte, she said: + “Take me to the nearest church and come for me to-morrow after all is + over.” + </p> + <p> + The nearest church was not far off. It was that of Sainte-Claire. For the + last three months it had been opened for public worship under the decree + of the First Consul. As it was now nearly midnight, the doors were closed; + but Charlotte knew where the sexton lived and she went to wake him. Amélie + waited, leaning against the walls as motionless as the marble figures that + adorned its frontal. + </p> + <p> + The sexton arrived at the end of half an hour. During that time the girl + had seen a dreadful sight. Three men had passed her, dragging a cart, + which she saw by the light of the moon was painted red. Within this cart + she perceived shapeless objects, long planks and singular ladders, all + painted the same color. They were dragging it toward the bastion + Montrevel, the place used for the executions. Amélie divined what it was, + and, with a cry, she fell upon her knees. + </p> + <p> + At that cry the men in black turned round. They fancied for a moment that + one of the sculptured figures of the porch had descended from its niche + and was kneeling there. The one who seemed to be the leader stepped close + to the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t come near me!” she cried. “Don’t come near me!” + </p> + <p> + The man returned humbly to his place and continued on his way. The cart + disappeared round the corner of the Rue des Prisons; but the noise of its + wheels still sounded on the stones and echoed in the girl’s heart. + </p> + <p> + When the sacristan and Charlotte returned they found the young girl on her + knees. The man raised some objections against opening the church at that + hour of the night; but a piece of gold and Mademoiselle de Montrevel’s + name dispelled his scruples. A second gold piece decided him to light a + little chapel. It was the one in which Amélie had made her first + communion. There, kneeling before the altar, she implored them to leave + her alone. + </p> + <p> + Toward three in the morning she saw the colored window above the altar of + the Virgin begin to lighten. It looked to the east, so that the first ray + of light came direct to her eyes as a messenger from God. + </p> + <p> + Little by little the town awoke. To Amélie the noise seemed louder than + ever before. Soon the vaulted ceiling of the church shook with the tramp + of a troop of horsemen. This troop was on its way to the prison. + </p> + <p> + A little before nine the young girl heard a great noise, and it seemed to + her that the whole town must be rushing in the same direction. She strove + to lose herself in prayer, that she might not hear these different sounds + that spoke to her in an unknown language of which her anguish told her she + understood every word. + </p> + <p> + In truth, a terrible thing was happening at the prison. It was no wonder + that the whole town had rushed thither. + </p> + <p> + At nine o’clock Père Courtois entered the jail to tell the prisoners at + one and the same time that their appeal had been rejected and that they + must prepare for immediate death. He found the four prisoners armed to the + teeth. + </p> + <p> + The jailer, taken unawares, was pulled into the cell and the door locked + behind him. Then the young men, without any defence on his part, so + astonished was he, seized his keys, and passing through the door opposite + to the one by which he had entered they locked it on him. Leaving him in + their cell, they found themselves in the adjoining one, in which he had + placed three of them during Amélie’s interview with Morgan. + </p> + <p> + One of the keys on the jailer’s bunch opened the other door of this cell, + and that door led to the inner courtyard of the prison. This courtyard was + closed by three massive doors, all of which led to a sort of lobby, + opening upon the porter’s lodge, which in turn adjoined the law-courts. + From this lodge fifteen steps led down into a vast courtyard closed by an + iron gate and railing. Usually this gate was only locked at night. If it + should happen to be open on this occasion it would offer a possibility of + escape. + </p> + <p> + Morgan found the key of the prisoners’ court, opened the door, and rushed + with his companions to the porter’s lodge and to the portico, from which + the fifteen steps led down into the courtyard. From there the three young + men could see that all hope was lost. + </p> + <p> + The iron gate was closed, and eighty men, dragoons and gendarmes, were + drawn up in front of it. + </p> + <p> + When the four prisoners, free and armed to the teeth, sprang from the + porter’s lodge to the portico, a great cry, a cry of astonishment and + terror, burst from the crowd in the street beyond the railing. + </p> + <p> + Their aspect was formidable, indeed; for to preserve the freedom of their + movements, perhaps to hide the shedding of blood, which would have shown + so quickly on their white linen, they were naked to the waist. A + handkerchief knotted around their middle bristled with weapons. + </p> + <p> + A glance sufficed to show them that they were indeed masters of their own + lives, but not of their liberty. Amid the clamoring of the crowd and the + clanking of the sabres, as they were drawn from their scabbards, the young + men paused an instant and conferred together. Then Montbar, after shaking + hands with his companions, walked down the fifteen steps and advanced to + the gate. + </p> + <p> + When he was within four yards of the gate he turned, with a last glance at + his comrades, bowed graciously to the now silent mob, and said to the + soldiers: “Very well, gentlemen of the gendarmerie! Very well, dragoons!” + </p> + <p> + Then, placing the muzzle of his pistol to his mouth, he blew out his + brains. + </p> + <p> + Confused and frantic cries followed the explosion, but ceased almost + immediately as Valensolle came down the steps, holding in his hand a + dagger with a straight and pointed blade. His pistols, which he did not + seem inclined to use, were still in his belt. + </p> + <p> + He advanced to a sort of shed supported on three pillars, stopped at the + first pillar, rested the hilt of his dagger upon it, and, with a last + salutation to his friends, clasped the column with one arm till the blade + had disappeared in his breast. For an instant he remained standing, then a + mortal pallor overspread his face, his arm loosened its hold, and he fell + to the ground, stone-dead. + </p> + <p> + The crowd was mute, paralyzed with horror. + </p> + <p> + It was now Ribier’s turn. He advanced to the gate, and, once there, aimed + the two pistols he held at the gendarmes. He did not fire, but the + gendarmes did. Three or four shots were heard, and Ribier fell, pierced by + two balls. + </p> + <p> + Admiration seized upon the spectators at sight of these successive + catastrophes. They saw that the young men were willing to die, but to die + with honor, and as they willed, and also with the grace of the gladiators + of antiquity. Silence therefore reigned when Morgan, now left alone, came + smiling down the steps of the portico and held up his hand in sign that he + wished to speak. Besides, what more could it want—this eager mob; + watching for blood? + </p> + <p> + A greater sight had been given to it than it came to see. Four dead men + had been promised to it; four heads were to be cut off; but here was + variety in death, unexpected, picturesque. It was natural, therefore, that + the crowd should keep silence when Morgan was seen to advance. + </p> + <p> + He held neither pistols nor daggers in his hands; they were in his belt. + He passed the body of Valensolle, and placed himself between those of + Jayat and Ribier. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said he, “let us negotiate.” + </p> + <p> + The hush that followed was so great that those present seemed scarcely to + breathe. Morgan said: “There lies a man who has blown out his brains [he + pointed to Jayat]; here lies one who stabbed himself [he designated + Valensolle]; a third who has been shot [he indicated Ribier]; you want to + see the fourth guillotined. I understand that.” + </p> + <p> + A dreadful shudder passed through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued Morgan, “I am willing to give you that satisfaction. I + am ready, but I desire to go to the scaffold in my own way. No one shall + touch me; if any one does come near me I shall blow out his brains—except + that gentleman,” continued Morgan, pointing to the executioner. “This is + his affair and mine only.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd apparently thought this request reasonable, for from all sides + came the cry, “Yes, yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + The officer saw that the quickest way to end the matter was to yield to + Morgan’s demand. + </p> + <p> + “Will you promise me,” he asked, “that if your hands and feet are not + bound you will not try to escape?” + </p> + <p> + “I give my word of honor,” replied Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the officer; “stand aside, and let us take up the bodies of + your comrades.” + </p> + <p> + “That is but right,” said Morgan, and he turned aside to a wall about ten + paces distant and leaned against it. + </p> + <p> + The gate opened. Three men dressed in black entered the courtyard and + picked up the bodies one after the other. Ribier was not quite dead; he + opened his eyes and seemed to look for Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am,” said the latter. “Rest easy, dear friend, I follow.” + </p> + <p> + Ribier closed his eyes without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + When the three bodies had been removed, the officer of the gendarmerie + addressed Morgan. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready, sir?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Morgan, bowing with exquisite politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Then come.” + </p> + <p> + “I come.” + </p> + <p> + And he took his place between a platoon of gendarmerie and a detachment of + dragoons. + </p> + <p> + “Will you mount the cart, sir, or go on foot?” asked the captain. + </p> + <p> + “On foot, on foot, sir. I am anxious that all shall see it is my pleasure + to be guillotined, and that I am not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + The sinister procession crossed the Place des Lisses and skirted the walls + of the Hôtel Montbazon. The cart bearing the three bodies came first, then + the dragoons, then Morgan walking alone in a clear space of some ten feet + before and behind him, then the gendarmes. At the end of the wall they + turned to the left. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, through an opening that existed at that time between the wall + and the market-place, Morgan saw the scaffold raising its two posts to + heaven like two bloody arms. + </p> + <p> + “Faugh!” he exclaimed, “I have never seen a guillotine, and I had no idea + it was so ugly.” + </p> + <p> + Then, without further remark, he drew his dagger and plunged it into his + breast up to the hilt. + </p> + <p> + The captain of the gendarmerie saw the movement without being in time to + prevent it. He spurred his horse toward Morgan, who, to his own amazement + and that of every one else, remained standing. But Morgan, drawing a + pistol from his belt and cocking it, exclaimed: “Stop! It was agreed that + no one should touch me. I shall die alone, or three of us will die + together.” + </p> + <p> + The captain reined back his horse. + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” said Morgan. + </p> + <p> + They reached the foot of the guillotine. Morgan drew out his dagger and + struck again as deeply as before. A cry of rage rather than pain escaped + him. + </p> + <p> + “My soul must be riveted to my body,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Then, as the assistants wished to help him mount the scaffold on which the + executioner was awaiting him, he cried out: “No, I say again, let no one + touch me.” + </p> + <p> + Then he mounted the three steps without staggering. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the platform, he drew out the dagger again and struck + himself a third time. Then a frightful laugh burst from his lips; flinging + the dagger, which he had wrenched from the third ineffectual wound, at the + feet of the executioner, he exclaimed: “By my faith! I have done enough. + It is your turn; do it if you can.” + </p> + <p> + A minute later the head of the intrepid young man fell upon the scaffold, + and by a phenomenon of that unconquerable vitality which he possessed it + rebounded and rolled forward beyond the timbers of the guillotine. + </p> + <p> + Go to Bourg, as I did, and they will tell you that, as the head rolled + forward, it was heard to utter the name of Amélie. + </p> + <p> + The dead bodies were guillotined after the living one; so that the + spectators, instead of losing anything by the events we have just related, + enjoyed a double spectacle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIV. THE CONFESSION + </h2> + <p> + Three days after the events we have just recited, a carriage covered with + dust and drawn by two horses white with foam stopped about seven of the + evening before the gate of the Château des Noires-Fontaines. To the great + astonishment of the person who was in such haste to arrive, the gates were + open, a crowd of peasants filled the courtyard, and men and women were + kneeling on the portico. Then, his sense of hearing being rendered more + acute by astonishment at what he had seen, he fancied he heard the ringing + of a bell. + </p> + <p> + He opened the door of the chaise, sprang out, crossed the courtyard + rapidly, went up the portico, and found the stairway leading to the first + floor filled with people. + </p> + <p> + Up the stairs he ran as he had up the portico, and heard what seemed to + him a murmured prayer from his sister’s bedroom. He went to the room. The + door was open. Madame de Montrevel and little Edouard were kneeling beside + Amélie’s pillow; Charlotte, Michel, and his son Jacques were close at + hand. The curate of Sainte-Claire was administering the last sacraments; + the dismal scene was lighted only by the light of the wax-tapers. + </p> + <p> + The reader has recognized Roland in the traveller whose carriage stopped + at the gate. The bystanders made way for him; he entered the room with his + head uncovered and knelt beside his mother. + </p> + <p> + The dying girl lay on her back, her hands clasped, her head raised on her + pillows, her eyes fixed upon the sky, in a sort of ecstasy. She seemed + unconscious of Roland’s arrival. It was as though her soul were floating + between heaven and earth, while the body still belonged to this world. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel’s hand sought that of Roland, and finding it, the poor + mother dropped her head on his shoulder, sobbing. The sobs passed + unnoticed by the dying girl, even as her brother’s arrival had done. She + lay there perfectly immovable. Only when the viaticum had been + administered, when the priest’s voice promised her eternal blessedness, + her marble lips appeared to live again, and she murmured in a feeble but + intelligible voice: “Amen!” + </p> + <p> + Then the bell rang again; the choir-boy, who was carrying it, left the + room first, followed by the two acolytes who bore the tapers, then the + cross-bearer, and lastly the priest with the Host. All the strangers + present followed the procession, and the family and household were left + alone. The house, an instant before so full of sound and life, was silent, + almost deserted. + </p> + <p> + The dying girl had not moved; her lips were closed, her hands clasped, her + eyes raised to heaven. After a few minutes Roland stooped to his mother’s + ear, and whispered: “Come out with me, mother, I must speak to you.” + Madame de Montrevel rose. She pushed little Edouard toward the bed, and + the child stood on tiptoe to kiss his sister on the forehead. Then the + mother followed him, and, leaning over, with a sob she pressed a kiss upon + the same spot. Roland, with dry eyes but a breaking heart—he would + have given much for tears in which to drown his sorrow—kissed his + sister as his mother and little brother had done. She seemed as insensible + to this kiss as to the preceding ones. + </p> + <p> + Edouard left the room, followed by Madame de Montrevel and Roland. Just as + they reached the door they stopped, quivering. They had heard the name of + Roland, uttered in a low but distinct tone. + </p> + <p> + Roland turned. Amélie called him a second time. + </p> + <p> + “Did you call me, Amélie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the dying girl. + </p> + <p> + “Alone, or with my mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Alone.” + </p> + <p> + That voice, devoid of emphasis, yet perfectly intelligible, had something + glacial about it; it was like an echo from another world. + </p> + <p> + “Go, mother,” said Roland. “You see that she wishes to be alone with me.” + </p> + <p> + “O my God!” murmured Madame de Montrevel, “can there still be hope?” + </p> + <p> + Low as these words were, the dying girl heard them. + </p> + <p> + “No, mother,” she said. “God has permitted me to see my brother again; but + to-night I go to Him.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Roland, Roland!” she said, “she is there already.” + </p> + <p> + Roland signed to her to leave them alone, and she went away with little + Edouard. Roland closed the door, and returned to his sister’s bedside with + unutterable emotion. + </p> + <p> + Her body was already stiffening in death; the breath from her lips would + scarcely have dimmed a mirror; the eyes only, wide-open, were fixed and + brilliant, as though the whole remaining life of the body, dead before its + time, were centred, there. Roland had heard of this strange state called + ecstasy, which is nothing else than catalepsy. He saw that Amélie was a + victim of that preliminary death. + </p> + <p> + “I am here, sister,” he said. “What can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew you would come,” she replied, still without moving, “and I waited + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know that I was coming?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “I saw you coming.” + </p> + <p> + Roland shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know why I was coming?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I prayed God so earnestly in my heart that He gave me strength to + rise and write to you.” + </p> + <p> + “When was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Under my pillow. Take it, and read it.” + </p> + <p> + Roland hesitated an instant. Was his sister delirious? + </p> + <p> + “Poor Amélie!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Do not pity me,” she said, “I go to join him.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom?” asked Roland. + </p> + <p> + “Him whom I loved, and whom you killed.” + </p> + <p> + Roland uttered a cry. This was delirium; or else—what did his sister + mean? + </p> + <p> + “Amélie,” said he, “I came to question you—” + </p> + <p> + “About Lord Tanlay; yes, I know,” replied the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “You knew! How could you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I not tell you I saw you coming, and knew why you came?” + </p> + <p> + “Then answer me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not turn me from God and from him, Roland. I have written it all; read + my letter.” + </p> + <p> + Roland slipped his hand beneath the pillow, convinced that his sister was + delirious. + </p> + <p> + To his great astonishment he felt a paper, which he drew out. It was a + sealed letter; on it were written these words: “For Roland, who will come + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He went over to the night-light in order to read the letter, which was + dated the night before at eleven o’clock in the evening. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My brother, we have each a terrible thing to forgive the + other. +</pre> + <p> + Roland looked at his sister; she was still motionless. He continued to + read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I loved Charles de Sainte-Hermine; I did more than + love him, he was my lover. +</pre> + <p> + “Oh!” muttered the young man between his teeth, “he shall die.” + </p> + <p> + “He is dead,” said Amélie. + </p> + <p> + The young man gave a cry of astonishment. He had uttered the words to + which Amélie had replied too low even to hear them himself. His eyes went + back to the letter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was no legal marriage possible between the sister + of Roland de Montrevel and the leader of the Companions + of Jehu: that was the terrible secret which I bore—and + it crushed me. + + One person alone had to know it, and I told him; that + person was Sir John Tanlay. + + May God forever bless that noble-hearted man, who + promised to break off an impossible marriage, and who + kept his word. Let his life be sacred to you, Roland; he + has been my only friend in sorrow, and his tears have + mingled with mine. + + I loved Charles de Saint-Hermine; I was his mistress; + that is the terrible thing you must forgive. + + But, in exchange, you caused his death; that is the + terrible thing I now forgive you. + + Oh! come fast, Roland, for I cannot die till you are + here. + + To die is to see him again; to die is to be with him and + never to leave him again. I am glad to die. +</pre> + <p> + All was clearly and plainly written; there was no sign of delirium in the + letter. + </p> + <p> + Roland read it through twice, and stood for an instant silent, motionless, + palpitating, full of bitterness; then pity got the better of his anger. He + went to Amélie, stretched his hand over her, and said: “Sister, I forgive + you.” + </p> + <p> + A slight quiver shook the dying body. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” she said, “call my mother, that I may die in her arms.” + </p> + <p> + Roland opened the door and called Madame de Montrevel. She was waiting and + came at once. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any change?” she asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Roland, “only Amélie wishes to die in your arms.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Montrevel fell upon her knees beside her daughter’s bed. + </p> + <p> + Then Amélie, as though an invisible hand had loosened the bonds that held + her rigid body to the bed, rose slowly, parted the hands that were clasped + upon her breast, and let one fall slowly into those of her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said, “you gave me life and you have taken it from me; I + bless you. It was a mother’s act. There was no happiness possible for your + daughter in this life.” + </p> + <p> + Then, letting her other hand fall into that of Roland, who was kneeling on + the other side of the bed, she said: “We have forgiven each other, + brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear Amélie,” he replied, “and from the depths of our hearts, I + hope.” + </p> + <p> + “I have still one last request to make.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not forget that Lord Tanlay has been my best friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Fear nothing,” said Roland; “Lord Tanlay’s life is sacred to me.” + </p> + <p> + Amélie drew a long breath; then in a voice which showed her growing + weakness, she said: “Farewell, mother; farewell, Roland; kiss Edouard for + me.” + </p> + <p> + Then with a cry from her soul, in which there was more of joy than + sadness, she said: “Here I am, Charles, here I am!” + </p> + <p> + She fell back upon her bed, withdrawing her two hands as she did so, and + clasping them upon her breast again. + </p> + <p> + Roland and his mother rose and leaned over her. She had resumed her first + position, except that her eyelids were closed and her breath extinguished. + Amélie’s martyrdom was over, she was dead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LV. INVULNERABLE + </h2> + <p> + Amélie died during the night of Monday and Tuesday, that is to say, the 2d + and 3d of June. On the evening of Thursday, the 5th of June, the Grand + Opera at Paris was crowded for the second presentation of “Ossian, or the + Bards.” + </p> + <p> + The great admiration which the First Consul professed for the poems of + Macpherson was universally known; consequently the National Academy, as + much in flattery as from literary choice, had brought out an opera, which, + in spite of all exertions, did not appear until a month after General + Bonaparte had left Paris to join the Army of the Reserves. + </p> + <p> + In the balcony to the left sat a lover of music who was noticeable for the + deep attention he paid to the performance. During the interval between the + acts, the door-keeper came to him and said in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, sir, are you Sir John Tanlay?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, my lord, a gentleman has a message to give you; he says it + is of the utmost importance, and asks if you will speak to him in the + corridor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Sir John, “is he an officer?” + </p> + <p> + “He is in civilian’s dress, but he looks like an officer.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” replied Sir John; “I know who he is.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and followed the woman. Roland was waiting in the corridor. Lord + Tanlay showed no surprise on seeing him, but the stern look on the young + man’s face repressed the first impulse of his deep affection, which was to + fling himself upon his friend’s breast. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, sir,” said Sir John. + </p> + <p> + Roland bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from your hotel,” he said. “You have, it seems, taken + the precaution to inform the porter of your whereabout every time you have + gone out, so that persons who have business with you should know where to + find you.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The precaution is a good one, especially for those who, like myself, come + from a long distance and are hurried and have no time to spare.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Sir John, “was it to see me that you left the army and came + to Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Solely for that honor, sir; and I trust that you will guess my motives, + and spare me the necessity of explaining them.” + </p> + <p> + “From this moment I am at your service, sir,” replied Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “At what hour to-morrow can two of my friends wait upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “From seven in the morning until midnight; unless you prefer that it + should be now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord; I have but just arrived, and I must have time to find my + friends and give them my instructions. If it will not inconvenience you, + they will probably call upon you to-morrow between ten and eleven. I shall + be very much obliged to you if the affair we have to settle could be + arranged for the same day.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that will be possible, sir; as I understand it to be your wish, + the delay will not be from my side.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all I wished to know, my lord; pray do not let me detain you + longer.” + </p> + <p> + Roland bowed, and Sir John returned the salutation. Then the young man + left the theatre and Sir John returned to his seat in the balcony. The + words had been exchanged in such perfectly well modulated voices, and with + such an impassible expression of countenance on both sides, that no one + would have supposed that a quarrel had arisen between the two men who had + just greeted each other so courteously. + </p> + <p> + It happened to be the reception day of the minister of war. Roland + returned to his hotel, removed the traces of his journey, jumped into a + carriage, and a little before ten he was announced in the salon of the + citizen Carnot. + </p> + <p> + Two purposes took him there: in the first place, he had a verbal + communication to make to the minister of war from the First Consul; in the + second place, he hoped to find there the two witnesses he was in need of + to arrange his meeting with Sir John. + </p> + <p> + Everything happened as Roland had hoped. He gave the minister of war all + the details of the crossing of the Mont Saint-Bernard and the situation of + the army; and he himself found the two friends of whom he was in search. A + few words sufficed to let them know what he wished; soldiers are + particularly open to such confidences. + </p> + <p> + Roland spoke of a grave insult, the nature of which must remain a secret + even to his seconds. He declared that he was the offended party, and + claimed the choice of weapons and mode of fighting—advantages which + belong to the challenger. + </p> + <p> + The young fellows agreed to present themselves to Sir John the following + morning at the Hôtel Mirabeau, Rue de Richelieu, at nine o’clock, and make + the necessary arrangements with Sir John’s seconds. After that they would + join Roland at the Hôtel de Paris in the same street. + </p> + <p> + Roland returned to his room at eleven that evening, wrote for about an + hour, then went to bed and to sleep. + </p> + <p> + At half-past nine the next morning his friends came to him. They had just + left Sir John. He admitted all Roland’s contentions; declared that he + would not discuss any of the arrangements; adding that if Roland regarded + himself as the injured party, it was for him to dictate the conditions. To + their remark that they had hoped to discuss such matters with two of his + friends and not with himself, he replied that he knew no one in Paris + intimately enough to ask their assistance in such a matter, and that he + hoped, once on the ground, that one of Roland’s seconds would consent to + act in his behalf. The two officers were agreed that Lord Tanlay had + conducted himself with the utmost punctiliousness in every respect. + </p> + <p> + Roland declared that Sir John’s request for the services of one of his two + seconds was not only just but suitable, and he authorized either one of + them to act for Sir John and to take charge of his interests. All that + remained for Roland to do was to dictate his conditions. They were as + follows! + </p> + <p> + Pistols were chosen. When loaded the adversaries were to stand at five + paces. At the third clap of the seconds’ hands they were to fire. It was, + as we see, a duel to the death, in which, if either survived, he would be + at the mercy of his opponent. Consequently the young officers made many + objections; but Roland insisted, declaring that he alone could judge of + the gravity of the insult offered him, and that no other reparation than + this would satisfy him. They were obliged to yield to such obstinacy. But + the friend who was to act as Sir John’s second refused to bind himself for + his principal, declaring that unless Sir John ordered it he would refuse + to be a party to such a murder. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t excite yourself, dear friend,” said Roland, “I know Sir John, and I + think he will be more accommodating than you.” + </p> + <p> + The seconds returned to Sir John; they found him at his English breakfast + of beefsteak, potatoes and tea. On seeing them he rose, invited them to + share his repast, and, on their refusing, placed himself at their + disposal. They began by assuring him that he could count upon one of them + to act as his second. The one acting for Roland announced the conditions. + At each stipulation Sir John bowed his head in token of assent and merely + replied: “Very good!” + </p> + <p> + The one who had taken charge of his interests attempted to make some + objections to a form of combat that, unless something impossible to + foresee occurred, must end in the death of both parties; but Lord Tanlay + begged him to make no objections. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Montrevel is a gallant man,” he said; “I do not wish to thwart him + in anything; whatever he does is right.” + </p> + <p> + It only remained to settle the hour and the place of meeting. On these + points Sir John again placed himself at Roland’s disposal. The two seconds + left even more delighted with him after this interview than they had been + after the first. Roland was waiting for them and listened to what had + taken place. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + They requested him to name the time and place. He selected seven o’clock + in the evening in the Allée de la Muette. At that hour the Bois was almost + deserted, but the light was still good enough (it will be remembered that + this was in the month of June) for the two adversaries to fight with any + weapon. + </p> + <p> + No one had spoken of the pistols. The young men proposed to get them at an + armorer’s. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Roland, “Sir John has an excellent pair of duelling pistols + which I have already used. If he is not unwilling to fight with those + pistols I should prefer them to all others.” + </p> + <p> + The young man who was now acting as Sir John’s second went to him with the + three following questions: Whether the time and place suited him, and + whether he would allow his pistols to be used. + </p> + <p> + Lord Tanlay replied by regulating his watch by that of his second and by + handing him the box of pistols. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I call for you, my lord?” asked the young man. + </p> + <p> + Sir John smiled sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Needless,” he replied; “you are M. de Montrevel’s friend, and you will + find the drive pleasanter with him than with me. I will go on horseback + with my servant. You will find me on the ground.” + </p> + <p> + The young officer carried this reply to Roland. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” observed Roland again. + </p> + <p> + It was then mid-day, there were still seven hours before them, and Roland + dismissed his friends to their various pleasures and occupations. At + half-past six precisely they were to be at his door with three horses and + two servants. It was necessary, in order to avoid interference, that the + trip should appear to be nothing more than an ordinary promenade. + </p> + <p> + At half-past six precisely the waiter informed Roland that his friends + were in the courtyard. Roland greeted them cordially and sprang into his + saddle. The party followed the boulevards as far as the Place Louis XV. + and then turned up the Champs Elysées. On the way the strange phenomenon + that had so much astonished Sir John at the time of Roland’s duel with M. + de Barjols recurred. Roland’s gayety might have been thought an + affectation had it not been so evidently genuine. The two young men acting + as seconds were of undoubted courage, but even they were bewildered by + such utter indifference. They might have understood it had this affair + been an ordinary duel, for coolness and dexterity insure their possessor a + great advantage over his adversary; but in a combat like this to which + they were going neither coolness nor dexterity would avail to save the + combatants, if not from death at least from some terrible wound. + </p> + <p> + Furthermore, Roland urged on his horse like a man in haste, so that they + reached the end of the Allée de la Muette five minutes before the + appointed time. + </p> + <p> + A man was walking in the allée. Roland recognized Sir John. The seconds + watched the young man’s face as he caught sight of his adversary. To their + great astonishment it expressed only tender good-will. + </p> + <p> + A few more steps and the four principal actors in the scene that was about + to take place met. + </p> + <p> + Sir John was perfectly calm, but his face wore a look of profound sadness. + It was evident that this meeting grieved him as deeply as it seemed to + rejoice Roland. + </p> + <p> + The party dismounted. One of the seconds took the box of pistols from the + servants and ordered them to lead away the horses, and not to return until + they heard pistol-shots. The principals then entered the part of the woods + that seemed the thickest, and looked about them for a suitable spot. For + the rest, as Roland had foreseen, the Bois was deserted; the approach of + the dinner hour had called every one home. + </p> + <p> + They found a small open spot exactly suited to their needs. The seconds + looked at Roland and Sir John. They both nodded their heads in approval. + </p> + <p> + “Is there to be any change?” one of the seconds asked Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “Ask M. de Montrevel,” replied Lord Tanlay; “I am entirely at his + disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Roland. + </p> + <p> + The seconds took the pistols from the box and loaded them. Sir John stood + apart, switching the heads of the tall grasses with his riding-whip. + </p> + <p> + Roland watched him hesitatingly for a moment, then taking his resolve, he + walked resolutely toward him. Sir John raised his head and looked at him + with apparent hope. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Roland, “I may have certain grievances against you, but I + know you to be, none the less, a man of your word.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” replied Sir John. + </p> + <p> + “If you survive me will you keep the promise that you made me at Avignon?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no possibility that I shall survive you, but so long as I have + any breath left in my body, you can count upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “I refer to the final disposition to be made of my body.” + </p> + <p> + “The same, I presume, as at Avignon?” + </p> + <p> + “The same, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, you may set your mind at rest.” + </p> + <p> + Roland bowed to Sir John and returned to his friends. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any wishes in case the affair terminates fatally?” asked one of + them. + </p> + <p> + “One only.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That you permit Sir John to take entire charge of the funeral + arrangements. For the rest, I have a note in my left hand for him. In case + I have not time to speak after the affair is over, you are to open my hand + and give him the note.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “The pistols are loaded, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, inform Sir John.” + </p> + <p> + One of the seconds approached Sir John. The other measured off five paces. + Roland saw that the distance was greater than he had supposed. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” he said, “I said three paces.” + </p> + <p> + “Five,” replied the officer who was measuring the distance. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, dear friend, you are wrong.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Sir John and to the other second questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “Three paces will do very well,” replied Sir John, bowing. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to be said if the two adversaries were agreed. The five + paces were reduced to three. Then two sabres were laid on the ground to + mark the limit. Sir John and Roland took their places, standing so that + their toes touched the sabres. A pistol was then handed to each of them. + </p> + <p> + They bowed to say that they were ready. The two seconds stepped aside. + They were to give the signal by clapping their hands three times. At the + first clap the principals were to cock their pistols; at the second to + take aim; at the third to fire. + </p> + <p> + The three claps were given at regular intervals amid the most profound + silence; the wind itself seemed to pause and the rustle of the trees was + hushed. The principals were calm, but the seconds were visibly distressed. + </p> + <p> + At the third clap two shots rang out so simultaneously that they seemed + but one. But to the utter astonishment of the seconds the combatants + remained standing. At the signal Roland had lowered his pistol and fired + into the ground. Sir John had raised his and cut the branch of a tree + three feet behind Roland. Each was clearly amazed—amazed that he + himself was still living, after having spared his antagonist. + </p> + <p> + Roland was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he cried, “my sister was right in saying that you were the most + generous man on earth.” + </p> + <p> + And throwing his pistol aside he opened his arms to Sir John, who rushed + into them. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I understand,” he said. “You wanted to die; but, God be thanked, I am + not your murderer.” + </p> + <p> + The two seconds came up. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” they asked together. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Roland, “except that I could not die by the hand of the + man I love best on earth. You saw for yourselves that he preferred to die + rather than kill me.” + </p> + <p> + Then throwing himself once more into Sir John’s arms, and grasping the + hands of his two friends, he said: “I see that I must leave that to the + Austrians. And now, gentlemen, you must excuse me. The First Consul is on + the eve of a great battle in Italy, and I have not a moment to lose if I + am to be there.” + </p> + <p> + Leaving Sir John to make what explanations he thought suitable to the + seconds, Roland rushed to the road, sprang upon his horse, and returned to + Paris at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVI. CONCLUSION + </h2> + <p> + In the meantime the French army continued its march, and on the 5th of + June it entered Milan. + </p> + <p> + There was little resistance. The fort of Milan was invested. Murat, sent + to Piacenza, had taken the city without a blow. Lannes had defeated + General Ott at Montebello. Thus disposed, the French army was in the rear + of the Austrians before the latter were aware of it. + </p> + <p> + During the night of the 8th of June a courier arrived from Murat, who, as + we have said, was occupying Piacenza. Murat had intercepted a despatch + from General Melas, and was now sending it to Bonaparte. This despatch + announced the capitulation of Genoa; Masséna, after eating horses, dogs, + cats and rats, had been forced to surrender. Melas spoke of the Army of + the Reserves with the utmost contempt; he declared that the story of + Bonaparte’s presence in Italy was a hoax; and asserted that he knew for + certain that the First Consul was in Paris. + </p> + <p> + Here was news that must instantly be imparted to Bonaparte, for it came + under the category of bad news. Consequently, Bourrienne woke him up at + three o’clock in the morning and translated the despatch. Bonaparte’s + first words were as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Bourrienne, you don’t understand German.” + </p> + <p> + But Bourrienne repeated the translation word for word. After this reading + the general rose, had everybody waked up, gave his orders, and then went + back to bed and to sleep. + </p> + <p> + That same day he left Milan and established his headquarters at Stradella; + there he remained until June 12th, left on the 13th, and marched to the + Scrivia through Montebello, where he saw the field of-battle, still torn + and bleeding after Lannes’ victory. The traces of death were everywhere; + the church was still overflowing with the dead and wounded. + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” said the First Consul to the victor, “you must have made it + pretty hot here.” + </p> + <p> + “So hot, general, that the bones in my division were cracking and rattling + like hail on a skylight.” + </p> + <p> + Desaix joined the First Consul on the 11th of June, while he was still at + Stradella. Released by the capitulation of El-Arish, he had reached Toulon + the 6th of May, the very day on which Bonaparte left Paris. At the foot of + the Mont Saint-Bernard Bonaparte received a letter from him, asking + whether he should march to Paris or rejoin the army. + </p> + <p> + “Start for Paris, indeed!” exclaimed Bonaparte; “write him to rejoin the + army at headquarters, wherever that may be.” + </p> + <p> + Bourrienne had written, and, as we have seen, Desaix joined the army the + 11th of June, at Stradella. The First Consul received him with twofold + joy. In the first place, he regained a man without ambition, an + intelligent officer and a devoted friend. In the second place, Desaix + arrived just in the nick of time to take charge of the division lately + under Boudet, who had been killed. Through a false report, received + through General Gardannes, the First Consul was led to believe that the + enemy refused to give battle and was retiring to Genoa. He sent Desaix and + his division on the road to Novi to cut them off. + </p> + <p> + The night of the 13th passed tranquilly. In spite of a heavy storm, an + engagement had taken place the preceding evening in which the Austrians + had been defeated. It seemed as though men and nature were wearied alike, + for all was still during the night. Bonaparte was easy in his mind; there + was but one bridge over the Bormida, and he had been assured that that was + down. Pickets were stationed as far as possible along the Bormida, each + with four scouts. + </p> + <p> + The whole of the night was occupied by the enemy in crossing the river. At + two in the morning two parties of scouts were captured; seven of the eight + men were killed, the eighth made his way back to camp crying: “To arms!” + </p> + <p> + A courier was instantly despatched to the First Consul, who was sleeping + at Torre di Galifo. Meanwhile, till orders could be received, the drums + beat to arms all along the line. A man must have shared in such a scene to + understand the effect produced on a sleeping army by the roll of drums + calling to arms at three in the morning. The bravest shuddered. The troops + were sleeping in their clothes; every man sprang up, ran to the stacked + arms, and seized his weapons. + </p> + <p> + The lines formed on the vast plains of Marengo. The noise of the drums + swept on like a train of lighted powder. In the dim half-light the hasty + movements of the pickets could be seen. When the day broke, the French + troops were stationed as follows: + </p> + <p> + The division Gardannes and the division Chamberlhac, forming the extreme + advance, were encamped around a little country-place called Petra Bona, at + the angle formed by the highroad from Marengo to Tortona, and the Bormida, + which crosses the road on its way to the Tanaro. + </p> + <p> + The corps of General Lannes was before the village of San Giuliano, the + place which Bonaparte had pointed out to Roland three months earlier, + telling him that on that spot the fate of the campaign would be decided. + </p> + <p> + The Consular guard was stationed some five hundred yards or so in the rear + of Lannes. + </p> + <p> + The cavalry brigade, under General Kellermann, and a few squadrons of + chasseurs and hussars, forming the left, filled up, along the advanced + line, the gap between the divisions of Gardannes and Chamberlhac. + </p> + <p> + A second brigade, under General Champeaux, filled up the gap on the right + between General Lannes’ cavalry. + </p> + <p> + And finally the twelfth regiment of hussars, and the twenty-first + chasseurs, detached by Murat under the orders of General Rivaud, occupied + the opening of the Valley of Salo and the extreme right of the position. + </p> + <p> + These forces amounted to about twenty-five or six thousand men, not + counting the divisions Monnet and Boudet, ten thousand men in all, + commanded by Desaix, and now, as we have said, detached from the main army + to cut off the retreat of the enemy to Genoa. Only, instead of making that + retreat, the enemy were now attacking. + </p> + <p> + During the day of the 13th of June, General Melas, commander-in-chief of + the Austrian army, having succeeded in reuniting the troops of Generals + Haddich, Kaim and Ott, crossed the Tanaro, and was now encamped before + Alessandria with thirty-six thousand infantry, seven thousand cavalry, and + a numerous well-served and well-horsed artillery. + </p> + <p> + At four o’clock in the morning the firing began and General Victor + assigned all to their line of battle. At five Bonaparte was awakened by + the sound of cannon. While he was dressing, General Victor’s aide-de-camp + rode up to tell him that the enemy had crossed the Bormida and was + attacking all along the line of battle. + </p> + <p> + The First Consul called for his horse, and, springing upon it, galloped + off toward the spot where the fighting was going on. From the summit of + the hill he could overlook the position of both armies. + </p> + <p> + The enemy was formed in three columns; that on the left, comprising all + the cavalry and light infantry, was moving toward Castel-Ceriolo by the + Salo road, while the columns of the right and centre, resting upon each + other and comprising the infantry regiments under Generals Haddich, Kaim + and O’Reilly, and the reserve of grenadiers under command of General Ott, + were advancing along the Tortona road and up the Bormida. + </p> + <p> + The moment they crossed the river the latter columns came in contact with + the troops of General Gardannes, posted, as we have said, at the farmhouse + and the ravine of Petra Bona. It was the noise of the artillery advancing + in this direction that had brought Bonaparte to the scene of battle. He + arrived just as Gardannes’ division, crushed under the fire of that + artillery, was beginning to fall back, and General Victor was sending + forward Chamberlhac’s division to its support. Protected by this move, + Gardannes’ troops retreated in good order, and covered the village of + Marengo. + </p> + <p> + The situation was critical; all the plans of the commander-in-chief were + overthrown. Instead of attacking, as was his wont, with troops judiciously + massed, he was attacked himself before he could concentrate his forces. + The Austrians, profiting by the sweep of land that lay before them, ceased + to march in columns, and deployed in lines parallel to those of Gardannes + and Chamberlhac—with this difference, that they were two to the + French army’s one. The first of these lines was commanded by General + Haddich, the second by General Melas, the third by General Ott. + </p> + <p> + At a short distance from the Bormida flows a stream called the Fontanone, + which passes through a deep ravine forming a semicircle round the village + of Marengo, and protecting it. General Victor had already divined the + advantages to be derived from this natural intrenchment, and he used it to + rally the divisions of Gardannes and Chamberlhac. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte, approving Victor’s arrangements, sent him word to defend + Marengo to the very last extremity. He himself needed time to prepare his + game on this great chess-board inclosed between the Bormida, the + Fontanone, and Marengo. + </p> + <p> + His first step was to recall Desaix, then marching, as we have said, to + cut the retreat to Genoa. General Bonaparte sent off two or three + aides-de-camp with orders not to stop until they had reached that corps. + Then he waited, seeing clearly that there was nothing to do but to fall + back in as orderly a manner as possible, until he could gather a compact + mass that would enable him, not only to stop the retrograde movement, but + to assume the offensive. + </p> + <p> + But this waiting was horrible. + </p> + <p> + Presently the action was renewed along the whole line. The Austrians had + reached one bank of the Fontanone, of which the French occupied the other. + Each was firing on the other from either side of the ravine; grape-shot + flew from side to side within pistol range. Protected by its terrible + artillery, the enemy had only to extend himself a little more to overwhelm + Bonaparte’s forces. General Rivaud, of Gardannes’ division, saw the + Austrians preparing for this manoeuvre. He marched out from Marengo, and + placed a battalion in the open with orders to die there rather than + retreat, then, while that battalion drew the enemy’s fire, he formed his + cavalry in column, came round the flank of the battalion, fell upon three + thousand Austrians advancing to the charge, repulsed them, threw them into + disorder, and, all wounded as he was by a splintered ball, forced them + back behind their own lines. After that he took up a position to the right + of the battalion, which had not retreated a step. + </p> + <p> + But during this time Gardannes’ division, which had been struggling with + the enemy from early morning, was driven back upon Marengo, followed by + the first Austrian line, which forced Chamberlhac’s division to retreat in + like manner. There an aide-de-camp sent by Bonaparte ordered the two + divisions to rally and retake Marengo at any cost. + </p> + <p> + General Victor reformed them, put himself at their head, forced his way + through the streets, which the Austrians had not had time to barricade, + retook the village, lost it again, took it a third time, and then, + overwhelmed by numbers, lost it for the third time. + </p> + <p> + It was then eleven o’clock. Desaix, overtaken by Bonaparte’s aide-de-camp, + ought at that hour to be on his way to the battle. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Lannes with his two divisions came to the help of his + struggling comrades. This reinforcement enabled Gardannes and Chamberlhac + to reform their lines parallel to the enemy, who had now debouched, + through Marengo, to the right and also to the left of the village. + </p> + <p> + The Austrians were on the point of overwhelming the French. + </p> + <p> + Lannes, forming his centre with the divisions rallied by Victor, deployed + with his two least exhausted divisions for the purpose of opposing them to + the Austrian wings. The two corps—the one excited by the prospect of + victory, the other refreshed by a long rest—flung themselves with + fury into the fight, which was now renewed along the whole line. + </p> + <p> + After struggling an hour, hand to hand, bayonet to bayonet, General Kaim’s + corps fell back; General Champeaux, at the head of the first and eighth + regiments of dragoons, charged upon him, increasing his disorder. General + Watrin, with the sixth light infantry and the twenty-second and fortieth + of the line, started in pursuit and drove him nearly a thousand rods + beyond the rivulet. But this movement separated the French from their own + corps; the centre divisions were endangered by the victory on the right, + and Generals Watrin and Champeaux were forced to fall back to the lines + they had left uncovered. + </p> + <p> + At the same time Kellermann was doing on the left wing what Champeaux and + Watrin had done on the right. Two cavalry charges made an opening through + the enemy’s line; but behind that first line was a second. Not daring to + go further forward, because of superior numbers, Kellermann lost the + fruits of that momentary victory. + </p> + <p> + It was now noon. The French army, which undulated like a flaming serpent + along a front of some three miles, was broken in the centre. The centre, + retreating, abandoned the wings. The wings were therefore forced to follow + the retrograde movement. Kellermann to the left, Watrin to the right, had + given their men the order to fall back. The retreat was made in squares, + under the fire of eighty pieces of artillery which preceded the main body + of the Austrian army. The French ranks shrank visibly; men were borne to + the ambulances by men who did not return. + </p> + <p> + One division retreated through a field of ripe wheat; a shell burst and + fired the straw, and two or three thousand men were caught in the midst of + a terrible conflagration; cartridge-boxes exploded, and fearful disorder + reigned in the ranks. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Bonaparte sent forward the Consular guard. + </p> + <p> + Up they went at a charge, deployed in line of battle, and stopped the + enemy’s advance. Meantime the mounted grenadiers dashed forward at a + gallop and overthrew the Austrian cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the division which had escaped from the conflagration received + fresh cartridges and reformed in line. But this movement had no other + result than to prevent the retreat from becoming a rout. + </p> + <p> + It was two o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte watched the battle, sitting on the bank of a ditch beside the + highroad to Alessandria. He was alone. His left arm was slipped through + his horse’s bridle; with the other he flicked the pebbles in the road with + the tip of his riding-whip. Cannon-balls were plowing the earth about him. + He seemed indifferent to this great drama on which hung all his hopes. + Never had he played so desperate a game—six years of victory against + the crown of France! + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he roused from his revery. Amid the dreadful roar of cannon and + musketry his ear caught the hoof-beats of a galloping horse. He raised his + head. A rider, dashing along at full speed, his horse covered with white + froth, came from the direction of Novi. When he was within fifty feet, + Bonaparte gave one cry: + </p> + <p> + “Roland!” + </p> + <p> + The latter dashed on, crying: “Desaix! Desaix! Desaix!” + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte opened his arms; Roland sprang from his horse, and flung himself + upon the First Consul’s neck. + </p> + <p> + There was a double joy for Bonaparte in this arrival—that of again + seeing a man whom he knew would be devoted to him unto death, and because + of the news he brought. + </p> + <p> + “And Desaix?” he questioned. + </p> + <p> + “Is within three miles; one of your aides met him retracing his steps + toward the cannon.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Bonaparte, “he may yet come in time.” + </p> + <p> + “How? In time?” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” + </p> + <p> + Roland glanced at the battlefield and grasped the situation in an instant. + </p> + <p> + During the few moments that had elapsed while they were conversing, + matters had gone from bad to worse. The first Austrian column, the one + which had marched on Castel-Ceriolo and had not yet been engaged, was + about to fall on the right of the French army. If it broke the line the + retreat would be flight—Desaix would come too late. + </p> + <p> + “Take my last two regiments of grenadiers,” said Bonaparte. “Rally the + Consular guard, and carry it with you to the extreme right—you + understand? in a square, Roland!—and stop that column like a stone + redoubt.” + </p> + <p> + There was not an instant to lose. Roland sprang upon his horse, took the + two regiments of grenadiers, rallied the Consular guard, and dashed to the + right. When he was within fifty feet of General Elsnitz’s column, he + called out: “In square! The First Consul is looking at us!” + </p> + <p> + The square formed. Each man seemed to take root in his place. + </p> + <p> + General Elsnitz, instead of continuing his way in the movement to support + Generals Melas and Kaim—instead of despising the nine hundred men + who present no cause for fear in the rear of a victorious army—General + Elsnitz paused and turned upon them with fury. + </p> + <p> + Those nine hundred men were indeed the stone redoubt that General + Bonaparte had ordered them to be. Artillery, musketry, bayonets, all were + turned upon them, but they yielded not an inch. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte was watching them with admiration, when, turning in the + direction of Novi, he caught the gleam of Desaix’s bayonets. Standing on a + knoll raised above the plain, he could see what was invisible to the + enemy. + </p> + <p> + He signed to a group of officers who were near him, awaiting orders; + behind stood orderlies holding their horses. The officers advanced. + Bonaparte pointed to the forest of bayonets, now glistening in the + sunlight, and said to one of the officers: “Gallop to those bayonets and + tell them to hasten. As for Desaix, tell him I am waiting for him here.” + </p> + <p> + The officer galloped off. Bonaparte again turned his eyes to the + battlefield. The retreat continued; but Roland and his nine hundred had + stopped General Elsnitz and his column. The stone redoubt was transformed + into a volcano; it was belching fire from all four sides. Then Bonaparte, + addressing three officers, cried out: “One of you to the centre; the other + two to the wings! Say everywhere that the reserves are at hand, and that + we resume the offensive.” + </p> + <p> + The three officers departed like arrows shot from a bow, their ways + parting in direct lines to their different destinations. Bonaparte watched + them for a few moments, and when he turned round he saw a rider in a + general’s uniform approaching. + </p> + <p> + It was Desaix—Desaix, whom he had left in Egypt, and who that very + morning had said, laughing: “The bullets of Europe don’t recognize me; + some ill-luck is surely impending over me.” + </p> + <p> + One grasp of the hand was all that these two friends needed to reveal + their hearts. + </p> + <p> + Then Bonaparte stretched out his arm toward the battlefield. + </p> + <p> + A single glance told more than all the words in the world. + </p> + <p> + Twenty thousand men had gone into the fight that morning, and now scarcely + more than ten thousand were left within a radius of six miles—only + nine thousand infantry, one thousand cavalry, and ten cannon still in + condition for use. One quarter of the army was either dead or wounded, + another quarter was employed in removing the wounded; for the First Consul + would not suffer them to be abandoned. All of these forces, save and + excepting Roland and his nine hundred men, were retreating. + </p> + <p> + The vast space between the Bormida and the ground over which the army was + now retreating was covered with the dead bodies of men and horses, + dismounted cannon and shattered ammunition wagons. Here and there rose + columns of flame and smoke from the burning fields of grain. + </p> + <p> + Desaix took in these details at a glance. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of the battle?” asked Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + “I think that this one is lost,” answered Desaix; “but as it is only three + o’clock in the afternoon, we have time to gain another.” + </p> + <p> + “Only,” said a voice, “we need cannon!” + </p> + <p> + This voice belonged to Marmont, commanding the artillery. + </p> + <p> + “True, Marmont; but where are we to get them?” + </p> + <p> + “I have five pieces still intact from the battlefield; we left five more + at Scrivia, which are just coming up.” + </p> + <p> + “And the eight pieces I have with me,” said Desaix. + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen pieces!” said Marmont; “that is all I need.” An aide-de-camp was + sent to hasten the arrival of Desaix’s guns. His troops were advancing + rapidly, and were scarcely half a mile from the field of battle. Their + line of approach seemed formed for the purpose at hand; on the left of the + road was a gigantic perpendicular hedge protected by a bank. The infantry + was made to file in a narrow line along it, and it even hid the cavalry + from view. + </p> + <p> + During this time Marmont had collected his guns and stationed them in + battery on the right front of the army. Suddenly they burst forth, + vomiting a deluge of grapeshot and canister upon the Austrians. For an + instant the enemy wavered. + </p> + <p> + Bonaparte profited by that instant of hesitation to send forward the whole + front of the French army. + </p> + <p> + “Comrades!” he cried, “we have made steps enough backward; remember, it is + my custom to sleep on the battlefield!” + </p> + <p> + At the same moment, and as if in reply to Marmont’s cannonade, volleys of + musketry burst forth to the left, taking the Austrians in flank. It was + Desaix and his division, come down upon them at short range and enfilading + the enemy with the fire of his guns. + </p> + <p> + The whole army knew that this was the reserve, and that it behooved them + to aid this reserve by a supreme effort. + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” rang from right to left. The drums beat the charge. The + Austrians, who had not seen the reserves, and were marching with their + guns on their shoulders, as if at parade, felt that something strange was + happening within the French lines; they struggled to retain the victory + they now felt to be slipping from their grasp. + </p> + <p> + But everywhere the French army had resumed the offensive. On all sides the + ominous roll of the charge and the victorious Marseillaise were heard + above the din. Marmont’s battery belched fire; Kellermann dashed forward + with his cuirassiers and cut his way through both lines of the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Desaix jumped ditches, leaped hedges, and, reaching a little eminence, + turned to see if his division were still following him. There he fell; but + his death, instead of diminishing the ardor of his men, redoubled it, and + they charged with their bayonets upon the column of General Zach. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Kellermann, who had broken through both of the enemy’s + lines, saw Desaix’s division struggling with a compact, immovable mass. He + charged in flank, forced his way into a gap, widened it, broke the square, + quartered it, and in less than fifteen minutes the five thousand Austrian + grenadiers who formed the mass were overthrown, dispersed, crushed, + annihilated. They disappeared like smoke. General Zach and his staff, all + that was left, were taken prisoners. + </p> + <p> + Then, in turn, the enemy endeavored to make use of his immense cavalry + corps; but the incessant volleys of musketry, the blasting canister, the + terrible bayonets, stopped short the charge. Murat was manoeuvring on the + flank with two light-battery guns and a howitzer, which dealt death to the + foe. + </p> + <p> + He paused for an instant to succor Roland and his nine hundred men. A + shell from the howitzer fell and burst in the Austrian ranks; it opened a + gulf of flame. Roland sprang into it, a pistol in one hand, his sword in + the other. The whole Consular guard followed him, opening the enemy’s + ranks as a wedge opens the trunk of an oak. Onward he dashed, till he + reached an ammunition wagon surrounded by the enemy; then, without pausing + an instant, he thrust the hand holding the pistol through the opening of + the wagon and fired. A frightful explosion followed, a volcano had burst + its crater and annihilated those around it. + </p> + <p> + General Elsnitz’s corps was in full flight; the rest of the Austrian army + swayed, retreated, and broke. The generals tried in vain to stop the + torrent and form up for a retreat. In thirty minutes the French army had + crossed the plain it had defended foot by foot for eight hours. + </p> + <p> + The enemy did not stop until Marengo was reached. There they made a vain + attempt to reform under fire of the artillery of Carra-Saint-Cyr + (forgotten at Castel-Ceriolo, and not recovered until the day was over); + but the Desaix, Gardannes, and Chamberlhac divisions, coming up at a run, + pursued the flying Austrians through the streets. + </p> + <p> + Marengo was carried. The enemy retired on Petra Bona, and that too was + taken. Then the Austrians rushed toward the bridge of the Bormida; but + Carra-Saint-Cyr was there before them. The flying multitudes sought the + fords, or plunged into the Bormida under a devastating fire, which did not + slacken before ten that night. + </p> + <p> + The remains of the Austrian army regained their camp at Alessandria. The + French army bivouacked near the bridge. The day had cost the Austrian army + four thousand five hundred men killed, six thousand wounded, five thousand + prisoners, besides twelve flags and thirty cannon. + </p> + <p> + Never did fortune show herself under two such opposite aspects as on that + day. At two in the afternoon, the day spelt defeat and its disastrous + consequences to Bonaparte; at five, it was Italy reconquered and the + throne of France in prospect. + </p> + <p> + That night the First Consul wrote the following letter to Madame de + Montrevel: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MADAME—I have to-day won my greatest victory; but + it has cost me the two halves of my heart, Desaix and + Roland. + + Do not grieve, madame; your son did not care to live, + and he could not have died more gloriously. + + BONAPARTE. +</pre> + <p> + Many futile efforts were made to recover the body of the young + aide-de-camp: like Romulus, he had vanished in a whirlwind. + </p> + <p> + None ever knew why he had pursued death with such eager longing. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Companions of Jehu, by Alexandre Dumas, père + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU *** + +***** This file should be named 7079-h.htm or 7079-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/0/7/7079/ + +Produced by Robert J. 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