diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/1947-h.htm.2019-03-09')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/1947-h.htm.2019-03-09 | 18397 |
1 files changed, 18397 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/1947-h.htm.2019-03-09 b/old/1947-h.htm.2019-03-09 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c9ec3b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1947-h.htm.2019-03-09 @@ -0,0 +1,18397 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Scaramouche, by Rafael Sabatini + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Scaramouche, by Rafael Sabatini + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Scaramouche + A Romance of the French Revolution + +Author: Rafael Sabatini + +Release Date: November, 1999 [Etext #1947] +Last Updated: March 9, 2019 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCARAMOUCHE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + SCARAMOUCHE + </h1> + <h2> + A ROMANCE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rafael Sabatini + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>SCARAMOUCHE</b></big> </a><br /><br /> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>BOOK I.</b> </a> <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE REPUBLICAN <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE ARISTOCRAT + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + ELOQUENCE OF M. DE VILMORIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER + IV. </a> THE HERITAGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> + CHAPTER V. </a> THE LORD OF GAVRILLAC <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE WINDMILL <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE WIND <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> OMNES OMNIBUS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE + AFTERMATH <br /><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> <b>BOOK II.</b> </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE + TRESPASSERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + SERVICE OF THESPIS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + COMIC MUSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER IV. </a> EXIT + MONSIEUR PARVISSIMUS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER V. </a> ENTER + SCARAMOUCHE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER VI. </a> CLIMENE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE + CONQUEST OF NANTES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER VIII. + </a> THE DREAM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER + IX. </a> THE AWAKENING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> + CHAPTER X. </a> CONTRITION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> + CHAPTER XI. </a> THE FRACAS AT THE THEATRE FEYDAU <br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> <b>BOOK III.</b> </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER I. </a> TRANSITION + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER II. </a> QUOS + DEUS VULT PERDERE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER III. </a> PRESIDENT + LE CHAPELIER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER IV. </a> AT + MEUDON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER V. </a> MADAME + DE PLOUGASTEL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER VI. </a> POLITICIANS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE + SPADASSINICIDES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE + PALADIN OF THE THIRD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER IX. + </a> TORN PRIDE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER + X. </a> THE RETURNING CARRIAGE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XI. </a> INFERENCES <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE OVERWHELMING + REASON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> SANCTUARY + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE + BARRIER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XV. </a> SAFE-CONDUCT + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> SUNRISE + <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + SCARAMOUCHE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I: THE ROBE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE REPUBLICAN + </h2> + <p> + He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. + And that was all his patrimony. His very paternity was obscure, although + the village of Gavrillac had long since dispelled the cloud of mystery + that hung about it. Those simple Brittany folk were not so simple as to be + deceived by a pretended relationship which did not even possess the virtue + of originality. When a nobleman, for no apparent reason, announces himself + the godfather of an infant fetched no man knew whence, and thereafter + cares for the lad’s rearing and education, the most unsophisticated of + country folk perfectly understand the situation. And so the good people of + Gavrillac permitted themselves no illusions on the score of the real + relationship between Andre-Louis Moreau—as the lad had been named—and + Quintin de Kercadiou, Lord of Gavrillac, who dwelt in the big grey house + that dominated from its eminence the village clustering below. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis had learnt his letters at the village school, lodged the while + with old Rabouillet, the attorney, who in the capacity of fiscal + intendant, looked after the affairs of M. de Kercadiou. Thereafter, at the + age of fifteen, he had been packed off to Paris, to the Lycee of Louis Le + Grand, to study the law which he was now returned to practise in + conjunction with Rabouillet. All this at the charges of his godfather, M. + de Kercadiou, who by placing him once more under the tutelage of + Rabouillet would seem thereby quite clearly to be making provision for his + future. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, on his side, had made the most of his opportunities. You + behold him at the age of four-and-twenty stuffed with learning enough to + produce an intellectual indigestion in an ordinary mind. Out of his + zestful study of Man, from Thucydides to the Encyclopaedists, from Seneca + to Rousseau, he had confirmed into an unassailable conviction his earliest + conscious impressions of the general insanity of his own species. Nor can + I discover that anything in his eventful life ever afterwards caused him + to waver in that opinion. + </p> + <p> + In body he was a slight wisp of a fellow, scarcely above middle height, + with a lean, astute countenance, prominent of nose and cheek-bones, and + with lank, black hair that reached almost to his shoulders. His mouth was + long, thin-lipped, and humorous. He was only just redeemed from ugliness + by the splendour of a pair of ever-questing, luminous eyes, so dark as to + be almost black. Of the whimsical quality of his mind and his rare gift of + graceful expression, his writings—unfortunately but too scanty—and + particularly his Confessions, afford us very ample evidence. Of his gift + of oratory he was hardly conscious yet, although he had already achieved a + certain fame for it in the Literary Chamber of Rennes—one of those + clubs by now ubiquitous in the land, in which the intellectual youth of + France foregathered to study and discuss the new philosophies that were + permeating social life. But the fame he had acquired there was hardly + enviable. He was too impish, too caustic, too much disposed—so + thought his colleagues—to ridicule their sublime theories for the + regeneration of mankind. Himself he protested that he merely held them up + to the mirror of truth, and that it was not his fault if when reflected + there they looked ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + All that he achieved by this was to exasperate; and his expulsion from a + society grown mistrustful of him must already have followed but for his + friend, Philippe de Vilmorin, a divinity student of Rennes, who, himself, + was one of the most popular members of the Literary Chamber. + </p> + <p> + Coming to Gavrillac on a November morning, laden with news of the + political storms which were then gathering over France, Philippe found in + that sleepy Breton village matter to quicken his already lively + indignation. A peasant of Gavrillac, named Mabey, had been shot dead that + morning in the woods of Meupont, across the river, by a gamekeeper of the + Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr. The unfortunate fellow had been caught in the + act of taking a pheasant from a snare, and the gamekeeper had acted under + explicit orders from his master. + </p> + <p> + Infuriated by an act of tyranny so absolute and merciless, M. de Vilmorin + proposed to lay the matter before M. de Kercadiou. Mabey was a vassal of + Gavrillac, and Vilmorin hoped to move the Lord of Gavrillac to demand at + least some measure of reparation for the widow and the three orphans which + that brutal deed had made. + </p> + <p> + But because Andre-Louis was Philippe’s dearest friend—indeed, his + almost brother—the young seminarist sought him out in the first + instance. He found him at breakfast alone in the long, low-ceilinged, + white-panelled dining-room at Rabouillet’s—the only home that + Andre-Louis had ever known—and after embracing him, deafened him + with his denunciation of M. de La Tour d’Azyr. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard of it already,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “You speak as if the thing had not surprised you,” his friend reproached + him. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing beastly can surprise me when done by a beast. And La Tour d’Azyr + is a beast, as all the world knows. The more fool Mabey for stealing his + pheasants. He should have stolen somebody else’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all you have to say about it?” + </p> + <p> + “What more is there to say? I’ve a practical mind, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “What more there is to say I propose to say to your godfather, M. de + Kercadiou. I shall appeal to him for justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Against M. de La Tour d’Azyr?” Andre-Louis raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear ingenuous Philippe, dog doesn’t eat dog.” + </p> + <p> + “You are unjust to your godfather. He is a humane man.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as humane as you please. But this isn’t a question of humanity. It’s + a question of game-laws.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin tossed his long arms to Heaven in disgust. He was a tall, + slender young gentleman, a year or two younger than Andre-Louis. He was + very soberly dressed in black, as became a seminarist, with white bands at + wrists and throat and silver buckles to his shoes. His neatly clubbed + brown hair was innocent of powder. + </p> + <p> + “You talk like a lawyer,” he exploded. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. But don’t waste anger on me on that account. Tell me what you + want me to do.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to come to M. de Kercadiou with me, and to use your influence + to obtain justice. I suppose I am asking too much.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Philippe, I exist to serve you. I warn you that it is a futile + quest; but give me leave to finish my breakfast, and I am at your orders.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin dropped into a winged armchair by the well-swept hearth, on + which a piled-up fire of pine logs was burning cheerily. And whilst he + waited now he gave his friend the latest news of the events in Rennes. + Young, ardent, enthusiastic, and inspired by Utopian ideals, he + passionately denounced the rebellious attitude of the privileged. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, already fully aware of the trend of feeling in the ranks of + an order in whose deliberations he took part as the representative of a + nobleman, was not at all surprised by what he heard. M. de Vilmorin found + it exasperating that his friend should apparently decline to share his own + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see what it means?” he cried. “The nobles, by disobeying the + King, are striking at the very foundations of the throne. Don’t they + perceive that their very existence depends upon it; that if the throne + falls over, it is they who stand nearest to it who will be crushed? Don’t + they see that?” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently not. They are just governing classes, and I never heard of + governing classes that had eyes for anything but their own profit.” + </p> + <p> + “That is our grievance. That is what we are going to change.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to abolish governing classes? An interesting experiment. I + believe it was the original plan of creation, and it might have succeeded + but for Cain.” + </p> + <p> + “What we are going to do,” said M. de Vilmorin, curbing his exasperation, + “is to transfer the government to other hands.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think that will make a difference?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it will.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I take it that being now in minor orders, you already possess the + confidence of the Almighty. He will have confided to you His intention of + changing the pattern of mankind.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin’s fine ascetic face grew overcast. “You are profane, + Andre,” he reproved his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you that I am quite serious. To do what you imply would require + nothing short of divine intervention. You must change man, not systems. + Can you and our vapouring friends of the Literary Chamber of Rennes, or + any other learned society of France, devise a system of government that + has never yet been tried? Surely not. And can they say of any system tried + that it proved other than a failure in the end? My dear Philippe, the + future is to be read with certainty only in the past. Ab actu ad posse + valet consecutio. Man never changes. He is always greedy, always + acquisitive, always vile. I am speaking of Man in the bulk.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you pretend that it is impossible to ameliorate the lot of the + people?” M. de Vilmorin challenged him. + </p> + <p> + “When you say the people you mean, of course, the populace. Will you + abolish it? That is the only way to ameliorate its lot, for as long as it + remains populace its lot will be damnation.” + </p> + <p> + “You argue, of course, for the side that employs you. That is natural, I + suppose.” M. de Vilmorin spoke between sorrow and indignation. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I seek to argue with absolute detachment. Let us test + these ideas of yours. To what form of government do you aspire? A + republic, it is to be inferred from what you have said. Well, you have it + already. France in reality is a republic to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Philippe stared at him. “You are being paradoxical, I think. What of the + King?” + </p> + <p> + “The King? All the world knows there has been no king in France since + Louis XIV. There is an obese gentleman at Versailles who wears the crown, + but the very news you bring shows for how little he really counts. It is + the nobles and clergy who sit in the high places, with the people of + France harnessed under their feet, who are the real rulers. That is why I + say that France is a republic; she is a republic built on the best pattern—the + Roman pattern. Then, as now, there were great patrician families in + luxury, preserving for themselves power and wealth, and what else is + accounted worth possessing; and there was the populace crushed and + groaning, sweating, bleeding, starving, and perishing in the Roman + kennels. That was a republic; the mightiest we have seen.” + </p> + <p> + Philippe strove with his impatience. “At least you will admit—you + have, in fact, admitted it—that we could not be worse governed than + we are?” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the point. The point is should we be better governed if we + replaced the present ruling class by another? Without some guarantee of + that I should be the last to lift a finger to effect a change. And what + guarantees can you give? What is the class that aims at government? I will + tell you. The bourgeoisie.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “That startles you, eh? Truth is so often disconcerting. You hadn’t + thought of it? Well, think of it now. Look well into this Nantes + manifesto. Who are the authors of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you who it was constrained the municipality of Nantes to send + it to the King. Some ten thousand workmen—shipwrights, weavers, + labourers, and artisans of every kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Stimulated to it, driven to it, by their employers, the wealthy traders + and shipowners of that city,” Andre-Louis replied. “I have a habit of + observing things at close quarters, which is why our colleagues of the + Literary Chamber dislike me so cordially in debate. Where I delve they but + skim. Behind those labourers and artisans of Nantes, counselling them, + urging on these poor, stupid, ignorant toilers to shed their blood in + pursuit of the will o’ the wisp of freedom, are the sail-makers, the + spinners, the ship-owners and the slave-traders. The slave-traders! The + men who live and grow rich by a traffic in human flesh and blood in the + colonies, are conducting at home a campaign in the sacred name of liberty! + Don’t you see that the whole movement is a movement of hucksters and + traders and peddling vassals swollen by wealth into envy of the power that + lies in birth alone? The money-changers in Paris who hold the bonds in the + national debt, seeing the parlous financial condition of the State, + tremble at the thought that it may lie in the power of a single man to + cancel the debt by bankruptcy. To secure themselves they are burrowing + underground to overthrow a state and build upon its ruins a new one in + which they shall be the masters. And to accomplish this they inflame the + people. Already in Dauphiny we have seen blood run like water—the + blood of the populace, always the blood of the populace. Now in Brittany + we may see the like. And if in the end the new ideas prevail? if the + seigneurial rule is overthrown, what then? You will have exchanged an + aristocracy for a plutocracy. Is that worth while? Do you think that + under money-changers and slave-traders and men who have waxed rich in + other ways by the ignoble arts of buying and selling, the lot of the + people will be any better than under their priests and nobles? Has it ever + occurred to you, Philippe, what it is that makes the rule of the nobles so + intolerable? Acquisitiveness. Acquisitiveness is the curse of mankind. And + shall you expect less acquisitiveness in men who have built themselves up + by acquisitiveness? Oh, I am ready to admit that the present government is + execrable, unjust, tyrannical—what you will; but I beg you to look + ahead, and to see that the government for which it is aimed at exchanging + it may be infinitely worse.” + </p> + <p> + Philippe sat thoughtful a moment. Then he returned to the attack. + </p> + <p> + “You do not speak of the abuses, the horrible, intolerable abuses of power + under which we labour at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Where there is power there will always be the abuse of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if the tenure of power is dependent upon its equitable + administration.” + </p> + <p> + “The tenure of power is power. We cannot dictate to those who hold it.” + </p> + <p> + “The people can—the people in its might.” + </p> + <p> + “Again I ask you, when you say the people do you mean the populace? You + do. What power can the populace wield? It can run wild. It can burn and + slay for a time. But enduring power it cannot wield, because power demands + qualities which the populace does not possess, or it would not be + populace. The inevitable, tragic corollary of civilization is populace. + For the rest, abuses can be corrected by equity; and equity, if it is not + found in the enlightened, is not to be found at all. M. Necker is to set + about correcting abuses, and limiting privileges. That is decided. To that + end the States General are to assemble.” + </p> + <p> + “And a promising beginning we have made in Brittany, as Heaven hears me!” + cried Philippe. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! That is nothing. Naturally the nobles will not yield without a + struggle. It is a futile and ridiculous struggle—but then... it is + human nature, I suppose, to be futile and ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin became witheringly sarcastic. “Probably you will also + qualify the shooting of Mabey as futile and ridiculous. I should even be + prepared to hear you argue in defence of the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr + that his gamekeeper was merciful in shooting Mabey, since the alternative + would have been a life-sentence to the galleys.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis drank the remainder of his chocolate; set down his cup, and + pushed back his chair, his breakfast done. + </p> + <p> + “I confess that I have not your big charity, my dear Philippe. I am + touched by Mabey’s fate. But, having conquered the shock of this news to + my emotions, I do not forget that, after all, Mabey was thieving when he + met his death.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin heaved himself up in his indignation. + </p> + <p> + “That is the point of view to be expected in one who is the assistant + fiscal intendant of a nobleman, and the delegate of a nobleman to the + States of Brittany.” + </p> + <p> + “Philippe, is that just? You are angry with me!” he cried, in real + solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “I am hurt,” Vilmorin admitted. “I am deeply hurt by your attitude. And I + am not alone in resenting your reactionary tendencies. Do you know that + the Literary Chamber is seriously considering your expulsion?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis shrugged. “That neither surprises nor troubles me.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin swept on, passionately: “Sometimes I think that you have no + heart. With you it is always the law, never equity. It occurs to me, + Andre, that I was mistaken in coming to you. You are not likely to be of + assistance to me in my interview with M. de Kercadiou.” He took up his + hat, clearly with the intention of departing. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis sprang up and caught him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “I vow,” said he, “that this is the last time ever I shall consent to talk + law or politics with you, Philippe. I love you too well to quarrel with + you over other men’s affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “But I make them my own,” Philippe insisted vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you do, and I love you for it. It is right that you should. You + are to be a priest; and everybody’s business is a priest’s business. + Whereas I am a lawyer—the fiscal intendant of a nobleman, as you say—and + a lawyer’s business is the business of his client. That is the difference + between us. Nevertheless, you are not going to shake me off.” + </p> + <p> + “But I tell you frankly, now that I come to think of it, that I should + prefer you did not see M. de Kercadiou with me. Your duty to your client + cannot be a help to me.” + </p> + <p> + His wrath had passed; but his determination remained firm, based upon the + reason he gave. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Andre-Louis. “It shall be as you please. But nothing + shall prevent me at least from walking with you as far as the chateau, and + waiting for you while you make your appeal to M. de Kercadiou.” + </p> + <p> + And so they left the house good friends, for the sweetness of M. de + Vilmorin’s nature did not admit of rancour, and together they took their + way up the steep main street of Gavrillac. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE ARISTOCRAT + </h2> + <p> + The sleepy village of Gavrillac, a half-league removed from the main road + to Rennes, and therefore undisturbed by the world’s traffic, lay in a + curve of the River Meu, at the foot, and straggling halfway up the slope, + of the shallow hill that was crowned by the squat manor. By the time + Gavrillac had paid tribute to its seigneur—partly in money and + partly in service—tithes to the Church, and imposts to the King, it + was hard put to it to keep body and soul together with what remained. Yet, + hard as conditions were in Gavrillac, they were not so hard as in many + other parts of France, not half so hard, for instance, as with the + wretched feudatories of the great Lord of La Tour d’Azyr, whose vast + possessions were at one point separated from this little village by the + waters of the Meu. + </p> + <p> + The Chateau de Gavrillac owed such seigneurial airs as might be claimed + for it to its dominant position above the village rather than to any + feature of its own. Built of granite, like all the rest of Gavrillac, + though mellowed by some three centuries of existence, it was a squat, + flat-fronted edifice of two stories, each lighted by four windows with + external wooden shutters, and flanked at either end by two square towers + or pavilions under extinguisher roofs. Standing well back in a garden, + denuded now, but very pleasant in summer, and immediately fronted by a + fine sweep of balustraded terrace, it looked, what indeed it was, and + always had been, the residence of unpretentious folk who found more + interest in husbandry than in adventure. + </p> + <p> + Quintin de Kercadiou, Lord of Gavrillac—Seigneur de Gavrillac was + all the vague title that he bore, as his forefathers had borne before him, + derived no man knew whence or how—confirmed the impression that his + house conveyed. Rude as the granite itself, he had never sought the + experience of courts, had not even taken service in the armies of his + King. He left it to his younger brother, Etienne, to represent the family + in those exalted spheres. His own interests from earliest years had been + centred in his woods and pastures. He hunted, and he cultivated his acres, + and superficially he appeared to be little better than any of his rustic + metayers. He kept no state, or at least no state commensurate with his + position or with the tastes of his niece Aline de Kercadiou. Aline, having + spent some two years in the court atmosphere of Versailles under the aegis + of her uncle Etienne, had ideas very different from those of her uncle + Quintin of what was befitting seigneurial dignity. But though this only + child of a third Kercadiou had exercised, ever since she was left an + orphan at the early age of four, a tyrannical rule over the Lord of + Gavrillac, who had been father and mother to her, she had never yet + succeeded in beating down his stubbornness on that score. She did not yet + despair—persistence being a dominant note in her character—although + she had been assiduously and fruitlessly at work since her return from the + great world of Versailles some three months ago. + </p> + <p> + She was walking on the terrace when Andre-Louis and M. de Vilmorin + arrived. Her slight body was wrapped against the chill air in a white + pelisse; her head was encased in a close-fitting bonnet, edged with white + fur. It was caught tight in a knot of pale-blue ribbon on the right of her + chin; on the left a long ringlet of corn-coloured hair had been permitted + to escape. The keen air had whipped so much of her cheeks as was presented + to it, and seemed to have added sparkle to eyes that were of darkest blue. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis and M. de Vilmorin had been known to her from childhood. The + three had been playmates once, and Andre-Louis—in view of his + spiritual relationship with her uncle—she called her cousin. The + cousinly relations had persisted between these two long after Philippe de + Vilmorin had outgrown the earlier intimacy, and had become to her Monsieur + de Vilmorin. + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand to them in greeting as they advanced, and stood—an + entrancing picture, and fully conscious of it—to await them at the + end of the terrace nearest the short avenue by which they approached. + </p> + <p> + “If you come to see monsieur my uncle, you come inopportunely, messieurs,” + she told them, a certain feverishness in her air. “He is closely—oh, + so very closely—engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “We will wait, mademoiselle,” said M. de Vilmorin, bowing gallantly over + the hand she extended to him. “Indeed, who would haste to the uncle that + may tarry a moment with the niece?” + </p> + <p> + “M. l’abbe,” she teased him, “when you are in orders I shall take you for + my confessor. You have so ready and sympathetic an understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “But no curiosity,” said Andre-Louis. “You haven’t thought of that.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what you mean, Cousin Andre.” + </p> + <p> + “Well you may,” laughed Philippe. “For no one ever knows.” And then, his + glance straying across the terrace settled upon a carriage that was drawn + up before the door of the chateau. It was a vehicle such as was often to + be seen in the streets of a great city, but rarely in the country. It was + a beautifully sprung two-horse cabriolet of walnut, with a varnish upon it + like a sheet of glass and little pastoral scenes exquisitely painted on + the panels of the door. It was built to carry two persons, with a box in + front for the coachman, and a stand behind for the footman. This stand was + empty, but the footman paced before the door, and as he emerged now from + behind the vehicle into the range of M. de Vilmorin’s vision, he displayed + the resplendent blue-and-gold livery of the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” he exclaimed. “Is it M. de La Tour d’Azyr who is with your uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, monsieur,” said she, a world of mystery in voice and eyes, of + which M. de Vilmorin observed nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, pardon!” he bowed low, hat in hand. “Serviteur, mademoiselle,” and he + turned to depart towards the house. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I come with you, Philippe?” Andre-Louis called after him. + </p> + <p> + “It would be ungallant to assume that you would prefer it,” said M. de + Vilmorin, with a glance at mademoiselle. “Nor do I think it would serve. + If you will wait...” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin strode off. Mademoiselle, after a moment’s blank pause, + laughed ripplingly. “Now where is he going in such a hurry?” + </p> + <p> + “To see M. de La Tour d’Azyr as well as your uncle, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “But he cannot. They cannot see him. Did I not say that they are very + closely engaged? You don’t ask me why, Andre.” There was an arch + mysteriousness about her, a latent something that may have been elation or + amusement, or perhaps both. Andre-Louis could not determine it. + </p> + <p> + “Since obviously you are all eagerness to tell, why should I ask?” quoth + he. + </p> + <p> + “If you are caustic I shall not tell you even if you ask. Oh, yes, I will. + It will teach you to treat me with the respect that is my due.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shall never fail in that.” + </p> + <p> + “Less than ever when you learn that I am very closely concerned in the + visit of M. de La Tour d’Azyr. I am the object of this visit.” And she + looked at him with sparkling eyes and lips parted in laughter. + </p> + <p> + “The rest, you would seem to imply, is obvious. But I am a dolt, if you + please; for it is not obvious to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, stupid, he comes to ask my hand in marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” said Andre-Louis, and stared at her, chapfallen. + </p> + <p> + She drew back from him a little with a frown and an upward tilt of her + chin. “It surprises you?” + </p> + <p> + “It disgusts me,” said he, bluntly. “In fact, I don’t believe it. You are + amusing yourself with me.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she put aside her visible annoyance to remove his doubts. “I + am quite serious, monsieur. There came a formal letter to my uncle this + morning from M. de La Tour d’Azyr, announcing the visit and its object. I + will not say that it did not surprise us a little...” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see,” cried Andre-Louis, in relief. “I understand. For a moment I + had almost feared...” He broke off, looked at her, and shrugged. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you stop? You had almost feared that Versailles had been wasted + upon me. That I should permit the courtship of me to be conducted like + that of any village wench. It was stupid of you. I am being sought in + proper form, at my uncle’s hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Is his consent, then, all that matters, according to Versailles?” + </p> + <p> + “What else?” + </p> + <p> + “There is your own.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “I am a dutiful niece... when it suits me.” + </p> + <p> + “And will it suit you to be dutiful if your uncle accepts this monstrous + proposal?” + </p> + <p> + “Monstrous!” She bridled. “And why monstrous, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + “For a score of reasons,” he answered irritably. + </p> + <p> + “Give me one,” she challenged him. + </p> + <p> + “He is twice your age.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly so much,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “He is forty-five, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “But he looks no more than thirty. He is very handsome—so much you + will admit; nor will you deny that he is very wealthy and very powerful; + the greatest nobleman in Brittany. He will make me a great lady.” + </p> + <p> + “God made you that, Aline.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, that’s better. Sometimes you can almost be polite.” And she moved + along the terrace, Andre-Louis pacing beside her. + </p> + <p> + “I can be more than that to show reason why you should not let this beast + befoul the beautiful thing that God has made.” + </p> + <p> + She frowned, and her lips tightened. “You are speaking of my future + husband,” she reproved him. + </p> + <p> + His lips tightened too; his pale face grew paler. + </p> + <p> + “And is it so? It is settled, then? Your uncle is to agree? You are to be + sold thus, lovelessly, into bondage to a man you do not know. I had + dreamed of better things for you, Aline.” + </p> + <p> + “Better than to be Marquise de La Tour d’Azyr?” + </p> + <p> + He made a gesture of exasperation. “Are men and women nothing more than + names? Do the souls of them count for nothing? Is there no joy in life, no + happiness, that wealth and pleasure and empty, high-sounding titles are to + be its only aims? I had set you high—so high, Aline—a thing + scarce earthly. There is joy in your heart, intelligence in your mind; + and, as I thought, the vision that pierces husks and shams to claim the + core of reality for its own. Yet you will surrender all for a parcel of + make-believe. You will sell your soul and your body to be Marquise de La + Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + “You are indelicate,” said she, and though she frowned her eyes laughed. + “And you go headlong to conclusions. My uncle will not consent to more + than to allow my consent to be sought. We understand each other, my uncle + and I. I am not to be bartered like a turnip.” + </p> + <p> + He stood still to face her, his eyes glowing, a flush creeping into his + pale cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “You have been torturing me to amuse yourself!” he cried. “Ah, well, I + forgive you out of my relief.” + </p> + <p> + “Again you go too fast, Cousin Andre. I have permitted my uncle to consent + that M. le Marquis shall make his court to me. I like the look of the + gentleman. I am flattered by his preference when I consider his eminence. + It is an eminence that I may find it desirable to share. M. le Marquis + does not look as if he were a dullard. It should be interesting to be + wooed by him. It may be more interesting still to marry him, and I think, + when all is considered, that I shall probably—very probably—decide + to do so.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, looked at the sweet, challenging loveliness of that + childlike face so tightly framed in the oval of white fur, and all the + life seemed to go out of his own countenance. + </p> + <p> + “God help you, Aline!” he groaned. + </p> + <p> + She stamped her foot. He was really very exasperating, and something + presumptuous too, she thought. + </p> + <p> + “You are insolent, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “It is never insolent to pray, Aline. And I did no more than pray, as I + shall continue to do. You’ll need my prayers, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “You are insufferable!” She was growing angry, as he saw by the deepening + frown, the heightened colour. + </p> + <p> + “That is because I suffer. Oh, Aline, little cousin, think well of what + you do; think well of the realities you will be bartering for these shams—the + realities that you will never know, because these cursed shams will block + your way to them. When M. de La Tour d’Azyr comes to make his court, study + him well; consult your fine instincts; leave your own noble nature free to + judge this animal by its intuitions. Consider that...” + </p> + <p> + “I consider, monsieur, that you presume upon the kindness I have always + shown you. You abuse the position of toleration in which you stand. Who + are you? What are you, that you should have the insolence to take this + tone with me?” + </p> + <p> + He bowed, instantly his cold, detached self again, and resumed the mockery + that was his natural habit. + </p> + <p> + “My congratulations, mademoiselle, upon the readiness with which you begin + to adapt yourself to the great role you are to play.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you adapt yourself also, monsieur,” she retorted angrily, and turned + her shoulder to him. + </p> + <p> + “To be as the dust beneath the haughty feet of Madame la Marquise. I hope + I shall know my place in future.” + </p> + <p> + The phrase arrested her. She turned to him again, and he perceived that + her eyes were shining now suspiciously. In an instant the mockery in him + was quenched in contrition. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, what a beast I am, Aline!” he cried, as he advanced. “Forgive me if + you can.” + </p> + <p> + Almost had she turned to sue forgiveness from him. But his contrition + removed the need. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try,” said she, “provided that you undertake not to offend again.” + </p> + <p> + “But I shall,” said he. “I am like that. I will fight to save you, from + yourself if need be, whether you forgive me or not.” + </p> + <p> + They were standing so, confronting each other a little breathlessly, a + little defiantly, when the others issued from the porch. + </p> + <p> + First came the Marquis of La Tour d’Azyr, Count of Solz, Knight of the + Orders of the Holy Ghost and Saint Louis, and Brigadier in the armies of + the King. He was a tall, graceful man, upright and soldierly of carriage, + with his head disdainfully set upon his shoulders. He was magnificently + dressed in a full-skirted coat of mulberry velvet that was laced with + gold. His waistcoat, of velvet too, was of a golden apricot colour; his + breeches and stockings were of black silk, and his lacquered, red-heeled + shoes were buckled in diamonds. His powdered hair was tied behind in a + broad ribbon of watered silk; he carried a little three-cornered hat under + his arm, and a gold-hilted slender dress-sword hung at his side. + </p> + <p> + Considering him now in complete detachment, observing the magnificence of + him, the elegance of his movements, the great air, blending in so + extraordinary a manner disdain and graciousness, Andre-Louis trembled for + Aline. Here was a practised, irresistible wooer, whose bonnes fortunes + were become a by-word, a man who had hitherto been the despair of dowagers + with marriageable daughters, and the desolation of husbands with + attractive wives. + </p> + <p> + He was immediately followed by M. de Kercadiou, in completest contrast. On + legs of the shortest, the Lord of Gavrillac carried a body that at + forty-five was beginning to incline to corpulence and an enormous head + containing an indifferent allotment of intelligence. His countenance was + pink and blotchy, liberally branded by the smallpox which had almost + extinguished him in youth. In dress he was careless to the point of + untidiness, and to this and to the fact that he had never married—disregarding + the first duty of a gentleman to provide himself with an heir—he + owed the character of misogynist attributed to him by the countryside. + </p> + <p> + After M. de Kercadiou came M. de Vilmorin, very pale and self-contained, + with tight lips and an overcast brow. + </p> + <p> + To meet them, there stepped from the carriage a very elegant young + gentleman, the Chevalier de Chabrillane, M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s cousin, + who whilst awaiting his return had watched with considerable interest—his + own presence unsuspected—the perambulations of Andre-Louis and + mademoiselle. + </p> + <p> + Perceiving Aline, M. de La Tour d’Azyr detached himself from the others, + and lengthening his stride came straight across the terrace to her. + </p> + <p> + To Andre-Louis the Marquis inclined his head with that mixture of + courtliness and condescension which he used. Socially, the young lawyer + stood in a curious position. By virtue of the theory of his birth, he + ranked neither as noble nor as simple, but stood somewhere between the two + classes, and whilst claimed by neither he was used familiarly by both. + Coldly now he returned M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s greeting, and discreetly + removed himself to go and join his friend. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis took the hand that mademoiselle extended to him, and bowing + over it, bore it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said, looking into the blue depths of her eyes, that + met his gaze smiling and untroubled, “monsieur your uncle does me the + honour to permit that I pay my homage to you. Will you, mademoiselle, do + me the honour to receive me when I come to-morrow? I shall have something + of great importance for your ear.” + </p> + <p> + “Of importance, M. le Marquis? You almost frighten me.” But there was no + fear on the serene little face in its furred hood. It was not for nothing + that she had graduated in the Versailles school of artificialities. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said he, “is very far from my design.” + </p> + <p> + “But of importance to yourself, monsieur, or to me?” + </p> + <p> + “To us both, I hope,” he answered her, a world of meaning in his fine, + ardent eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You whet my curiosity, monsieur; and, of course, I am a dutiful niece. It + follows that I shall be honoured to receive you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not honoured, mademoiselle; you will confer the honour. To-morrow at this + hour, then, I shall have the felicity to wait upon you.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed again; and again he bore her fingers to his lips, what time she + curtsied. Thereupon, with no more than this formal breaking of the ice, + they parted. + </p> + <p> + She was a little breathless now, a little dazzled by the beauty of the + man, his princely air, and the confidence of power he seemed to radiate. + Involuntarily almost, she contrasted him with his critic—the lean + and impudent Andre-Louis in his plain brown coat and steel-buckled shoes—and + she felt guilty of an unpardonable offence in having permitted even one + word of that presumptuous criticism. To-morrow M. le Marquis would come to + offer her a great position, a great rank. And already she had derogated + from the increase of dignity accruing to her from his very intention to + translate her to so great an eminence. Not again would she suffer it; not + again would she be so weak and childish as to permit Andre-Louis to utter + his ribald comments upon a man by comparison with whom he was no better + than a lackey. + </p> + <p> + Thus argued vanity and ambition with her better self and to her vast + annoyance her better self would not admit entire conviction. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, M. de La Tour d’Azyr was climbing into his carriage. He had + spoken a word of farewell to M. de Kercadiou, and he had also had a word + for M. de Vilmorin in reply to which M. de Vilmorin had bowed in assenting + silence. The carriage rolled away, the powdered footman in blue-and-gold + very stiff behind it, M. de La Tour d’Azyr bowing to mademoiselle, who + waved to him in answer. + </p> + <p> + Then M. de Vilmorin put his arm through that of Andre Louis, and said to + him, “Come, Andre.” + </p> + <p> + “But you’ll stay to dine, both of you!” cried the hospitable Lord of + Gavrillac. “We’ll drink a certain toast,” he added, winking an eye that + strayed towards mademoiselle, who was approaching. He had no subtleties, + good soul that he was. + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin deplored an appointment that prevented him doing himself + the honour. He was very stiff and formal. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Andre?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, I share the appointment, godfather,” he lied, “and I have a + superstition against toasts.” He had no wish to remain. He was angry with + Aline for her smiling reception of M. de La Tour d’Azyr and the sordid + bargain he saw her set on making. He was suffering from the loss of an + illusion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE ELOQUENCE OF M. DE VILMORIN + </h2> + <p> + As they walked down the hill together, it was now M. de Vilmorin who was + silent and preoccupied, Andre-Louis who was talkative. He had chosen Woman + as a subject for his present discourse. He claimed—quite + unjustifiably—to have discovered Woman that morning; and the things + he had to say of the sex were unflattering, and occasionally almost gross. + M. de Vilmorin, having ascertained the subject, did not listen. Singular + though it may seem in a young French abbe of his day, M. de Vilmorin was + not interested in Woman. Poor Philippe was in several ways exceptional. + Opposite the Breton arme—the inn and posting-house at the entrance + of the village of Gavrillac—M. de Vilmorin interrupted his companion + just as he was soaring to the dizziest heights of caustic invective, and + Andre-Louis, restored thereby to actualities, observed the carriage of M. + de La Tour d’Azyr standing before the door of the hostelry. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe you’ve been listening to me,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Had you been less interested in what you were saying, you might have + observed it sooner and spared your breath. The fact is, you disappoint me, + Andre. You seem to have forgotten what we went for. I have an appointment + here with M. le Marquis. He desires to hear me further in the matter. Up + there at Gavrillac I could accomplish nothing. The time was ill-chosen as + it happened. But I have hopes of M. le Marquis.” + </p> + <p> + “Hopes of what?” + </p> + <p> + “That he will make what reparation lies in his power. Provide for the + widow and the orphans. Why else should he desire to hear me further?” + </p> + <p> + “Unusual condescension,” said Andre-Louis, and quoted “Timeo Danaos et + dona ferentes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Philippe. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go and discover—unless you consider that I shall be in the + way.” + </p> + <p> + Into a room on the right, rendered private to M. le Marquis for so long as + he should elect to honour it, the young men were ushered by the host. A + fire of logs was burning brightly at the room’s far end, and by this sat + now M. de La Tour d’Azyr and his cousin, the Chevalier de Chabrillane. + Both rose as M. de Vilmorin came in. Andre-Louis following, paused to + close the door. + </p> + <p> + “You oblige me by your prompt courtesy, M. de Vilmorin,” said the Marquis, + but in a tone so cold as to belie the politeness of his words. “A chair, I + beg. Ah, Moreau?” The note was frigidly interrogative. “He accompanies + you, monsieur?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, M. le Marquis.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Find yourself a seat, Moreau.” He spoke over his shoulder as to + a lackey. + </p> + <p> + “It is good of you, monsieur,” said Philippe, “to have offered me this + opportunity of continuing the subject that took me so fruitlessly, as it + happens, to Gavrillac.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis crossed his legs, and held one of his fine hands to the blaze. + He replied, without troubling to turn to the young man, who was slightly + behind him. + </p> + <p> + “The goodness of my request we will leave out of question for the moment,” + said he, darkly, and M. de Chabrillane laughed. Andre-Louis thought him + easily moved to mirth, and almost envied him the faculty. + </p> + <p> + “But I am grateful,” Philippe insisted, “that you should condescend to + hear me plead their cause.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis stared at him over his shoulder. “Whose cause?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the cause of the widow and orphans of this unfortunate Mabey.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis looked from Vilmorin to the Chevalier, and again the Chevalier + laughed, slapping his leg this time. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said M. de La Tour d’Azyr, slowly, “that we are at + cross-purposes. I asked you to come here because the Chateau de Gavrillac + was hardly a suitable place in which to carry our discussion further, and + because I hesitated to incommode you by suggesting that you should come + all the way to Azyr. But my object is connected with certain expressions + that you let fall up there. It is on the subject of those expressions, + monsieur, that I would hear you further—if you will honour me.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis began to apprehend that there was something sinister in the + air. He was a man of quick intuitions, quicker far than those of M. de + Vilmorin, who evinced no more than a mild surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I am at a loss, monsieur,” said he. “To what expressions does monsieur + allude?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems, monsieur, that I must refresh your memory.” The Marquis crossed + his legs, and swung sideways on his chair, so that at last he directly + faced M. de Vilmorin. “You spoke, monsieur—and however mistaken you + may have been, you spoke very eloquently, too eloquently almost, it seemed + to me—of the infamy of such a deed as the act of summary justice + upon this thieving fellow Mabey, or whatever his name may be. Infamy was + the precise word you used. You did not retract that word when I had the + honour to inform you that it was by my orders that my gamekeeper Benet + proceeded as he did.” + </p> + <p> + “If,” said M. de Vilmorin, “the deed was infamous, its infamy is not + modified by the rank, however exalted, of the person responsible. Rather + is it aggravated.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said M. le Marquis, and drew a gold snuffbox from his pocket. “You + say, ‘if the deed was infamous,’ monsieur. Am I to understand that you are + no longer as convinced as you appeared to be of its infamy?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin’s fine face wore a look of perplexity. He did not + understand the drift of this. + </p> + <p> + “It occurs to me, M. le Marquis, in view of your readiness to assume + responsibility, that you must believe justification for the deed which is + not apparent to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “That is better. That is distinctly better.” The Marquis took snuff + delicately, dusting the fragments from the fine lace at his throat. “You + realize that with an imperfect understanding of these matters, not being + yourself a landowner, you may have rushed to unjustifiable conclusions. + That is indeed the case. May it be a warning to you, monsieur. When I tell + you that for months past I have been annoyed by similar depredations, you + will perhaps understand that it had become necessary to employ a deterrent + sufficiently strong to put an end to them. Now that the risk is known, I + do not think there will be any more prowling in my coverts. And there is + more in it than that, M. de Vilmorin. It is not the poaching that annoys + me so much as the contempt for my absolute and inviolable rights. There + is, monsieur, as you cannot fail to have observed, an evil spirit of + insubordination in the air, and there is one only way in which to meet it. + To tolerate it, in however slight a degree, to show leniency, however + leniently disposed, would entail having recourse to still harsher measures + to-morrow. You understand me, I am sure, and you will also, I am sure, + appreciate the condescension of what amounts to an explanation from me + where I cannot admit that any explanations were due. If anything in what I + have said is still obscure to you, I refer you to the game laws, which + your lawyer friend there will expound for you at need.” + </p> + <p> + With that the gentleman swung round again to face the fire. It appeared to + convey the intimation that the interview was at an end. And yet this was + not by any means the intimation that it conveyed to the watchful, puzzled, + vaguely uneasy Andre-Louis. It was, thought he, a very curious, a very + suspicious oration. It affected to explain, with a politeness of terms and + a calculated insolence of tone; whilst in fact it could only serve to + stimulate and goad a man of M. de Vilmorin’s opinions. And that is + precisely what it did. He rose. + </p> + <p> + “Are there in the world no laws but game laws?” he demanded, angrily. + “Have you never by any chance heard of the laws of humanity?” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis sighed wearily. “What have I to do with the laws of humanity?” + he wondered. + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin looked at him a moment in speechless amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, M. le Marquis. That is—alas!—too obvious. I hope you + will remember it in the hour when you may wish to appeal to those laws + which you now deride.” + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr threw back his head sharply, his high-bred face + imperious. + </p> + <p> + “Now what precisely shall that mean? It is not the first time to-day that + you have made use of dark sayings that I could almost believe to veil the + presumption of a threat.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a threat, M. le Marquis—a warning. A warning that such deeds as + these against God’s creatures... Oh, you may sneer, monsieur, but they are + God’s creatures, even as you or I—neither more nor less, deeply + though the reflection may wound your pride. In His eyes...” + </p> + <p> + “Of your charity, spare me a sermon, M. l’abbe!” + </p> + <p> + “You mock, monsieur. You laugh. Will you laugh, I wonder, when God + presents His reckoning to you for the blood and plunder with which your + hands are full?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” The word, sharp as the crack of a whip, was from M. de + Chabrillane, who bounded to his feet. But instantly the Marquis repressed + him. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Chevalier. You are interrupting M. l’abbe, and I should like to + hear him further. He interests me profoundly.” + </p> + <p> + In the background Andre-Louis, too, had risen, brought to his feet by + alarm, by the evil that he saw written on the handsome face of M. de La + Tour d’Azyr. He approached, and touched his friend upon the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Better be going, Philippe,” said he. + </p> + <p> + But M. de Vilmorin, caught in the relentless grip of passions long + repressed, was being hurried by them recklessly along. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur,” said he, “consider what you are and what you will be. + Consider how you and your kind live by abuses, and consider the harvest + that abuses must ultimately bring.” + </p> + <p> + “Revolutionist!” said M. le Marquis, contemptuously. “You have the + effrontery to stand before my face and offer me this stinking cant of your + modern so-called intellectuals!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it cant, monsieur? Do you think—do you believe in your soul—that + it is cant? Is it cant that the feudal grip is on all things that live, + crushing them like grapes in the press, to its own profit? Does it not + exercise its rights upon the waters of the river, the fire that bakes the + poor man’s bread of grass and barley, on the wind that turns the mill? The + peasant cannot take a step upon the road, cross a crazy bridge over a + river, buy an ell of cloth in the village market, without meeting feudal + rapacity, without being taxed in feudal dues. Is not that enough, M. le + Marquis? Must you also demand his wretched life in payment for the least + infringement of your sacred privileges, careless of what widows or orphans + you dedicate to woe? Will naught content you but that your shadow must lie + like a curse upon the land? And do you think in your pride that France, + this Job among the nations, will suffer it forever?” + </p> + <p> + He paused as if for a reply. But none came. The Marquis considered him, + strangely silent, a half smile of disdain at the corners of his lips, an + ominous hardness in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Again Andre-Louis tugged at his friend’s sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Philippe.” + </p> + <p> + Philippe shook him off, and plunged on, fanatically. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see nothing of the gathering clouds that herald the coming of the + storm? You imagine, perhaps, that these States General summoned by M. + Necker, and promised for next year, are to do nothing but devise fresh + means of extortion to liquidate the bankruptcy of the State? You delude + yourselves, as you shall find. The Third Estate, which you despise, will + prove itself the preponderating force, and it will find a way to make an + end of this canker of privilege that is devouring the vitals of this + unfortunate country.” + </p> + <p> + M. le Marquis shifted in his chair, and spoke at last. + </p> + <p> + “You have, monsieur,” said he, “a very dangerous gift of eloquence. And it + is of yourself rather than of your subject. For after all, what do you + offer me? A rechauffe of the dishes served to out-at-elbow enthusiasts in + the provincial literary chambers, compounded of the effusions of your + Voltaires and Jean-Jacques and such dirty-fingered scribblers. You have + not among all your philosophers one with the wit to understand that we are + an order consecrated by antiquity, that for our rights and privileges we + have behind us the authority of centuries.” + </p> + <p> + “Humanity, monsieur,” Philippe replied, “is more ancient than nobility. + Human rights are contemporary with man.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis laughed and shrugged. + </p> + <p> + “That is the answer I might have expected. It has the right note of cant + that distinguishes the philosophers.” + </p> + <p> + And then M. de Chabrillane spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You go a long way round,” he criticized his cousin, on a note of + impatience. + </p> + <p> + “But I am getting there,” he was answered. “I desired to make quite + certain first.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, you should have no doubt by now.” + </p> + <p> + “I have none.” The Marquis rose, and turned again to M. de Vilmorin, who + had understood nothing of that brief exchange. “M. l’abbe,” said he once + more, “you have a very dangerous gift of eloquence. I can conceive of men + being swayed by it. Had you been born a gentleman, you would not so easily + have acquired these false views that you express.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin stared blankly, uncomprehending. + </p> + <p> + “Had I been born a gentleman, do you say?” quoth he, in a slow, bewildered + voice. “But I was born a gentleman. My race is as old, my blood as good as + yours, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + From M. le Marquis there was a slight play of eyebrows, a vague, indulgent + smile. His dark, liquid eyes looked squarely into the face of M. de + Vilmorin. + </p> + <p> + “You have been deceived in that, I fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Deceived?” + </p> + <p> + “Your sentiments betray the indiscretion of which madame your mother must + have been guilty.” + </p> + <p> + The brutally affronting words were sped beyond recall, and the lips that + had uttered them, coldly, as if they had been the merest commonplace, + remained calm and faintly sneering. + </p> + <p> + A dead silence followed. Andre-Louis’ wits were numbed. He stood aghast, + all thought suspended in him, what time M. de Vilmorin’s eyes continued + fixed upon M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s, as if searching there for a meaning + that eluded him. Quite suddenly he understood the vile affront. The blood + leapt to his face, fire blazed in his gentle eyes. A convulsive quiver + shook him. Then, with an inarticulate cry, he leaned forward, and with his + open hand struck M. le Marquis full and hard upon his sneering face. + </p> + <p> + In a flash M. de Chabrillane was on his feet, between the two men. + </p> + <p> + Too late Andre-Louis had seen the trap. La Tour d’Azyr’s words were but as + a move in a game of chess, calculated to exasperate his opponent into some + such counter-move as this—a counter-move that left him entirely at + the other’s mercy. + </p> + <p> + M. le Marquis looked on, very white save where M. de Vilmorin’s + finger-prints began slowly to colour his face; but he said nothing more. + Instead, it was M. de Chabrillane who now did the talking, taking up his + preconcerted part in this vile game. + </p> + <p> + “You realize, monsieur, what you have done,” said he, coldly, to Philippe. + “And you realize, of course, what must inevitably follow.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin had realized nothing. The poor young man had acted upon + impulse, upon the instinct of decency and honour, never counting the + consequences. But he realized them now at the sinister invitation of M. de + Chabrillane, and if he desired to avoid these consequences, it was out of + respect for his priestly vocation, which strictly forbade such adjustments + of disputes as M. de Chabrillane was clearly thrusting upon him. + </p> + <p> + He drew back. “Let one affront wipe out the other,” said he, in a dull + voice. “The balance is still in M. le Marquis’s favour. Let that content + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible.” The Chevalier’s lips came together tightly. Thereafter he + was suavity itself, but very firm. “A blow has been struck, monsieur. I + think I am correct in saying that such a thing has never happened before + to M. le Marquis in all his life. If you felt yourself affronted, you had + but to ask the satisfaction due from one gentleman to another. Your action + would seem to confirm the assumption that you found so offensive. But it + does not on that account render you immune from the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + It was, you see, M. de Chabrillane’s part to heap coals upon this fire, to + make quite sure that their victim should not escape them. + </p> + <p> + “I desire no immunity,” flashed back the young seminarist, stung by this + fresh goad. After all, he was nobly born, and the traditions of his class + were strong upon him—stronger far than the seminarist schooling in + humility. He owed it to himself, to his honour, to be killed rather than + avoid the consequences of the thing he had done. + </p> + <p> + “But he does not wear a sword, messieurs!” cried Andre Louis, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “That is easily amended. He may have the loan of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, messieurs,” Andre-Louis insisted, between fear for his friend and + indignation, “that it is not his habit to wear a sword, that he has never + worn one, that he is untutored in its uses. He is a seminarist—a + postulant for holy orders, already half a priest, and so forbidden from + such an engagement as you propose.” + </p> + <p> + “All that he should have remembered before he struck a blow,” said M. de + Chabrillane, politely. + </p> + <p> + “The blow was deliberately provoked,” raged Andre-Louis. Then he recovered + himself, though the other’s haughty stare had no part in that recovery. “O + my God, I talk in vain! How is one to argue against a purpose formed! Come + away, Philippe. Don’t you see the trap...” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vilmorin cut him short, and flung him off. “Be quiet, Andre. M. le + Marquis is entirely in the right.” + </p> + <p> + “M. le Marquis is in the right?” Andre-Louis let his arms fall helplessly. + This man he loved above all other living men was caught in the snare of + the world’s insanity. He was baring his breast to the knife for the sake + of a vague, distorted sense of the honour due to himself. It was not that + he did not see the trap. It was that his honour compelled him to disdain + consideration of it. To Andre-Louis in that moment he seemed a singularly + tragic figure. Noble, perhaps, but very pitiful. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE HERITAGE + </h2> + <p> + It was M. de Vilmorin’s desire that the matter should be settled out of + hand. In this he was at once objective and subjective. A prey to emotions + sadly at conflict with his priestly vocation, he was above all in haste to + have done, so that he might resume a frame of mind more proper to it. Also + he feared himself a little; by which I mean that his honour feared his + nature. The circumstances of his education, and the goal that for some + years now he had kept in view, had robbed him of much of that spirited + brutality that is the birthright of the male. He had grown timid and + gentle as a woman. Aware of it, he feared that once the heat of his + passion was spent he might betray a dishonouring weakness, in the ordeal. + </p> + <p> + M. le Marquis, on his side, was no less eager for an immediate settlement; + and since they had M. de Chabrillane to act for his cousin, and + Andre-Louis to serve as witness for M. de Vilmorin, there was nothing to + delay them. + </p> + <p> + And so, within a few minutes, all arrangements were concluded, and you + behold that sinisterly intentioned little group of four assembled in the + afternoon sunshine on the bowling-green behind the inn. They were entirely + private, screened more or less from the windows of the house by a ramage + of trees, which, if leafless now, was at least dense enough to provide an + effective lattice. + </p> + <p> + There were no formalities over measurements of blades or selection of + ground. M. le Marquis removed his sword-belt and scabbard, but declined—not + considering it worth while for the sake of so negligible an opponent—to + divest himself either of his shoes or his coat. Tall, lithe, and athletic, + he stood to face the no less tall, but very delicate and frail, M. de + Vilmorin. The latter also disdained to make any of the usual preparations. + Since he recognized that it could avail him nothing to strip, he came on + guard fully dressed, two hectic spots above the cheek-bones burning on his + otherwise grey face. + </p> + <p> + M. de Chabrillane, leaning upon a cane—for he had relinquished his + sword to M. de Vilmorin—looked on with quiet interest. Facing him on + the other side of the combatants stood Andre-Louis, the palest of the + four, staring from fevered eyes, twisting and untwisting clammy hands. + </p> + <p> + His every instinct was to fling himself between the antagonists, to + protest against and frustrate this meeting. That sane impulse was curbed, + however, by the consciousness of its futility. To calm him, he clung to + the conviction that the issue could not really be very serious. If the + obligations of Philippe’s honour compelled him to cross swords with the + man he had struck, M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s birth compelled him no less to + do no serious hurt to the unfledged lad he had so grievously provoked. M. + le Marquis, after all, was a man of honour. He could intend no more than + to administer a lesson; sharp, perhaps, but one by which his opponent must + live to profit. Andre-Louis clung obstinately to that for comfort. + </p> + <p> + Steel beat on steel, and the men engaged. The Marquis presented to his + opponent the narrow edge of his upright body, his knees slightly flexed + and converted into living springs, whilst M. de Vilmorin stood squarely, a + full target, his knees wooden. Honour and the spirit of fair play alike + cried out against such a match. + </p> + <p> + The encounter was very short, of course. In youth, Philippe had received + the tutoring in sword-play that was given to every boy born into his + station of life. And so he knew at least the rudiments of what was now + expected of him. But what could rudiments avail him here? Three disengages + completed the exchanges, and then without any haste the Marquis slid his + right foot along the moist turf, his long, graceful body extending itself + in a lunge that went under M. de Vilmorin’s clumsy guard, and with the + utmost deliberation he drove his blade through the young man’s vitals. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis sprang forward just in time to catch his friend’s body under + the armpits as it sank. Then, his own legs bending beneath the weight of + it, he went down with his burden until he was kneeling on the damp turf. + Philippe’s limp head lay against Andre-Louis’ left shoulder; Philippe’s + relaxed arms trailed at his sides; the blood welled and bubbled from the + ghastly wound to saturate the poor lad’s garments. + </p> + <p> + With white face and twitching lips, Andre-Louis looked up at M. de La Tour + d’Azyr, who stood surveying his work with a countenance of grave but + remorseless interest. + </p> + <p> + “You have killed him!” cried Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis ran a lace handkerchief along his blade to wipe it. As he let + the dainty fabric fall, he explained himself. “He had, as I told him, a + too dangerous gift of eloquence.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned away, leaving completest understanding with Andre-Louis. + Still supporting the limp, draining body, the young man called to him. + </p> + <p> + “Come back, you cowardly murderer, and make yourself quite safe by killing + me too!” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis half turned, his face dark with anger. Then M. de Chabrillane + set a restraining hand upon his arm. Although a party throughout to the + deed, the Chevalier was a little appalled now that it was done. He had not + the high stomach of M. de La Tour d’Azyr, and he was a good deal younger. + </p> + <p> + “Come away,” he said. “The lad is raving. They were friends.” + </p> + <p> + “You heard what he said?” quoth the Marquis. + </p> + <p> + “Nor can he, or you, or any man deny it,” flung back Andre-Louis. + “Yourself, monsieur, you made confession when you gave me now the reason + why you killed him. You did it because you feared him.” + </p> + <p> + “If that were true—what, then?” asked the great gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ask? Do you understand of life and humanity nothing but how to + wear a coat and dress your hair—oh, yes, and to handle weapons + against boys and priests? Have you no mind to think, no soul into which + you can turn its vision? Must you be told that it is a coward’s part to + kill the thing he fears, and doubly a coward’s part to kill in this way? + Had you stabbed him in the back with a knife, you would have shown the + courage of your vileness. It would have been a vileness undisguised. But + you feared the consequences of that, powerful as you are; and so you + shelter your cowardice under the pretext of a duel.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis shook off his cousin’s hand, and took a step forward, holding + now his sword like a whip. But again the Chevalier caught and held him. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Gervais! Let be, in God’s name!” + </p> + <p> + “Let him come, monsieur,” raved Andre-Louis, his voice thick and + concentrated. “Let him complete his coward’s work on me, and thus make + himself safe from a coward’s wages.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chabrillane let his cousin go. He came white to the lips, his eyes + glaring at the lad who so recklessly insulted him. And then he checked. It + may be that he remembered suddenly the relationship in which this young + man was popularly believed to stand to the Seigneur de Gavrillac, and the + well-known affection in which the Seigneur held him. And so he may have + realized that if he pushed this matter further, he might find himself upon + the horns of a dilemma. He would be confronted with the alternatives of + shedding more blood, and so embroiling himself with the Lord of Gavrillac + at a time when that gentleman’s friendship was of the first importance to + him, or else of withdrawing with such hurt to his dignity as must impair + his authority in the countryside hereafter. + </p> + <p> + Be it so or otherwise, the fact remains that he stopped short; then, with + an incoherent ejaculation, between anger and contempt, he tossed his arms, + turned on his heel and strode off quickly with his cousin. + </p> + <p> + When the landlord and his people came, they found Andre-Louis, his arms + about the body of his dead friend, murmuring passionately into the deaf + ear that rested almost against his lips: + </p> + <p> + “Philippe! Speak to me, Philippe! Philippe... Don’t you hear me? O God of + Heaven! Philippe!” + </p> + <p> + At a glance they saw that here neither priest nor doctor could avail. The + cheek that lay against Andre-Louis’s was leaden-hued, the half-open eyes + were glazed, and there was a little froth of blood upon the vacuously + parted lips. + </p> + <p> + Half blinded by tears Andre-Louis stumbled after them when they bore the + body into the inn. Upstairs in the little room to which they conveyed it, + he knelt by the bed, and holding the dead man’s hand in both his own, he + swore to him out of his impotent rage that M. de La Tour d’Azyr should pay + a bitter price for this. + </p> + <p> + “It was your eloquence he feared, Philippe,” he said. “Then if I can get + no justice for this deed, at least it shall be fruitless to him. The thing + he feared in you, he shall fear in me. He feared that men might be swayed + by your eloquence to the undoing of such things as himself. Men shall be + swayed by it still. For your eloquence and your arguments shall be my + heritage from you. I will make them my own. It matters nothing that I do + not believe in your gospel of freedom. I know it—every word of it; + that is all that matters to our purpose, yours and mine. If all else + fails, your thoughts shall find expression in my living tongue. Thus at + least we shall have frustrated his vile aim to still the voice he feared. + It shall profit him nothing to have your blood upon his soul. That voice + in you would never half so relentlessly have hounded him and his as it + shall in me—if all else fails.” + </p> + <p> + It was an exulting thought. It calmed him; it soothed his grief, and he + began very softly to pray. And then his heart trembled as he considered + that Philippe, a man of peace, almost a priest, an apostle of + Christianity, had gone to his Maker with the sin of anger on his soul. It + was horrible. Yet God would see the righteousness of that anger. And in no + case—be man’s interpretation of Divinity what it might—could + that one sin outweigh the loving good that Philippe had ever practised, + the noble purity of his great heart. God after all, reflected Andre-Louis, + was not a grand-seigneur. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE LORD OF GAVRILLAC + </h2> + <p> + For the second time that day Andre-Louis set out for the chateau, walking + briskly, and heeding not at all the curious eyes that followed him through + the village, and the whisperings that marked his passage through the + people, all agog by now with that day’s event in which he had been an + actor. + </p> + <p> + He was ushered by Benoit, the elderly body-servant, rather grandiloquently + called the seneschal, into the ground-floor room known traditionally as + the library. It still contained several shelves of neglected volumes, from + which it derived its title, but implements of the chase—fowling-pieces, + powder-horns, hunting-bags, sheath-knives—obtruded far more + prominently than those of study. The furniture was massive, of oak richly + carved, and belonging to another age. Great massive oak beams crossed the + rather lofty whitewashed ceiling. + </p> + <p> + Here the squat Seigneur de Gavrillac was restlessly pacing when + Andre-Louis was introduced. He was already informed, as he announced at + once, of what had taken place at the Breton arme. M. de Chabrillane had + just left him, and he confessed himself deeply grieved and deeply + perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “The pity of it!” he said. “The pity of it!” He bowed his enormous head. + “So estimable a young man, and so full of promise. Ah, this La Tour d’Azyr + is a hard man, and he feels very strongly in these matters. He may be + right. I don’t know. I have never killed a man for holding different views + from mine. In fact, I have never killed a man at all. It isn’t in my + nature. I shouldn’t sleep of nights if I did. But men are differently + made.” + </p> + <p> + “The question, monsieur my godfather,” said Andre-Louis, “is what is to be + done.” He was quite calm and self-possessed, but very white. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou stared at him blankly out of his pale eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what the devil is there to do? From what I am told, Vilmorin went so + far as to strike M. le Marquis.” + </p> + <p> + “Under the very grossest provocation.” + </p> + <p> + “Which he himself provoked by his revolutionary language. The poor lad’s + head was full of this encyclopaedist trash. It comes of too much reading. + I have never set much store by books, Andre; and I have never known + anything but trouble to come out of learning. It unsettles a man. It + complicates his views of life, destroys the simplicity which makes for + peace of mind and happiness. Let this miserable affair be a warning to + you, Andre. You are, yourself, too prone to these new-fashioned + speculations upon a different constitution of the social order. You see + what comes of it. A fine, estimable young man, the only prop of his + widowed mother too, forgets himself, his position, his duty to that mother—everything; + and goes and gets himself killed like this. It is infernally sad. On my + soul it is sad.” He produced a handkerchief, and blew his nose with + vehemence. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis felt a tightening of his heart, a lessening of the hopes, + never too sanguine, which he had founded upon his godfather. + </p> + <p> + “Your criticisms,” he said, “are all for the conduct of the dead, and none + for that of the murderer. It does not seem possible that you should be in + sympathy with such a crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Crime?” shrilled M. de Kercadiou. “My God, boy, you are speaking of M. de + La Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + “I am, and of the abominable murder he has committed...” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” M. de Kercadiou was very emphatic. “I cannot permit that you apply + such terms to him. I cannot permit it. M. le Marquis is my friend, and is + likely very soon to stand in a still closer relationship.” + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding this?” asked Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou was frankly impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what has this to do with it? I may deplore it. But I have no right + to condemn it. It is a common way of adjusting differences between + gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “You really believe that?” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you imply, Andre? Should I say a thing that I don’t + believe? You begin to make me angry.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Thou shalt not kill,’ is the King’s law as well as God’s.” + </p> + <p> + “You are determined to quarrel with me, I think. It was a duel...” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis interrupted him. “It is no more a duel than if it had been + fought with pistols of which only M. le Marquis’s was loaded. He invited + Philippe to discuss the matter further, with the deliberate intent of + forcing a quarrel upon him and killing him. Be patient with me, monsieur + my god-father. I am not telling you of what I imagine but what M. le + Marquis himself admitted to me.” + </p> + <p> + Dominated a little by the young man’s earnestness, M. de Kercadiou’s pale + eyes fell away. He turned with a shrug, and sauntered over to the window. + </p> + <p> + “It would need a court of honour to decide such an issue. And we have no + courts of honour,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But we have courts of justice.” + </p> + <p> + With returning testiness the seigneur swung round to face him again. “And + what court of justice, do you think, would listen to such a plea as you + appear to have in mind?” + </p> + <p> + “There is the court of the King’s Lieutenant at Rennes.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you think the King’s Lieutenant would listen to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to me, perhaps, Monsieur. But if you were to bring the plaint...” + </p> + <p> + “I bring the plaint?” M. de Kercadiou’s pale eyes were wide with horror of + the suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “The thing happened here on your domain.” + </p> + <p> + “I bring a plaint against M. de La Tour d’Azyr! You are out of your + senses, I think. Oh, you are mad; as mad as that poor friend of yours who + has come to this end through meddling in what did not concern him. The + language he used here to M. le Marquis on the score of Mabey was of the + most offensive. Perhaps you didn’t know that. It does not at all surprise + me that the Marquis should have desired satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Andre-Louis, on a note of hopelessness. + </p> + <p> + “You see? What the devil do you see?” + </p> + <p> + “That I shall have to depend upon myself alone.” + </p> + <p> + “And what the devil do you propose to do, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go to Rennes, and lay the facts before the King’s Lieutenant.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll be too busy to see you.” And M. de Kercadiou’s mind swung a trifle + inconsequently, as weak minds will. “There is trouble enough in Rennes + already on the score of these crazy States General, with which the + wonderful M. Necker is to repair the finances of the kingdom. As if a + peddling Swiss bank-clerk, who is also a damned Protestant, could succeed + where such men as Calonne and Brienne have failed.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-afternoon, monsieur my godfather,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” was the querulous demand. + </p> + <p> + “Home at present. To Rennes in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, boy, wait!” The squat little man rolled forward, affectionate + concern on his great ugly face, and he set one of his podgy hands on his + godson’s shoulder. “Now listen to me, Andre,” he reasoned. “This is sheer + knight-errantry—moonshine, lunacy. You’ll come to no good by it if + you persist. You’ve read ‘Don Quixote,’ and what happened to him when he + went tilting against windmills. It’s what will happen to you, neither more + nor less. Leave things as they are, my boy. I wouldn’t have a mischief + happen to you.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked at him, smiling wanly. + </p> + <p> + “I swore an oath to-day which it would damn my soul to break.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you’ll go in spite of anything that I may say?” Impetuous + as he was inconsequent, M. de Kercadiou was bristling again. “Very well, + then, go... Go to the devil!” + </p> + <p> + “I will begin with the King’s Lieutenant.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you get into the trouble you are seeking, don’t come whimpering to + me for assistance,” the seigneur stormed. He was very angry now. “Since + you choose to disobey me, you can break your empty head against the + windmill, and be damned to you.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis bowed with a touch of irony, and reached the door. + </p> + <p> + “If the windmill should prove too formidable,” said he, from the + threshold, “I may see what can be done with the wind. Good-bye, monsieur + my godfather.” + </p> + <p> + He was gone, and M. de Kercadiou was alone, purple in the face, puzzling + out that last cryptic utterance, and not at all happy in his mind, either + on the score of his godson or of M. de La Tour d’Azyr. He was disposed to + be angry with them both. He found these headstrong, wilful men who + relentlessly followed their own impulses very disturbing and irritating. + Himself he loved his ease, and to be at peace with his neighbours; and + that seemed to him so obviously the supreme good of life that he was + disposed to brand them as fools who troubled to seek other things. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE WINDMILL + </h2> + <p> + There was between Nantes and Rennes an established service of three + stage-coaches weekly in each direction, which for a sum of twenty-four + livres—roughly, the equivalent of an English guinea—would + carry you the seventy and odd miles of the journey in some fourteen hours. + Once a week one of the diligences going in each direction would swerve + aside from the highroad to call at Gavrillac, to bring and take letters, + newspapers, and sometimes passengers. It was usually by this coach that + Andre-Louis came and went when the occasion offered. At present, however, + he was too much in haste to lose a day awaiting the passing of that + diligence. So it was on a horse hired from the Breton arme that he set out + next morning; and an hour’s brisk ride under a grey wintry sky, by a + half-ruined road through ten miles of flat, uninteresting country, brought + him to the city of Rennes. + </p> + <p> + He rode across the main bridge over the Vilaine, and so into the upper and + principal part of that important city of some thirty thousand souls, most + of whom, he opined from the seething, clamant crowds that everywhere + blocked his way, must on this day have taken to the streets. Clearly + Philippe had not overstated the excitement prevailing there. + </p> + <p> + He pushed on as best he could, and so came at last to the Place Royale, + where he found the crowd to be most dense. From the plinth of the + equestrian statue of Louis XV, a white-faced young man was excitedly + addressing the multitude. His youth and dress proclaimed the student, and + a group of his fellows, acting as a guard of honour to him, kept the + immediate precincts of the statue. + </p> + <p> + Over the heads of the crowd Andre-Louis caught a few of the phrases flung + forth by that eager voice. + </p> + <p> + “It was the promise of the King... It is the King’s authority they + flout... They arrogate to themselves the whole sovereignty in Brittany. + The King has dissolved them... These insolent nobles defying their + sovereign and the people...” + </p> + <p> + Had he not known already, from what Philippe had told him, of the events + which had brought the Third Estate to the point of active revolt, those + few phrases would fully have informed him. This popular display of temper + was most opportune to his need, he thought. And in the hope that it might + serve his turn by disposing to reasonableness the mind of the King’s + Lieutenant, he pushed on up the wide and well-paved Rue Royale, where the + concourse of people began to diminish. He put up his hired horse at the + Come de Cerf, and set out again, on foot, to the Palais de Justice. + </p> + <p> + There was a brawling mob by the framework of poles and scaffoldings about + the building cathedral, upon which work had been commenced a year ago. But + he did not pause to ascertain the particular cause of that gathering. He + strode on, and thus came presently to the handsome Italianate palace that + was one of the few public edifices that had survived the devastating fire + of sixty years ago. + </p> + <p> + He won through with difficulty to the great hall, known as the Salle des + Pas Perdus, where he was left to cool his heels for a full half-hour after + he had found an usher so condescending as to inform the god who presided + over that shrine of Justice that a lawyer from Gavrillac humbly begged an + audience on an affair of gravity. + </p> + <p> + That the god condescended to see him at all was probably due to the grave + complexion of the hour. At long length he was escorted up the broad stone + staircase, and ushered into a spacious, meagrely furnished anteroom, to + make one of a waiting crowd of clients, mostly men. + </p> + <p> + There he spent another half-hour, and employed the time in considering + exactly what he should say. This consideration made him realize the + weakness of the case he proposed to set before a man whose views of law + and morality were coloured by his social rank. + </p> + <p> + At last he was ushered through a narrow but very massive and richly + decorated door into a fine, well-lighted room furnished with enough gilt + and satin to have supplied the boudoir of a lady of fashion. + </p> + <p> + It was a trivial setting for a King’s Lieutenant, but about the King’s + Lieutenant there was—at least to ordinary eyes—nothing + trivial. At the far end of the chamber, to the right of one of the tall + windows that looked out over the inner court, before a goat-legged + writing-table with Watteau panels, heavily encrusted with ormolu, sat that + exalted being. Above a scarlet coat with an order flaming on its breast, + and a billow of lace in which diamonds sparkled like drops of water, + sprouted the massive powdered head of M. de Lesdiguieres. It was thrown + back to scowl upon this visitor with an expectant arrogance that made + Andre-Louis wonder almost was a genuflexion awaited from him. + </p> + <p> + Perceiving a lean, lantern-jawed young man, with straight, lank black + hair, in a caped riding-coat of brown cloth, and yellow buckskin breeches, + his knee-boots splashed with mud, the scowl upon that august visage + deepened until it brought together the thick black eyebrows above the + great hooked nose. + </p> + <p> + “You announce yourself as a lawyer of Gavrillac with an important + communication,” he growled. It was a peremptory command to make this + communication without wasting the valuable time of a King’s Lieutenant, of + whose immense importance it conveyed something more than a hint. M. de + Lesdiguieres accounted himself an imposing personality, and he had every + reason to do so, for in his time he had seen many a poor devil scared out + of all his senses by the thunder of his voice. + </p> + <p> + He waited now to see the same thing happen to this youthful lawyer from + Gavrillac. But he waited in vain. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis found him ridiculous. He knew pretentiousness for the mask of + worthlessness and weakness. And here he beheld pretentiousness incarnate. + It was to be read in that arrogant poise of the head, that scowling brow, + the inflexion of that reverberating voice. Even more difficult than it is + for a man to be a hero to his valet—who has witnessed the dispersal + of the parts that make up the imposing whole—is it for a man to be a + hero to the student of Man who has witnessed the same in a different + sense. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis stood forward boldly—impudently, thought M. de + Lesdiguieres. + </p> + <p> + “You are His Majesty’s Lieutenant here in Brittany,” he said—and it + almost seemed to the august lord of life and death that this fellow had + the incredible effrontery to address him as one man speaking to another. + “You are the dispenser of the King’s high justice in this province.” + </p> + <p> + Surprise spread on that handsome, sallow face under the heavily powdered + wig. + </p> + <p> + “Is your business concerned with this infernal insubordination of the + canaille?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is not, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + The black eyebrows rose. “Then what the devil do you mean by intruding + upon me at a time when all my attention is being claimed by the obvious + urgency of this disgraceful affair?” + </p> + <p> + “The affair that brings me is no less disgraceful and no less urgent.” + </p> + <p> + “It will have to wait!” thundered the great man in a passion, and tossing + back a cloud of lace from his hand, he reached for the little silver bell + upon his table. + </p> + <p> + “A moment, monsieur!” Andre-Louis’ tone was peremptory. M. de Lesdiguieres + checked in sheer amazement at its impudence. “I can state it very + briefly...” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I said already...” + </p> + <p> + “And when you have heard it,” Andre-Louis went on, relentlessly, + interrupting the interruption, “you will agree with me as to its + character.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Lesdiguieres considered him very sternly. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Andre-Louis Moreau.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Andre-Louis Moreau, if you can state your plea briefly, I will hear + you. But I warn you that I shall be very angry if you fail to justify the + impertinence of this insistence at so inopportune a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be the judge of that, monsieur,” said Andre-Louis, and he + proceeded at once to state his case, beginning with the shooting of Mabey, + and passing thence to the killing of M. de Vilmorin. But he withheld until + the end the name of the great gentleman against whom he demanded justice, + persuaded that did he introduce it earlier he would not be allowed to + proceed. + </p> + <p> + He had a gift of oratory of whose full powers he was himself hardly + conscious yet, though destined very soon to become so. He told his story + well, without exaggeration, yet with a force of simple appeal that was + irresistible. Gradually the great man’s face relaxed from its forbidding + severity. Interest, warming almost to sympathy, came to be reflected on + it. + </p> + <p> + “And who, sir, is the man you charge with this?” + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + The effect of that formidable name was immediate. Dismayed anger, and an + arrogance more utter than before, took the place of the sympathy he had + been betrayed into displaying. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” he shouted, and without waiting for an answer, “Why, here’s + impudence,” he stormed on, “to come before me with such a charge against a + gentleman of M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s eminence! How dare you speak of him as + a coward....” + </p> + <p> + “I speak of him as a murderer,” the young man corrected. “And I demand + justice against him.” + </p> + <p> + “You demand it, do you? My God, what next?” + </p> + <p> + “That is for you to say, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + It surprised the great gentleman into a more or less successful effort of + self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Let me warn you,” said he, acidly, “that it is not wise to make wild + accusations against a nobleman. That, in itself, is a punishable offence, + as you may learn. Now listen to me. In this matter of Mabey—assuming + your statement of it to be exact—the gamekeeper may have exceeded + his duty; but by so little that it is hardly worth comment. Consider, + however, that in any case it is not a matter for the King’s Lieutenant, or + for any court but the seigneurial court of M. de La Tour d’Azyr himself. + It is before the magistrates of his own appointing that such a matter must + be laid, since it is matter strictly concerning his own seigneurial + jurisdiction. As a lawyer you should not need to be told so much.” + </p> + <p> + “As a lawyer, I am prepared to argue the point. But, as a lawyer I also + realize that if that case were prosecuted, it could only end in the unjust + punishment of a wretched gamekeeper, who did no more than carry out his + orders, but who none the less would now be made a scapegoat, if scapegoat + were necessary. I am not concerned to hang Benet on the gallows earned by + M. de La Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Lesdiguieres smote the table violently. “My God!” he cried out, to + add more quietly, on a note of menace, “You are singularly insolent, my + man.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not my intention, sir, I assure you. I am a lawyer, pleading a + case—the case of M. de Vilmorin. It is for his assassination that I + have come to beg the King’s justice.” + </p> + <p> + “But you yourself have said that it was a duel!” cried the Lieutenant, + between anger and bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “I have said that it was made to appear a duel. There is a distinction, as + I shall show, if you will condescend to hear me out.” + </p> + <p> + “Take your own time, sir!” said the ironical M. de Lesdiguieres, whose + tenure of office had never yet held anything that remotely resembled this + experience. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis took him literally. “I thank you, sir,” he answered, solemnly, + and submitted his argument. “It can be shown that M. de Vilmorin never + practised fencing in all his life, and it is notorious that M. de La Tour + d’Azyr is an exceptional swordsman. Is it a duel, monsieur, where one of + the combatants alone is armed? For it amounts to that on a comparison of + their measures of respective skill.” + </p> + <p> + “There has scarcely been a duel fought on which the same trumpery argument + might not be advanced.” + </p> + <p> + “But not always with equal justice. And in one case, at least, it was + advanced successfully.” + </p> + <p> + “Successfully? When was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten years ago, in Dauphiny. I refer to the case of M. de Gesvres, a + gentleman of that province, who forced a duel upon M. de la Roche + Jeannine, and killed him. M. de Jeannine was a member of a powerful + family, which exerted itself to obtain justice. It put forward just such + arguments as now obtain against M. de La Tour d’Azyr. As you will + remember, the judges held that the provocation had proceeded of intent + from M. de Gesvres; they found him guilty of premeditated murder, and he + was hanged.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Lesdiguieres exploded yet again. “Death of my life!” he cried. “Have + you the effrontery to suggest that M. de La Tour d’Azyr should be hanged? + Have you?” + </p> + <p> + “But why not, monsieur, if it is the law, and there is precedent for it, + as I have shown you, and if it can be established that what I state is the + truth—as established it can be without difficulty?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ask me, why not? Have you temerity to ask me that?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, monsieur. Can you answer me? If you cannot, monsieur, I shall + understand that whilst it is possible for a powerful family like that of + La Roche Jeannine to set the law in motion, the law must remain inert for + the obscure and uninfluential, however brutally wronged by a great + nobleman.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Lesdiguieres perceived that in argument he would accomplish nothing + against this impassive, resolute young man. The menace of him grew more + fierce. + </p> + <p> + “I should advise you to take yourself off at once, and to be thankful for + the opportunity to depart unscathed.” + </p> + <p> + “I am, then, to understand, monsieur, that there will be no inquiry into + this case? That nothing that I can say will move you?” + </p> + <p> + “You are to understand that if you are still there in two minutes it will + be very much the worse for you.” And M. de Lesdiguieres tinkled the silver + hand-bell upon his table. + </p> + <p> + “I have informed you, monsieur, that a duel—so-called—has been + fought, and a man killed. It seems that I must remind you, the + administrator of the King’s justice, that duels are against the law, and + that it is your duty to hold an inquiry. I come as the legal + representative of the bereaved mother of M. de Vilmorin to demand of you + the inquiry that is due.” + </p> + <p> + The door behind Andre-Louis opened softly. M. de Lesdiguieres, pale with + anger, contained himself with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “You seek to compel us, do you, you impudent rascal?” he growled. “You + think the King’s justice is to be driven headlong by the voice of any + impudent roturier? I marvel at my own patience with you. But I give you a + last warning, master lawyer; keep a closer guard over that insolent tongue + of yours, or you will have cause very bitterly to regret its glibness.” He + waved a jewelled, contemptuous hand, and spoke to the usher standing + behind Andre. “To the door!” he said, shortly. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis hesitated a second. Then with a shrug he turned. This was the + windmill, indeed, and he a poor knight of rueful countenance. To attack it + at closer quarters would mean being dashed to pieces. Yet on the threshold + he turned again. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Lesdiguieres,” said he, “may I recite to you an interesting fact in + natural history? The tiger is a great lord in the jungle, and was for + centuries the terror of lesser beasts, including the wolf. The wolf, + himself a hunter, wearied of being hunted. He took to associating with + other wolves, and then the wolves, driven to form packs for + self-protection, discovered the power of the pack, and took to hunting the + tiger, with disastrous results to him. You should study Buffon, M. de + Lesdiguieres.” + </p> + <p> + “I have studied a buffoon this morning, I think,” was the punning sneer + with which M. de Lesdiguieres replied. But that he conceived himself + witty, it is probable he would not have condescended to reply at all. “I + don’t understand you,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “But you will, M. de Lesdiguieres. You will,” said Andre-Louis, and so + departed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE WIND + </h2> + <p> + He had broken his futile lance with the windmill—the image suggested + by M. de Kercadiou persisted in his mind—and it was, he perceived, + by sheer good fortune that he had escaped without hurt. There remained the + wind itself—the whirlwind. And the events in Rennes, reflex of the + graver events in Nantes, had set that wind blowing in his favour. + </p> + <p> + He set out briskly to retrace his steps towards the Place Royale, where + the gathering of the populace was greatest, where, as he judged, lay the + heart and brain of this commotion that was exciting the city. + </p> + <p> + But the commotion that he had left there was as nothing to the commotion + which he found on his return. Then there had been a comparative hush to + listen to the voice of a speaker who denounced the First and Second + Estates from the pedestal of the statue of Louis XV. Now the air was + vibrant with the voice of the multitude itself, raised in anger. Here and + there men were fighting with canes and fists; everywhere a fierce + excitement raged, and the gendarmes sent thither by the King’s Lieutenant + to restore and maintain order were so much helpless flotsam in that + tempestuous human ocean. + </p> + <p> + There were cries of “To the Palais! To the Palais! Down with the + assassins! Down with the nobles! To the Palais!” + </p> + <p> + An artisan who stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the press + enlightened Andre-Louis on the score of the increased excitement. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve shot him dead. His body is lying there where it fell at the foot + of the statue. And there was another student killed not an hour ago over + there by the cathedral works. Pardi! If they can’t prevail in one way + they’ll prevail in another.” The man was fiercely emphatic. “They’ll stop + at nothing. If they can’t overawe us, by God, they’ll assassinate us. They + are determined to conduct these States of Brittany in their own way. No + interests but their own shall be considered.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis left him still talking, and clove himself a way through that + human press. + </p> + <p> + At the statue’s base he came upon a little cluster of students about the + body of the murdered lad, all stricken with fear and helplessness. + </p> + <p> + “You here, Moreau!” said a voice. + </p> + <p> + He looked round to find himself confronted by a slight, swarthy man of + little more than thirty, firm of mouth and impertinent of nose, who + considered him with disapproval. It was Le Chapelier, a lawyer of Rennes, + a prominent member of the Literary Chamber of that city, a forceful man, + fertile in revolutionary ideas and of an exceptional gift of eloquence. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is you, Chapelier! Why don’t you speak to them? Why don’t you tell + them what to do? Up with you, man!” And he pointed to the plinth. + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier’s dark, restless eyes searched the other’s impassive face for + some trace of the irony he suspected. They were as wide asunder as the + poles, these two, in their political views; and mistrusted as Andre-Louis + was by all his colleagues of the Literary Chamber of Rennes, he was by + none mistrusted so thoroughly as by this vigorous republican. Indeed, had + Le Chapelier been able to prevail against the influence of the seminarist + Vilmorin, Andre-Louis would long since have found himself excluded from + that assembly of the intellectual youth of Rennes, which he exasperated by + his eternal mockery of their ideals. + </p> + <p> + So now Le Chapelier suspected mockery in that invitation, suspected it + even when he failed to find traces of it on Andre-Louis’ face, for he had + learnt by experience that it was a face not often to be trusted for an + indication of the real thoughts that moved behind it. + </p> + <p> + “Your notions and mine on that score can hardly coincide,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Can there be two opinions?” quoth Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “There are usually two opinions whenever you and I are together, Moreau—more + than ever now that you are the appointed delegate of a nobleman. You see + what your friends have done. No doubt you approve their methods.” He was + coldly hostile. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked at him without surprise. So invariably opposed to each + other in academic debates, how should Le Chapelier suspect his present + intentions? + </p> + <p> + “If you won’t tell them what is to be done, I will,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Nom de Dieu! If you want to invite a bullet from the other side, I shall + not hinder you. It may help to square the account.” + </p> + <p> + Scarcely were the words out than he repented them; for as if in answer to + that challenge Andre-Louis sprang up on to the plinth. Alarmed now, for he + could only suppose it to be Andre-Louis’ intention to speak on behalf of + Privilege, of which he was a publicly appointed representative, Le + Chapelier clutched him by the leg to pull him down again. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that, no!” he was shouting. “Come down, you fool. Do you think we + will let you ruin everything by your clowning? Come down!” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, maintaining his position by clutching one of the legs of the + bronze horse, flung his voice like a bugle-note over the heads of that + seething mob. + </p> + <p> + “Citizens of Rennes, the motherland is in danger!” + </p> + <p> + The effect was electric. A stir ran, like a ripple over water, across that + froth of upturned human faces, and completest silence followed. In that + great silence they looked at this slim young man, hatless, long wisps of + his black hair fluttering in the breeze, his neckcloth in disorder, his + face white, his eyes on fire. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis felt a sudden surge of exaltation as he realized by instinct + that at one grip he had seized that crowd, and that he held it fast in the + spell of his cry and his audacity. + </p> + <p> + Even Le Chapelier, though still clinging to his ankle, had ceased to tug. + The reformer, though unshaken in his assumption of Andre-Louis’ + intentions, was for a moment bewildered by the first note of his appeal. + </p> + <p> + And then, slowly, impressively, in a voice that travelled clear to the + ends of the square, the young lawyer of Gavrillac began to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Shuddering in horror of the vile deed here perpetrated, my voice demands + to be heard by you. You have seen murder done under your eyes—the + murder of one who nobly, without any thought of self, gave voice to the + wrongs by which we are all oppressed. Fearing that voice, shunning the + truth as foul things shun the light, our oppressors sent their agents to + silence him in death.” + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier released at last his hold of Andre-Louis’ ankle, staring up + at him the while in sheer amazement. It seemed that the fellow was in + earnest; serious for once; and for once on the right side. What had come + to him? + </p> + <p> + “Of assassins what shall you look for but assassination? I have a tale to + tell which will show that this is no new thing that you have witnessed + here to-day; it will reveal to you the forces with which you have to deal. + Yesterday...” + </p> + <p> + There was an interruption. A voice in the crowd, some twenty paces, + perhaps, was raised to shout: + </p> + <p> + “Yet another of them!” + </p> + <p> + Immediately after the voice came a pistol-shot, and a bullet flattened + itself against the bronze figure just behind Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + Instantly there was turmoil in the crowd, most intense about the spot + whence the shot had been fired. The assailant was one of a considerable + group of the opposition, a group that found itself at once beset on every + side, and hard put to it to defend him. + </p> + <p> + From the foot of the plinth rang the voice of the students making chorus + to Le Chapelier, who was bidding Andre-Louis to seek shelter. + </p> + <p> + “Come down! Come down at once! They’ll murder you as they murdered La + Riviere.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them!” He flung wide his arms in a gesture supremely theatrical, and + laughed. “I stand here at their mercy. Let them, if they will, add mine to + the blood that will presently rise up to choke them. Let them assassinate + me. It is a trade they understand. But until they do so, they shall not + prevent me from speaking to you, from telling you what is to be looked for + in them.” And again he laughed, not merely in exaltation as they supposed + who watched him from below, but also in amusement. And his amusement had + two sources. One was to discover how glibly he uttered the phrases proper + to whip up the emotions of a crowd: the other was in the remembrance of + how the crafty Cardinal de Retz, for the purpose of inflaming popular + sympathy on his behalf, had been in the habit of hiring fellows to fire + upon his carriage. He was in just such case as that arch-politician. True, + he had not hired the fellow to fire that pistol-shot; but he was none the + less obliged to him, and ready to derive the fullest, advantage from the + act. + </p> + <p> + The group that sought to protect that man was battling on, seeking to hew + a way out of that angry, heaving press. + </p> + <p> + “Let them go!” Andre-Louis called down... “What matters one assassin more + or less? Let them go, and listen to me, my countrymen!” + </p> + <p> + And presently, when some measure of order was restored, he began his tale. + In simple language now, yet with a vehemence and directness that drove + home every point, he tore their hearts with the story of yesterday’s + happenings at Gavrillac. He drew tears from them with the pathos of his + picture of the bereaved widow Mabey and her three starving, destitute + children—“orphaned to avenge the death of a pheasant”—and the + bereaved mother of that M. de Vilmorin, a student of Rennes, known here to + many of them, who had met his death in a noble endeavour to champion the + cause of an esurient member of their afflicted order. + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr said of him that he had too dangerous a + gift of eloquence. It was to silence his brave voice that he killed him. + But he has failed of his object. For I, poor Philippe de Vilmorin’s + friend, have assumed the mantle of his apostleship, and I speak to you + with his voice to-day.” + </p> + <p> + It was a statement that helped Le Chapelier at last to understand, at + least in part, this bewildering change in Andre-Louis, which rendered him + faithless to the side that employed him. + </p> + <p> + “I am not here,” continued Andre-Louis, “merely to demand at your hands + vengeance upon Philippe de Vilmorin’s murderers. I am here to tell you the + things he would to-day have told you had he lived.” + </p> + <p> + So far at least he was frank. But he did not add that they were things he + did not himself believe, things that he accounted the cant by which an + ambitious bourgeoisie—speaking through the mouths of the lawyers, + who were its articulate part—sought to overthrow to its own + advantage the present state of things. He left his audience in the natural + belief that the views he expressed were the views he held. + </p> + <p> + And now in a terrible voice, with an eloquence that amazed himself, he + denounced the inertia of the royal justice where the great are the + offenders. It was with bitter sarcasm that he spoke of their King’s + Lieutenant, M. de Lesdiguieres. + </p> + <p> + “Do you wonder,” he asked them, “that M. de Lesdiguieres should administer + the law so that it shall ever be favourable to our great nobles? Would it + be just, would it be reasonable that he should otherwise administer it?” + He paused dramatically to let his sarcasm sink in. It had the effect of + reawakening Le Chapelier’s doubts, and checking his dawning conviction in + Andre-Louis’ sincerity. Whither was he going now? + </p> + <p> + He was not left long in doubt. Proceeding, Andre-Louis spoke as he + conceived that Philippe de Vilmorin would have spoken. He had so often + argued with him, so often attended the discussions of the Literary + Chamber, that he had all the rant of the reformers—that was yet true + in substance—at his fingers’ ends. + </p> + <p> + “Consider, after all, the composition of this France of ours. A million of + its inhabitants are members of the privileged classes. They compose + France. They are France. For surely you cannot suppose the remainder to be + anything that matters. It cannot be pretended that twenty-four million + souls are of any account, that they can be representative of this great + nation, or that they can exist for any purpose but that of servitude to + the million elect.” + </p> + <p> + Bitter laughter shook them now, as he desired it should. “Seeing their + privileges in danger of invasion by these twenty-four millions—mostly + canailles; possibly created by God, it is true, but clearly so created to + be the slaves of Privilege—does it surprise you that the dispensing + of royal justice should be placed in the stout hands of these + Lesdiguieres, men without brains to think or hearts to be touched? + Consider what it is that must be defended against the assault of us others—canaille. + Consider a few of these feudal rights that are in danger of being swept + away should the Privileged yield even to the commands of their sovereign; + and admit the Third Estate to an equal vote with themselves. + </p> + <p> + “What would become of the right of terrage on the land, of parciere on the + fruit-trees, of carpot on the vines? What of the corvees by which they + command forced labour, of the ban de vendage, which gives them the first + vintage, the banvin which enables them to control to their own advantage + the sale of wine? What of their right of grinding the last liard of + taxation out of the people to maintain their own opulent estate; the cens, + the lods-et-ventes, which absorb a fifth of the value of the land, the + blairee, which must be paid before herds can feed on communal lands, the + pulverage to indemnify them for the dust raised on their roads by the + herds that go to market, the sextelage on everything offered for sale in + the public markets, the etalonnage, and all the rest? What of their rights + over men and animals for field labour, of ferries over rivers, and of + bridges over streams, of sinking wells, of warren, of dovecot, and of + fire, which last yields them a tax on every peasant hearth? What of their + exclusive rights of fishing and of hunting, the violation of which is + ranked as almost a capital offence? + </p> + <p> + “And what of other rights, unspeakable, abominable, over the lives and + bodies of their people, rights which, if rarely exercised, have never been + rescinded. To this day if a noble returning from the hunt were to slay two + of his serfs to bathe and refresh his feet in their blood, he could still + claim in his sufficient defence that it was his absolute feudal right to + do so. + </p> + <p> + “Rough-shod, these million Privileged ride over the souls and bodies of + twenty-four million contemptible canaille existing but for their own + pleasure. Woe betide him who so much as raises his voice in protest in the + name of humanity against an excess of these already excessive abuses. I + have told you of one remorselessly slain in cold blood for doing no more + than that. Your own eyes have witnessed the assassination of another here + upon this plinth, of yet another over there by the cathedral works, and + the attempt upon my own life. + </p> + <p> + “Between them and the justice due to them in such cases stand these + Lesdiguieres, these King’s Lieutenants; not instruments of justice, but + walls erected for the shelter of Privilege and Abuse whenever it exceeds + its grotesquely excessive rights. + </p> + <p> + “Do you wonder that they will not yield an inch; that they will resist the + election of a Third Estate with the voting power to sweep all these + privileges away, to compel the Privileged to submit themselves to a just + equality in the eyes of the law with the meanest of the canaille they + trample underfoot, to provide that the moneys necessary to save this state + from the bankruptcy into which they have all but plunged it shall be + raised by taxation to be borne by themselves in the same proportion as by + others? + </p> + <p> + “Sooner than yield to so much they prefer to resist even the royal + command.” + </p> + <p> + A phrase occurred to him used yesterday by Vilmorin, a phrase to which he + had refused to attach importance when uttered then. He used it now. “In + doing this they are striking at the very foundations of the throne. These + fools do not perceive that if that throne falls over, it is they who stand + nearest to it who will be crushed.” + </p> + <p> + A terrific roar acclaimed that statement. Tense and quivering with the + excitement that was flowing through him, and from him out into that great + audience, he stood a moment smiling ironically. Then he waved them into + silence, and saw by their ready obedience how completely he possessed + them. For in the voice with which he spoke each now recognized the voice + of himself, giving at last expression to the thoughts that for months and + years had been inarticulately stirring in each simple mind. + </p> + <p> + Presently he resumed, speaking more quietly, that ironic smile about the + corner of his mouth growing more marked: + </p> + <p> + “In taking my leave of M. de Lesdiguieres I gave him warning out of a page + of natural history. I told him that when the wolves, roaming singly + through the jungle, were weary of being hunted by the tiger, they banded + themselves into packs, and went a-hunting the tiger in their turn. M. de + Lesdiguieres contemptuously answered that he did not understand me. But + your wits are better than his. You understand me, I think? Don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Again a great roar, mingled now with some approving laughter, was his + answer. He had wrought them up to a pitch of dangerous passion, and they + were ripe for any violence to which he urged them. If he had failed with + the windmill, at least he was now master of the wind. + </p> + <p> + “To the Palais!” they shouted, waving their hands, brandishing canes, and—here + and there—even a sword. “To the Palais! Down with M. de + Lesdiguieres! Death to the King’s Lieutenant!” + </p> + <p> + He was master of the wind, indeed. His dangerous gift of oratory—a + gift nowhere more powerful than in France, since nowhere else are men’s + emotions so quick to respond to the appeal of eloquence—had given + him this mastery. At his bidding now the gale would sweep away the + windmill against which he had flung himself in vain. But that, as he + straightforwardly revealed it, was no part of his intent. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, wait!” he bade them. “Is this miserable instrument of a corrupt + system worth the attention of your noble indignation?” + </p> + <p> + He hoped his words would be reported to M. de Lesdiguieres. He thought it + would be good for the soul of M. de Lesdiguieres to hear the undiluted + truth about himself for once. + </p> + <p> + “It is the system itself you must attack and overthrow; not a mere + instrument—a miserable painted lath such as this. And precipitancy + will spoil everything. Above all, my children, no violence!” + </p> + <p> + My children! Could his godfather have heard him! + </p> + <p> + “You have seen often already the result of premature violence elsewhere in + Brittany, and you have heard of it elsewhere in France. Violence on your + part will call for violence on theirs. They will welcome the chance to + assert their mastery by a firmer grip than heretofore. The military will + be sent for. You will be faced by the bayonets of mercenaries. Do not + provoke that, I implore you. Do not put it into their power, do not afford + them the pretext they would welcome to crush you down into the mud of your + own blood.” + </p> + <p> + Out of the silence into which they had fallen anew broke now the cry of + </p> + <p> + “What else, then? What else?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” he answered them. “The wealth and strength of Brittany + lies in Nantes—a bourgeois city, one of the most prosperous in this + realm, rendered so by the energy of the bourgeoisie and the toil of the + people. It was in Nantes that this movement had its beginning, and as a + result of it the King issued his order dissolving the States as now + constituted—an order which those who base their power on Privilege + and Abuse do not hesitate to thwart. Let Nantes be informed of the precise + situation, and let nothing be done here until Nantes shall have given us + the lead. She has the power—which we in Rennes have not—to + make her will prevail, as we have seen already. Let her exert that power + once more, and until she does so do you keep the peace in Rennes. Thus + shall you triumph. Thus shall the outrages that are being perpetrated + under your eyes be fully and finally avenged.” + </p> + <p> + As abruptly as he had leapt upon the plinth did he now leap down from it. + He had finished. He had said all—perhaps more than all—that + could have been said by the dead friend with whose voice he spoke. But it + was not their will that he should thus extinguish himself. The thunder of + their acclamations rose deafeningly upon the air. He had played upon their + emotions—each in turn—as a skilful harpist plays upon the + strings of his instrument. And they were vibrant with the passions he had + aroused, and the high note of hope on which he had brought his symphony to + a close. + </p> + <p> + A dozen students caught him as he leapt down, and swung him to their + shoulders, where again he came within view of all the acclaiming crowd. + </p> + <p> + The delicate Le Chapelier pressed alongside of him with flushed face and + shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My lad,” he said to him, “you have kindled a fire to-day that will sweep + the face of France in a blaze of liberty.” And then to the students he + issued a sharp command. “To the Literary Chamber—at once. We must + concert measures upon the instant, a delegate must be dispatched to Nantes + forthwith, to convey to our friends there the message of the people of + Rennes.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd fell back, opening a lane through which the students bore the + hero of the hour. Waving his hands to them, he called upon them to + disperse to their homes, and await there in patience what must follow very + soon. + </p> + <p> + “You have endured for centuries with a fortitude that is a pattern to the + world,” he flattered them. “Endure a little longer yet. The end, my + friends, is well in sight at last.” + </p> + <p> + They carried him out of the square and up the Rue Royale to an old house, + one of the few old houses surviving in that city that had risen from its + ashes, where in an upper chamber lighted by diamond-shaped panes of yellow + glass the Literary Chamber usually held its meetings. Thither in his wake + the members of that chamber came hurrying, summoned by the messages that + Le Chapelier had issued during their progress. + </p> + <p> + Behind closed doors a flushed and excited group of some fifty men, the + majority of whom were young, ardent, and afire with the illusion of + liberty, hailed Andre-Louis as the strayed sheep who had returned to the + fold, and smothered him in congratulations and thanks. + </p> + <p> + Then they settled down to deliberate upon immediate measures, whilst the + doors below were kept by a guard of honour that had improvised itself from + the masses. And very necessary was this. For no sooner had the Chamber + assembled than the house was assailed by the gendarmerie of M. de + Lesdiguieres, dispatched in haste to arrest the firebrand who was inciting + the people of Rennes to sedition. The force consisted of fifty men. Five + hundred would have been too few. The mob broke their carbines, broke some + of their heads, and would indeed have torn them into pieces had they not + beaten a timely and well-advised retreat before a form of horseplay to + which they were not at all accustomed. + </p> + <p> + And whilst that was taking place in the street below, in the room + abovestairs the eloquent Le Chapelier was addressing his colleagues of the + Literary Chamber. Here, with no bullets to fear, and no one to report his + words to the authorities, Le Chapelier could permit his oratory a full, + unintimidated flow. And that considerable oratory was as direct and brutal + as the man himself was delicate and elegant. + </p> + <p> + He praised the vigour and the greatness of the speech they had heard from + their colleague Moreau. Above all he praised its wisdom. Moreau’s words + had come as a surprise to them. Hitherto they had never known him as other + than a bitter critic of their projects of reform and regeneration; and + quite lately they had heard, not without misgivings, of his appointment as + delegate for a nobleman in the States of Brittany. But they held the + explanation of his conversion. The murder of their dear colleague Vilmorin + had produced this change. In that brutal deed Moreau had beheld at last in + true proportions the workings of that evil spirit which they were vowed to + exorcise from France. And to-day he had proven himself the stoutest + apostle among them of the new faith. He had pointed out to them the only + sane and useful course. The illustration he had borrowed from natural + history was most apt. Above all, let them pack like the wolves, and to + ensure this uniformity of action in the people of all Brittany, let a + delegate at once be sent to Nantes, which had already proved itself the + real seat of Brittany’s power. It but remained to appoint that delegate, + and Le Chapelier invited them to elect him. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, on a bench near the window, a prey now to some measure of + reaction, listened in bewilderment to that flood of eloquence. + </p> + <p> + As the applause died down, he heard a voice exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “I propose to you that we appoint our leader here, Le Chapelier, to be + that delegate.” + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier reared his elegantly dressed head, which had been bowed in + thought, and it was seen that his countenance was pale. Nervously he + fingered a gold spy-glass. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he said, slowly, “I am deeply sensible of the honour that + you do me. But in accepting it I should be usurping an honour that rightly + belongs elsewhere. Who could represent us better, who more deserving to be + our representative, to speak to our friends of Nantes with the voice of + Rennes, than the champion who once already to-day has so incomparably + given utterance to the voice of this great city? Confer this honour of + being your spokesman where it belongs—upon Andre-Louis Moreau.” + </p> + <p> + Rising in response to the storm of applause that greeted the proposal, + Andre-Louis bowed and forthwith yielded. “Be it so,” he said, simply. “It + is perhaps fitting that I should carry out what I have begun, though I too + am of the opinion that Le Chapelier would have been a worthier + representative. I will set out to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “You will set out at once, my lad,” Le Chapelier informed him, and now + revealed what an uncharitable mind might account the true source of his + generosity. “It is not safe after what has happened for you to linger an + hour in Rennes. And you must go secretly. Let none of you allow it to be + known that he has gone. I would not have you come to harm over this, + Andre-Louis. But you must see the risks you run, and if you are to be + spared to help in this work of salvation of our afflicted motherland, you + must use caution, move secretly, veil your identity even. Or else M. de + Lesdiguieres will have you laid by the heels, and it will be good-night + for you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. OMNES OMNIBUS + </h2> + <p> + Andre-Louis rode forth from Rennes committed to a deeper adventure than he + had dreamed of when he left the sleepy village of Gavrillac. Lying the + night at a roadside inn, and setting out again early in the morning, he + reached Nantes soon after noon of the following day. + </p> + <p> + Through that long and lonely ride through the dull plains of Brittany, now + at their dreariest in their winter garb, he had ample leisure in which to + review his actions and his position. From one who had taken hitherto a + purely academic and by no means friendly interest in the new philosophies + of social life, exercising his wits upon these new ideas merely as a + fencer exercises his eye and wrist with the foils, without ever suffering + himself to be deluded into supposing the issue a real one, he found + himself suddenly converted into a revolutionary firebrand, committed to + revolutionary action of the most desperate kind. The representative and + delegate of a nobleman in the States of Brittany, he found himself + simultaneously and incongruously the representative and delegate of the + whole Third Estate of Rennes. + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to determine to what extent, in the heat of passion and + swept along by the torrent of his own oratory, he might yesterday have + succeeded in deceiving himself. But it is at least certain that, looking + back in cold blood now, he had no single delusion on the score of what he + had done. Cynically he had presented to his audience one side only of the + great question that he propounded. + </p> + <p> + But since the established order of things in France was such as to make a + rampart for M. de La Tour d’Azyr, affording him complete immunity for this + and any other crimes that it pleased him to commit, why, then the + established order must take the consequences of its wrong-doing. Therein + he perceived his clear justification. + </p> + <p> + And so it was without misgivings that he came on his errand of sedition + into that beautiful city of Nantes, rendered by its spacious streets and + splendid port the rival in prosperity of Bordeaux and Marseilles. + </p> + <p> + He found an inn on the Quai La Fosse, where he put up his horse, and where + he dined in the embrasure of a window that looked out over the + tree-bordered quay and the broad bosom of the Loire, on which argosies of + all nations rode at anchor. The sun had again broken through the clouds, + and shed its pale wintry light over the yellow waters and the tall-masted + shipping. + </p> + <p> + Along the quays there was a stir of life as great as that to be seen on + the quays of Paris. Foreign sailors in outlandish garments and of + harsh-sounding, outlandish speech, stalwart fishwives with baskets of + herrings on their heads, voluminous of petticoat above bare legs and bare + feet, calling their wares shrilly and almost inarticulately, watermen in + woollen caps and loose trousers rolled to the knees, peasants in goatskin + coats, their wooden shoes clattering on the round kidney-stones, + shipwrights and labourers from the dockyards, bellows-menders, + rat-catchers, water-carriers, ink-sellers, and other itinerant pedlars. + And, sprinkled through this proletariat mass that came and went in + constant movement, Andre-Louis beheld tradesmen in sober garments, + merchants in long, fur-lined coats; occasionally a merchant-prince rolling + along in his two-horse cabriolet to the whip-crackings and shouts of + “Gare!” from his coachman; occasionally a dainty lady carried past in her + sedan-chair, with perhaps a mincing abbe from the episcopal court tripping + along in attendance; occasionally an officer in scarlet riding + disdainfully; and once the great carriage of a nobleman, with escutcheoned + panels and a pair of white-stockinged, powdered footmen in gorgeous + liveries hanging on behind. And there were Capuchins in brown and + Benedictines in black, and secular priests in plenty—for God was + well served in the sixteen parishes of Nantes—and by way of contrast + there were lean-jawed, out-at-elbow adventurers, and gendarmes in blue + coats and gaitered legs, sauntering guardians of the peace. + </p> + <p> + Representatives of every class that went to make up the seventy thousand + inhabitants of that wealthy, industrious city were to be seen in the human + stream that ebbed and flowed beneath the window from which Andre-Louis + observed it. + </p> + <p> + Of the waiter who ministered to his humble wants with soup and bouilli, + and a measure of vin gris, Andre-Louis enquired into the state of public + feeling in the city. The waiter, a staunch supporter of the privileged + orders, admitted regretfully that an uneasiness prevailed. Much would + depend upon what happened at Rennes. If it was true that the King had + dissolved the States of Brittany, then all should be well, and the + malcontents would have no pretext for further disturbances. There had been + trouble and to spare in Nantes already. They wanted no repetition of it. + All manner of rumours were abroad, and since early morning there had been + crowds besieging the portals of the Chamber of Commerce for definite news. + But definite news was yet to come. It was not even known for a fact that + His Majesty actually had dissolved the States. + </p> + <p> + It was striking two, the busiest hour of the day upon the Bourse, when + Andre-Louis reached the Place du Commerce. The square, dominated by the + imposing classical building of the Exchange, was so crowded that he was + compelled almost to fight his way through to the steps of the magnificent + Ionic porch. A word would have sufficed to have opened a way for him at + once. But guile moved him to keep silent. He would come upon that waiting + multitude as a thunderclap, precisely as yesterday he had come upon the + mob at Rennes. He would lose nothing of the surprise effect of his + entrance. + </p> + <p> + The precincts of that house of commerce were jealously kept by a line of + ushers armed with staves, a guard as hurriedly assembled by the merchants + as it was evidently necessary. One of these now effectively barred the + young lawyer’s passage as he attempted to mount the steps. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis announced himself in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + The stave was instantly raised from the horizontal, and he passed and went + up the steps in the wake of the usher. At the top, on the threshold of the + chamber, he paused, and stayed his guide. + </p> + <p> + “I will wait here,” he announced. “Bring the president to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your name, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + Almost had Andre-Louis answered him when he remembered Le Chapelier’s + warning of the danger with which his mission was fraught, and Le + Chapelier’s parting admonition to conceal his identity. + </p> + <p> + “My name is unknown to him; it matters nothing; I am the mouthpiece of a + people, no more. Go.” + </p> + <p> + The usher went, and in the shadow of that lofty, pillared portico + Andre-Louis waited, his eyes straying out ever and anon to survey that + spread of upturned faces immediately below him. + </p> + <p> + Soon the president came, others following, crowding out into the portico, + jostling one another in their eagerness to hear the news. + </p> + <p> + “You are a messenger from Rennes?” + </p> + <p> + “I am the delegate sent by the Literary Chamber of that city to inform you + here in Nantes of what is taking place.” + </p> + <p> + “Your name?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis paused. “The less we mention names perhaps the better.” + </p> + <p> + The president’s eyes grew big with gravity. He was a corpulent, florid + man, purse-proud, and self-sufficient. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment. Then—“Come into the Chamber,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “By your leave, monsieur, I will deliver my message from here—from + these steps.” + </p> + <p> + “From here?” The great merchant frowned. + </p> + <p> + “My message is for the people of Nantes, and from here I can speak at once + to the greatest number of Nantais of all ranks, and it is my desire—and + the desire of those whom I represent—that as great a number as + possible should hear my message at first hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, sir, is it true that the King has dissolved the States?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked at him. He smiled apologetically, and waved a hand + towards the crowd, which by now was straining for a glimpse of this slim + young man who had brought forth the president and more than half the + numbers of the Chamber, guessing already, with that curious instinct of + crowds, that he was the awaited bearer of tidings. + </p> + <p> + “Summon the gentlemen of your Chamber, monsieur,” said he, “and you shall + hear all.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it.” + </p> + <p> + A word, and forth they came to crowd upon the steps, but leaving clear the + topmost step and a half-moon space in the middle. + </p> + <p> + To the spot so indicated, Andre-Louis now advanced very deliberately. He + took his stand there, dominating the entire assembly. He removed his hat, + and launched the opening bombshell of that address which is historic, + marking as it does one of the great stages of France’s progress towards + revolution. + </p> + <p> + “People of this great city of Nantes, I have come to summon you to arms!” + </p> + <p> + In the amazed and rather scared silence that followed he surveyed them for + a moment before resuming. + </p> + <p> + “I am a delegate of the people of Rennes, charged to announce to you what + is taking place, and to invite you in this dreadful hour of our country’s + peril to rise and march to her defence.” + </p> + <p> + “Name! Your name!” a voice shouted, and instantly the cry was taken up by + others, until the multitude rang with the question. + </p> + <p> + He could not answer that excited mob as he had answered the president. It + was necessary to compromise, and he did so, happily. “My name,” said he, + “is Omnes Omnibus—all for all. Let that suffice you now. I am a + herald, a mouthpiece, a voice; no more. I come to announce to you that + since the privileged orders, assembled for the States of Brittany in + Rennes, resisted your will—our will—despite the King’s plain + hint to them, His Majesty has dissolved the States.” + </p> + <p> + There was a burst of delirious applause. Men laughed and shouted, and + cries of “Vive le Roi!” rolled forth like thunder. Andre-Louis waited, and + gradually the preternatural gravity of his countenance came to be + observed, and to beget the suspicion that there might be more to follow. + Gradually silence was restored, and at last Andre Louis was able to + proceed. + </p> + <p> + “You rejoice too soon. Unfortunately, the nobles, in their insolent + arrogance, have elected to ignore the royal dissolution, and in despite of + it persist in sitting and in conducting matters as seems good to them.” + </p> + <p> + A silence of utter dismay greeted that disconcerting epilogue to the + announcement that had been so rapturously received. Andre-Louis continued + after a moment’s pause: + </p> + <p> + “So that these men who were already rebels against the people, rebels, + against justice and equity, rebels against humanity itself, are now also + rebels against their King. Sooner than yield an inch of the unconscionable + privileges by which too long already they have flourished, to the misery + of a whole nation, they will make a mock of royal authority, hold up the + King himself to contempt. They are determined to prove that there is no + real sovereignty in France but the sovereignty of their own parasitic + faineantise.” + </p> + <p> + There was a faint splutter of applause, but the majority of the audience + remained silent, waiting. + </p> + <p> + “This is no new thing. Always has it been the same. No minister in the + last ten years, who, seeing the needs and perils of the State, counselled + the measures that we now demand as the only means of arresting our + motherland in its ever-quickening progress to the abyss, but found himself + as a consequence cast out of office by the influence which Privilege + brought to bear against him. Twice already has M. Necker been called to + the ministry, to be twice dismissed when his insistent counsels of reform + threatened the privileges of clergy and nobility. For the third time now + has he been called to office, and at last it seems we are to have States + General in spite of Privilege. But what the privileged orders can no + longer prevent, they are determined to stultify. Since it is now a settled + thing that these States General are to meet, at least the nobles and the + clergy will see to it—unless we take measures to prevent them—by + packing the Third Estate with their own creatures, and denying it all + effective representation, that they convert the States General into an + instrument of their own will for the perpetuation of the abuses by which + they live. To achieve this end they will stop at nothing. They have + flouted the authority of the King, and they are silencing by assassination + those who raise their voices to condemn them. Yesterday in Rennes two + young men who addressed the people as I am addressing you were done to + death in the streets by assassins at the instigation of the nobility. + Their blood cries out for vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + Beginning in a sullen mutter, the indignation that moved his hearers + swelled up to express itself in a roar of anger. + </p> + <p> + “Citizens of Nantes, the motherland is in peril. Let us march to her + defence. Let us proclaim it to the world that we recognize that the + measures to liberate the Third Estate from the slavery in which for + centuries it has groaned find only obstacles in those orders whose + phrenetic egotism sees in the tears and suffering of the unfortunate an + odious tribute which they would pass on to their generations still unborn. + Realizing from the barbarity of the means employed by our enemies to + perpetuate our oppression that we have everything to fear from the + aristocracy they would set up as a constitutional principle for the + governing of France, let us declare ourselves at once enfranchised from + it. + </p> + <p> + “The establishment of liberty and equality should be the aim of every + citizen member of the Third Estate; and to this end we should stand + indivisibly united, especially the young and vigorous, especially those + who have had the good fortune to be born late enough to be able to gather + for themselves the precious fruits of the philosophy of this eighteenth + century.” + </p> + <p> + Acclamations broke out unstintedly now. He had caught them in the snare of + his oratory. And he pressed his advantage instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Let us all swear,” he cried in a great voice, “to raise up in the name of + humanity and of liberty a rampart against our enemies, to oppose to their + bloodthirsty covetousness the calm perseverance of men whose cause is + just. And let us protest here and in advance against any tyrannical + decrees that should declare us seditious when we have none but pure and + just intentions. Let us make oath upon the honour of our motherland that + should any of us be seized by an unjust tribunal, intending against us one + of those acts termed of political expediency—which are, in effect, + but acts of despotism—let us swear, I say, to give a full expression + to the strength that is in us and do that in self-defence which nature, + courage, and despair dictate to us.” + </p> + <p> + Loud and long rolled the applause that greeted his conclusion, and he + observed with satisfaction and even some inward grim amusement that the + wealthy merchants who had been congregated upon the steps, and who now + came crowding about him to shake him by the hand and to acclaim him, were + not merely participants in, but the actual leaders of, this delirium of + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + It confirmed him, had he needed confirmation, in his conviction that just + as the philosophies upon which this new movement was based had their + source in thinkers extracted from the bourgeoisie, so the need to adopt + those philosophies to the practical purposes of life was most acutely felt + at present by those bourgeois who found themselves debarred by Privilege + from the expansion their wealth permitted them. If it might be said of + Andre-Louis that he had that day lighted the torch of the Revolution in + Nantes, it might with even greater truth be said that the torch itself was + supplied by the opulent bourgeoisie. + </p> + <p> + I need not dwell at any length upon the sequel. It is a matter of history + how that oath which Omnes Omnibus administered to the citizens of Nantes + formed the backbone of the formal protest which they drew up and signed in + their thousands. Nor were the results of that powerful protest—which, + after all, might already be said to harmonize with the expressed will of + the sovereign himself—long delayed. Who shall say how far it may + have strengthened the hand of Necker, when on the 27th of that same month + of November he compelled the Council to adopt the most significant and + comprehensive of all those measures to which clergy and nobility had + refused their consent? On that date was published the royal decree + ordaining that the deputies to be elected to the States General should + number at least one thousand, and that the deputies of the Third Estate + should be fully representative by numbering as many as the deputies of + clergy and nobility together. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE AFTERMATH + </h2> + <p> + Dusk of the following day was falling when the homing Andre-Louis + approached Gavrillac. Realizing fully what a hue and cry there would + presently be for the apostle of revolution who had summoned the people of + Nantes to arms, he desired as far as possible to conceal the fact that he + had been in that maritime city. Therefore he made a wide detour, crossing + the river at Bruz, and recrossing it a little above Chavagne, so as to + approach Gavrillac from the north, and create the impression that he was + returning from Rennes, whither he was known to have gone two days ago. + </p> + <p> + Within a mile or so of the village he caught in the fading light his first + glimpse of a figure on horseback pacing slowly towards him. But it was not + until they had come within a few yards of each other, and he observed that + this cloaked figure was leaning forward to peer at him, that he took much + notice of it. And then he found himself challenged almost at once by a + woman’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is you, Andre—at last!” + </p> + <p> + He drew rein, mildly surprised, to be assailed by another question, + impatiently, anxiously asked. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” + </p> + <p> + “Where have I been, Cousin Aline? Oh... seeing the world.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been patrolling this road since noon to-day waiting for you.” She + spoke breathlessly, in haste to explain. “A troop of the marechaussee from + Rennes descended upon Gavrillac this morning in quest of you. They turned + the chateau and the village inside out, and at last discovered that you + were due to return with a horse hired from the Breton arme. So they have + taken up their quarters at the inn to wait for you. I have been here all + the afternoon on the lookout to warn you against walking into that trap.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Aline! That I should have been the cause of so much concern and + trouble!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that. It is not important.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary; it is the most important part of what you tell me. It is + the rest that is unimportant.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize that they have come to arrest you?” she asked him, with + increasing impatience. “You are wanted for sedition, and upon a warrant + from M. de Lesdiguieres.” + </p> + <p> + “Sedition?” quoth he, and his thoughts flew to that business at Nantes. It + was impossible they could have had news of it in Rennes and acted upon it + in so short a time. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sedition. The sedition of that wicked speech of yours at Rennes on + Wednesday.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that!” said he. “Pooh!” His note of relief might have told her, had + she been more attentive, that he had to fear the consequences of a greater + wickedness committed since. “Why, that was nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “I almost suspect that the real intentions of these gentlemen of the + marechaussee have been misunderstood. Most probably they have come to + thank me on M. de Lesdiguieres’ behalf. I restrained the people when they + would have burnt the Palais and himself inside it.” + </p> + <p> + “After you had first incited them to do it. I suppose you were afraid of + your work. You drew back at the last moment. But you said things of M. de + Lesdiguieres, if you are correctly reported, which he will never forgive.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Andre-Louis, and he fell into thought. + </p> + <p> + But Mlle. de Kercadiou had already done what thinking was necessary, and + her alert young mind had settled all that was to be done. + </p> + <p> + “You must not go into Gavrillac,” she told him, “and you must get down + from your horse, and let me take it. I will stable it at the chateau + to-night. And sometime to-morrow afternoon, by when you should be well + away, I will return it to the Breton arme.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but that is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “For several reasons. One of them is that you haven’t considered what will + happen to you if you do such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “To me? Do you suppose I am afraid of that pack of oafs sent by M. + Lesdiguieres? I have committed no sedition.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is almost as bad to give aid to one who is wanted for the crime. + That is the law.” + </p> + <p> + “What do I care for the law? Do you imagine that the law will presume to + touch me?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course there is that. You are sheltered by one of the abuses I + complained of at Rennes. I was forgetting.” + </p> + <p> + “Complain of it as much as you please, but meanwhile profit by it. Come, + Andre, do as I tell you. Get down from your horse.” And then, as he still + hesitated, she stretched out and caught him by the arm. Her voice was + vibrant with earnestness. “Andre, you don’t realize how serious is your + position. If these people take you, it is almost certain that you will be + hanged. Don’t you realize it? You must not go to Gavrillac. You must go + away at once, and lie completely lost for a time until this blows over. + Indeed, until my uncle can bring influence to bear to obtain your pardon, + you must keep in hiding.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be a long time, then,” said Andre-Louis. “M. de Kercadiou has + never cultivated friends at court.” + </p> + <p> + “There is M. de La Tour d’Azyr,” she reminded him, to his astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “That man!” he cried, and then he laughed. “But it was chiefly against him + that I aroused the resentment of the people of Rennes. I should have known + that all my speech was not reported to you.” + </p> + <p> + “It was, and that part of it among the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! And yet you are concerned to save me, the man who seeks the life of + your future husband at the hands either of the law or of the people? Or is + it, perhaps, that since you have seen his true nature revealed in the + murder of poor Philippe, you have changed your views on the subject of + becoming Marquise de La Tour d’Azyr?” + </p> + <p> + “You often show yourself without any faculty of deductive reasoning.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. But hardly to the extent of imagining that M. de La Tour d’Azyr + will ever lift a finger to do as you suggest.” + </p> + <p> + “In which, as usual, you are wrong. He will certainly do so if I ask him.” + </p> + <p> + “If you ask him?” Sheer horror rang in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. You see, I have not yet said that I will be Marquise de La Tour + d’Azyr. I am still considering. It is a position that has its advantages. + One of them is that it ensures a suitor’s complete obedience.” + </p> + <p> + “So, so. I see the crooked logic of your mind. You might go so far as to + say to him: ‘Refuse me this, and I shall refuse to be your marquise.’ You + would go so far as that?” + </p> + <p> + “At need, I might.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you not see the converse implication? Do you not see that your + hands would then be tied, that you would be wanting in honour if + afterwards you refused him? And do you think that I would consent to + anything that could so tie your hands? Do you think I want to see you + damned, Aline?” + </p> + <p> + Her hand fell away from his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are mad!” she exclaimed, quite out of patience. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. But I like my madness. There is a thrill in it unknown to such + sanity as yours. By your leave, Aline, I think I will ride on to + Gavrillac.” + </p> + <p> + “Andre, you must not! It is death to you!” In her alarm she backed her + horse, and pulled it across the road to bar his way. + </p> + <p> + It was almost completely night by now; but from behind the wrack of clouds + overhead a crescent moon sailed out to alleviate the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now,” she enjoined him. “Be reasonable. Do as I bid you. See, there + is a carriage coming up behind you. Do not let us be found here together + thus.” + </p> + <p> + He made up his mind quickly. He was not the man to be actuated by false + heroics about dying, and he had no fancy whatever for the gallows of M. de + Lesdiguieres’ providing. The immediate task that he had set himself might + be accomplished. He had made heard—and ringingly—the voice + that M. de La Tour d’Azyr imagined he had silenced. But he was very far + from having done with life. + </p> + <p> + “Aline, on one condition only.” + </p> + <p> + “And that?” + </p> + <p> + “That you swear to me you will never seek the aid of M. de La Tour d’Azyr + on my behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you insist, and as time presses, I consent. And now ride on with me + as far as the lane. There is that carriage coming up.” + </p> + <p> + The lane to which she referred was one that branched off the road some + three hundred yards nearer the village and led straight up the hill to the + chateau itself. In silence they rode together towards it, and together + they turned into that thickly hedged and narrow bypath. At a depth of + fifty yards she halted him. + </p> + <p> + “Now!” she bade him. + </p> + <p> + Obediently he swung down from his horse, and surrendered the reins to her. + </p> + <p> + “Aline,” he said, “I haven’t words in which to thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t necessary,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “But I shall hope to repay you some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor is that necessary. Could I do less than I am doing? I do not want to + hear of you hanged, Andre; nor does my uncle, though he is very angry with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he is.” + </p> + <p> + “And you can hardly be surprised. You were his delegate, his + representative. He depended upon you, and you have turned your coat. He is + rightly indignant, calls you a traitor, and swears that he will never + speak to you again. But he doesn’t want you hanged, Andre.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we are agreed on that at least, for I don’t want it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll make your peace with him. And now—good-bye, Andre. Send me a + word when you are safe.” + </p> + <p> + She held out a hand that looked ghostly in the faint light. He took it and + bore it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Aline.” + </p> + <p> + She was gone, and he stood listening to the receding clopper-clop of + hooves until it grew faint in the distance. Then slowly, with shoulders + hunched and head sunk on his breast, he retraced his steps to the main + road, cogitating whither he should go. Quite suddenly he checked, + remembering with dismay that he was almost entirely without money. In + Brittany itself he knew of no dependable hiding-place, and as long as he + was in Brittany his peril must remain imminent. Yet to leave the province, + and to leave it as quickly as prudence dictated, horses would be + necessary. And how was he to procure horses, having no money beyond a + single louis d’or and a few pieces of silver? + </p> + <p> + There was also the fact that he was very weary. He had had little sleep + since Tuesday night, and not very much then; and much of the time had been + spent in the saddle, a wearing thing to one so little accustomed to long + rides. Worn as he was, it was unthinkable that he should go far to-night. + He might get as far as Chavagne, perhaps. But there he must sup and sleep; + and what, then, of to-morrow? + </p> + <p> + Had he but thought of it before, perhaps Aline might have been able to + assist him with the loan of a few louis. His first impulse now was to + follow her to the chateau. But prudence dismissed the notion. Before he + could reach her, he must be seen by servants, and word of his presence + would go forth. + </p> + <p> + There was no choice for him; he must tramp as far as Chavagne, find a bed + there, and leave to-morrow until it dawned. On the resolve he set his face + in the direction whence he had come. But again he paused. Chavagne lay on + the road to Rennes. To go that way was to plunge further into danger. He + would strike south again. At the foot of some meadows on this side of the + village there was a ferry that would put him across the river. Thus he + would avoid the village; and by placing the river between himself and the + immediate danger, he would obtain an added sense of security. + </p> + <p> + A lane, turning out of the highroad, a quarter of a mile this side of + Gavrillac, led down to that ferry. By this lane some twenty minutes later + came Andre-Louis with dragging feet. He avoided the little cottage of the + ferryman, whose window was alight, and in the dark crept down to the boat, + intending if possible to put himself across. He felt for the chain by + which the boat was moored, and ran his fingers along this to the point + where it was fastened. Here to his dismay he found a padlock. + </p> + <p> + He stood up in the gloom and laughed silently. Of course he might have + known it. The ferry was the property of M. de La Tour d’Azyr, and not + likely to be left unfastened so that poor devils might cheat him of + seigneurial dues. + </p> + <p> + There being no possible alternative, he walked back to the cottage, and + rapped on the door. When it opened, he stood well back, and aside, out of + the shaft of light that issued thence. + </p> + <p> + “Ferry!” he rapped out, laconically. + </p> + <p> + The ferryman, a burly scoundrel well known to him, turned aside to pick up + a lantern, and came forth as he was bidden. As he stepped from the little + porch, he levelled the lantern so that its light fell on the face of this + traveller. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “You realize, I see, that I am pressed,” said Andre-Louis, his eyes on the + fellow’s startled countenance. + </p> + <p> + “And well you may be with the gallows waiting for you at Rennes,” growled + the ferryman. “Since you’ve been so foolish as to come back to Gavrillac, + you had better go again as quickly as you can. I will say nothing of + having seen you.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Fresnel. Your advice accords with my intention. That is why + I need the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that, no,” said Fresnel, with determination. “I’ll hold my peace, but + it’s as much as my skin is worth to help you. + </p> + <p> + “You need not have seen my face. Forget that you have seen it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do that, monsieur. But that is all I will do. I cannot put you + across the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Then give me the key of the boat, and I will put myself across.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the same thing. I cannot. I’ll hold my tongue, but I will not—I + dare not—help you.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked a moment into that sullen, resolute face, and + understood. This man, living under the shadow of La Tour d’Azyr, dared + exercise no will that might be in conflict with the will of his dread + lord. + </p> + <p> + “Fresnel,” he said, quietly, “if, as you say, the gallows claim me, the + thing that has brought me to this extremity arises out of the shooting of + Mabey. Had not Mabey been murdered there would have been no need for me to + have raised my voice as I have done. Mabey was your friend, I think. Will + you for his sake lend me the little help I need to save my neck?” + </p> + <p> + The man kept his glance averted, and the cloud of sullenness deepened on + his face. + </p> + <p> + “I would if I dared, but I dare not.” Then, quite suddenly he became + angry. It was as if in anger he sought support. “Don’t you understand that + I dare not? Would you have a poor man risk his life for you? What have you + or yours ever done for me that you should ask that? You do not cross + to-night in my ferry. Understand that, monsieur, and go at once—go + before I remember that it may be dangerous even to have talked to you and + not give information. Go!” + </p> + <p> + He turned on his heel to reenter his cottage, and a wave of hopelessness + swept over Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + But in a second it was gone. The man must be compelled, and he had the + means. He bethought him of a pistol pressed upon him by Le Chapelier at + the moment of his leaving Rennes, a gift which at the time he had almost + disdained. True, it was not loaded, and he had no ammunition. But how was + Fresnel to know that? + </p> + <p> + He acted quickly. As with his right hand he pulled it from his pocket, + with his left he caught the ferryman by the shoulder, and swung him round. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want now?” Fresnel demanded angrily. “Haven’t I told you that + I...” + </p> + <p> + He broke off short. The muzzle of the pistol was within a foot of his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I want the key of the boat. That is all, Fresnel. And you can either give + it me at once, or I’ll take it after I have burnt your brains. I should + regret to kill you, but I shall not hesitate. It is your life against + mine, Fresnel; and you’ll not find it strange that if one of us must die I + prefer that it shall be you.” + </p> + <p> + Fresnel dipped a hand into his pocket, and fetched thence a key. He held + it out to Andre-Louis in fingers that shook—more in anger than in + fear. + </p> + <p> + “I yield to violence,” he said, showing his teeth like a snarling dog. + “But don’t imagine that it will greatly profit you.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis took the key. His pistol remained levelled. + </p> + <p> + “You threaten me, I think,” he said. “It is not difficult to read your + threat. The moment I am gone, you will run to inform against me. You will + set the marechaussee on my heels to overtake me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” cried the other. He perceived his peril. He read his doom in the + cold, sinister note on which Andre-Louis addressed him, and grew afraid. + “I swear to you, monsieur, that I have no such intention.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I had better make quite sure of you.” + </p> + <p> + “O my God! Have mercy, monsieur!” The knave was in a palsy of terror. “I + mean you no harm—I swear to Heaven I mean you no harm. I will not + say a word. I will not...” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather depend upon your silence than your assurances. Still, you + shall have your chance. I am a fool, perhaps, but I have a reluctance to + shed blood. Go into the house, Fresnel. Go, man. I follow you.” + </p> + <p> + In the shabby main room of that dwelling, Andre-Louis halted him again. + “Get me a length of rope,” he commanded, and was readily obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later Fresnel was securely bound to a chair, and effectively + silenced by a very uncomfortable gag improvised out of a block of wood and + a muffler. + </p> + <p> + On the threshold the departing Andre-Louis turned. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Fresnel,” he said. Fierce eyes glared mute hatred at him. “It + is unlikely that your ferry will be required again to-night. But some one + is sure to come to your relief quite early in the morning. Until then bear + your discomfort with what fortitude you can, remembering that you have + brought it entirely upon yourself by your uncharitableness. If you spend + the night considering that, the lesson should not be lost upon you. By + morning you may even have grown so charitable as not to know who it was + that tied you up. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped out and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + To unlock the ferry, and pull himself across the swift-running waters, on + which the faint moonlight was making a silver ripple, were matters that + engaged not more than six or seven minutes. He drove the nose of the boat + through the decaying sedges that fringed the southern bank of the stream, + sprang ashore, and made the little craft secure. Then, missing the + footpath in the dark, he struck out across a sodden meadow in quest of the + road. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II: THE BUSKIN + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE TRESPASSERS + </h2> + <p> + Coming presently upon the Redon road, Andre-Louis, obeying instinct rather + than reason, turned his face to the south, and plodded wearily and + mechanically forward. He had no clear idea of whither he was going, or of + whither he should go. All that imported at the moment was to put as great + a distance as possible between Gavrillac and himself. + </p> + <p> + He had a vague, half-formed notion of returning to Nantes; and there, by + employing the newly found weapon of his oratory, excite the people into + sheltering him as the first victim of the persecution he had foreseen, and + against which he had sworn them to take up arms. But the idea was one + which he entertained merely as an indefinite possibility upon which he + felt no real impulse to act. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile he chuckled at the thought of Fresnel as he had last seen him, + with his muffled face and glaring eyeballs. “For one who was anything but + a man of action,” he writes, “I felt that I had acquitted myself none so + badly.” It is a phrase that recurs at intervals in his sketchy + “Confessions.” Constantly is he reminding you that he is a man of mental + and not physical activities, and apologizing when dire necessity drives + him into acts of violence. I suspect this insistence upon his philosophic + detachment—for which I confess he had justification enough—to + betray his besetting vanity. + </p> + <p> + With increasing fatigue came depression and self-criticism. He had + stupidly overshot his mark in insultingly denouncing M. de Lesdiguieres. + “It is much better,” he says somewhere, “to be wicked than to be stupid. + Most of this world’s misery is the fruit not as priests tell us of + wickedness, but of stupidity.” And we know that of all stupidities he + considered anger the most deplorable. Yet he had permitted himself to be + angry with a creature like M. de Lesdiguieres—a lackey, a fribble, a + nothing, despite his potentialities for evil. He could perfectly have + discharged his self-imposed mission without arousing the vindictive + resentment of the King’s Lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + He beheld himself vaguely launched upon life with the riding-suit in which + he stood, a single louis d’or and a few pieces of silver for all capital, + and a knowledge of law which had been inadequate to preserve him from the + consequences of infringing it. + </p> + <p> + He had, in addition—but these things that were to be the real + salvation of him he did not reckon—his gift of laughter, sadly + repressed of late, and the philosophic outlook and mercurial temperament + which are the stock-in-trade of your adventurer in all ages. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile he tramped mechanically on through the night, until he felt that + he could tramp no more. He had skirted the little township of Guichen, and + now within a half-mile of Guignen, and with Gavrillac a good seven miles + behind him, his legs refused to carry him any farther. + </p> + <p> + He was midway across the vast common to the north of Guignen when he came + to a halt. He had left the road, and taken heedlessly to the footpath that + struck across the waste of indifferent pasture interspersed with clumps of + gorse. A stone’s throw away on his right the common was bordered by a + thorn hedge. Beyond this loomed a tall building which he knew to be an + open barn, standing on the edge of a long stretch of meadowland. That + dark, silent shadow it may have been that had brought him to a standstill, + suggesting shelter to his subconsciousness. A moment he hesitated; then he + struck across towards a spot where a gap in the hedge was closed by a + five-barred gate. He pushed the gate open, went through the gap, and stood + now before the barn. It was as big as a house, yet consisted of no more + than a roof carried upon half a dozen tall, brick pillars. But densely + packed under that roof was a great stack of hay that promised a warm couch + on so cold a night. Stout timbers had been built into the brick pillars, + with projecting ends to serve as ladders by which the labourer might climb + to pack or withdraw hay. With what little strength remained him, + Andre-Louis climbed by one of these and landed safely at the top, where he + was forced to kneel, for lack of room to stand upright. Arrived there, he + removed his coat and neckcloth, his sodden boots and stockings. Next he + cleared a trough for his body, and lying down in it, covered himself to + the neck with the hay he had removed. Within five minutes he was lost to + all worldly cares and soundly asleep. + </p> + <p> + When next he awakened, the sun was already high in the heavens, from which + he concluded that the morning was well advanced; and this before he + realized quite where he was or how he came there. Then to his awakening + senses came a drone of voices close at hand, to which at first he paid + little heed. He was deliciously refreshed, luxuriously drowsy and + luxuriously warm. + </p> + <p> + But as consciousness and memory grew more full, he raised his head clear + of the hay that he might free both ears to listen, his pulses faintly + quickened by the nascent fear that those voices might bode him no good. + Then he caught the reassuring accents of a woman, musical and silvery, + though laden with alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, mon Dieu, Leandre, let us separate at once. If it should be my + father...” + </p> + <p> + And upon this a man’s voice broke in, calm and reassuring: + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Climene; you are mistaken. There is no one coming. We are quite + safe. Why do you start at shadows?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Leandre, if he should find us here together! I tremble at the very + thought.” + </p> + <p> + More was not needed to reassure Andre-Louis. He had overheard enough to + know that this was but the case of a pair of lovers who, with less to fear + of life, were yet—after the manner of their kind—more timid of + heart than he. Curiosity drew him from his warm trough to the edge of the + hay. Lying prone, he advanced his head and peered down. + </p> + <p> + In the space of cropped meadow between the barn and the hedge stood a man + and a woman, both young. The man was a well-set-up, comely fellow, with a + fine head of chestnut hair tied in a queue by a broad bow of black satin. + He was dressed with certain tawdry attempts at ostentatious + embellishments, which did not prepossess one at first glance in his + favour. His coat of a fashionable cut was of faded plum-coloured velvet + edged with silver lace, whose glory had long since departed. He affected + ruffles, but for want of starch they hung like weeping willows over hands + that were fine and delicate. His breeches were of plain black cloth, and + his black stockings were of cotton—matters entirely out of harmony + with his magnificent coat. His shoes, stout and serviceable, were decked + with buckles of cheap, lack-lustre paste. But for his engaging and + ingenuous countenance, Andre-Louis must have set him down as a knight of + that order which lives dishonestly by its wits. As it was, he suspended + judgment whilst pushing investigation further by a study of the girl. At + the outset, be it confessed that it was a study that attracted him + prodigiously. And this notwithstanding the fact that, bookish and studious + as were his ways, and in despite of his years, it was far from his habit + to waste consideration on femininity. + </p> + <p> + The child—she was no more than that, perhaps twenty at the most—possessed, + in addition to the allurements of face and shape that went very near + perfection, a sparkling vivacity and a grace of movement the like of which + Andre-Louis did not remember ever before to have beheld assembled in one + person. And her voice too—that musical, silvery voice that had + awakened him—possessed in its exquisite modulations an allurement of + its own that must have been irresistible, he thought, in the ugliest of + her sex. She wore a hooded mantle of green cloth, and the hood being + thrown back, her dainty head was all revealed to him. There were glints of + gold struck by the morning sun from her light nut-brown hair that hung in + a cluster of curls about her oval face. Her complexion was of a delicacy + that he could compare only with a rose petal. He could not at that + distance discern the colour of her eyes, but he guessed them blue, as he + admired the sparkle of them under the fine, dark line of eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + He could not have told you why, but he was conscious that it aggrieved him + to find her so intimate with this pretty young fellow, who was partly + clad, as it appeared, in the cast-offs of a nobleman. He could not guess + her station, but the speech that reached him was cultured in tone and + word. He strained to listen. + </p> + <p> + “I shall know no peace, Leandre, until we are safely wedded,” she was + saying. “Not until then shall I count myself beyond his reach. And yet if + we marry without his consent, we but make trouble for ourselves, and of + gaining his consent I almost despair.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently, thought Andre-Louis, her father was a man of sense, who saw + through the shabby finery of M. Leandre, and was not to be dazzled by + cheap paste buckles. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Climene,” the young man was answering her, standing squarely + before her, and holding both her hands, “you are wrong to despond. If I do + not reveal to you all the stratagem that I have prepared to win the + consent of your unnatural parent, it is because I am loath to rob you of + the pleasure of the surprise that is in store. But place your faith in me, + and in that ingenious friend of whom I have spoken, and who should be here + at any moment.” + </p> + <p> + The stilted ass! Had he learnt that speech by heart in advance, or was he + by nature a pedantic idiot who expressed himself in this set and formal + manner? How came so sweet a blossom to waste her perfumes on such a prig? + And what a ridiculous name the creature owned! + </p> + <p> + Thus Andre-Louis to himself from his observatory. Meanwhile, she was + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “That is what my heart desires, Leandre, but I am beset by fears lest your + stratagem should be too late. I am to marry this horrible Marquis of + Sbrufadelli this very day. He arrives by noon. He comes to sign the + contract—to make me the Marchioness of Sbrufadelli. Oh!” It was a + cry of pain from that tender young heart. “The very name burns my lips. If + it were mine I could never utter it—never! The man is so detestable. + Save me, Leandre. Save me! You are my only hope.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis was conscious of a pang of disappointment. She failed to soar + to the heights he had expected of her. She was evidently infected by the + stilted manner of her ridiculous lover. There was an atrocious lack of + sincerity about her words. They touched his mind, but left his heart + unmoved. Perhaps this was because of his antipathy to M. Leandre and to + the issue involved. + </p> + <p> + So her father was marrying her to a marquis! That implied birth on her + side. And yet she was content to pair off with this dull young adventurer + in the tarnished lace! It was, he supposed, the sort of thing to be + expected of a sex that all philosophy had taught him to regard as the + maddest part of a mad species. + </p> + <p> + “It shall never be!” M. Leandre was storming passionately. “Never! I swear + it!” And he shook his puny fist at the blue vault of heaven—Ajax + defying Jupiter. “Ah, but here comes our subtle friend...” (Andre-Louis + did not catch the name, M. Leandre having at that moment turned to face + the gap in the hedge.) “He will bring us news, I know.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked also in the direction of the gap. Through it emerged a + lean, slight man in a rusty cloak and a three-cornered hat worn well down + over his nose so as to shade his face. And when presently he doffed this + hat and made a sweeping bow to the young lovers, Andre-Louis confessed to + himself that had he been cursed with such a hangdog countenance he would + have worn his hat in precisely such a manner, so as to conceal as much of + it as possible. If M. Leandre appeared to be wearing, in part at least, + the cast-offs of nobleman, the newcomer appeared to be wearing the + cast-offs of M. Leandre. Yet despite his vile clothes and viler face, with + its three days’ growth of beard, the fellow carried himself with a certain + air; he positively strutted as he advanced, and he made a leg in a manner + that was courtly and practised. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said he, with the air of a conspirator, “the time for action + has arrived, and so has the Marquis... That is why.” + </p> + <p> + The young lovers sprang apart in consternation; Climene with clasped + hands, parted lips, and a bosom that raced distractingly under its white + fichu-menteur; M. Leandre agape, the very picture of foolishness and + dismay. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the newcomer rattled on. “I was at the inn an hour ago when he + descended there, and I studied him attentively whilst he was at breakfast. + Having done so, not a single doubt remains me of our success. As for what + he looks like, I could entertain you at length upon the fashion in which + nature has designed his gross fatuity. But that is no matter. We are + concerned with what he is, with the wit of him. And I tell you confidently + that I find him so dull and stupid that you may be confident he will + tumble headlong into each and all of the traps I have so cunningly + prepared for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, tell me! Speak!” Climene implored him, holding out her hands in + a supplication no man of sensibility could have resisted. And then on the + instant she caught her breath on a faint scream. “My father!” she + exclaimed, turning distractedly from one to the other of those two. “He is + coming! We are lost!” + </p> + <p> + “You must fly, Climene!” said M. Leandre. + </p> + <p> + “Too late!” she sobbed. “Too late! He is here.” + </p> + <p> + “Calm, mademoiselle, calm!” the subtle friend was urging her. “Keep calm + and trust to me. I promise you that all shall be well.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried M. Leandre, limply. “Say what you will, my friend, this is + ruin—the end of all our hopes. Your wits will never extricate us + from this. Never!” + </p> + <p> + Through the gap strode now an enormous man with an inflamed moon face and + a great nose, decently dressed after the fashion of a solid bourgeois. + There was no mistaking his anger, but the expression that it found was an + amazement to Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Leandre, you’re an imbecile! Too much phlegm, too much phlegm! Your words + wouldn’t convince a ploughboy! Have you considered what they mean at all? + Thus,” he cried, and casting his round hat from him in a broad gesture, he + took his stand at M. Leandre’s side, and repeated the very words that + Leandre had lately uttered, what time the three observed him coolly and + attentively. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, say what you will, my friend, this is ruin—the end of all our + hopes. Your wits will never extricate us from this. Never!” + </p> + <p> + A frenzy of despair vibrated in his accents. He swung again to face M. + Leandre. “Thus,” he bade him contemptuously. “Let the passion of your + hopelessness express itself in your voice. Consider that you are not + asking Scaramouche here whether he has put a patch in your breeches. You + are a despairing lover expressing...” + </p> + <p> + He checked abruptly, startled. Andre-Louis, suddenly realizing what was + afoot, and how duped he had been, had loosed his laughter. The sound of it + pealing and booming uncannily under the great roof that so immediately + confined him was startling to those below. + </p> + <p> + The fat man was the first to recover, and he announced it after his own + fashion in one of the ready sarcasms in which he habitually dealt. + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” he cried, “the very gods laugh at you, Leandre.” Then he addressed + the roof of the barn and its invisible tenant. “Hi! You there!” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis revealed himself by a further protrusion of his tousled head. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning,” said he, pleasantly. Rising now on his knees, his horizon + was suddenly extended to include the broad common beyond the hedge. He + beheld there an enormous and very battered travelling chaise, a cart piled + up with timbers partly visible under the sheet of oiled canvas that + covered them, and a sort of house on wheels equipped with a tin chimney, + from which the smoke was slowly curling. Three heavy Flemish horses and a + couple of donkeys—all of them hobbled—were contentedly + cropping the grass in the neighbourhood of these vehicles. These, had he + perceived them sooner, must have given him the clue to the queer scene + that had been played under his eyes. Beyond the hedge other figures were + moving. Three at that moment came crowding into the gap—a + saucy-faced girl with a tip-tilted nose, whom he supposed to be Columbine, + the soubrette; a lean, active youngster, who must be the lackey Harlequin; + and another rather loutish youth who might be a zany or an apothecary. + </p> + <p> + All this he took in at a comprehensive glance that consumed no more time + than it had taken him to say good-morning. To that good-morning Pantaloon + replied in a bellow: + </p> + <p> + “What the devil are you doing up there?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely the same thing that you are doing down there,” was the answer. + “I am trespassing.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said Pantaloon, and looked at his companions, some of the assurance + beaten out of his big red face. Although the thing was one that they did + habitually, to hear it called by its proper name was disconcerting. + </p> + <p> + “Whose land is this?” he asked, with diminishing assurance. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis answered, whilst drawing on his stockings. “I believe it to be + the property of the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a high-sounding name. Is the gentleman severe?” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman,” said Andre-Louis, “is the devil; or rather, I should + prefer to say upon reflection, that the devil is a gentleman by + comparison.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” interposed the villainous-looking fellow who played + Scaramouche, “by your own confessing you don’t hesitate, yourself, to + trespass upon his property.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but then, you see, I am a lawyer. And lawyers are notoriously unable + to observe the law, just as actors are notoriously unable to act. + Moreover, sir, Nature imposes her limits upon us, and Nature conquers + respect for law as she conquers all else. Nature conquered me last night + when I had got as far as this. And so I slept here without regard for the + very high and puissant Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr. At the same time, M. + Scaramouche, you’ll observe that I did not flaunt my trespass quite as + openly as you and your companions.” + </p> + <p> + Having donned his boots, Andre-Louis came nimbly to the ground in his + shirt-sleeves, his riding-coat over his arm. As he stood there to don it, + the little cunning eyes of the heavy father conned him in detail. + Observing that his clothes, if plain, were of a good fashion, that his + shirt was of fine cambric, and that he expressed himself like a man of + culture, such as he claimed to be, M. Pantaloon was disposed to be civil. + </p> + <p> + “I am very grateful to you for the warning, sir...” he was beginning. + </p> + <p> + “Act upon it, my friend. The gardes-champetres of M. d’Azyr have orders to + fire on trespassers. Imitate me, and decamp.” + </p> + <p> + They followed him upon the instant through that gap in the hedge to the + encampment on the common. There Andre-Louis took his leave of them. But as + he was turning away he perceived a young man of the company performing his + morning toilet at a bucket placed upon one of the wooden steps at the tail + of the house on wheels. A moment he hesitated, then he turned frankly to + M. Pantaloon, who was still at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “If it were not unconscionable to encroach so far upon your hospitality, + monsieur,” said he, “I would beg leave to imitate that very excellent + young gentleman before I leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear sir!” Good-nature oozed out of every pore of the fat body of + the master player. “It is nothing at all. But, by all means. Rhodomont + will provide what you require. He is the dandy of the company in real + life, though a fire-eater on the stage. Hi, Rhodomont!” + </p> + <p> + The young ablutionist straightened his long body from the right angle in + which it had been bent over the bucket, and looked out through a foam of + soapsuds. Pantaloon issued an order, and Rhodomont, who was indeed as + gentle and amiable off the stage as he was formidable and terrible upon + it, made the stranger free of the bucket in the friendliest manner. + </p> + <p> + So Andre-Louis once more removed his neckcloth and his coat, and rolled up + the sleeves of his fine shirt, whilst Rhodomont procured him soap, a + towel, and presently a broken comb, and even a greasy hair-ribbon, in case + the gentleman should have lost his own. This last Andre-Louis declined, + but the comb he gratefully accepted, and having presently washed himself + clean, stood, with the towel flung over his left shoulder, restoring order + to his dishevelled locks before a broken piece of mirror affixed to the + door of the travelling house. + </p> + <p> + He was standing thus, the gentle Rhodomont babbled aimlessly at his side, + when his ears caught the sound of hooves. He looked over his shoulder + carelessly, and then stood frozen, with uplifted comb and loosened mouth. + Away across the common, on the road that bordered it, he beheld a party of + seven horsemen in the blue coats with red facings of the marechaussee. + </p> + <p> + Not for a moment did he doubt what was the quarry of this prowling + gendarmerie. It was as if the chill shadow of the gallows had fallen + suddenly upon him. + </p> + <p> + And then the troop halted, abreast with them, and the sergeant leading it + sent his bawling voice across the common. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, there! Hi!” His tone rang with menace. + </p> + <p> + Every member of the company—and there were some twelve in all—stood + at gaze. Pantaloon advanced a step or two, stalking, his head thrown back, + his manner that of a King’s Lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what the devil’s this?” quoth he, but whether of Fate or Heaven or + the sergeant, was not clear. + </p> + <p> + There was a brief colloquy among the horsemen, then they came trotting + across the common straight towards the players’ encampment. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis had remained standing at the tail of the travelling house. He + was still passing the comb through his straggling hair, but mechanically + and unconsciously. His mind was all intent upon the advancing troop, his + wits alert and gathered together for a leap in whatever direction should + be indicated. + </p> + <p> + Still in the distance, but evidently impatient, the sergeant bawled a + question. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave you leave to encamp here?” + </p> + <p> + It was a question that reassured Andre-Louis not at all. He was not + deceived by it into supposing or even hoping that the business of these + men was merely to round up vagrants and trespassers. That was no part of + their real duty; it was something done in passing—done, perhaps, in + the hope of levying a tax of their own. It was very long odds that they + were from Rennes, and that their real business was the hunting down of a + young lawyer charged with sedition. Meanwhile Pantaloon was shouting back. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave us leave, do you say? What leave? This is communal land, free to + all.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant laughed unpleasantly, and came on, his troop following. + </p> + <p> + “There is,” said a voice at Pantaloon’s elbow, “no such thing as communal + land in the proper sense in all M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s vast domain. This + is a terre censive, and his bailiffs collect his dues from all who send + their beasts to graze here.” + </p> + <p> + Pantaloon turned to behold at his side Andre-Louis in his shirt-sleeves, + and without a neckcloth, the towel still trailing over his left shoulder, + a comb in his hand, his hair half dressed. + </p> + <p> + “God of God!” swore Pantaloon. “But it is an ogre, this Marquis de La Tour + d’Azyr!” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you already what I think of him,” said Andre-Louis. “As for + these fellows you had better let me deal with them. I have experience of + their kind.” And without waiting for Pantaloon’s consent, Andre-Louis + stepped forward to meet the advancing men of the marechaussee. He had + realized that here boldness alone could save him. + </p> + <p> + When a moment later the sergeant pulled up his horse alongside of this + half-dressed young man, Andre-Louis combed his hair what time he looked up + with a half smile, intended to be friendly, ingenuous, and disarming. + </p> + <p> + In spite of it the sergeant hailed him gruffly: “Are you the leader of + this troop of vagabonds?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes... that is to say, my father, there, is really the leader.” And he + jerked a thumb in the direction of M. Pantaloon, who stood at gaze out of + earshot in the background. “What is your pleasure, captain?” + </p> + <p> + “My pleasure is to tell you that you are very likely to be gaoled for + this, all the pack of you.” His voice was loud and bullying. It carried + across the common to the ears of every member of the company, and brought + them all to stricken attention where they stood. The lot of strolling + players was hard enough without the addition of gaolings. + </p> + <p> + “But how so, my captain? This is communal land free to all.” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are the fences?” quoth Andre-Louis, waving the hand that held the + comb, as if to indicate the openness of the place. + </p> + <p> + “Fences!” snorted the sergeant. “What have fences to do with the matter? + This is terre censive. There is no grazing here save by payment of dues to + the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + “But we are not grazing,” quoth the innocent Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “To the devil with you, zany! You are not grazing! But your beasts are + grazing!” + </p> + <p> + “They eat so little,” Andre-Louis apologized, and again essayed his + ingratiating smile. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant grew more terrible than ever. “That is not the point. The + point is that you are committing what amounts to a theft, and there’s the + gaol for thieves.” + </p> + <p> + “Technically, I suppose you are right,” sighed Andre-Louis, and fell to + combing his hair again, still looking up into the sergeant’s face. “But we + have sinned in ignorance. We are grateful to you for the warning.” He + passed the comb into his left hand, and with his right fumbled in his + breeches’ pocket, whence there came a faint jingle of coins. “We are + desolated to have brought you out of your way. Perhaps for their trouble + your men would honour us by stopping at the next inn to drink the health + of... of this M. de La Tour d’ Azyr, or any other health that they think + proper.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the clouds lifted from the sergeant’s brow. But not yet all. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said he, gruffly. “But you must decamp, you understand.” He + leaned from the saddle to bring his recipient hand to a convenient + distance. Andre-Louis placed in it a three-livre piece. + </p> + <p> + “In half an hour,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Why in half an hour? Why not at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but time to break our fast.” + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other. The sergeant next considered the broad piece of + silver in his palm. Then at last his features relaxed from their + sternness. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” said he, “it is none of our business to play the tipstaves + for M. de La Tour d’Azyr. We are of the marechaussee from Rennes.” + Andre-Louis’ eyelids played him false by flickering. “But if you linger, + look out for the gardes-champetres of the Marquis. You’ll find them not at + all accommodating. Well, well—a good appetite to you, monsieur,” + said he, in valediction. + </p> + <p> + “A pleasant ride, my captain,” answered Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant wheeled his horse about, his troop wheeled with him. They + were starting off, when he reined up again. + </p> + <p> + “You, monsieur!” he called over his shoulder. In a bound Andre-Louis was + beside his stirrup. “We are in quest of a scoundrel named Andre-Louis + Moreau, from Gavrillac, a fugitive from justice wanted for the gallows on + a matter of sedition. You’ve seen nothing, I suppose, of a man whose + movements seemed to you suspicious?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, we have,” said Andre-Louis, very boldly, his face eager with + consciousness of the ability to oblige. + </p> + <p> + “You have?” cried the sergeant, in a ringing voice. “Where? When?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday evening in the neighbourhood of Guignen...” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” the sergeant felt himself hot upon the trail. + </p> + <p> + “There was a fellow who seemed very fearful of being recognized ... a man + of fifty or thereabouts...” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty!” cried the sergeant, and his face fell. “Bah! This man of ours is + no older than yourself, a thin wisp of a fellow of about your own height + and of black hair, just like your own, by the description. Keep a lookout + on your travels, master player. The King’s Lieutenant in Rennes has sent + us word this morning that he will pay ten louis to any one giving + information that will lead to this scoundrel’s arrest. So there’s ten + louis to be earned by keeping your eyes open, and sending word to the + nearest justices. It would be a fine windfall for you, that.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine windfall, indeed, captain,” answered Andre-Louis, laughing. + </p> + <p> + But the sergeant had touched his horse with the spur, and was already + trotting off in the wake of his men. Andre-Louis continued to laugh, quite + silently, as he sometimes did when the humour of a jest was peculiarly + keen. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned slowly about, and came back towards Pantaloon and the rest + of the company, who were now all grouped together, at gaze. + </p> + <p> + Pantaloon advanced to meet him with both hands out-held. For a moment + Andre-Louis thought he was about to be embraced. + </p> + <p> + “We hail you our saviour!” the big man declaimed. “Already the shadow of + the gaol was creeping over us, chilling us to the very marrow. For though + we be poor, yet are we all honest folk and not one of us has ever suffered + the indignity of prison. Nor is there one of us would survive it. But for + you, my friend, it might have happened. What magic did you work?” + </p> + <p> + “The magic that is to be worked in France with a King’s portrait. The + French are a very loyal nation, as you will have observed. They love their + King—and his portrait even better than himself, especially when it + is wrought in gold. But even in silver it is respected. The sergeant was + so overcome by the sight of that noble visage—on a three-livre piece—that + his anger vanished, and he has gone his ways leaving us to depart in + peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, true! He said we must decamp. About it, my lads! Come, come...” + </p> + <p> + “But not until after breakfast,” said Andre-Louis. “A half-hour for + breakfast was conceded us by that loyal fellow, so deeply was he touched. + True, he spoke of possible gardes-champetres. But he knows as well as I do + that they are not seriously to be feared, and that if they came, again the + King’s portrait—wrought in copper this time—would produce the + same melting effect upon them. So, my dear M. Pantaloon, break your fast + at your ease. I can smell your cooking from here, and from the smell I + argue that there is no need to wish you a good appetite.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend, my saviour!” Pantaloon flung a great arm about the young man’s + shoulders. “You shall stay to breakfast with us.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess to a hope that you would ask me,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE SERVICE OF THESPIS + </h2> + <p> + They were, thought Andre-Louis, as he sat down to breakfast with them + behind the itinerant house, in the bright sunshine that tempered the cold + breath of that November morning, an odd and yet an attractive crew. An air + of gaiety pervaded them. They affected to have no cares, and made merry + over the trials and tribulations of their nomadic life. They were + curiously, yet amiably, artificial; histrionic in their manner of + discharging the most commonplace of functions; exaggerated in their + gestures; stilted and affected in their speech. They seemed, indeed, to + belong to a world apart, a world of unreality which became real only on + the planks of their stage, in the glare of their footlights. + Good-fellowship bound them one to another; and Andre-Louis reflected + cynically that this harmony amongst them might be the cause of their + apparent unreality. In the real world, greedy striving and the emulation + of acquisitiveness preclude such amity as was present here. + </p> + <p> + They numbered exactly eleven, three women and eight men; and they + addressed each other by their stage names: names which denoted their + several types, and never—or only very slightly—varied, no + matter what might be the play that they performed. + </p> + <p> + “We are,” Pantaloon informed him, “one of those few remaining staunch + bands of real players, who uphold the traditions of the old Italian + Commedia dell’ Arte. Not for us to vex our memories and stultify our wit + with the stilted phrases that are the fruit of a wretched author’s + lucubrations. Each of us is in detail his own author in a measure as he + develops the part assigned to him. We are improvisers—improvisers of + the old and noble Italian school.” + </p> + <p> + “I had guessed as much,” said Andre-Louis, “when I discovered you + rehearsing your improvisations.” + </p> + <p> + Pantaloon frowned. + </p> + <p> + “I have observed, young sir, that your humour inclines to the pungent, not + to say the acrid. It is very well. It is I suppose, the humour that should + go with such a countenance. But it may lead you astray, as in this + instance. That rehearsal—a most unusual thing with us—was + necessitated by the histrionic rawness of our Leandre. We are seeking to + inculcate into him by training an art with which Nature neglected to endow + him against his present needs. Should he continue to fail in doing justice + to our schooling... But we will not disturb our present harmony with the + unpleasant anticipation of misfortunes which we still hope to avert. We + love our Leandre, for all his faults. Let me make you acquainted with our + company.” + </p> + <p> + And he proceeded to introduction in detail. He pointed out the long and + amiable Rhodomont, whom Andre-Louis already knew. + </p> + <p> + “His length of limb and hooked nose were his superficial qualifications to + play roaring captains,” Pantaloon explained. “His lungs have justified our + choice. You should hear him roar. At first we called him Spavento or + Epouvapte. But that was unworthy of so great an artist. Not since the + superb Mondor amazed the world has so thrasonical a bully been seen upon + the stage. So we conferred upon him the name of Rhodomont that Mondor made + famous; and I give you my word, as an actor and a gentleman—for I am + a gentleman, monsieur, or was—that he has justified us.” + </p> + <p> + His little eyes beamed in his great swollen face as he turned their gaze + upon the object of his encomium. The terrible Rhodomont, confused by so + much praise, blushed like a schoolgirl as he met the solemn scrutiny of + Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Then here we have Scaramouche, whom also you already know. Sometimes he + is Scapin and sometimes Coviello, but in the main Scaramouche, to which + let me tell you he is best suited—sometimes too well suited, I + think. For he is Scaramouche not only on the stage, but also in the world. + He has a gift of sly intrigue, an art of setting folk by the ears, + combined with an impudent aggressiveness upon occasion when he considers + himself safe from reprisals. He is Scaramouche, the little skirmisher, to + the very life. I could say more. But I am by disposition charitable and + loving to all mankind.” + </p> + <p> + “As the priest said when he kissed the serving-wench,” snarled + Scaramouche, and went on eating. + </p> + <p> + “His humour, like your own, you will observe, is acrid,” said Pantaloon. + He passed on. “Then that rascal with the lumpy nose and the grinning + bucolic countenance is, of course, Pierrot. Could he be aught else?” + </p> + <p> + “I could play lovers a deal better,” said the rustic cherub. + </p> + <p> + “That is the delusion proper to Pierrot,” said Pantaloon, contemptuously. + “This heavy, beetle-browed ruffian, who has grown old in sin, and whose + appetite increases with his years, is Polichinelle. Each one, as you + perceive, is designed by Nature for the part he plays. This nimble, + freckled jackanapes is Harlequin; not your spangled Harlequin into which + modern degeneracy has debased that first-born of Momus, but the genuine + original zany of the Commedia, ragged and patched, an impudent, cowardly, + blackguardly clown.” + </p> + <p> + “Each one of us, as you perceive,” said Harlequin, mimicking the leader of + the troupe, “is designed by Nature for the part he plays.” + </p> + <p> + “Physically, my friend, physically only, else we should not have so much + trouble in teaching this beautiful Leandre to become a lover. Then we have + Pasquariel here, who is sometimes an apothecary, sometimes a notary, + sometimes a lackey—an amiable, accommodating fellow. He is also an + excellent cook, being a child of Italy, that land of gluttons. And + finally, you have myself, who as the father of the company very properly + play as Pantaloon the roles of father. Sometimes, it is true, I am a + deluded husband, and sometimes an ignorant, self-sufficient doctor. But it + is rarely that I find it necessary to call myself other than Pantaloon. + For the rest, I am the only one who has a name—a real name. It is + Binet, monsieur. + </p> + <p> + “And now for the ladies... First in order of seniority we have Madame + there.” He waved one of his great hands towards a buxom, smiling blonde of + five-and-forty, who was seated on the lowest of the steps of the + travelling house. “She is our Duegne, or Mother, or Nurse, as the case + requires. She is known quite simply and royally as Madame. If she ever had + a name in the world, she has long since forgotten it, which is perhaps as + well. Then we have this pert jade with the tip-tilted nose and the wide + mouth, who is of course our soubrette Columbine, and lastly, my daughter + Climene, an amoureuse of talents not to be matched outside the Comedie + Francaise, of which she has the bad taste to aspire to become a member.” + </p> + <p> + The lovely Climene—and lovely indeed she was—tossed her + nut-brown curls and laughed as she looked across at Andre-Louis. Her eyes, + he had perceived by now, were not blue, but hazel. + </p> + <p> + “Do not believe him, monsieur. Here I am queen, and I prefer to be queen + here rather than a slave in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said Andre-Louis, quite solemnly, “will be queen wherever + she condescends to reign.” + </p> + <p> + Her only answer was a timid—timid and yet alluring—glance from + under fluttering lids. Meanwhile her father was bawling at the comely + young man who played lovers—“You hear, Leandre! That is the sort of + speech you should practise.” + </p> + <p> + Leandre raised languid eyebrows. “That?” quoth he, and shrugged. “The + merest commonplace.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis laughed approval. “M. Leandre is of a readier wit than you + concede. There is subtlety in pronouncing it a commonplace to call Mlle. + Climene a queen.” + </p> + <p> + Some laughed, M. Binet amongst them, with good-humoured mockery. + </p> + <p> + “You think he has the wit to mean it thus? Bah! His subtleties are all + unconscious.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation becoming general, Andre-Louis soon learnt what yet there + was to learn of this strolling band. They were on their way to Guichen, + where they hoped to prosper at the fair that was to open on Monday next. + They would make their triumphal entry into the town at noon, and setting + up their stage in the old market, they would give their first performance + that same Saturday night, in a new canevas—or scenario—of M. + Binet’s own, which should set the rustics gaping. And then M. Binet + fetched a sigh, and addressed himself to the elderly, swarthy, + beetle-browed Polichinelle, who sat on his left. + </p> + <p> + “But we shall miss Felicien,” said he. “Indeed, I do not know what we + shall do without him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we shall contrive,” said Polichinelle, with his mouth full. + </p> + <p> + “So you always say, whatever happens, knowing that in any case the + contriving will not fall upon yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “He should not be difficult to replace,” said Harlequin. + </p> + <p> + “True, if we were in a civilized land. But where among the rustics of + Brittany are we to find a fellow of even his poor parts?” M. Binet turned + to Andre-Louis. “He was our property-man, our machinist, our + stage-carpenter, our man of affairs, and occasionally he acted.” + </p> + <p> + “The part of Figaro, I presume,” said Andre-Louis, which elicited a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “So you are acquainted with Beaumarchais!” Binet eyed the young man with + fresh interest. + </p> + <p> + “He is tolerably well known, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “In Paris, to be sure. But I had not dreamt his fame had reached the wilds + of Brittany.” + </p> + <p> + “But then I was some years in Paris—at the Lycee of Louis le Grand. + It was there I made acquaintance with his work.” + </p> + <p> + “A dangerous man,” said Polichinelle, sententiously. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, and you are right,” Pantaloon agreed. “Clever—I do not deny + him that, although myself I find little use for authors. But of a sinister + cleverness responsible for the dissemination of many of these subversive + new ideas. I think such writers should be suppressed.” + </p> + <p> + “M. de La Tour d’Azyr would probably agree with you—the gentleman + who by the simple exertion of his will turns this communal land into his + own property.” And Andre-Louis drained his cup, which had been filled with + the poor vin gris that was the players’ drink. + </p> + <p> + It was a remark that might have precipitated an argument had it not also + reminded M. Binet of the terms on which they were encamped there, and of + the fact that the half-hour was more than past. In a moment he was on his + feet, leaping up with an agility surprising in so corpulent a man, issuing + his commands like a marshal on a field of battle. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, my lads! Are we to sit guzzling here all day? Time flees, and + there’s a deal to be done if we are to make our entry into Guichen at + noon. Go, get you dressed. We strike camp in twenty minutes. Bestir, + ladies! To your chaise, and see that you contrive to look your best. Soon + the eyes of Guichen will be upon you, and the condition of your interior + to-morrow will depend upon the impression made by your exterior to-day. + Away! Away!” + </p> + <p> + The implicit obedience this autocrat commanded set them in a whirl. + Baskets and boxes were dragged forth to receive the platters and remains + of their meagre feast. In an instant the ground was cleared, and the three + ladies had taken their departure to the chaise, which was set apart for + their use. The men were already climbing into the house on wheels, when + Binet turned to Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “We part here, sir,” said he, dramatically, “the richer by your + acquaintance; your debtors and your friends.” He put forth his podgy hand. + </p> + <p> + Slowly Andre-Louis took it in his own. He had been thinking swiftly in the + last few moments. And remembering the safety he had found from his + pursuers in the bosom of this company, it occurred to him that nowhere + could he be better hidden for the present, until the quest for him should + have died down. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “the indebtedness is on my side. It is not every day one + has the felicity to sit down with so illustrious and engaging a company.” + </p> + <p> + Binet’s little eyes peered suspiciously at the young man, in quest of + irony. He found nothing but candour and simple good faith. + </p> + <p> + “I part from you reluctantly,” Andre-Louis continued. “The more + reluctantly since I do not perceive the absolute necessity for parting.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” quoth Binet, frowning, and slowly withdrawing the hand which the + other had already retained rather longer than was necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Thus,” Andre-Louis explained himself. “You may set me down as a sort of + knight of rueful countenance in quest of adventure, with no fixed purpose + in life at present. You will not marvel that what I have seen of yourself + and your distinguished troupe should inspire me to desire your better + acquaintance. On your side you tell me that you are in need of some one to + replace your Figaro—your Felicien, I think you called him. Whilst it + may be presumptuous of me to hope that I could discharge an office so + varied and so onerous...” + </p> + <p> + “You are indulging that acrid humour of yours again, my friend,” Binet + interrupted him. “Excepting for that,” he added, slowly, meditatively, his + little eyes screwed up, “we might discuss this proposal that you seem to + be making.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! we can except nothing. If you take me, you take me as I am. What + else is possible? As for this humour—such as it is—which you + decry, you might turn it to profitable account.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “In several ways. I might, for instance, teach Leandre to make love.” + </p> + <p> + Pantaloon burst into laughter. “You do not lack confidence in your powers. + Modesty does not afflict you.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore I evince the first quality necessary in an actor.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you act?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon occasion, I think,” said Andre-Louis, his thoughts upon his + performance at Rennes and Nantes, and wondering when in all his histrionic + career Pantaloon’s improvisations had so rent the heart of mobs. + </p> + <p> + M. Binet was musing. “Do you know much of the theatre?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “I said that modesty will prove no obstacle in your career.” + </p> + <p> + “But consider. I know the work of Beaumarchais, Eglantine, Mercier, + Chenier, and many others of our contemporaries. Then I have read, of + course, Moliere, Racine, Corneille, besides many other lesser French + writers. Of foreign authors, I am intimate with the works of Gozzi, + Goldoni, Guarini, Bibbiena, Machiavelli, Secchi, Tasso, Ariosto, and + Fedini. Whilst of those of antiquity I know most of the work of Euripides, + Aristophanes, Terence, Plautus...” + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” roared Pantaloon. + </p> + <p> + “I am not nearly through with my list,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “You may keep the rest for another day. In Heaven’s name, what can have + induced you to read so many dramatic authors?” + </p> + <p> + “In my humble way I am a student of man, and some years ago I made the + discovery that he is most intimately to be studied in the reflections of + him provided for the theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a very original and profound discovery,” said Pantaloon, quite + seriously. “It had never occurred to me. Yet is it true. Sir, it is a + truth that dignifies our art. You are a man of parts, that is clear to me. + It has been clear since first I met you. I can read a man. I knew you from + the moment that you said ‘good-morning.’ Tell me, now: Do you think you + could assist me upon occasion in the preparation of a scenario? My mind, + fully engaged as it is with a thousand details of organization, is not + always as clear as I would have it for such work. Could you assist me + there, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite sure I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum, yes. I was sure you would be. The other duties that were Felicien’s + you would soon learn. Well, well, if you are willing, you may come along + with us. You’d want some salary, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “If it is usual,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “What should you say to ten livres a month?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say that it isn’t exactly the riches of Peru.” + </p> + <p> + “I might go as far as fifteen,” said Binet, reluctantly. “But times are + bad.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll make them better for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve no doubt you believe it. Then we understand each other?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” said Andre-Louis, dryly, and was thus committed to the + service of Thespis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE COMIC MUSE + </h2> + <p> + The company’s entrance into the township of Guichen, if not exactly + triumphal, as Binet had expressed the desire that it should be, was at + least sufficiently startling and cacophonous to set the rustics gaping. To + them these fantastic creatures appeared—as indeed they were—beings + from another world. + </p> + <p> + First went the great travelling chaise, creaking and groaning on its way, + drawn by two of the Flemish horses. It was Pantaloon who drove it, an + obese and massive Pantaloon in a tight-fitting suit of scarlet under a + long brown bed-gown, his countenance adorned by a colossal cardboard nose. + Beside him on the box sat Pierrot in a white smock, with sleeves that + completely covered his hands, loose white trousers, and a black skull-cap. + He had whitened his face with flour, and he made hideous noises with a + trumpet. + </p> + <p> + On the roof of the coach were assembled Polichinelle, Scaramouche, + Harlequin, and Pasquariel. Polichinelle in black and white, his doublet + cut in the fashion of a century ago, with humps before and behind, a white + frill round his neck and a black mask upon the upper half of his face, + stood in the middle, his feet planted wide to steady him, solemnly and + viciously banging a big drum. The other three were seated each at one of + the corners of the roof, their legs dangling over. Scaramouche, all in + black in the Spanish fashion of the seventeenth century, his face adorned + with a pair of mostachios, jangled a guitar discordantly. Harlequin, + ragged and patched in every colour of the rainbow, with his leather girdle + and sword of lath, the upper half of his face smeared in soot, clashed a + pair of cymbals intermittently. Pasquariel, as an apothecary in skull-cap + and white apron, excited the hilarity of the onlookers by his enormous tin + clyster, which emitted when pumped a dolorous squeak. + </p> + <p> + Within the chaise itself, but showing themselves freely at the windows, + and exchanging quips with the townsfolk, sat the three ladies of the + company. Climene, the amoureuse, beautifully gowned in flowered satin, her + own clustering ringlets concealed under a pumpkin-shaped wig, looked so + much the lady of fashion that you might have wondered what she was doing + in that fantastic rabble. Madame, as the mother, was also dressed with + splendour, but exaggerated to achieve the ridiculous. Her headdress was a + monstrous structure adorned with flowers, and superimposed by little + ostrich plumes. Columbine sat facing them, her back to the horses, falsely + demure, in milkmaid bonnet of white muslin, and a striped gown of green + and blue. + </p> + <p> + The marvel was that the old chaise, which in its halcyon days may have + served to carry some dignitary of the Church, did not founder instead of + merely groaning under that excessive and ribald load. + </p> + <p> + Next came the house on wheels, led by the long, lean Rhodomont, who had + daubed his face red, and increased the terror of it by a pair of + formidable mostachios. He was in long thigh-boots and leather jerkin, + trailing an enormous sword from a crimson baldrick. He wore a broad felt + hat with a draggled feather, and as he advanced he raised his great voice + and roared out defiance, and threats of blood-curdling butchery to be + performed upon all and sundry. On the roof of this vehicle sat Leandre + alone. He was in blue satin, with ruffles, small sword, powdered hair, + patches and spy-glass, and red-heeled shoes: the complete courtier, + looking very handsome. The women of Guichen ogled him coquettishly. He + took the ogling as a proper tribute to his personal endowments, and + returned it with interest. Like Climene, he looked out of place amid the + bandits who composed the remainder of the company. + </p> + <p> + Bringing up the rear came Andre-Louis leading the two donkeys that dragged + the property-cart. He had insisted upon assuming a false nose, + representing as for embellishment that which he intended for disguise. For + the rest, he had retained his own garments. No one paid any attention to + him as he trudged along beside his donkeys, an insignificant rear guard, + which he was well content to be. + </p> + <p> + They made the tour of the town, in which the activity was already above + the normal in preparation for next week’s fair. At intervals they halted, + the cacophony would cease abruptly, and Polichinelle would announce in a + stentorian voice that at five o’clock that evening in the old market, M. + Binet’s famous company of improvisers would perform a new comedy in four + acts entitled, “The Heartless Father.” + </p> + <p> + Thus at last they came to the old market, which was the groundfloor of the + town hall, and open to the four winds by two archways on each side of its + length, and one archway on each side of its breadth. These archways, with + two exceptions, had been boarded up. Through those two, which gave + admission to what presently would be the theatre, the ragamuffins of the + town, and the niggards who were reluctant to spend the necessary sous to + obtain proper admission, might catch furtive glimpses of the performance. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon was the most strenuous of Andre-Louis’ life, unaccustomed + as he was to any sort of manual labour. It was spent in erecting and + preparing the stage at one end of the market-hall; and he began to realize + how hard-earned were to be his monthly fifteen livres. At first there were + four of them to the task—or really three, for Pantaloon did no more + than bawl directions. Stripped of their finery, Rhodomont and Leandre + assisted Andre-Louis in that carpentering. Meanwhile the other four were + at dinner with the ladies. When a half-hour or so later they came to carry + on the work, Andre-Louis and his companions went to dine in their turn, + leaving Polichinelle to direct the operations as well as assist in them. + </p> + <p> + They crossed the square to the cheap little inn where they had taken up + their quarters. In the narrow passage Andre-Louis came face to face with + Climene, her fine feathers cast, and restored by now to her normal + appearance. + </p> + <p> + “And how do you like it?” she asked him, pertly. + </p> + <p> + He looked her in the eyes. “It has its compensations,” quoth he, in that + curious cold tone of his that left one wondering whether he meant or not + what he seemed to mean. + </p> + <p> + She knit her brows. “You... you feel the need of compensations already?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I felt it from the beginning,” said he. “It was the perception of + them allured me.” + </p> + <p> + They were quite alone, the others having gone on into the room set apart + for them, where food was spread. Andre-Louis, who was as unlearned in + Woman as he was learned in Man, was not to know, upon feeling himself + suddenly extraordinarily aware of her femininity, that it was she who in + some subtle, imperceptible manner so rendered him. + </p> + <p> + “What,” she asked him, with demurest innocence, “are these compensations?” + </p> + <p> + He caught himself upon the brink of the abyss. + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen livres a month,” said he, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + A moment she stared at him bewildered. He was very disconcerting. Then she + recovered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and bed and board,” said she. “Don’t be leaving that from the + reckoning, as you seem to be doing; for your dinner will be going cold. + Aren’t you coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you dined?” he cried, and she wondered had she caught a note of + eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, over her shoulder. “I waited.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” quoth his innocence, hopefully. + </p> + <p> + “I had to change, of course, zany,” she answered, rudely. Having dragged + him, as she imagined, to the chopping-block, she could not refrain from + chopping. But then he was of those who must be chopping back. + </p> + <p> + “And you left your manners upstairs with your grand-lady clothes, + mademoiselle. I understand.” + </p> + <p> + A scarlet flame suffused her face. “You are very insolent,” she said, + lamely. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve often been told so. But I don’t believe it.” He thrust open the door + for her, and bowing with an air which imposed upon her, although it was + merely copied from Fleury of the Comedie Francaise, so often visited in + the Louis le Grand days, he waved her in. “After you, ma demoiselle.” For + greater emphasis he deliberately broke the word into its two component + parts. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, monsieur,” she answered, frostily, as near sneering as was + possible to so charming a person, and went in, nor addressed him again + throughout the meal. Instead, she devoted herself with an unusual and + devastating assiduity to the suspiring Leandre, that poor devil who could + not successfully play the lover with her on the stage because of his + longing to play it in reality. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis ate his herrings and black bread with a good appetite + nevertheless. It was poor fare, but then poor fare was the common lot of + poor people in that winter of starvation, and since he had cast in his + fortunes with a company whose affairs were not flourishing, he must accept + the evils of the situation philosophically. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a name?” Binet asked him once in the course of that repast and + during a pause in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “It happens that I have,” said he. “I think it is Parvissimus.” + </p> + <p> + “Parvissimus?” quoth Binet. “Is that a family name?” + </p> + <p> + “In such a company, where only the leader enjoys the privilege of a family + name, the like would be unbecoming its least member. So I take the name + that best becomes in me. And I think it is Parvissimus—the very + least.” + </p> + <p> + Binet was amused. It was droll; it showed a ready fancy. Oh, to be sure, + they must get to work together on those scenarios. + </p> + <p> + “I shall prefer it to carpentering,” said Andre-Louis. Nevertheless he had + to go back to it that afternoon, and to labour strenuously until four + o’clock, when at last the autocratic Binet announced himself satisfied + with the preparations, and proceeded, again with the help of Andre-Louis, + to prepare the lights, which were supplied partly by tallow candles and + partly by lamps burning fish-oil. + </p> + <p> + At five o’clock that evening the three knocks were sounded, and the + curtain rose on “The Heartless Father.” + </p> + <p> + Among the duties inherited by Andre-Louis from the departed Felicien whom + he replaced, was that of doorkeeper. This duty he discharged dressed in a + Polichinelle costume, and wearing a pasteboard nose. It was an arrangement + mutually agreeable to M. Binet and himself. M. Binet—who had taken + the further precaution of retaining Andre-Louis’ own garments—was + thereby protected against the risk of his latest recruit absconding with + the takings. Andre-Louis, without illusions on the score of Pantaloon’s + real object, agreed to it willingly enough, since it protected him from + the chance of recognition by any acquaintance who might possibly be in + Guichen. + </p> + <p> + The performance was in every sense unexciting; the audience meagre and + unenthusiastic. The benches provided in the front half of the market + contained some twenty-seven persons: eleven at twenty sous a head and + sixteen at twelve. Behind these stood a rabble of some thirty others at + six sous apiece. Thus the gross takings were two louis, ten livres, and + two sous. By the time M. Binet had paid for the use of the market, his + lights, and the expenses of his company at the inn over Sunday, there was + not likely to be very much left towards the wages of his players. It is + not surprising, therefore, that M. Binet’s bonhomie should have been a + trifle overcast that evening. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think of it?” he asked Andre-Louis, as they were walking + back to the inn after the performance. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly it could have been worse; probably it could not,” said he. + </p> + <p> + In sheer amazement M. Binet checked in his stride, and turned to look at + his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” said he. “Dieu de Dieu! But you are frank.” + </p> + <p> + “An unpopular form of service among fools, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am not a fool,” said Binet. + </p> + <p> + “That is why I am frank. I pay you the compliment of assuming intelligence + in you, M. Binet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you do?” quoth M. Binet. “And who the devil are you to assume + anything? Your assumptions are presumptuous, sir.” And with that he lapsed + into silence and the gloomy business of mentally casting up his accounts. + </p> + <p> + But at table over supper a half-hour later he revived the topic. + </p> + <p> + “Our latest recruit, this excellent M. Parvissimus,” he announced, “has + the impudence to tell me that possibly our comedy could have been worse, + but that probably it could not.” And he blew out his great round cheeks to + invite a laugh at the expense of that foolish critic. + </p> + <p> + “That’s bad,” said the swarthy and sardonic Polichinelle. He was grave as + Rhadamanthus pronouncing judgment. “That’s bad. But what is infinitely + worse is that the audience had the impudence to be of the same mind.” + </p> + <p> + “An ignorant pack of clods,” sneered Leandre, with a toss of his handsome + head. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong,” quoth Harlequin. “You were born for love, my dear, not + criticism.” + </p> + <p> + Leandre—a dull dog, as you will have conceived—looked + contemptuously down upon the little man. “And you, what were you born + for?” he wondered. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knows,” was the candid admission. “Nor yet why. It is the case of + many of us, my dear, believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “But why”—M. Binet took him up, and thus spoilt the beginnings of a + very pretty quarrel—“why do you say that Leandre is wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “To be general, because he is always wrong. To be particular, because I + judge the audience of Guichen to be too sophisticated for ‘The Heartless + Father.’” + </p> + <p> + “You would put it more happily,” interposed Andre-Louis—who was the + cause of this discussion—“if you said that ‘The Heartless Father’ is + too unsophisticated for the audience of Guichen.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what’s the difference?” asked Leandre. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t imply a difference. I merely suggested that it is a happier way + to express the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman is being subtle,” sneered Binet. + </p> + <p> + “Why happier?” Harlequin demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because it is easier to bring ‘The Heartless Father’ to the + sophistication of the Guichen audience, than the Guichen audience to the + unsophistication of ‘The Heartless Father.’” + </p> + <p> + “Let me think it out,” groaned Polichinelle, and he took his head in his + hands. + </p> + <p> + But from the tail of the table Andre-Louis was challenged by Climene who + sat there between Columbine and Madame. + </p> + <p> + “You would alter the comedy, would you, M. Parvissimus?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He turned to parry her malice. + </p> + <p> + “I would suggest that it be altered,” he corrected, inclining his head. + </p> + <p> + “And how would you alter it, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, for the better.” + </p> + <p> + “But of course!” She was sleekest sarcasm. “And how would you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, tell us that,” roared M. Binet, and added: “Silence, I pray you, + gentlemen and ladies. Silence for M. Parvissimus.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked from father to daughter, and smiled. “Pardi!” said he. + “I am between bludgeon and dagger. If I escape with my life, I shall be + fortunate. Why, then, since you pin me to the very wall, I’ll tell you + what I should do. I should go back to the original and help myself more + freely from it.” + </p> + <p> + “The original?” questioned M. Binet—the author. + </p> + <p> + “It is called, I believe, ‘Monsieur de Pourceaugnac,’ and was written by + Moliere.” + </p> + <p> + Somebody tittered, but that somebody was not M. Binet. He had been touched + on the raw, and the look in his little eyes betrayed the fact that his + bonhomme exterior covered anything but a bonhomme. + </p> + <p> + “You charge me with plagiarism,” he said at last; “with filching the ideas + of Moliere.” + </p> + <p> + “There is always, of course,” said Andre-Louis, unruffled, “the + alternative possibility of two great minds working upon parallel lines.” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet studied the young man attentively a moment. He found him bland + and inscrutable, and decided to pin him down. + </p> + <p> + “Then you do not imply that I have been stealing from Moliere?” + </p> + <p> + “I advise you to do so, monsieur,” was the disconcerting reply. + </p> + <p> + M. Binet was shocked. + </p> + <p> + “You advise me to do so! You advise me, me, Antoine Binet, to turn thief + at my age!” + </p> + <p> + “He is outrageous,” said mademoiselle, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Outrageous is the word. I thank you for it, my dear. I take you on trust, + sir. You sit at my table, you have the honour to be included in my + company, and to my face you have the audacity to advise me to become a + thief—the worst kind of thief that is conceivable, a thief of + spiritual things, a thief of ideas! It is insufferable, intolerable! I + have been, I fear, deeply mistaken in you, monsieur; just as you appear to + have been mistaken in me. I am not the scoundrel you suppose me, sir, and + I will not number in my company a man who dares to suggest that I should + become one. Outrageous!” + </p> + <p> + He was very angry. His voice boomed through the little room, and the + company sat hushed and something scared, their eyes upon Andre-Louis, who + was the only one entirely unmoved by this outburst of virtuous + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “You realize, monsieur,” he said, very quietly, “that you are insulting + the memory of the illustrious dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said Binet. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis developed his sophistries. + </p> + <p> + “You insult the memory of Moliere, the greatest ornament of our stage, one + of the greatest ornaments of our nation, when you suggest that there is + vileness in doing that which he never hesitated to do, which no great + author yet has hesitated to do. You cannot suppose that Moliere ever + troubled himself to be original in the matter of ideas. You cannot suppose + that the stories he tells in his plays have never been told before. They + were culled, as you very well know—though you seem momentarily to + have forgotten it, and it is therefore necessary that I should remind you—they + were culled, many of them, from the Italian authors, who themselves had + culled them Heaven alone knows where. Moliere took those old stories and + retold them in his own language. That is precisely what I am suggesting + that you should do. Your company is a company of improvisers. You supply + the dialogue as you proceed, which is rather more than Moliere ever + attempted. You may, if you prefer it—though it would seem to me to + be yielding to an excess of scruple—go straight to Boccaccio or + Sacchetti. But even then you cannot be sure that you have reached the + sources.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis came off with flying colours after that. You see what a + debater was lost in him; how nimble he was in the art of making white look + black. The company was impressed, and no one more that M. Binet, who found + himself supplied with a crushing argument against those who in future + might tax him with the impudent plagiarisms which he undoubtedly + perpetrated. He retired in the best order he could from the position he + had taken up at the outset. + </p> + <p> + “So that you think,” he said, at the end of a long outburst of agreement, + “you think that our story of ‘The Heartless Father’ could be enriched by + dipping into ‘Monsieur de Pourceaugnac,’ to which I confess upon + reflection that it may present certain superficial resemblances?” + </p> + <p> + “I do; most certainly I do—always provided that you do so + judiciously. Times have changed since Moliere.” It was as a consequence of + this that Binet retired soon after, taking Andre-Louis with him. The pair + sat together late that night, and were again in close communion throughout + the whole of Sunday morning. + </p> + <p> + After dinner M. Binet read to the assembled company the amended and + amplified canevas of “The Heartless Father,” which, acting upon the advice + of M. Parvissimus, he had been at great pains to prepare. The company had + few doubts as to the real authorship before he began to read; none at all + when he had read. There was a verve, a grip about this story; and, what + was more, those of them who knew their Moliere realized that far from + approaching the original more closely, this canevas had drawn farther away + from it. Moliere’s original part—the title role—had dwindled + into insignificance, to the great disgust of Polichinelle, to whom it + fell. But the other parts had all been built up into importance, with the + exception of Leandre, who remained as before. The two great roles were now + Scaramouche, in the character of the intriguing Sbrigandini, and Pantaloon + the father. There was, too, a comical part for Rhodomont, as the roaring + bully hired by Polichinelle to cut Leandre into ribbons. And in view of + the importance now of Scaramouche, the play had been rechristened + “Figaro-Scaramouche.” + </p> + <p> + This last had not been without a deal of opposition from M. Binet. But his + relentless collaborator, who was in reality the real author—drawing + shamelessly, but practically at last upon his great store of reading—had + overborne him. + </p> + <p> + “You must move with the times, monsieur. In Paris Beaumarchais is the + rage. ‘Figaro’ is known to-day throughout the world. Let us borrow a + little of his glory. It will draw the people in. They will come to see + half a ‘Figaro’ when they will not come to see a dozen ‘Heartless + Fathers.’ Therefore let us cast the mantle of Figaro upon some one, and + proclaim it in our title.” + </p> + <p> + “But as I am the head of the company...” began M. Binet, weakly. + </p> + <p> + “If you will be blind to your interests, you will presently be a head + without a body. And what use is that? Can the shoulders of Pantaloon carry + the mantle of Figaro? You laugh. Of course you laugh. The notion is + absurd. The proper person for the mantle of Figaro is Scaramouche, who is + naturally Figaro’s twin-brother.” + </p> + <p> + Thus tyrannized, the tyrant Binet gave way, comforted by the reflection + that if he understood anything at all about the theatre, he had for + fifteen livres a month acquired something that would presently be earning + him as many louis. + </p> + <p> + The company’s reception of the canevas now confirmed him, if we except + Polichinelle, who, annoyed at having lost half his part in the + alterations, declared the new scenario fatuous. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You call my work fatuous, do you?” M. Binet hectored him. + </p> + <p> + “Your work?” said Polichinelle, to add with his tongue in his cheek: “Ah, + pardon. I had not realized that you were the author.” + </p> + <p> + “Then realize it now.” + </p> + <p> + “You were very close with M. Parvissimus over this authorship,” said + Polichinelle, with impudent suggestiveness. + </p> + <p> + “And what if I was? What do you imply?” + </p> + <p> + “That you took him to cut quills for you, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll cut your ears for you if you’re not civil,” stormed the infuriated + Binet. + </p> + <p> + Polichinelle got up slowly, and stretched himself. + </p> + <p> + “Dieu de Dieu!” said he. “If Pantaloon is to play Rhodomont, I think I’ll + leave you. He is not amusing in the part.” And he swaggered out before M. + Binet had recovered from his speechlessness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. EXIT MONSIEUR PARVISSIMUS + </h2> + <p> + Ar four o’clock on Monday afternoon the curtain rose on + “Figaro-Scaramouche” to an audience that filled three quarters of the + market-hall. M. Binet attributed this good attendance to the influx of + people to Guichen for the fair, and to the magnificent parade of his + company through the streets of the township at the busiest time of the + day. Andre-Louis attributed it entirely to the title. It was the “Figaro” + touch that had fetched in the better-class bourgeoisie, which filled more + than half of the twenty-sous places and three quarters of the twelve-sous + seats. The lure had drawn them. Whether it was to continue to do so would + depend upon the manner in which the canevas over which he had laboured to + the glory of Binet was interpreted by the company. Of the merits of the + canevas itself he had no doubt. The authors upon whom he had drawn for the + elements of it were sound, and he had taken of their best, which he + claimed to be no more than the justice due to them. + </p> + <p> + The company excelled itself. The audience followed with relish the sly + intriguings of Scaramouche, delighted in the beauty and freshness of + Climene, was moved almost to tears by the hard fate which through four + long acts kept her from the hungering arms of the so beautiful Leandre, + howled its delight over the ignominy of Pantaloon, the buffooneries of his + sprightly lackey Harlequin, and the thrasonical strut and bellowing + fierceness of the cowardly Rhodomont. + </p> + <p> + The success of the Binet troupe in Guichen was assured. That night the + company drank Burgundy at M. Binet’s expense. The takings reached the sum + of eight louis, which was as good business as M. Binet had ever done in + all his career. He was very pleased. Gratification rose like steam from + his fat body. He even condescended so far as to attribute a share of the + credit for the success to M. Parvissimus. + </p> + <p> + “His suggestion,” he was careful to say, by way of properly delimiting + that share, “was most valuable, as I perceived at the time.” + </p> + <p> + “And his cutting of quills,” growled Polichinelle. “Don’t forget that. It + is most important to have by you a man who understands how to cut a quill, + as I shall remember when I turn author.” + </p> + <p> + But not even that gibe could stir M. Binet out of his lethargy of content. + </p> + <p> + On Tuesday the success was repeated artistically and augmented + financially. Ten louis and seven livres was the enormous sum that + Andre-Louis, the doorkeeper, counted over to M. Binet after the + performance. Never yet had M. Binet made so much money in one evening—and + a miserable little village like Guichen was certainly the last place in + which he would have expected this windfall. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but Guichen in time of fair,” Andre-Louis reminded him. “There are + people here from as far as Nantes and Rennes to buy and sell. To-morrow, + being the last day of the fair, the crowds will be greater than ever. We + should better this evening’s receipts.” + </p> + <p> + “Better them? I shall be quite satisfied if we do as well, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “You can depend upon that,” Andre-Louis assured him. “Are we to have + Burgundy?” + </p> + <p> + And then the tragedy occurred. It announced itself in a succession of + bumps and thuds, culminating in a crash outside the door that brought them + all to their feet in alarm. + </p> + <p> + Pierrot sprang to open, and beheld the tumbled body of a man lying at the + foot of the stairs. It emitted groans, therefore it was alive. Pierrot + went forward to turn it over, and disclosed the fact that the body wore + the wizened face of Scaramouche, a grimacing, groaning, twitching + Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + The whole company, pressing after Pierrot, abandoned itself to laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I always said you should change parts with me,” cried Harlequin. “You’re + such an excellent tumbler. Have you been practising?” + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” Scaramouche snapped. “Must you be laughing when I’ve all but + broken my neck?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. We ought to be weeping because you didn’t break it. Come, + man, get up,” and he held out a hand to the prostrate rogue. + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche took the hand, clutched it, heaved himself from the ground, + then with a scream dropped back again. + </p> + <p> + “My foot!” he complained. + </p> + <p> + Binet rolled through the group of players, scattering them to right and + left. Apprehension had been quick to seize him. Fate had played him such + tricks before. + </p> + <p> + “What ails your foot?” quoth he, sourly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s broken, I think,” Scaramouche complained. + </p> + <p> + “Broken? Bah! Get up, man.” He caught him under the armpits and hauled him + up. + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche came howling to one foot; the other doubled under him when he + attempted to set it down, and he must have collapsed again but that Binet + supported him. He filled the place with his plaint, whilst Binet swore + amazingly and variedly. + </p> + <p> + “Must you bellow like a calf, you fool? Be quiet. A chair here, some one.” + </p> + <p> + A chair was thrust forward. He crushed Scaramouche down into it. + </p> + <p> + “Let us look at this foot of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Heedless of Scaramouche’s howls of pain, he swept away shoe and stocking. + </p> + <p> + “What ails it?” he asked, staring. “Nothing that I can see.” He seized it, + heel in one hand, instep in the other, and gyrated it. Scaramouche + screamed in agony, until Climene caught Binet’s arm and made him stop. + </p> + <p> + “My God, have you no feelings?” she reproved her father. “The lad has hurt + his foot. Must you torture him? Will that cure it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt his foot!” said Binet. “I can see nothing the matter with his foot—nothing + to justify all this uproar. He has bruised it, maybe...” + </p> + <p> + “A man with a bruised foot doesn’t scream like that,” said Madame over + Climene’s shoulder. “Perhaps he has dislocated it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I fear,” whimpered Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + Binet heaved himself up in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Take him to bed,” he bade them, “and fetch a doctor to see him.” + </p> + <p> + It was done, and the doctor came. Having seen the patient, he reported + that nothing very serious had happened, but that in falling he had + evidently sprained his foot a little. A few days’ rest and all would be + well. + </p> + <p> + “A few days!” cried Binet. “God of God! Do you mean that he can’t walk?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be unwise, indeed impossible for more than a few steps.” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet paid the doctor’s fee, and sat down to think. He filled himself a + glass of Burgundy, tossed it off without a word, and sat thereafter + staring into the empty glass. + </p> + <p> + “It is of course the sort of thing that must always be happening to me,” + he grumbled to no one in particular. The members of the company were all + standing in silence before him, sharing his dismay. “I might have known + that this—or something like it—would occur to spoil the first + vein of luck that I have found in years. Ah, well, it is finished. + To-morrow we pack and depart. The best day of the fair, on the crest of + the wave of our success—a good fifteen louis to be taken, and this + happens! God of God!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to abandon to-morrow’s performance?” + </p> + <p> + All turned to stare with Binet at Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Are we to play ‘Figaro-Scaramouche’ without Scaramouche?” asked Binet, + sneering. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not.” Andre-Louis came forward. “But surely some rearrangement + of the parts is possible. For instance, there is a fine actor in + Polichinelle.” + </p> + <p> + Polichinelle swept him a bow. “Overwhelmed,” said he, ever sardonic. + </p> + <p> + “But he has a part of his own,” objected Binet. + </p> + <p> + “A small part, which Pasquariel could play.” + </p> + <p> + “And who will play Pasquariel?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody. We delete it. The play need not suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “He thinks of everything,” sneered Polichinelle. “What a man!” + </p> + <p> + But Binet was far from agreement. “Are you suggesting that Polichinelle + should play Scaramouche?” he asked, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? He is able enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Overwhelmed again,” interjected Polichinelle. + </p> + <p> + “Play Scaramouche with that figure?” Binet heaved himself up to point a + denunciatory finger at Polichinelle’s sturdy, thick-set shortness. + </p> + <p> + “For lack of a better,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Overwhelmed more than ever.” Polichinelle’s bow was superb this time. + “Faith, I think I’ll take the air to cool me after so much blushing.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil,” Binet flung at him. + </p> + <p> + “Better and better.” Polichinelle made for the door. On the threshold he + halted and struck an attitude. “Understand me, Binet. I do not now play + Scaramouche in any circumstances whatever.” And he went out. On the whole, + it was a very dignified exit. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis shrugged, threw out his arms, and let them fall to his sides + again. “You have ruined everything,” he told M. Binet. “The matter could + easily have been arranged. Well, well, it is you are master here; and + since you want us to pack and be off, that is what we will do, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + He went out, too. M. Binet stood in thought a moment, then followed him, + his little eyes very cunning. He caught him up in the doorway. “Let us + take a walk together, M. Parvissimus,” said he, very affably. + </p> + <p> + He thrust his arm through Andre-Louis’, and led him out into the street, + where there was still considerable movement. Past the booths that ranged + about the market they went, and down the hill towards the bridge. “I don’t + think we shall pack to-morrow,” said M. Binet, presently. “In fact, we + shall play to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I know Polichinelle. You have...” + </p> + <p> + “I am not thinking of Polichinelle.” + </p> + <p> + “Of whom, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I am flattered, sir. And in what capacity are you thinking of me?” There + was something too sleek and oily in Binet’s voice for Andre-Louis’ taste. + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of you in the part of Scaramouche.” + </p> + <p> + “Day-dreams,” said Andre-Louis. “You are amusing yourself, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least. I am quite serious.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am not an actor.” + </p> + <p> + “You told me that you could be.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, upon occasion... a small part, perhaps...” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here is a big part—the chance to arrive at a single stride. + How many men have had such a chance?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a chance I do not covet, M. Binet. Shall we change the subject?” He + was very frosty, as much perhaps because he scented in M. Binet’s manner + something that was vaguely menacing as for any other reason. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll change the subject when I please,” said M. Binet, allowing a + glimpse of steel to glimmer through the silk of him. “To-morrow night you + play Scaramouche. You are ready enough in your wits, your figure is ideal, + and you have just the kind of mordant humour for the part. You should be a + great success.” + </p> + <p> + “It is much more likely that I should be an egregious failure.” + </p> + <p> + “That won’t matter,” said Binet, cynically, and explained himself. “The + failure will be personal to yourself. The receipts will be safe by then.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “We should take fifteen louis to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “It is unfortunate that you are without a Scaramouche,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “It is fortunate that I have one, M. Parvissimus.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis disengaged his arm. “I begin to find you tiresome,” said he. + “I think I will return.” + </p> + <p> + “A moment, M. Parvissimus. If I am to lose that fifteen louis... you’ll + not take it amiss that I compensate myself in other ways?” + </p> + <p> + “That is your own concern, M. Binet.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, M. Parvissimus. It may possibly be also yours.” Binet took his + arm again. “Do me the kindness to step across the street with me. Just as + far as the post-office there. I have something to show you.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis went. Before they reached that sheet of paper nailed upon the + door, he knew exactly what it would say. And in effect it was, as he had + supposed, that twenty louis would be paid for information leading to the + apprehension of one Andre-Louis Moreau, lawyer of Gavrillac, who was + wanted by the King’s Lieutenant in Rennes upon a charge of sedition. + </p> + <p> + M. Binet watched him whilst he read. Their arms were linked, and Binet’s + grip was firm and powerful. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my friend,” said he, “will you be M. Parvissimus and play + Scaramouche to-morrow, or will you be Andre-Louis Moreau of Gavrillac and + go to Rennes to satisfy the King’s Lieutenant?” + </p> + <p> + “And if it should happen that you are mistaken?” quoth Andre-Louis, his + face a mask. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take the risk of that,” leered M. Binet. “You mentioned, I think, + that you were a lawyer. An indiscretion, my dear. It is unlikely that two + lawyers will be in hiding at the same time in the same district. You see + it is not really clever of me. Well, M. Andre-Louis Moreau, lawyer of + Gavrillac, what is it to be?” + </p> + <p> + “We will talk it over as we walk back,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “What is there to talk over?” + </p> + <p> + “One or two things, I think. I must know where I stand. Come, sir, if you + please.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said M. Binet, and they turned up the street again, but M. + Binet maintained a firm hold of his young friend’s arm, and kept himself + on the alert for any tricks that the young gentleman might be disposed to + play. It was an unnecessary precaution. Andre-Louis was not the man to + waste his energy futilely. He knew that in bodily strength he was no match + at all for the heavy and powerful Pantaloon. + </p> + <p> + “If I yield to your most eloquent and seductive persuasions, M. Binet,” + said he, sweetly, “what guarantee do you give me that you will not sell me + for twenty louis after I shall have served your turn?” + </p> + <p> + “You have my word of honour for that.” M. Binet was emphatic. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis laughed. “Oh, we are to talk of honour, are we? Really, M. + Binet? It is clear you think me a fool.” + </p> + <p> + In the dark he did not see the flush that leapt to M. Binet’s round face. + It was some moments before he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you are right,” he growled. “What guarantee do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know what guarantee you can possibly give.” + </p> + <p> + “I have said that I will keep faith with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Until you find it more profitable to sell me.” + </p> + <p> + “You have it in your power to make it more profitable always for me to + keep faith with you. It is due to you that we have done so well in + Guichen. Oh, I admit it frankly.” + </p> + <p> + “In private,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + M. Binet left the sarcasm unheeded. + </p> + <p> + “What you have done for us here with ‘Figaro-Scaramouche,’ you can do + elsewhere with other things. Naturally, I shall not want to lose you. That + is your guarantee.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet to-night you would sell me for twenty louis.” + </p> + <p> + “Because—name of God!—you enrage me by refusing me a service + well within your powers. Don’t you think, had I been entirely the rogue + you think me, I could have sold you on Saturday last? I want you to + understand me, my dear Parvissimus.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg that you’ll not apologize. You would be more tiresome than ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you will be gibing. You never miss a chance to gibe. It’ll + bring you trouble before you’re done with life. Come; here we are back at + the inn, and you have not yet given me your decision.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked at him. “I must yield, of course. I can’t help myself.” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet released his arm at last, and slapped him heartily upon the back. + “Well declared, my lad. You’ll never regret it. If I know anything of the + theatre, I know that you have made the great decision of your life. + To-morrow night you’ll thank me.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis shrugged, and stepped out ahead towards the inn. But M. Binet + called him back. + </p> + <p> + “M. Parvissimus!” + </p> + <p> + He turned. There stood the man’s great bulk, the moonlight beating down + upon that round fat face of his, and he was holding out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “M. Parvissimus, no rancour. It is a thing I do not admit into my life. + You will shake hands with me, and we will forget all this.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis considered him a moment with disgust. He was growing angry. + Then, realizing this, he conceived himself ridiculous, almost as + ridiculous as that sly, scoundrelly Pantaloon. He laughed and took the + outstretched hand. “No rancour?” M. Binet insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no rancour,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. ENTER SCARAMOUCHE + </h2> + <p> + Dressed in the close-fitting suit of a bygone age, all black, from flat + velvet cap to rosetted shoes, his face whitened and a slight up-curled + moustache glued to his upper lip, a small-sword at his side and a guitar + slung behind him, Scaramouche surveyed himself in a mirror, and was + disposed to be sardonic—which was the proper mood for the part. + </p> + <p> + He reflected that his life, which until lately had been of a stagnant, + contemplative quality, had suddenly become excessively active. In the + course of one week he had been lawyer, mob-orator, outlaw, property-man, + and finally buffoon. Last Wednesday he had been engaged in moving an + audience of Rennes to anger; on this Wednesday he was to move an audience + of Guichen to mirth. Then he had been concerned to draw tears; to-day it + was his business to provoke laughter. There was a difference, and yet + there was a parallel. Then as now he had been a comedian; and the part + that he had played then was, when you came to think of it, akin to the + part he was to play this evening. For what had he been at Rennes but a + sort of Scaramouche—the little skirmisher, the astute intriguer, + spattering the seed of trouble with a sly hand? The only difference lay in + the fact that to-day he went forth under the name that properly described + his type, whereas last week he had been disguised as a respectable young + provincial attorney. + </p> + <p> + He bowed to his reflection in the mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Buffoon!” he apostrophized it. “At last you have found yourself. At last + you have come into your heritage. You should be a great success.” + </p> + <p> + Hearing his new name called out by M. Binet, he went below to find the + company assembled, and waiting in the entrance corridor of the inn. + </p> + <p> + He was, of course, an object of great interest to all the company. Most + critically was he conned by M. Binet and mademoiselle; by the former with + gravely searching eyes, by the latter with a curl of scornful lip. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll do,” M. Binet commended his make-up. “At least you look the part.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately men are not always what they look,” said Climene, acidly. + </p> + <p> + “That is a truth that does not at present apply to me,” said Andre-Louis. + “For it is the first time in my life that I look what I am.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle curled her lip a little further, and turned her shoulder to + him. But the others thought him very witty—probably because he was + obscure. Columbine encouraged him with a friendly smile that displayed her + large white teeth, and M. Binet swore yet once again that he would be a + great success, since he threw himself with such spirit into the + undertaking. Then in a voice that for the moment he appeared to have + borrowed from the roaring captain, M. Binet marshalled them for the short + parade across to the market-hall. + </p> + <p> + The new Scaramouche fell into place beside Rhodomont. The old one, + hobbling on a crutch, had departed an hour ago to take the place of + doorkeeper, vacated of necessity by Andre-Louis. So that the exchange + between those two was a complete one. + </p> + <p> + Headed by Polichinelle banging his great drum and Pierrot blowing his + trumpet, they set out, and were duly passed in review by the ragamuffins + drawn up in files to enjoy so much of the spectacle as was to be obtained + for nothing. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the three knocks sounded, and the curtains were drawn + aside to reveal a battered set that was partly garden, partly forest, in + which Climene feverishly looked for the coming of Leandre. In the wings + stood the beautiful, melancholy lover, awaiting his cue, and immediately + behind him the unfledged Scaramouche, who was anon to follow him. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis was assailed with nausea in that dread moment. He attempted to + take a lightning mental review of the first act of this scenario of which + he was himself the author-in-chief; but found his mind a complete blank. + With the perspiration starting from his skin, he stepped back to the wall, + where above a dim lantern was pasted a sheet bearing the brief outline of + the piece. He was still studying it, when his arm was clutched, and he was + pulled violently towards the wings. He had a glimpse of Pantaloon’s + grotesque face, its eyes blazing, and he caught a raucous growl: + </p> + <p> + “Climene has spoken your cue three times already.” + </p> + <p> + Before he realized it, he had been bundled on to the stage, and stood + there foolishly, blinking in the glare of the footlights, with their tin + reflectors. So utterly foolish and bewildered did he look that volley upon + volley of laughter welcomed him from the audience, which this evening + packed the hall from end to end. Trembling a little, his bewilderment at + first increasing, he stood there to receive that rolling tribute to his + absurdity. Climene was eyeing him with expectant mockery, savouring in + advance his humiliation; Leandre regarded him in consternation, whilst + behind the scenes, M. Binet was dancing in fury. + </p> + <p> + “Name of a name,” he groaned to the rather scared members of the company + assembled there, “what will happen when they discover that he isn’t + acting?” + </p> + <p> + But they never did discover it. Scaramouche’s bewildered paralysis lasted + but a few seconds. He realized that he was being laughed at, and + remembered that his Scaramouche was a creature to be laughed with, and not + at. He must save the situation; twist it to his own advantage as best he + could. And now his real bewilderment and terror was succeeded by acted + bewilderment and terror far more marked, but not quite so funny. He + contrived to make it clearly appear that his terror was of some one off + the stage. He took cover behind a painted shrub, and thence, the laughter + at last beginning to subside, he addressed himself to Climene and Leandre. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, beautiful lady, if the abrupt manner of my entrance startled + you. The truth is that I have never been the same since that last affair + of mine with Almaviva. My heart is not what it used to be. Down there at + the end of the lane I came face to face with an elderly gentleman carrying + a heavy cudgel, and the horrible thought entered my mind that it might be + your father, and that our little stratagem to get you safely married might + already have been betrayed to him. I think it was the cudgel put such + notion in my head. Not that I am afraid. I am not really afraid of + anything. But I could not help reflecting that, if it should really have + been your father, and he had broken my head with his cudgel, your hopes + would have perished with me. For without me, what should you have done, my + poor children?” + </p> + <p> + A ripple of laughter from the audience had been steadily enheartening him, + and helping him to recover his natural impudence. It was clear they found + him comical. They were to find him far more comical than ever he had + intended, and this was largely due to a fortuitous circumstance upon which + he had insufficiently reckoned. The fear of recognition by some one from + Gavrillac or Rennes had been strong upon him. His face was sufficiently + made up to baffle recognition; but there remained his voice. To dissemble + this he had availed himself of the fact that Figaro was a Spaniard. He had + known a Spaniard at Louis le Grand who spoke a fluent but most + extraordinary French, with a grotesque excess of sibilant sounds. It was + an accent that he had often imitated, as youths will imitate + characteristics that excite their mirth. Opportunely he had bethought him + of that Spanish student, and it was upon his speech that to-night he + modelled his own. The audience of Guichen found it as laughable on his + lips as he and his fellows had found it formerly on the lips of that + derided Spaniard. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, behind the scenes, Binet—listening to that glib impromptu + of which the scenario gave no indication—had recovered from his + fears. + </p> + <p> + “Dieu de Dieu!” he whispered, grinning. “Did he do it, then, on purpose?” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him impossible that a man who had been so terror-stricken as + he had fancied Andre-Louis, could have recovered his wits so quickly and + completely. Yet the doubt remained. + </p> + <p> + To resolve it after the curtain had fallen upon a first act that had gone + with a verve unrivalled until this hour in the annals of the company, + borne almost entirely upon the slim shoulders of the new Scaramouche, M. + Binet bluntly questioned him. + </p> + <p> + They were standing in the space that did duty as green-room, the company + all assembled there, showering congratulations upon their new recruit. + Scaramouche, a little exalted at the moment by his success, however + trivial he might consider it to-morrow, took then a full revenge upon + Climene for the malicious satisfaction with which she had regarded his + momentary blank terror. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wonder that you ask,” said he. “Faith, I should have warned you + that I intended to do my best from the start to put the audience in a good + humour with me. Mademoiselle very nearly ruined everything by refusing to + reflect any of my terror. She was not even startled. Another time, + mademoiselle, I shall give you full warning of my every intention.” + </p> + <p> + She crimsoned under her grease-paint. But before she could find an answer + of sufficient venom, her father was rating her soundly for her stupidity—the + more soundly because himself he had been deceived by Scaramouche’s supreme + acting. + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche’s success in the first act was more than confirmed as the + performance proceeded. Completely master of himself by now, and stimulated + as only success can stimulate, he warmed to his work. Impudent, alert, + sly, graceful, he incarnated the very ideal of Scaramouche, and he helped + out his own native wit by many a remembered line from Beaumarchais, + thereby persuading the better informed among the audience that here indeed + was something of the real Figaro, and bringing them, as it were, into + touch with the great world of the capital. + </p> + <p> + When at last the curtain fell for the last time, it was Scaramouche who + shared with Climene the honours of the evening, his name that was coupled + with hers in the calls that summoned them before the curtains. + </p> + <p> + As they stepped back, and the curtains screened them again from the + departing audience, M. Binet approached them, rubbing his fat hands softly + together. This runagate young lawyer, whom chance had blown into his + company, had evidently been sent by Fate to make his fortune for him. The + sudden success at Guichen, hitherto unrivalled, should be repeated and + augmented elsewhere. There would be no more sleeping under hedges and + tightening of belts. Adversity was behind him. He placed a hand upon + Scaramouche’s shoulder, and surveyed him with a smile whose oiliness not + even his red paint and colossal false nose could dissemble. + </p> + <p> + “And what have you to say to me now?” he asked him. “Was I wrong when I + assured you that you would succeed? Do you think I have followed my + fortunes in the theatre for a lifetime without knowing a born actor when I + see one? You are my discovery, Scaramouche. I have discovered you to + yourself. I have set your feet upon the road to fame and fortune. I await + your thanks.” + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche laughed at him, and his laugh was not altogether pleasant. + </p> + <p> + “Always Pantaloon!” said he. + </p> + <p> + The great countenance became overcast. “I see that you do not yet forgive + me the little stratagem by which I forced you to do justice to yourself. + Ungrateful dog! As if I could have had any purpose but to make you; and I + have done so. Continue as you have begun, and you will end in Paris. You + may yet tread the stage of the Comedie Francaise, the rival of Talma, + Fleury, and Dugazon. When that happens to you perhaps you will feel the + gratitude that is due to old Binet, for you will owe it all to this + soft-hearted old fool.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were as good an actor on the stage as you are in private,” said + Scaramouche, “you would yourself have won to the Comedie Francaise long + since. But I bear no rancour, M. Binet.” He laughed, and put out his hand. + </p> + <p> + Binet fell upon it and wrung it heartily. + </p> + <p> + “That, at least, is something,” he declared. “My boy, I have great plans + for you—for us. To-morrow we go to Maure; there is a fair there to + the end of this week. Then on Monday we take our chances at Pipriac, and + after that we must consider. It may be that I am about to realize the + dream of my life. There must have been upwards of fifteen louis taken + to-night. Where the devil is that rascal Cordemais?” + </p> + <p> + Cordemais was the name of the original Scaramouche, who had so + unfortunately twisted his ankle. That Binet should refer to him by his + secular designation was a sign that in the Binet company at least he had + fallen for ever from the lofty eminence of Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go and find him, and then we’ll away to the inn and crack a bottle + of the best Burgundy, perhaps two bottles.” + </p> + <p> + But Cordemais was not readily to be found. None of the company had seen + him since the close of the performance. M. Binet went round to the + entrance. Cordemais was not there. At first he was annoyed; then as he + continued in vain to bawl the fellow’s name, he began to grow uneasy; + lastly, when Polichinelle, who was with them, discovered Cordemais’ crutch + standing discarded behind the door, M. Binet became alarmed. A dreadful + suspicion entered his mind. He grew visibly pale under his paint. + </p> + <p> + “But this evening he couldn’t walk without the crutch!” he exclaimed. “How + then does he come to leave it there and take himself off?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he has gone on to the inn,” suggested some one. + </p> + <p> + “But he couldn’t walk without his crutch,” M. Binet insisted. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, since clearly he was not anywhere about the market-hall, to + the inn they all trooped, and deafened the landlady with their inquiries. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, M. Cordemais came in some time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “He went away again at once. He just came for his bag.” + </p> + <p> + “For his bag!” Binet was on the point of an apoplexy. “How long ago was + that?” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the timepiece on the overmantel. “It would be about half an + hour ago. It was a few minutes before the Rennes diligence passed + through.” + </p> + <p> + “The Rennes diligence!” M. Binet was almost inarticulate. “Could he... + could he walk?” he asked, on a note of terrible anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Walk? He ran like a hare when he left the inn. I thought, myself, that + his agility was suspicious, seeing how lame he had been since he fell + downstairs yesterday. Is anything wrong?” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet had collapsed into a chair. He took his head in his hands, and + groaned. + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrel was shamming all the time!” exclaimed Climene. “His fall + downstairs was a trick. He was playing for this. He has swindled us.” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen louis at least—perhaps sixteen!” said M. Binet. “Oh, the + heartless blackguard! To swindle me who have been as a father to him—and + to swindle me in such a moment.” + </p> + <p> + From the ranks of the silent, awe-stricken company, each member of which + was wondering by how much of the loss his own meagre pay would be mulcted, + there came a splutter of laughter. + </p> + <p> + M. Binet glared with blood-injected eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Who laughs?” he roared. “What heartless wretch has the audacity to laugh + at my misfortune?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, still in the sable glories of Scaramouche, stood forward. He + was laughing still. + </p> + <p> + “It is you, is it? You may laugh on another note, my friend, if I choose a + way to recoup myself that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Dullard!” Scaramouche scorned him. “Rabbit-brained elephant! What if + Cordemais has gone with fifteen louis? Hasn’t he left you something worth + twenty times as much?” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet gaped uncomprehending. + </p> + <p> + “You are between two wines, I think. You’ve been drinking,” he concluded. + </p> + <p> + “So I have—at the fountain of Thalia. Oh, don’t you see? Don’t you + see the treasure that Cordemais has left behind him?” + </p> + <p> + “What has he left?” + </p> + <p> + “A unique idea for the groundwork of a scenario. It unfolds itself all + before me. I’ll borrow part of the title from Moliere. We’ll call it ‘Les + Fourberies de Scaramouche,’ and if we don’t leave the audiences of Maure + and Pipriac with sides aching from laughter I’ll play the dullard + Pantaloon in future.” + </p> + <p> + Polichinelle smacked fist into palm. “Superb!” he said, fiercely. “To cull + fortune from misfortune, to turn loss into profit, that is to have + genius.” + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche made a leg. “Polichinelle, you are a fellow after my own + heart. I love a man who can discern my merit. If Pantaloon had half your + wit, we should have Burgundy to-night in spite of the flight of + Cordemais.” + </p> + <p> + “Burgundy?” roared M. Binet, and before he could get farther Harlequin had + clapped his hands together. + </p> + <p> + “That is the spirit, M. Binet. You heard him, landlady. He called for + Burgundy.” + </p> + <p> + “I called for nothing of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + “But you heard him, dear madame. We all heard him.” + </p> + <p> + The others made chorus, whilst Scaramouche smiled at him, and patted his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Up, man, a little courage. Did you not say that fortune awaits us? And + have we not now the wherewithal to constrain fortune? Burgundy, then, + to... to toast ‘Les Fourberies de Scaramouche.’” + </p> + <p> + And M. Binet, who was not blind to the force of the idea, yielded, took + courage, and got drunk with the rest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. CLIMENE + </h2> + <p> + Diligent search among the many scenarios of the improvisers which have + survived their day, has failed to bring to light the scenario of “Les + Fourberies de Scaramouche,” upon which we are told the fortunes of the + Binet troupe came to be soundly established. They played it for the first + time at Maure in the following week, with Andre-Louis—who was known + by now as Scaramouche to all the company, and to the public alike—in + the title-role. If he had acquitted himself well as Figaro-Scaramouche, he + excelled himself in the new piece, the scenario of which would appear to + be very much the better of the two. + </p> + <p> + After Maure came Pipriac, where four performances were given, two of each + of the scenarios that now formed the backbone of the Binet repertoire. In + both Scaramouche, who was beginning to find himself, materially improved + his performances. So smoothly now did the two pieces run that Scaramouche + actually suggested to Binet that after Fougeray, which they were to visit + in the following week, they should tempt fortune in a real theatre in the + important town of Redon. The notion terrified Binet at first, but coming + to think of it, and his ambition being fanned by Andre-Louis, he ended by + allowing himself to succumb to the temptation. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Andre-Louis in those days that he had found his real metier, + and not only was he beginning to like it, but actually to look forward to + a career as actor-author that might indeed lead him in the end to that + Mecca of all comedians, the Comedie Francaise. And there were other + possibilities. From the writing of skeleton scenarios for improvisers, he + might presently pass to writing plays of dialogue, plays in the proper + sense of the word, after the manner of Chenier, Eglantine, and + Beaumarchais. + </p> + <p> + The fact that he dreamed such dreams shows us how very kindly he had taken + to the profession into which Chance and M. Binet between them had + conspired to thrust him. That he had real talent both as author and as + actor I do not doubt, and I am persuaded that had things fallen out + differently he would have won for himself a lasting place among French + dramatists, and thus fully have realized that dream of his. + </p> + <p> + Now, dream though it was, he did not neglect the practical side of it. + </p> + <p> + “You realize,” he told M. Binet, “that I have it in my power to make your + fortune for you.” + </p> + <p> + He and Binet were sitting alone together in the parlour of the inn at + Pipriac, drinking a very excellent bottle of Volnay. It was on the night + after the fourth and last performance there of “Les Feurberies.” The + business in Pipriac had been as excellent as in Maure and Guichen. You + will have gathered this from the fact that they drank Volnay. + </p> + <p> + “I will concede it, my dear Scaramouche, so that I may hear the sequel.” + </p> + <p> + “I am disposed to exercise this power if the inducement is sufficient. You + will realize that for fifteen livres a month a man does not sell such + exceptional gifts as mine. + </p> + <p> + “There is an alternative,” said M. Binet, darkly. + </p> + <p> + “There is no alternative. Don’t be a fool, Binet.” + </p> + <p> + Binet sat up as if he had been prodded. Members of his company did not + take this tone of direct rebuke with him. + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, I make you a present of it,” Scaramouche pursued, airily. + “Exercise it if you please. Step outside and inform the police that they + can lay hands upon one Andre-Louis Moreau. But that will be the end of + your fine dreams of going to Redon, and for the first time in your life + playing in a real theatre. Without me, you can’t do it, and you know it; + and I am not going to Redon or anywhere else, in fact I am not even going + to Fougeray, until we have an equitable arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + “But what heat!” complained Binet, “and all for what? Why must you assume + that I have the soul of a usurer? When our little arrangement was made, I + had no idea—how could I?—that you would prove as valuable to me as + you are? You had but to remind me, my dear Scaramouche. I am a just man. + As from to-day you shall have thirty livres a month. See, I double it at + once. I am a generous man.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not ambitious. Now listen to me, a moment.” + </p> + <p> + And he proceeded to unfold a scheme that filled Binet with a paralyzing + terror. + </p> + <p> + “After Redon, Nantes,” he said. “Nantes and the Theatre Feydau.” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet choked in the act of drinking. The Theatre Feydau was a sort of + provincial Comedie Francaise. The great Fleury had played there to an + audience as critical as any in France. The very thought of Redon, + cherished as it had come to be by M. Binet, gave him at moments a cramp in + the stomach, so dangerously ambitious did it seem to him. And Redon was a + puppet-show by comparison with Nantes. Yet this raw lad whom he had picked + up by chance three weeks ago, and who in that time had blossomed from a + country attorney into author and actor, could talk of Nantes and the + Theatre Feydau without changing colour. + </p> + <p> + “But why not Paris and the Comedie Francaise?” wondered M. Binet, with + sarcasm, when at last he had got his breath. + </p> + <p> + “That may come later,” says impudence. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? You’ve been drinking, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + But Andre-Louis detailed the plan that had been forming in his mind. + Fougeray should be a training-ground for Redon, and Redon should be a + training-ground for Nantes. They would stay in Redon as long as Redon + would pay adequately to come and see them, working hard to perfect + themselves the while. They would add three or four new players of talent + to the company; he would write three or four fresh scenarios, and these + should be tested and perfected until the troupe was in possession of at + least half a dozen plays upon which they could depend; they would lay out + a portion of their profits on better dresses and better scenery, and + finally in a couple of months’ time, if all went well, they should be + ready to make their real bid for fortune at Nantes. It was quite true that + distinction was usually demanded of the companies appearing at the Feydau, + but on the other hand Nantes had not seen a troupe of improvisers for a + generation and longer. They would be supplying a novelty to which all + Nantes should flock provided that the work were really well done, and + Scaramouche undertook—pledged himself—that if matters were + left in his own hands, his projected revival of the Commedia dell’ Arte in + all its glories would exceed whatever expectations the public of Nantes + might bring to the theatre. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll talk of Paris after Nantes,” he finished, supremely matter-of-fact, + “just as we will definitely decide on Nantes after Redon.” + </p> + <p> + The persuasiveness that could sway a mob ended by sweeping M. Binet off + his feet. The prospect which Scaramouche unfolded, if terrifying, was also + intoxicating, and as Scaramouche delivered a crushing answer to each + weakening objection in a measure as it was advanced, Binet ended by + promising to think the matter over. + </p> + <p> + “Redon will point the way,” said Andre-Louis, “and I don’t doubt which way + Redon will point.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the great adventure of Redon dwindled to insignificance. Instead of a + terrifying undertaking in itself, it became merely a rehearsal for + something greater. In his momentary exaltation Binet proposed another + bottle of Volnay. Scaramouche waited until the cork was drawn before he + continued. + </p> + <p> + “The thing remains possible,” said he then, holding his glass to the + light, and speaking casually, “as long as I am with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed, my dear Scaramouche, agreed. Our chance meeting was a fortunate + thing for both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “For both of us,” said Scaramouche, with stress. “That is as I would have + it. So that I do not think you will surrender me just yet to the police.” + </p> + <p> + “As if I could think of such a thing! My dear Scaramouche, you amuse + yourself. I beg that you will never, never allude to that little joke of + mine again.” + </p> + <p> + “It is forgotten,” said Andre-Louis. “And now for the remainder of my + proposal. If I am to become the architect of your fortunes, if I am to + build them as I have planned them, I must also and in the same degree + become the architect of my own.” + </p> + <p> + “In the same degree?” M. Binet frowned. + </p> + <p> + “In the same degree. From to-day, if you please, we will conduct the + affairs of this company in a proper manner, and we will keep + account-books.” + </p> + <p> + “I am an artist,” said M. Binet, with pride. “I am not a merchant.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a business side to your art, and that shall be conducted in the + business manner. I have thought it all out for you. You shall not be + troubled with details that might hinder the due exercise of your art. All + that you have to do is to say yes or no to my proposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah? And the proposal?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that you constitute me your partner, with an equal share in the + profits of your company.” + </p> + <p> + Pantaloon’s great countenance grew pale, his little eyes widened to their + fullest extent as he conned the face of his companion. Then he exploded. + </p> + <p> + “You are mad, of course, to make me a proposal so monstrous.” + </p> + <p> + “It has its injustices, I admit. But I have provided for them. It would + not, for instance, be fair that in addition to all that I am proposing to + do for you, I should also play Scaramouche and write your scenarios + without any reward outside of the half-profit which would come to me as a + partner. Thus before the profits come to be divided, there is a salary to + be paid me as actor, and a small sum for each scenario with which I + provide the company; that is a matter for mutual agreement. Similarly, you + shall be paid a salary as Pantaloon. After those expenses are cleared up, + as well as all the other salaries and disbursements, the residue is the + profit to be divided equally between us.” + </p> + <p> + It was not, as you can imagine, a proposal that M. Binet would swallow at + a draught. He began with a point-blank refusal to consider it. + </p> + <p> + “In that case, my friend,” said Scaramouche, “we part company at once. + To-morrow I shall bid you a reluctant farewell.” + </p> + <p> + Binet fell to raging. He spoke of ingratitude in feeling terms; he even + permitted himself another sly allusion to that little jest of his + concerning the police, which he had promised never again to mention. + </p> + <p> + “As to that, you may do as you please. Play the informer, by all means. + But consider that you will just as definitely be deprived of my services, + and that without me you are nothing—as you were before I joined your + company.” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet did not care what the consequences might be. A fig for the + consequences! He would teach this impudent young country attorney that M. + Binet was not the man to be imposed upon. + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche rose. “Very well,” said he, between indifference and + resignation. “As you wish. But before you act, sleep on the matter. In the + cold light of morning you may see our two proposals in their proper + proportions. Mine spells fortune for both of us. Yours spells ruin for + both of us. Good-night, M. Binet. Heaven help you to a wise decision.” + </p> + <p> + The decision to which M. Binet finally came was, naturally, the only one + possible in the face of so firm a resolve as that of Andre-Louis, who held + the trumps. Of course there were further discussions, before all was + settled, and M. Binet was brought to an agreement only after an infinity + of haggling surprising in one who was an artist and not a man of business. + One or two concessions were made by Andre-Louis; he consented, for + instance, to waive his claim to be paid for scenarios, and he also + consented that M. Binet should appoint himself a salary that was out of + all proportion to his deserts. + </p> + <p> + Thus in the end the matter was settled, and the announcement duly made to + the assembled company. There were, of course, jealousies and resentments. + But these were not deep-seated, and they were readily swallowed when it + was discovered that under the new arrangement the lot of the entire + company was to be materially improved from the point of view of salaries. + This was a matter that had met with considerable opposition from M. Binet. + But the irresistible Scaramouche swept away all objections. + </p> + <p> + “If we are to play at the Feydau, you want a company of self-respecting + comedians, and not a pack of cringing starvelings. The better we pay them + in reason, the more they will earn for us.” + </p> + <p> + Thus was conquered the company’s resentment of this too swift promotion of + its latest recruit. Cheerfully now—with one exception—they + accepted the dominance of Scaramouche, a dominance soon to be so firmly + established that M. Binet himself came under it. + </p> + <p> + The one exception was Climene. Her failure to bring to heel this + interesting young stranger, who had almost literally dropped into their + midst that morning outside Guichen, had begotten in her a malice which his + persistent ignoring of her had been steadily inflaming. She had + remonstrated with her father when the new partnership was first formed. + She had lost her temper with him, and called him a fool, whereupon M. + Binet—in Pantaloon’s best manner—had lost his temper in his + turn and boxed her ears. She piled it up to the account of Scaramouche, + and spied her opportunity to pay off some of that ever-increasing score. + But opportunities were few. Scaramouche was too occupied just then. During + the week of preparation at Fougeray, he was hardly seen save at the + performances, whilst when once they were at Redon, he came and went like + the wind between the theatre and the inn. + </p> + <p> + The Redon experiment had justified itself from the first. Stimulated and + encouraged by this, Andre-Louis worked day and night during the month that + they spent in that busy little town. The moment had been well chosen, for + the trade in chestnuts of which Redon is the centre was just then at its + height. And every afternoon the little theatre was packed with spectators. + The fame of the troupe had gone forth, borne by the chestnut-growers of + the district, who were bringing their wares to Redon market, and the + audiences were made up of people from the surrounding country, and from + neighbouring villages as far out as Allaire, Saint-Perrieux and + Saint-Nicholas. To keep the business from slackening, Andre-Louis prepared + a new scenario every week. He wrote three in addition to those two with + which he had already supplied the company; these were “The Marriage of + Pantaloon,” “The Shy Lover,” and “The Terrible Captain.” Of these the last + was the greatest success. It was based upon the “Miles Gloriosus” of + Plautus, with great opportunities for Rhodomont, and a good part for + Scaramouche as the roaring captain’s sly lieutenant. Its success was + largely due to the fact that Andre-Louis amplified the scenario to the + extent of indicating very fully in places the lines which the dialogue + should follow, whilst here and there he had gone so far as to supply some + of the actual dialogue to be spoken, without, however, making it + obligatory upon the actors to keep to the letter of it. + </p> + <p> + And meanwhile as the business prospered, he became busy with tailors, + improving the wardrobe of the company, which was sorely in need of + improvement. He ran to earth a couple of needy artists, lured them into + the company to play small parts—apothecaries and notaries—and + set them to beguile their leisure in painting new scenery, so as to be + ready for what he called the conquest of Nantes, which was to come in the + new year. Never in his life had he worked so hard; never in his life had + he worked at all by comparison with his activities now. His fund of energy + and enthusiasm was inexhaustible, like that of his good humour. He came + and went, acted, wrote, conceived, directed, planned, and executed, what + time M. Binet took his ease at last in comparative affluence, drank + Burgundy every night, ate white bread and other delicacies, and began to + congratulate himself upon his astuteness in having made this industrious, + tireless fellow his partner. Having discovered how idle had been his fears + of performing at Redon, he now began to dismiss the terrors with which the + notion of Nantes had haunted him. + </p> + <p> + And his happiness was reflected throughout the ranks of his company, with + the single exception always of Climene. She had ceased to sneer at + Scaramouche, having realized at last that her sneers left him untouched + and recoiled upon herself. Thus her almost indefinable resentment of him + was increased by being stifled, until, at all costs, an outlet for it must + be found. + </p> + <p> + One day she threw herself in his way as he was leaving the theatre after + the performance. The others had already gone, and she had returned upon + pretence of having forgotten something. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me what I have done to you?” she asked him, point-blank. + </p> + <p> + “Done to me, mademoiselle?” He did not understand. + </p> + <p> + She made a gesture of impatience. “Why do you hate me?” + </p> + <p> + “Hate you, mademoiselle? I do not hate anybody. It is the most stupid of + all the emotions. I have never hated—not even my enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “What Christian resignation!” + </p> + <p> + “As for hating you, of all people! Why... I consider you adorable. I envy + Leandre every day of my life. I have seriously thought of setting him to + play Scaramouche, and playing lovers myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you would be a success,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “That is the only consideration that restrains me. And yet, given the + inspiration that is given Leandre, it is possible that I might be + convincing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what inspiration do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “The inspiration of playing to so adorable a Climene.” + </p> + <p> + Her lazy eyes were now alert to search that lean face of his. + </p> + <p> + “You are laughing at me,” said she, and swept past him into the theatre on + her pretended quest. There was nothing to be done with such a fellow. He + was utterly without feeling. He was not a man at all. + </p> + <p> + Yet when she came forth again at the end of some five minutes, she found + him still lingering at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Not gone yet?” she asked him, superciliously. + </p> + <p> + “I was waiting for you, mademoiselle. You will be walking to the inn. If I + might escort you...” + </p> + <p> + “But what gallantry! What condescension!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you would prefer that I did not?” + </p> + <p> + “How could I prefer that, M. Scaramouche? Besides, we are both going the + same way, and the streets are common to all. It is that I am overwhelmed + by the unusual honour.” + </p> + <p> + He looked into her piquant little face, and noted how obscured it was by + its cloud of dignity. He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I feared that the honour was not sought.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now I understand,” she cried. “It is for me to seek these honours. I + am to woo a man before he will pay me the homage of civility. It must be + so, since you, who clearly know everything, have said so. It remains for + me to beg your pardon for my ignorance.” + </p> + <p> + “It amuses you to be cruel,” said Scaramouche. “No matter. Shall we walk?” + </p> + <p> + They set out together, stepping briskly to warm their blood against the + wintry evening air. Awhile they went in silence, yet each furtively + observing the other. + </p> + <p> + “And so, you find me cruel?” she challenged him at length, thereby + betraying the fact that the accusation had struck home. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with a half smile. “Will you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “You are the first man that ever accused me of that.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not suppose myself the first man to whom you have been cruel. That + were an assumption too flattering to myself. I must prefer to think that + the others suffered in silence.” + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu! Have you suffered?” She was between seriousness and raillery. + </p> + <p> + “I place the confession as an offering on the altar of your vanity.” + </p> + <p> + “I should never have suspected it.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you? Am I not what your father calls a natural actor? I was an + actor long before I became Scaramouche. Therefore I have laughed. I often + do when I am hurt. When you were pleased to be disdainful, I acted disdain + in my turn.” + </p> + <p> + “You acted very well,” said she, without reflecting. + </p> + <p> + “Of course. I am an excellent actor.” + </p> + <p> + “And why this sudden change?” + </p> + <p> + “In response to the change in you. You have grown weary of your part of + cruel madam—a dull part, believe me, and unworthy of your talents. + Were I a woman and had I your loveliness and your grace, Climene, I should + disdain to use them as weapons of offence.” + </p> + <p> + “Loveliness and grace!” she echoed, feigning amused surprise. But the vain + baggage was mollified. “When was it that you discovered this beauty and + this grace, M. Scaramouche?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her a moment, considering the sprightly beauty of her, the + adorable femininity that from the first had so irresistibly attracted him. + </p> + <p> + “One morning when I beheld you rehearsing a love-scene with Leandre.” + </p> + <p> + He caught the surprise that leapt to her eyes, before she veiled them + under drooping lids from his too questing gaze. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that was the first time you saw me.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no earlier occasion to remark your charms.” + </p> + <p> + “You ask me to believe too much,” said she, but her tone was softer than + he had ever known it yet. + </p> + <p> + “Then you’ll refuse to believe me if I confess that it was this grace and + beauty that determined my destiny that day by urging me to join your + father’s troupe.” + </p> + <p> + At that she became a little out of breath. There was no longer any + question of finding an outlet for resentment. Resentment was all + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “But why? With what object?” + </p> + <p> + “With the object of asking you one day to be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + She halted under the shock of that, and swung round to face him. Her + glance met his own without shyness now; there was a hardening glitter in + her eyes, a faint stir of colour in her cheeks. She suspected him of an + unpardonable mockery. + </p> + <p> + “You go very fast, don’t you?” she asked him, with heat. + </p> + <p> + “I do. Haven’t you observed it? I am a man of sudden impulses. See what I + have made of the Binet troupe in less than a couple of months. Another + might have laboured for a year and not achieved the half of it. Shall I be + slower in love than in work? Would it be reasonable to expect it? I have + curbed and repressed myself not to scare you by precipitancy. In that I + have done violence to my feelings, and more than all in using the same + cold aloofness with which you chose to treat me. I have waited—oh! + so patiently—until you should tire of that mood of cruelty.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an amazing man,” said she, quite colourlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he agreed with her. “It is only the conviction that I am not + commonplace that has permitted me to hope as I have hoped.” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically, and as if by tacit consent, they resumed their walk. + </p> + <p> + “And I ask you to observe,” he said, “when you complain that I go very + fast, that, after all, I have so far asked you for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” quoth she, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “I have merely told you of my hopes. I am not so rash as to ask at once + whether I may realize them.” + </p> + <p> + “My faith, but that is prudent,” said she, tartly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + It was his self-possession that exasperated her; for after that she walked + the short remainder of the way in silence, and so, for the moment, the + matter was left just there. + </p> + <p> + But that night, after they had supped, it chanced that when Climene was + about to retire, he and she were alone together in the room abovestairs + that her father kept exclusively for his company. The Binet Troupe, you + see, was rising in the world. + </p> + <p> + As Climene now rose to withdraw for the night, Scaramouche rose with her + to light her candle. Holding it in her left hand, she offered him her + right, a long, tapering, white hand at the end of a softly rounded arm + that was bare to the elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Scaramouche,” she said, but so softly, so tenderly, that he + caught his breath, and stood conning her, his dark eyes aglow. + </p> + <p> + Thus a moment, then he took the tips of her fingers in his grasp, and + bowing over the hand, pressed his lips upon it. Then he looked at her + again. The intense femininity of her lured him on, invited him, + surrendered to him. Her face was pale, there was a glitter in her eyes, a + curious smile upon her parted lips, and under its fichu-menteur her bosom + rose and fell to complete the betrayal of her. + </p> + <p> + By the hand he continued to hold, he drew her towards him. She came + unresisting. He took the candle from her, and set it down on the sideboard + by which she stood. The next moment her slight, lithe body was in his + arms, and he was kissing her, murmuring her name as if it were a prayer. + </p> + <p> + “Am I cruel now?” she asked him, panting. He kissed her again for only + answer. “You made me cruel because you would not see,” she told him next + in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + And then the door opened, and M. Binet came in to have his paternal eyes + regaled by this highly indecorous behaviour of his daughter. + </p> + <p> + He stood at gaze, whilst they quite leisurely, and in a self-possession + too complete to be natural, detached each from the other. + </p> + <p> + “And what may be the meaning of this?” demanded M. Binet, bewildered and + profoundly shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Does it require explaining?” asked Scaramouche. “Doesn’t it speak for + itself—eloquently? It means that Climene and I have taken it into + our heads to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “And doesn’t it matter what I may take into my head?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. But you could have neither the bad taste nor the bad heart to + offer any obstacle.” + </p> + <p> + “You take that for granted? Aye, that is your way, to be sure—to + take things for granted. But my daughter is not to be taken for granted. I + have very definite views for my daughter. You have done an unworthy thing, + Scaramouche. You have betrayed my trust in you. I am very angry with you.” + </p> + <p> + He rolled forward with his ponderous yet curiously noiseless gait. + Scaramouche turned to her, smiling, and handed her the candle. + </p> + <p> + “If you will leave us, Climene, I will ask your hand of your father in + proper form.” + </p> + <p> + She vanished, a little fluttered, lovelier than ever in her mixture of + confusion and timidity. Scaramouche closed the door and faced the enraged + M. Binet, who had flung himself into an armchair at the head of the short + table, faced him with the avowed purpose of asking for Climene’s hand in + proper form. And this was how he did it: + </p> + <p> + “Father-in-law,” said he, “I congratulate you. This will certainly mean + the Comedie Francaise for Climene, and that before long, and you shall + shine in the glory she will reflect. As the father of Madame Scaramouche + you may yet be famous.” + </p> + <p> + Binet, his face slowly empurpling, glared at him in speechless + stupefaction. His rage was the more utter from his humiliating conviction + that whatever he might say or do, this irresistible fellow would bend him + to his will. At last speech came to him. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a damned corsair,” he cried, thickly, banging his ham-like fist + upon the table. “A corsair! First you sail in and plunder me of half my + legitimate gains; and now you want to carry off my daughter. But I’ll be + damned if I’ll give her to a graceless, nameless scoundrel like you, for + whom the gallows are waiting already.” + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche pulled the bell-rope, not at all discomposed. He smiled. There + was a flush on his cheeks and a gleam in his eyes. He was very pleased + with the world that night. He really owed a great debt to M. de + Lesdiguieres. + </p> + <p> + “Binet,” said he, “forget for once that you are Pantaloon, and behave as a + nice, amiable father-in-law should behave when he has secured a son-in-law + of exceptionable merits. We are going to have a bottle of Burgundy at my + expense, and it shall be the best bottle of Burgundy to be found in Redon. + Compose yourself to do fitting honour to it. Excitations of the bile + invariably impair the fine sensitiveness of the palate.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE CONQUEST OF NANTES + </h2> + <p> + The Binet Troupe opened in Nantes—as you may discover in surviving + copies of the “Courrier Nantais”—on the Feast of the Purification + with “Les Fourberies de Scaramouche.” But they did not come to Nantes as + hitherto they had gone to little country villages and townships, + unheralded and depending entirely upon the parade of their entrance to + attract attention to themselves. Andre-Louis had borrowed from the + business methods of the Comedie Francaise. Carrying matters with a high + hand entirely in his own fashion, he had ordered at Redon the printing of + playbills, and four days before the company’s descent upon Nantes, these + bills were pasted outside the Theatre Feydau and elsewhere about the town, + and had attracted—being still sufficiently unusual announcements at + the time—considerable attention. He had entrusted the matter to one + of the company’s latest recruits, an intelligent young man named Basque, + sending him on ahead of the company for the purpose. + </p> + <p> + You may see for yourself one of these playbills in the Carnavalet Museum. + It details the players by their stage names only, with the exception of M. + Binet and his daughter, and leaving out of account that he who plays + Trivelin in one piece appears as Tabarin in another, it makes the company + appear to be at least half as numerous again as it really was. It + announces that they will open with “Les Fourberies de Scaramouche,” to be + followed by five other plays of which it gives the titles, and by others + not named, which shall also be added should the patronage to be received + in the distinguished and enlightened city of Nantes encourage the Binet + Troupe to prolong its sojourn at the Theatre Feydau. It lays great stress + upon the fact that this is a company of improvisers in the old Italian + manner, the like of which has not been seen in France for half a century, + and it exhorts the public of Nantes not to miss this opportunity of + witnessing these distinguished mimes who are reviving for them the glories + of the Comedie de l’Art. Their visit to Nantes—the announcement + proceeds—is preliminary to their visit to Paris, where they intend + to throw down the glove to the actors of the Comedie Francaise, and to + show the world how superior is the art of the improviser to that of the + actor who depends upon an author for what he shall say, and who + consequently says always the same thing every time that he plays in the + same piece. + </p> + <p> + It is an audacious bill, and its audacity had scared M. Binet out of the + little sense left him by the Burgundy which in these days he could afford + to abuse. He had offered the most vehement opposition. Part of this + Andre-Louis had swept aside; part he had disregarded. + </p> + <p> + “I admit that it is audacious,” said Scaramouche. “But at your time of + life you should have learnt that in this world nothing succeeds like + audacity.” + </p> + <p> + “I forbid it; I absolutely forbid it,” M. Binet insisted. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you would. Just as I know that you’ll be very grateful to me + presently for not obeying you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are inviting a catastrophe.” + </p> + <p> + “I am inviting fortune. The worst catastrophe that can overtake you is to + be back in the market-halls of the country villages from which I rescued + you. I’ll have you in Paris yet in spite of yourself. Leave this to me.” + </p> + <p> + And he went out to attend to the printing. Nor did his preparations end + there. He wrote a piquant article on the glories of the Comedie de l’Art, + and its resurrection by the improvising troupe of the great mime Florimond + Binet. Binet’s name was not Florimond; it was just Pierre. But Andre-Louis + had a great sense of the theatre. That article was an amplification of the + stimulating matter contained in the playbills; and he persuaded Basque, + who had relations in Nantes, to use all the influence he could command, + and all the bribery they could afford, to get that article printed in the + “Courrier Nantais” a couple of days before the arrival of the Binet + Troupe. + </p> + <p> + Basque had succeeded, and, considering the undoubted literary merits and + intrinsic interest of the article, this is not at all surprising. + </p> + <p> + And so it was upon an already expectant city that Binet and his company + descended in that first week of February. M. Binet would have made his + entrance in the usual manner—a full-dress parade with banging drums + and crashing cymbals. But to this Andre-Louis offered the most relentless + opposition. + </p> + <p> + “We should but discover our poverty,” said he. “Instead, we will creep + into the city unobserved, and leave ourselves to the imagination of the + public.” + </p> + <p> + He had his way, of course. M. Binet, worn already with battling against + the strong waters of this young man’s will, was altogether unequal to the + contest now that he found Climene in alliance with Scaramouche, adding her + insistence to his, and joining with him in reprobation of her father’s + sluggish and reactionary wits. Metaphorically, M. Binet threw up his arms, + and cursing the day on which he had taken this young man into his troupe, + he allowed the current to carry him whither it would. He was persuaded + that he would be drowned in the end. Meanwhile he would drown his vexation + in Burgundy. At least there was abundance of Burgundy. Never in his life + had he found Burgundy so plentiful. Perhaps things were not as bad as he + imagined, after all. He reflected that, when all was said, he had to thank + Scaramouche for the Burgundy. Whilst fearing the worst, he would hope for + the best. + </p> + <p> + And it was very much the worst that he feared as he waited in the wings + when the curtain rose on that first performance of theirs at the Theatre + Feydau to a house that was tolerably filled by a public whose curiosity + the preliminary announcements had thoroughly stimulated. + </p> + <p> + Although the scenario of “Lee Fourberies de Scaramouche” has not + apparently survived, yet we know from Andre-Louis’ “Confessions” that it + is opened by Polichinelle in the character of an arrogant and fiercely + jealous lover shown in the act of beguiling the waiting-maid, Columbine, + to play the spy upon her mistress, Climene. Beginning with cajolery, but + failing in this with the saucy Columbine, who likes cajolers to be at + least attractive and to pay a due deference to her own very piquant + charms, the fierce humpbacked scoundrel passes on to threats of the + terrible vengeance he will wreak upon her if she betrays him or neglects + to obey him implicitly; failing here, likewise, he finally has recourse to + bribery, and after he has bled himself freely to the very expectant + Columbine, he succeeds by these means in obtaining her consent to spy upon + Climene, and to report to him upon her lady’s conduct. + </p> + <p> + The pair played the scene well together, stimulated, perhaps, by their + very nervousness at finding themselves before so imposing an audience. + Polichinelle was everything that is fierce, contemptuous, and insistent. + Columbine was the essence of pert indifference under his cajolery, saucily + mocking under his threats, and finely sly in extorting the very maximum + when it came to accepting a bribe. Laughter rippled through the audience + and promised well. But M. Binet, standing trembling in the wings, missed + the great guffaws of the rustic spectators to whom they had played + hitherto, and his fears steadily mounted. + </p> + <p> + Then, scarcely has Polichinelle departed by the door than Scaramouche + bounds in through the window. It was an effective entrance, usually + performed with a broad comic effect that set the people in a roar. Not so + on this occasion. Meditating in bed that morning, Scaramouche had decided + to present himself in a totally different aspect. He would cut out all the + broad play, all the usual clowning which had delighted their past rude + audiences, and he would obtain his effects by subtlety instead. He would + present a slyly humorous rogue, restrained, and of a certain dignity, + wearing a countenance of complete solemnity, speaking his lines drily, as + if unconscious of the humour with which he intended to invest them. Thus, + though it might take the audience longer to understand and discover him, + they would like him all the better in the end. + </p> + <p> + True to that resolve, he now played his part as the friend and hired ally + of the lovesick Leandre, on whose behalf he came for news of Climene, + seizing the opportunity to further his own amour with Columbine and his + designs upon the money-bags of Pantaloon. Also he had taken certain + liberties with the traditional costume of Scaramouche; he had caused the + black doublet and breeches to be slashed with red, and the doublet to be + cut more to a peak, a la Henri III. The conventional black velvet cap he + had replaced by a conical hat with a turned-up brim, and a tuft of + feathers on the left, and he had discarded the guitar. + </p> + <p> + M. Binet listened desperately for the roar of laughter that usually + greeted the entrance of Scaramouche, and his dismay increased when it did + not come. And then he became conscious of something alarmingly unusual in + Scaramouche’s manner. The sibilant foreign accent was there, but none of + the broad boisterousness their audiences had loved. + </p> + <p> + He wrung his hands in despair. “It is all over!” he said. “The fellow has + ruined us! It serves me right for being a fool, and allowing him to take + control of everything!” + </p> + <p> + But he was profoundly mistaken. He began to have an inkling of this when + presently himself he took the stage, and found the public attentive, + remarked a grin of quiet appreciation on every upturned face. It was not, + however, until the thunders of applause greeted the fall of the curtain on + the first act that he felt quite sure they would be allowed to escape with + their lives. + </p> + <p> + Had the part of Pantaloon in “Les Fourberies” been other than that of a + blundering, timid old idiot, Binet would have ruined it by his + apprehensions. As it was, those very apprehensions, magnifying as they did + the hesitancy and bewilderment that were the essence of his part, + contributed to the success. And a success it proved that more than + justified all the heralding of which Scaramouche had been guilty. + </p> + <p> + For Scaramouche himself this success was not confined to the public. At + the end of the play a great reception awaited him from his companions + assembled in the green-room of the theatre. His talent, resource, and + energy had raised them in a few weeks from a pack of vagrant mountebanks + to a self-respecting company of first-rate players. They acknowledged it + generously in a speech entrusted to Polichinelle, adding the tribute to + his genius that, as they had conquered Nantes, so would they conquer the + world under his guidance. + </p> + <p> + In their enthusiasm they were a little neglectful of the feelings of M. + Binet. Irritated enough had he been already by the overriding of his every + wish, by the consciousness of his weakness when opposed to Scaramouche. + And, although he had suffered the gradual process of usurpation of + authority because its every step had been attended by his own greater + profit, deep down in him the resentment abode to stifle every spark of + that gratitude due from him to his partner. To-night his nerves had been + on the rack, and he had suffered agonies of apprehension, for all of which + he blamed Scaramouche so bitterly that not even the ultimate success—almost + miraculous when all the elements are considered—could justify his + partner in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + And now, to find himself, in addition, ignored by this company—his + own company, which he had so laboriously and slowly assembled and selected + among the men of ability whom he had found here and there in the dregs of + cities—was something that stirred his bile, and aroused the + malevolence that never did more than slumber in him. But deeply though his + rage was moved, it did not blind him to the folly of betraying it. Yet + that he should assert himself in this hour was imperative unless he were + for ever to become a thing of no account in this troupe over which he had + lorded it for long months before this interloper came amongst them to fill + his purse and destroy his authority. + </p> + <p> + So he stepped forward now when Polichinelle had done. His make-up + assisting him to mask his bitter feelings, he professed to add his own to + Polichinelle’s acclamations of his dear partner. But he did it in such a + manner as to make it clear that what Scaramouche had done, he had done by + M. Binet’s favour, and that in all M. Binet’s had been the guiding hand. + In associating himself with Polichinelle, he desired to thank Scaramouche, + much in the manner of a lord rendering thanks to his steward for services + diligently rendered and orders scrupulously carried out. + </p> + <p> + It neither deceived the troupe nor mollified himself. Indeed, his + consciousness of the mockery of it but increased his bitterness. But at + least it saved his face and rescued him from nullity—he who was + their chief. + </p> + <p> + To say, as I have said, that it did not deceive them, is perhaps to say + too much, for it deceived them at least on the score of his feelings. They + believed, after discounting the insinuations in which he took all credit + to himself, that at heart he was filled with gratitude, as they were. That + belief was shared by Andre-Louis himself, who in his brief, grateful + answer was very generous to M. Binet, more than endorsing the claims that + M. Binet had made. + </p> + <p> + And then followed from him the announcement that their success in Nantes + was the sweeter to him because it rendered almost immediately attainable + the dearest wish of his heart, which was to make Climene his wife. It was + a felicity of which he was the first to acknowledge his utter + unworthiness. It was to bring him into still closer relations with his + good friend M. Binet, to whom he owed all that he had achieved for himself + and for them. The announcement was joyously received, for the world of the + theatre loves a lover as dearly as does the greater world. So they + acclaimed the happy pair, with the exception of poor Leandre, whose eyes + were more melancholy than ever. + </p> + <p> + They were a happy family that night in the upstairs room of their inn on + the Quai La Fosse—the same inn from which Andre-Louis had set out + some weeks ago to play a vastly different role before an audience of + Nantes. Yet was it so different, he wondered? Had he not then been a sort + of Scaramouche—an intriguer, glib and specious, deceiving folk, + cynically misleading them with opinions that were not really his own? Was + it at all surprising that he should have made so rapid and signal a + success as a mime? Was not this really all that he had ever been, the + thing for which Nature had designed him? + </p> + <p> + On the following night they played “The Shy Lover” to a full house, the + fame of their debut having gone abroad, and the success of Monday was + confirmed. On Wednesday they gave “Figaro-Scaramouche,” and on Thursday + morning the “Courrier Nantais” came out with an article of more than a + column of praise of these brilliant improvisers, for whom it claimed that + they utterly put to shame the mere reciters of memorized parts. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, reading the sheet at breakfast, and having no delusions on + the score of the falseness of that statement, laughed inwardly. The + novelty of the thing, and the pretentiousness in which he had swaddled it, + had deceived them finely. He turned to greet Binet and Climene, who + entered at that moment. He waved the sheet above his head. + </p> + <p> + “It is settled,” he announced, “we stay in Nantes until Easter.” + </p> + <p> + “Do we?” said Binet, sourly. “You settle everything, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Read for yourself.” And he handed him the paper. + </p> + <p> + Moodily M. Binet read. He set the sheet down in silence, and turned his + attention to his breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Was I justified or not?” quoth Andre-Louis, who found M. Binet’s + behaviour a thought intriguing. + </p> + <p> + “In what?” + </p> + <p> + “In coming to Nantes?” + </p> + <p> + “If I had not thought so, we should not have come,” said Binet, and he + began to eat. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis dropped the subject, wondering. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he and Climene sallied forth to take the air upon the + quays. It was a day of brilliant sunshine and less cold than it had lately + been. Columbine tactlessly joined them as they were setting out, though in + this respect matters were improved a little when Harlequin came running + after them, and attached himself to Columbine. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, stepping out ahead with Climene, spoke of the thing that was + uppermost in his mind at the moment. + </p> + <p> + “Your father is behaving very oddly towards me,” said he. “It is almost as + if he had suddenly become hostile.” + </p> + <p> + “You imagine it,” said she. “My father is very grateful to you, as we all + are.” + </p> + <p> + “He is anything but grateful. He is infuriated against me; and I think I + know the reason. Don’t you? Can’t you guess?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were my daughter, Climene, which God be thanked you are not, I + should feel aggrieved against the man who carried you away from me. Poor + old Pantaloon! He called me a corsair when I told him that I intend to + marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “He was right. You are a bold robber, Scaramouche.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in the character,” said he. “Your father believes in having his + mimes play upon the stage the parts that suit their natural temperaments.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you take everything you want, don’t you?” She looked up at him, half + adoringly, half shyly. + </p> + <p> + “If it is possible,” said he. “I took his consent to our marriage by main + force from him. I never waited for him to give it. When, in fact, he + refused it, I just snatched it from him, and I’ll defy him now to win it + back from me. I think that is what he most resents.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, and launched upon an animated answer. But he did not hear a + word of it. Through the bustle of traffic on the quay a cabriolet, the + upper half of which was almost entirely made of glass, had approached + them. It was drawn by two magnificent bay horses and driven by a superbly + livened coachman. + </p> + <p> + In the cabriolet alone sat a slight young girl wrapped in a lynx-fur + pelisse, her face of a delicate loveliness. She was leaning forward, her + lips parted, her eyes devouring Scaramouche until they drew his gaze. When + that happened, the shock of it brought him abruptly to a dumfounded halt. + </p> + <p> + Climene, checking in the middle of a sentence, arrested by his own sudden + stopping, plucked at his sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Scaramouche?” + </p> + <p> + But he made no attempt to answer her, and at that moment the coachman, to + whom the little lady had already signalled, brought the carriage to a + standstill beside them. Seen in the gorgeous setting of that coach with + its escutcheoned panels, its portly coachman and its white-stockinged + footman—who swung instantly to earth as the vehicle stopped—its + dainty occupant seemed to Climene a princess out of a fairy-tale. And this + princess leaned forward, with eyes aglow and cheeks aflush, stretching out + a choicely gloved hand to Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + “Andre-Louis!” she called him. + </p> + <p> + And Scaramouche took the hand of that exalted being, just as he might have + taken the hand of Climene herself, and with eyes that reflected the + gladness of her own, in a voice that echoed the joyous surprise of hers, + he addressed her familiarly by name, just as she had addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE DREAM + </h2> + <p> + “The door,” Aline commanded her footman, and “Mount here beside me,” she + commanded Andre-Louis, in the same breath. + </p> + <p> + “A moment, Aline.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to his companion, who was all amazement, and to Harlequin and + Columbine, who had that moment come up to share it. “You permit me, + Climene?” said he, breathlessly. But it was more a statement than a + question. “Fortunately you are not alone. Harlequin will take care of you. + Au revoir, at dinner.” + </p> + <p> + With that he sprang into the cabriolet without waiting for a reply. The + footman closed the door, the coachman cracked his whip, and the regal + equipage rolled away along the quay, leaving the three comedians staring + after it, open-mouthed... Then Harlequin laughed. + </p> + <p> + “A prince in disguise, our Scaramouche!” said he. + </p> + <p> + Columbine clapped her hands and flashed her strong teeth. “But what a + romance for you, Climene! How wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + The frown melted from Climene’s brow. Resentment changed to bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “But who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “His sister, of course,” said Harlequin, quite definitely. + </p> + <p> + “His sister? How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I know what he will tell you on his return.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you wouldn’t believe him if he said she was his mother.” + </p> + <p> + Following the carriage with their glance, they wandered on in the + direction it had taken. And in the carriage Aline was considering + Andre-Louis with grave eyes, lips slightly compressed, and a tiny frown + between her finely drawn eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “You have taken to queer company, Andre,” was the first thing she said to + him. “Or else I am mistaken in thinking that your companion was Mlle. + Binet of the Theatre Feydau.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not mistaken. But I had not imagined Mlle. Binet so famous + already.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that...” mademoiselle shrugged, her tone quietly scornful. And + she explained. “It is simply that I was at the play last night. I thought + I recognized her.” + </p> + <p> + “You were at the Feydau last night? And I never saw you!” + </p> + <p> + “Were you there, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Was I there!” he cried. Then he checked, and abruptly changed his tone. + “Oh, yes, I was there,” he said, as commonplace as he could, beset by a + sudden reluctance to avow that he had so willingly descended to depths + that she must account unworthy, and grateful that his disguise of face and + voice should have proved impenetrable even to one who knew him so very + well. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said she, and compressed her lips a little more tightly. + </p> + <p> + “But what do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “The rare attractions of Mlle. Binet. Naturally you would be at the + theatre. Your tone conveyed it very clearly. Do you know that you + disappoint me, Andre? It is stupid of me, perhaps; it betrays, I suppose, + my imperfect knowledge of your sex. I am aware that most young men of + fashion find an irresistible attraction for creatures who parade + themselves upon the stage. But I did not expect you to ape the ways of a + man of fashion. I was foolish enough to imagine you to be different; + rather above such trivial pursuits. I conceived you something of an + idealist.” + </p> + <p> + “Sheer flattery.” + </p> + <p> + “So I perceive. But you misled me. You talked so much morality of a kind, + you made philosophy so readily, that I came to be deceived. In fact, your + hypocrisy was so consummate that I never suspected it. With your gift of + acting I wonder that you haven’t joined Mlle. Binet’s troupe.” + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said he. + </p> + <p> + It had really become necessary to tell her, making choice of the lesser of + the two evils with which she confronted him. + </p> + <p> + He saw first incredulity, then consternation, and lastly disgust + overspread her face. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said she, after a long pause, “that would have the advantage + of bringing you closer to your charmer.” + </p> + <p> + “That was only one of the inducements. There was another. Finding myself + forced to choose between the stage and the gallows, I had the incredible + weakness to prefer the former. It was utterly unworthy of a man of my + lofty ideals, but—what would you? Like other ideologists, I find it + easier to preach than to practise. Shall I stop the carriage and remove + the contamination of my disgusting person? Or shall I tell you how it + happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how it happened first. Then we will decide.” + </p> + <p> + He told her how he met the Binet Troupe, and how the men of the + marechaussee forced upon him the discovery that in its bosom he could lie + safely lost until the hue and cry had died down. The explanation dissolved + her iciness. + </p> + <p> + “My poor Andre, why didn’t you tell me this at first?” + </p> + <p> + “For one thing, you didn’t give me time; for another, I feared to shock + you with the spectacle of my degradation.” + </p> + <p> + She took him seriously. “But where was the need of it? And why did you not + send us word as I required you of your whereabouts?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of it only yesterday. I have hesitated for several + reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “You thought it would offend us to know what you were doing?” + </p> + <p> + “I think that I preferred to surprise you by the magnitude of my ultimate + achievements.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are to become a great actor?” She was frankly scornful. + </p> + <p> + “That is not impossible. But I am more concerned to become a great author. + There is no reason why you should sniff. The calling is an honourable one. + All the world is proud to know such men as Beaumarchais and Chenier.” + </p> + <p> + “And you hope to equal them?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to surpass them, whilst acknowledging that it was they who taught + me how to walk. What did you think of the play last night?” + </p> + <p> + “It was amusing and well conceived.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me present you to the author.” + </p> + <p> + “You? But the company is one of the improvisers.” + </p> + <p> + “Even improvisers require an author to write their scenarios. That is all + I write at present. Soon I shall be writing plays in the modern manner.” + </p> + <p> + “You deceive yourself, my poor Andre. The piece last night would have been + nothing without the players. You are fortunate in your Scaramouche.” + </p> + <p> + “In confidence—I present you to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You—Scaramouche? You?” She turned to regard him fully. He smiled + his close-lipped smile that made wrinkles like gashes in his cheeks. He + nodded. “And I didn’t recognize you!” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you for the tribute. You imagined, of course, that I was a + scene-shifter. And now that you know all about me, what of Gavrillac? What + of my godfather?” + </p> + <p> + He was well, she told him, and still profoundly indignant with Andre-Louis + for his defection, whilst secretly concerned on his behalf. + </p> + <p> + “I shall write to him to-day that I have seen you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so. Tell him that I am well and prospering. But say no more. Do not + tell him what I am doing. He has his prejudices too. Besides, it might not + be prudent. And now the question I have been burning to ask ever since I + entered your carriage. Why are you in Nantes, Aline?” + </p> + <p> + “I am on a visit to my aunt, Mme. de Sautron. It was with her that I came + to the play yesterday. We have been dull at the chateau; but it will be + different now. Madame my aunt is receiving several guests to-day. M. de La + Tour d’Azyr is to be one of them.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis frowned and sighed. “Did you ever hear, Aline, how poor + Philippe de Vilmorin came by his end?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I was told, first by my uncle; then by M. de La Tour d’Azyr, + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Did not that help you to decide this marriage question?” + </p> + <p> + “How could it? You forget that I am but a woman. You don’t expect me to + judge between men in matters such as these?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? You are well able to do so. The more since you have heard two + sides. For my godfather would tell you the truth. If you cannot judge, it + is that you do not wish to judge.” His tone became harsh. “Wilfully you + close your eyes to justice that might check the course of your unhealthy, + unnatural ambition.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” she exclaimed, and considered him with amusement and + something else. “Do you know that you are almost droll? You rise + unblushing from the dregs of life in which I find you, and shake off the + arm of that theatre girl, to come and preach to me.” + </p> + <p> + “If these were the dregs of life I might still speak from them to counsel + you out of my respect and devotion, Aline.” He was very, stiff and stern. + “But they are not the dregs of life. Honour and virtue are possible to a + theatre girl; they are impossible to a lady who sells herself to gratify + ambition; who for position, riches, and a great title barters herself in + marriage.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him breathlessly. Anger turned her pale. She reached for the + cord. + </p> + <p> + “I think I had better let you alight so that you may go back to practise + virtue and honour with your theatre wench.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not speak so of her, Aline.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, now we are to have heat on her behalf. You think I am too + delicate? You think I should speak of her as a...” + </p> + <p> + “If you must speak of her at all,” he interrupted, hotly, “you’ll speak of + her as my wife.” + </p> + <p> + Amazement smothered her anger. Her pallor deepened. “My God!” she said, + and looked at him in horror. And in horror she asked him presently: “You + are married—married to that—?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. But I shall be, soon. And let me tell you that this girl whom + you visit with your ignorant contempt is as good and pure as you are, + Aline. She has wit and talent which have placed her where she is and shall + carry her a deal farther. And she has the womanliness to be guided by + natural instincts in the selection of her mate.” + </p> + <p> + She was trembling with passion. She tugged the cord. + </p> + <p> + “You will descend this instant!” she told him fiercely. “That you should + dare to make a comparison between me and that...” + </p> + <p> + “And my wife-to-be,” he interrupted, before she could speak the infamous + word. He opened the door for himself without waiting for the footman, and + leapt down. “My compliments,” said he, furiously, “to the assassin you are + to marry.” He slammed the door. “Drive on,” he bade the coachman. + </p> + <p> + The carriage rolled away up the Faubourg Gigan, leaving him standing where + he had alighted, quivering with rage. Gradually, as he walked back to the + inn, his anger cooled. Gradually, as he cooled, he perceived her point of + view, and in the end forgave her. It was not her fault that she thought as + she thought. Her rearing had been such as to make her look upon every + actress as a trull, just as it had qualified her calmly to consider the + monstrous marriage of convenience into which she was invited. + </p> + <p> + He got back to the inn to find the company at table. Silence fell when he + entered, so suddenly that of necessity it must be supposed he was himself + the subject of the conversation. Harlequin and Columbine had spread the + tale of this prince in disguise caught up into the chariot of a princess + and carried off by her; and it was a tale that had lost nothing in the + telling. + </p> + <p> + Climene had been silent and thoughtful, pondering what Columbine had + called this romance of hers. Clearly her Scaramouche must be vastly other + than he had hitherto appeared, or else that great lady and he would never + have used such familiarity with each other. Imagining him no better than + he was, Climene had made him her own. And now she was to receive the + reward of disinterested affection. + </p> + <p> + Even old Binet’s secret hostility towards Andre-Louis melted before this + astounding revelation. He had pinched his daughter’s ear quite playfully. + “Ah, ah, trust you to have penetrated his disguise, my child!” + </p> + <p> + She shrank resentfully from that implication. + </p> + <p> + “But I did not. I took him for what he seemed.” + </p> + <p> + Her father winked at her very solemnly and laughed. “To be sure, you did. + But like your father, who was once a gentleman, and knows the ways of + gentlemen, you detected in him a subtle something different from those + with whom misfortune has compelled you hitherto to herd. You knew as well + as I did that he never caught that trick of haughtiness, that grand air of + command, in a lawyer’s musty office, and that his speech had hardly the + ring or his thoughts the complexion of the bourgeois that he pretended to + be. And it was shrewd of you to have made him yours. Do you know that I + shall be very proud of you yet, Climene?” + </p> + <p> + She moved away without answering. Her father’s oiliness offended her. + Scaramouche was clearly a great gentleman, an eccentric if you please, but + a man born. And she was to be his lady. Her father must learn to treat her + differently. + </p> + <p> + She looked shyly—with a new shyness—at her lover when he came + into the room where they were dining. She observed for the first time that + proud carriage of the head, with the chin thrust forward, that was a trick + of his, and she noticed with what a grace he moved—the grace of one + who in youth has had his dancing-masters and fencing-masters. + </p> + <p> + It almost hurt her when he flung himself into a chair and exchanged a quip + with Harlequin in the usual manner as with an equal, and it offended her + still more that Harlequin, knowing what he now knew, should use him with + the same unbecoming familiarity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE AWAKENING + </h2> + <p> + “Do you know,” said Climene, “that I am waiting for the explanation which + I think you owe me?” + </p> + <p> + They were alone together, lingering still at the table to which + Andre-Louis had come belatedly, and Andre-Louis was loading himself a + pipe. Of late—since joining the Binet Troupe—he had acquired + the habit of smoking. The others had gone, some to take the air and + others, like Binet and Madame, because they felt that it were discreet to + leave those two to the explanations that must pass. It was a feeling that + Andre-Louis did not share. He kindled a light and leisurely applied it to + his pipe. A frown came to settle on his brow. + </p> + <p> + “Explanation?” he questioned presently, and looked at her. “But on what + score?” + </p> + <p> + “On the score of the deception you have practised on us—on me.” + </p> + <p> + “I have practised none,” he assured her. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you have simply kept your own counsel, and that in silence + there is no deception. But it is deceitful to withhold facts concerning + yourself and your true station from your future wife. You should not have + pretended to be a simple country lawyer, which, of course, any one could + see that you are not. It may have been very romantic, but... Enfin, will + you explain?” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he said, and pulled at his pipe. “But you are wrong, Climene. I + have practised no deception. If there are things about me that I have not + told you, it is that I did not account them of much importance. But I have + never deceived you by pretending to be other than I am. I am neither more + nor less than I have represented myself.” + </p> + <p> + This persistence began to annoy her, and the annoyance showed on her + winsome face, coloured her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! And that fine lady of the nobility with whom you are so intimate, who + carried you off in her cabriolet with so little ceremony towards myself? + What is she to you?” + </p> + <p> + “A sort of sister,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “A sort of sister!” She was indignant. “Harlequin foretold that you would + say so; but he was amusing himself. It was not very funny. It is less + funny still from you. She has a name, I suppose, this sort of sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly she has a name. She is Mlle. Aline de Kercadiou, the niece of + Quintin de Kercadiou, Lord of Gavrillac.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho! That’s a sufficiently fine name for your sort of sister. What sort + of sister, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time in their relationship he observed and deplored the + taint of vulgarity, of shrewishness, in her manner. + </p> + <p> + “It would have been more accurate in me to have said a sort of reputed + left-handed cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “A reputed left-handed cousin! And what sort of relationship may that be? + Faith, you dazzle me with your lucidity.” + </p> + <p> + “It requires to be explained.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I have been telling you. But you seem very reluctant with + your explanations.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. It is only that they are so unimportant. But be you the judge. + Her uncle, M. de Kercadiou, is my godfather, and she and I have been + playmates from infancy as a consequence. It is popularly believed in + Gavrillac that M. de Kercadiou is my father. He has certainly cared for my + rearing from my tenderest years, and it is entirely owing to him that I + was educated at Louis le Grand. I owe to him everything that I have—or, + rather, everything that I had; for of my own free will I have cut myself + adrift, and to-day I possess nothing save what I can earn for myself in + the theatre or elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + She sat stunned and pale under that cruel blow to her swelling pride. Had + he told her this but yesterday, it would have made no impression upon her, + it would have mattered not at all; the event of to-day coming as a sequel + would but have enhanced him in her eyes. But coming now, after her + imagination had woven for him so magnificent a background, after the + rashly assumed discovery of his splendid identity had made her the envied + of all the company, after having been in her own eyes and theirs enshrined + by marriage with him as a great lady, this disclosure crushed and + humiliated her. Her prince in disguise was merely the outcast bastard of a + country gentleman! She would be the laughing-stock of every member of her + father’s troupe, of all those who had so lately envied her this romantic + good fortune. + </p> + <p> + “You should have told me this before,” she said, in a dull voice that she + strove to render steady. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I should. But does it really matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Matter?” She suppressed her fury to ask another question. “You say that + this M. de Kercadiou is popularly believed to be your father. What + precisely do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Just that. It is a belief that I do not share. It is a matter of + instinct, perhaps, with me. Moreover, once I asked M. de Kercadiou + point-blank, and I received from him a denial. It is not, perhaps, a + denial to which one would attach too much importance in all the + circumstances. Yet I have never known M. de Kercadiou for other than a man + of strictest honour, and I should hesitate to disbelieve him—particularly + when his statement leaps with my own instincts. He assured me that he did + not know who my father was.” + </p> + <p> + “And your mother, was she equally ignorant?” She was sneering, but he did + not remark it. Her back was to the light. + </p> + <p> + “He would not disclose her name to me. He confessed her to be a dear + friend of his.” + </p> + <p> + She startled him by laughing, and her laugh was not pleasant. + </p> + <p> + “A very dear friend, you may be sure, you simpleton. What name do you + bear?” + </p> + <p> + He restrained his own rising indignation to answer her question calmly: + “Moreau. It was given me, so I am told, from the Brittany village in which + I was born. But I have no claim to it. In fact I have no name, unless it + be Scaramouche, to which I have earned a title. So that you see, my dear,” + he ended with a smile, “I have practised no deception whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I see that now.” She laughed without mirth, then drew a deep + breath and rose. “I am very tired,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He was on his feet in an instant, all solicitude. But she waved him + wearily back. + </p> + <p> + “I think I will rest until it is time to go to the theatre.” She moved + towards the door, dragging her feet a little. He sprang to open it, and + she passed out without looking at him. + </p> + <p> + Her so brief romantic dream was ended. The glorious world of fancy which + in the last hour she had built with such elaborate detail, over which it + should be her exalted destiny to rule, lay shattered about her feet, its + debris so many stumbling-blocks that prevented her from winning back to + her erstwhile content in Scaramouche as he really was. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis sat in the window embrasure, smoking and looking idly out + across the river. He was intrigued and meditative. He had shocked her. The + fact was clear; not so the reason. That he should confess himself nameless + should not particularly injure him in the eyes of a girl reared amid the + surroundings that had been Climene’s. And yet that his confession had so + injured him was fully apparent. + </p> + <p> + There, still at his brooding, the returning Columbine discovered him a + half-hour later. + </p> + <p> + “All alone, my prince!” was her laughing greeting, which suddenly threw + light upon his mental darkness. Climene had been disappointed of hopes + that the wild imagination of these players had suddenly erected upon the + incident of his meeting with Aline. Poor child! He smiled whimsically at + Columbine. + </p> + <p> + “I am likely to be so for some little time,” said he, “until it becomes a + commonplace that I am not, after all, a prince. + </p> + <p> + “Not a prince? Oh, but a duke, then—at least a marquis.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even a chevalier, unless it be of the order of fortune. I am just + Scaramouche. My castles are all in Spain.” + </p> + <p> + Disappointment clouded the lively, good-natured face. + </p> + <p> + “And I had imagined you...” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he interrupted. “That is the mischief.” He might have gauged the + extent of that mischief by Climene’s conduct that evening towards the + gentlemen of fashion who clustered now in the green-room between the acts + to pay their homage to the incomparable amoureuse. Hitherto she had + received them with a circumspection compelling respect. To-night she was + recklessly gay, impudent, almost wanton. + </p> + <p> + He spoke of it gently to her as they walked home together, counselling + more prudence in the future. + </p> + <p> + “We are not married yet,” she told him, tartly. “Wait until then before + you criticize my conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust that there will be no occasion then,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You trust? Ah, yes. You are very trusting.” + </p> + <p> + “Climene, I have offended you. I am sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” said she. “You are what you are.” Still was he not + concerned. He perceived the source of her ill-humour; understood, whilst + deploring it; and, because he understood, forgave. He perceived also that + her ill-humour was shared by her father, and by this he was frankly + amused. Towards M. Binet a tolerant contempt was the only feeling that + complete acquaintance could beget. As for the rest of the company, they + were disposed to be very kindly towards Scaramouche. It was almost as if + in reality he had fallen from the high estate to which their own + imaginations had raised him; or possibly it was because they saw the + effect which that fall from his temporary and fictitious elevation had + produced upon Climene. + </p> + <p> + Leandre alone made himself an exception. His habitual melancholy seemed to + be dispelled at last, and his eyes gleamed now with malicious satisfaction + when they rested upon Scaramouche, whom occasionally he continued to + address with sly mockery as “mon prince.” + </p> + <p> + On the morrow Andre-Louis saw but little of Climene. This was not in + itself extraordinary, for he was very hard at work again, with + preparations now for “Figaro-Scaramouche” which was to be played on + Saturday. Also, in addition to his manifold theatrical occupations, he now + devoted an hour every morning to the study of fencing in an academy of + arms. This was done not only to repair an omission in his education, but + also, and chiefly, to give him added grace and poise upon the stage. He + found his mind that morning distracted by thoughts of both Climene and + Aline. And oddly enough it was Aline who provided the deeper perturbation. + Climene’s attitude he regarded as a passing phase which need not seriously + engage him. But the thought of Aline’s conduct towards him kept rankling, + and still more deeply rankled the thought of her possible betrothal to M. + de La Tour d’Azyr. + </p> + <p> + This it was that brought forcibly to his mind the self-imposed but by now + half-forgotten mission that he had made his own. He had boasted that he + would make the voice which M. de La Tour d’Azyr had sought to silence ring + through the length and breadth of the land. And what had he done of all + this that he had boasted? He had incited the mob of Rennes and the mob of + Nantes in such terms as poor Philippe might have employed, and then + because of a hue and cry he had fled like a cur and taken shelter in the + first kennel that offered, there to lie quiet and devote himself to other + things—self-seeking things. What a fine contrast between the promise + and the fulfilment! + </p> + <p> + Thus Andre-Louis to himself in his self-contempt. And whilst he trifled + away his time and played Scaramouche, and centred all his hopes in + presently becoming the rival of such men as Chenier and Mercier, M. de La + Tour d’Azyr went his proud ways unchallenged and wrought his will. It was + idle to tell himself that the seed he had sown was bearing fruit. That the + demands he had voiced in Nantes for the Third Estate had been granted by + M. Necker, thanks largely to the commotion which his anonymous speech had + made. That was not his concern or his mission. It was no part of his + concern to set about the regeneration of mankind, or even the regeneration + of the social structure of France. His concern was to see that M. de La + Tour d’Azyr paid to the uttermost liard for the brutal wrong he had done + Philippe de Vilmorin. And it did not increase his self-respect to find + that the danger in which Aline stood of being married to the Marquis was + the real spur to his rancour and to remembrance of his vow. He was—too + unjustly, perhaps—disposed to dismiss as mere sophistries his own + arguments that there was nothing he could do; that, in fact, he had but to + show his head to find himself going to Rennes under arrest and making his + final exit from the world’s stage by way of the gallows. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to read that part of his “Confessions” without feeling a + certain pity for him. You realize what must have been his state of mind. + You realize what a prey he was to emotions so conflicting, and if you have + the imagination that will enable you to put yourself in his place, you + will also realize how impossible was any decision save the one to which he + says he came, that he would move, at the first moment that he perceived in + what direction it would serve his real aims to move. + </p> + <p> + It happened that the first person he saw when he took the stage on that + Thursday evening was Aline; the second was the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr. + They occupied a box on the right of, and immediately above, the stage. + There were others with them—notably a thin, elderly, resplendent + lady whom Andre-Louis supposed to be Madame la Comtesse de Sautron. But at + the time he had no eyes for any but those two, who of late had so haunted + his thoughts. The sight of either of them would have been sufficiently + disconcerting. The sight of both together very nearly made him forget the + purpose for which he had come upon the stage. Then he pulled himself + together, and played. He played, he says, with an unusual nerve, and never + in all that brief but eventful career of his was he more applauded. + </p> + <p> + That was the evening’s first shock. The next came after the second act. + Entering the green-room he found it more thronged than usual, and at the + far end with Climene, over whom he was bending from his fine height, his + eyes intent upon her face, what time his smiling lips moved in talk, M. de + La Tour d’Azyr. He had her entirely to himself, a privilege none of the + men of fashion who were in the habit of visiting the coulisse had yet + enjoyed. Those lesser gentlemen had all withdrawn before the Marquis, as + jackals withdraw before the lion. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis stared a moment, stricken. Then recovering from his surprise + he became critical in his study of the Marquis. He considered the beauty + and grace and splendour of him, his courtly air, his complete and + unshakable self-possession. But more than all he considered the expression + of the dark eyes that were devouring Climene’s lovely face, and his own + lips tightened. + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr never heeded him or his stare; nor, had he done so, + would he have known who it was that looked at him from behind the make-up + of Scaramouche; nor, again, had he known, would he have been in the least + troubled or concerned. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis sat down apart, his mind in turmoil. Presently he found a + mincing young gentleman addressing him, and made shift to answer as was + expected. Climene having been thus sequestered, and Columbine being + already thickly besieged by gallants, the lesser visitors had to content + themselves with Madame and the male members of the troupe. M. Binet, + indeed, was the centre of a gay cluster that shook with laughter at his + sallies. He seemed of a sudden to have emerged from the gloom of the last + two days into high good-humour, and Scaramouche observed how persistently + his eyes kept flickering upon his daughter and her splendid courtier. + </p> + <p> + That night there, were high words between Andre-Louis and Climene, the + high words proceeding from Climene. When Andre-Louis again, and more + insistently, enjoined prudence upon his betrothed, and begged her to + beware how far she encouraged the advances of such a man as M. de La Tour + d’Azyr, she became roundly abusive. She shocked and stunned him by her + virulently shrewish tone, and her still more unexpected force of + invective. + </p> + <p> + He sought to reason with her, and finally she came to certain terms with + him. + </p> + <p> + “If you have become betrothed to me simply to stand as an obstacle in my + path, the sooner we make an end the better.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not love me then, Climene?” + </p> + <p> + “Love has nothing to do with it. I’ll not tolerate your insensate + jealousy. A girl in the theatre must make it her business to accept homage + from all.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed; and there is no harm, provided she gives nothing in exchange.” + </p> + <p> + White-faced, with flaming eyes she turned on him at that. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what exactly do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “My meaning is clear. A girl in your position may receive all the homage + that is offered, provided she receives it with a dignified aloofness + implying clearly that she has no favours to bestow in return beyond the + favour of her smile. If she is wise she will see to it that the homage is + always offered collectively by her admirers, and that no single one + amongst them shall ever have the privilege of approaching her alone. If + she is wise she will give no encouragement, nourish no hopes that it may + afterwards be beyond her power to deny realization.” + </p> + <p> + “How? You dare?” + </p> + <p> + “I know my world. And I know M. de La Tour d’Azyr,” he answered her. “He + is a man without charity, without humanity almost; a man who takes what he + wants wherever he finds it and whether it is given willingly or not; a man + who reckons nothing of the misery he scatters on his self-indulgent way; a + man whose only law is force. Ponder it, Climene, and ask yourself if I do + you less than honour in warning you.” + </p> + <p> + He went out on that, feeling a degradation in continuing the subject. + </p> + <p> + The days that followed were unhappy days for him, and for at least one + other. That other was Leandre, who was cast into the profoundest dejection + by M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s assiduous attendance upon Climene. The Marquis + was to be seen at every performance; a box was perpetually reserved for + him, and invariably he came either alone or else with his cousin M. de + Chabrillane. + </p> + <p> + On Tuesday of the following week, Andre-Louis went out alone early in the + morning. He was out of temper, fretted by an overwhelming sense of + humiliation, and he hoped to clear his mind by walking. In turning the + corner of the Place du Bouffay he ran into a slightly built, + sallow-complexioned gentleman very neatly dressed in black, wearing a + tie-wig under a round hat. The man fell back at sight of him, levelling a + spy-glass, then hailed him in a voice that rang with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Moreau! Where the devil have you been hiding yourself these months?” + </p> + <p> + It was Le Chapelier, the lawyer, the leader of the Literary Chamber of + Rennes. + </p> + <p> + “Behind the skirts of Thespis,” said Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t intend that you should. What of yourself, Isaac? And what of the + world which seems to have been standing still of late?” + </p> + <p> + “Standing still!” Le Chapelier laughed. “But where have you been, then? + Standing still!” He pointed across the square to a café under the shadow + of the gloomy prison. “Let us go and drink a bavaroise. You are of all men + the man we want, the man we have been seeking everywhere, and—behold!—you + drop from the skies into my path.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the square and entered the café. + </p> + <p> + “So you think the world has been standing still! Dieu de Dieu! I suppose + you haven’t heard of the royal order for the convocation of the States + General, or the terms of them—that we are to have what we demanded, + what you demanded for us here in Nantes! You haven’t heard that the order + has gone forth for the primary elections—the elections of the + electors. You haven’t heard of the fresh uproar in Rennes, last month. The + order was that the three estates should sit together at the States General + of the bailliages, but in the bailliage of Rennes the nobles must ever be + recalcitrant. They took up arms actually—six hundred of them with + their valetaille, headed by your old friend M. de La Tour d’Azyr, and they + were for slashing us—the members of the Third Estate—into + ribbons so as to put an end to our insolence.” He laughed delicately. + “But, by God, we showed them that we, too, could take up arms. It was what + you yourself advocated here in Nantes, last November. We fought them a + pitched battle in the streets, under the leadership of your namesake + Moreau, the provost, and we so peppered them that they were glad to take + shelter in the Cordelier Convent. That is the end of their resistance to + the royal authority and the people’s will.” + </p> + <p> + He ran on at great speed detailing the events that had taken place, and + finally came to the matter which had, he announced, been causing him to + hunt for Andre-Louis until he had all but despaired of finding him. + </p> + <p> + Nantes was sending fifty delegates to the assembly of Rennes which was to + select the deputies to the Third Estate and edit their cahier of + grievances. Rennes itself was being as fully represented, whilst such + villages as Gavrillac were sending two delegates for every two hundred + hearths or less. Each of these three had clamoured that Andre-Louis Moreau + should be one of its delegates. Gavrillac wanted him because he belonged + to the village, and it was known there what sacrifices he had made in the + popular cause; Rennes wanted him because it had heard his spirited address + on the day of the shooting of the students; and Nantes—to whom his + identity was unknown—asked for him as the speaker who had addressed + them under the name of Omnes Omnibus and who had framed for them the + memorial that was believed so largely to have influenced M. Necker in + formulating the terms of the convocation. + </p> + <p> + Since he could not be found, the delegations had been made up without him. + But now it happened that one or two vacancies had occurred in the Nantes + representation; and it was the business of filling these vacancies that + had brought Le Chapelier to Nantes. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis firmly shook his head in answer to Le Chapelier’s proposal. + </p> + <p> + “You refuse?” the other cried. “Are you mad? Refuse, when you are demanded + from so many sides? Do you realize that it is more than probable you will + be elected one of the deputies, that you will be sent to the States + General at Versailles to represent us in this work of saving France?” + </p> + <p> + But Andre-Louis, we know, was not concerned to save France. At the moment + he was concerned to save two women, both of whom he loved, though in + vastly different ways, from a man he had vowed to ruin. He stood firm in + his refusal until Le Chapelier dejectedly abandoned the attempt to + persuade him. + </p> + <p> + “It is odd,” said Andre-Louis, “that I should have been so deeply immersed + in trifles as never to have perceived that Nantes is being politically + active.” + </p> + <p> + “Active! My friend, it is a seething cauldron of political emotions. It is + kept quiet on the surface only by the persuasion that all goes well. At a + hint to the contrary it would boil over.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it so?” said Scaramouche, thoughtfully. “The knowledge may be + useful.” And then he changed the subject. “You know that La Tour d’Azyr is + here?” + </p> + <p> + “In Nantes? He has courage if he shows himself. They are not a docile + people, these Nantais, and they know his record and the part he played in + the rising at Rennes. I marvel they haven’t stoned him. But they will, + sooner or later. It only needs that some one should suggest it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very likely,” said Andre-Louis, and smiled. “He doesn’t show + himself much; not in the streets, at least. So that he has not the courage + you suppose; nor any kind of courage, as I told him once. He has only + insolence.” + </p> + <p> + At parting Le Chapelier again exhorted him to give thought to what he + proposed. “Send me word if you change your mind. I am lodged at the Cerf, + and I shall be here until the day after to-morrow. If you have ambition, + this is your moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no ambition, I suppose,” said Andre-Louis, and went his way. + </p> + <p> + That night at the theatre he had a mischievous impulse to test what Le + Chapelier had told him of the state of public feeling in the city. They + were playing “The Terrible Captain,” in the last act of which the empty + cowardice of the bullying braggart Rhodomont is revealed by Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + After the laughter which the exposure of the roaring captain invariably + produced, it remained for Scaramouche contemptuously to dismiss him in a + phrase that varied nightly, according to the inspiration of the moment. + This time he chose to give his phrase a political complexion: + </p> + <p> + “Thus, O thrasonical coward, is your emptiness exposed. Because of your + long length and the great sword you carry and the angle at which you cock + your hat, people have gone in fear of you, have believed in you, have + imagined you to be as terrible and as formidable as you insolently make + yourself appear. But at the first touch of true spirit you crumple up, you + tremble, you whine pitifully, and the great sword remains in your + scabbard. You remind me of the Privileged Orders when confronted by the + Third Estate.” + </p> + <p> + It was audacious of him, and he was prepared for anything—a laugh, + applause, indignation, or all together. But he was not prepared for what + came. And it came so suddenly and spontaneously from the groundlings and + the body of those in the amphitheatre that he was almost scared by it—as + a boy may be scared who has held a match to a sun-scorched hayrick. It was + a hurricane of furious applause. Men leapt to their feet, sprang up on to + the benches, waving their hats in the air, deafening him with the terrific + uproar of their acclamations. And it rolled on and on, nor ceased until + the curtain fell. + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche stood meditatively smiling with tight lips. At the last moment + he had caught a glimpse of M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s face thrust farther + forward than usual from the shadows of his box, and it was a face set in + anger, with eyes on fire. + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu!” laughed Rhodomont, recovering from the real scare that had + succeeded his histrionic terror, “but you have a great trick of tickling + them in the right place, Scaramouche.” + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche looked up at him and smiled. “It can be useful upon occasion,” + said he, and went off to his dressing-room to change. + </p> + <p> + But a reprimand awaited him. He was delayed at the theatre by matters + concerned with the scenery of the new piece they were to mount upon the + morrow. By the time he was rid of the business the rest of the company had + long since left. He called a chair and had himself carried back to the inn + in solitary state. It was one of many minor luxuries his comparatively + affluent present circumstances permitted. + </p> + <p> + Coming into that upstairs room that was common to all the troupe, he found + M. Binet talking loudly and vehemently. He had caught sounds of his voice + whilst yet upon the stairs. As he entered Binet broke off short, and + wheeled to face him. + </p> + <p> + “You are here at last!” It was so odd a greeting that Andre-Louis did no + more than look his mild surprise. “I await your explanations of the + disgraceful scene you provoked to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Disgraceful? Is it disgraceful that the public should applaud me?” + </p> + <p> + “The public? The rabble, you mean. Do you want to deprive us of the + patronage of all gentlefolk by vulgar appeals to the low passions of the + mob?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis stepped past M. Binet and forward to the table. He shrugged + contemptuously. The man offended him, after all. + </p> + <p> + “You exaggerate grossly—as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not exaggerate. And I am the master in my own theatre. This is the + Binet Troupe, and it shall be conducted in the Binet way.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are the gentlefolk the loss of whose patronage to the Feydau will be + so poignantly felt?” asked Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “You imply that there are none? See how wrong you are. After the play + to-night M. le Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr came to me, and spoke to me in + the severest terms about your scandalous outburst. I was forced to + apologize, and...” + </p> + <p> + “The more fool you,” said Andre-Louis. “A man who respected himself would + have shown that gentleman the door.” M. Binet’s face began to empurple. + “You call yourself the head of the Binet Troupe, you boast that you will + be master in your own theatre, and you stand like a lackey to take the + orders of the first insolent fellow who comes to your green-room to tell + you that he does not like a line spoken by one of your company! I say + again that had you really respected yourself you would have turned him + out.” + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur of approval from several members of the company, who, + having heard the arrogant tone assumed by the Marquis, were filled with + resentment against the slur cast upon them all. + </p> + <p> + “And I say further,” Andre-Louis went on, “that a man who respects + himself, on quite other grounds, would have been only too glad to have + seized this pretext to show M. de La Tour d’Azyr the door.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” There was a rumble of thunder in the question. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis’ eyes swept round the company assembled at the supper-table. + “Where is Climene?” he asked, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Leandre leapt up to answer him, white in the face, tense and quivering + with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “She left the theatre in the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr’s carriage + immediately after the performance. We heard him offer to drive her to this + inn.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis glanced at the timepiece on the overmantel. He seemed + unnaturally calm. + </p> + <p> + “That would be an hour ago—rather more. And she has not yet + arrived?” + </p> + <p> + His eyes sought M. Binet’s. M. Binet’s eyes eluded his glance. Again it + was Leandre who answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Andre-Louis sat down, and poured himself wine. There was an + oppressive silence in the room. Leandre watched him expectantly, Columbine + commiseratingly. Even M. Binet appeared to be waiting for a cue from + Scaramouche. But Scaramouche disappointed him. “Have you left me anything + to eat?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Platters were pushed towards him. He helped himself calmly to food, and + ate in silence, apparently with a good appetite. M. Binet sat down, poured + himself wine, and drank. Presently he attempted to make conversation with + one and another. He was answered curtly, in monosyllables. M. Binet did + not appear to be in favour with his troupe that night. + </p> + <p> + At long length came a rumble of wheels below and a rattle of halting + hooves. Then voices, the high, trilling laugh of Climene floating upwards. + Andre-Louis went on eating unconcernedly. + </p> + <p> + “What an actor!” said Harlequin under his breath to Polichinelle, and + Polichinelle nodded gloomily. + </p> + <p> + She came in, a leading lady taking the stage, head high, chin thrust + forward, eyes dancing with laughter; she expressed triumph and arrogance. + Her cheeks were flushed, and there was some disorder in the mass of + nut-brown hair that crowned her head. In her left hand she carried an + enormous bouquet of white camellias. On its middle finger a diamond of + great price drew almost at once by its effulgence the eyes of all. + </p> + <p> + Her father sprang to meet her with an unusual display of paternal + tenderness. “At last, my child!” + </p> + <p> + He conducted her to the table. She sank into a chair, a little wearily, a + little nervelessly, but the smile did not leave her face, not even when + she glanced across at Scaramouche. It was only Leandre, observing her + closely, with hungry, scowling stare, who detected something as of fear in + the hazel eyes momentarily seen between the fluttering of her lids. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, however, still went on eating stolidly, without so much as a + look in her direction. Gradually the company came to realize that just as + surely as a scene was brooding, just so surely would there be no scene as + long as they remained. It was Polichinelle, at last, who gave the signal + by rising and withdrawing, and within two minutes none remained in the + room but M. Binet, his daughter, and Andre-Louis. And then, at last, + Andre-Louis set down knife and fork, washed his throat with a draught of + Burgundy, and sat back in his chair to consider Climene. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” said he, “that you had a pleasant ride, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Most pleasant, monsieur.” Impudently she strove to emulate his coolness, + but did not completely succeed. + </p> + <p> + “And not unprofitable, if I may judge that jewel at this distance. It + should be worth at least a couple of hundred louis, and that is a + formidable sum even to so wealthy a nobleman as M. de La Tour d’Azyr. + Would it be impertinent in one who has had some notion of becoming your + husband, to ask you, mademoiselle, what you have given him in return?” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet uttered a gross laugh, a queer mixture of cynicism and contempt. + </p> + <p> + “I have given nothing,” said Climene, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Then the jewel is in the nature of a payment in advance.” + </p> + <p> + “My God, man, you’re not decent!” M. Binet protested. + </p> + <p> + “Decent?” Andre-Louis’ smouldering eyes turned to discharge upon M. Binet + such a fulmination of contempt that the old scoundrel shifted + uncomfortably in his chair. “Did you mention decency, Binet? Almost you + make me lose my temper, which is a thing that I detest above all others!” + Slowly his glance returned to Climene, who sat with elbows on the table, + her chin cupped in her palms, regarding him with something between scorn + and defiance. “Mademoiselle,” he said, slowly, “I desire you purely in + your own interests to consider whither you are going.” + </p> + <p> + “I am well able to consider it for myself, and to decide without advice + from you, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “And now you’ve got your answer,” chuckled Binet. “I hope you like it.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis had paled a little; there was incredulity in his great sombre + eyes as they continued steadily to regard her. Of M. Binet he took no + notice. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, mademoiselle, you cannot mean that willingly, with open eyes and + a full understanding of what you do, you would exchange an honourable + wifehood for... for the thing that such men as M. de La Tour d’Azyr may + have in store for you?” + </p> + <p> + M. Binet made a wide gesture, and swung to his daughter. “You hear him, + the mealy-mouthed prude! Perhaps you’ll believe at last that marriage with + him would be the ruin of you. He would always be there the inconvenient + husband—to mar your every chance, my girl.” + </p> + <p> + She tossed her lovely head in agreement with her father. “I begin to find + him tiresome with his silly jealousies,” she confessed. “As a husband I am + afraid he would be impossible.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis felt a constriction of the heart. But—always the actor—he + showed nothing of it. He laughed a little, not very pleasantly, and rose. + </p> + <p> + “I bow to your choice, mademoiselle. I pray that you may not regret it.” + </p> + <p> + “Regret it?” cried M. Binet. He was laughing, relieved to see his daughter + at last rid of this suitor of whom he had never approved, if we except + those few hours when he really believed him to be an eccentric of + distinction. “And what shall she regret? That she accepted the protection + of a nobleman so powerful and wealthy that as a mere trinket he gives her + a jewel worth as much as an actress earns in a year at the Comedie + Francaise?” He got up, and advanced towards Andre-Louis. His mood became + conciliatory. “Come, come, my friend, no rancour now. What the devil! You + wouldn’t stand in the girl’s way? You can’t really blame her for making + this choice? Have you thought what it means to her? Have you thought that + under the protection of such a gentleman there are no heights which she + may not reach? Don’t you see the wonderful luck of it? Surely, if you’re + fond of her, particularly being of a jealous temperament, you wouldn’t + wish it otherwise?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked at him in silence for a long moment. Then he laughed + again. “Oh, you are fantastic,” he said. “You are not real.” He turned on + his heel and strode to the door. + </p> + <p> + The action, and more the contempt of his look, laugh, and words stung M. + Binet to passion, drove out the conciliatoriness of his mood. + </p> + <p> + “Fantastic, are we?” he cried, turning to follow the departing Scaramouche + with his little eyes that now were inexpressibly evil. “Fantastic that we + should prefer the powerful protection of this great nobleman to marriage + with a beggarly, nameless bastard. Oh, we are fantastic!” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis turned, his hand upon the door-handle. “No,” he said, “I was + mistaken. You are not fantastic. You are just vile—both of you.” And + he went out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. CONTRITION + </h2> + <p> + Mlle. de Kercadiou walked with her aunt in the bright morning sunshine of + a Sunday in March on the broad terrace of the Chateau de Sautron. + </p> + <p> + For one of her natural sweetness of disposition she had been oddly + irritable of late, manifesting signs of a cynical worldliness, which + convinced Mme. de Sautron more than ever that her brother Quintin had + scandalously conducted the child’s education. She appeared to be + instructed in all the things of which a girl is better ignorant, and + ignorant of all the things that a girl should know. That at least was the + point of view of Mme. de Sautron. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, madame,” quoth Aline, “are all men beasts?” Unlike her brother, + Madame la Comtesse was tall and majestically built. In the days before her + marriage with M. de Sautron, ill-natured folk described her as the only + man in the family. She looked down now from her noble height upon her + little niece with startled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Aline, you have a trick of asking the most disconcerting and + improper questions.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is because I find life disconcerting and improper.” + </p> + <p> + “Life? A young girl should not discuss life.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, since I am alive? You do not suggest that it is an impropriety + to be alive?” + </p> + <p> + “It is an impropriety for a young unmarried girl to seek to know too much + about life. As for your absurd question about men, when I remind you that + man is the noblest work of God, perhaps you will consider yourself + answered.” + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Sautron did not invite a pursuance of the subject. But Mlle. de + Kercadiou’s outrageous rearing had made her headstrong. + </p> + <p> + “That being so,” said she, “will you tell me why they find such an + overwhelming attraction in the immodest of our sex?” + </p> + <p> + Madame stood still and raised shocked hands. Then she looked down her + handsome, high-bridged nose. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes—often, in fact, my dear Aline—you pass all + understanding. I shall write to Quintin that the sooner you are married + the better it will be for all.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Quintin has left that matter to my own deciding,” Aline reminded + her. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said madame with complete conviction, “is the last and most + outrageous of his errors. Who ever heard of a girl being left to decide + the matter of her own marriage? It is... indelicate almost to expose her + to thoughts of such things.” Mme. de Sautron shuddered. “Quintin is a + boor. His conduct is unheard of. That M. de La Tour d’Azyr should parade + himself before you so that you may make up your mind whether he is the + proper man for you!” Again she shuddered. “It is of a grossness, of... of + a prurience almost... Mon Dieu! When I married your uncle, all this was + arranged between our parents. I first saw him when he came to sign the + contract. I should have died of shame had it been otherwise. And that is + how these affairs should be conducted.” + </p> + <p> + “You are no doubt right, madame. But since that is not how my own case is + being conducted, you will forgive me if I deal with it apart from others. + M. de La Tour d’Azyr desires to marry me. He has been permitted to pay his + court. I should be glad to have him informed that he may cease to do so.” + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Sautron stood still, petrified by amazement. Her long face turned + white; she seemed to breathe with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “But... but... what are you saying?” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + Quietly Aline repeated her statement. + </p> + <p> + “But this is outrageous! You cannot be permitted to play fast-and-loose + with a gentleman of M. le Marquis’ quality! Why, it is little more than a + week since you permitted him to be informed that you would become his + wife!” + </p> + <p> + “I did so in a moment of... rashness. Since then M. le Marquis’ own + conduct has convinced me of my error.” + </p> + <p> + “But—mon Dieu!” cried the Countess. “Are you blind to the great + honour that is being paid you? M. le Marquis will make you the first lady + in Brittany. Yet, little fool that you are, and greater fool that Quintin + is, you trifle with this extraordinary good fortune! Let me warn you.” She + raised an admonitory forefinger. “If you continue in this stupid humour M. + de La Tour d’Azyr may definitely withdraw his offer and depart in + justified mortification.” + </p> + <p> + “That, madame, as I am endeavouring to convey to you, is what I most + desire.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are mad.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be, madame, that I am sane in preferring to be guided by my + instincts. It may be even that I am justified in resenting that the man + who aspires to become my husband should at the same time be paying such + assiduous homage to a wretched theatre girl at the Feydau.” + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not true? Or perhaps you do not find it strange that M. de La Tour + d’Azyr should so conduct himself at such a time?” + </p> + <p> + “Aline, you are so extraordinary a mixture. At moments you shock me by the + indecency of your expressions; at others you amaze me by the excess of + your prudery. You have been brought up like a little bourgeoise, I think. + Yes, that is it—a little bourgeoise. Quintin was always something of + a shopkeeper at heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I was asking your opinion on the conduct of M. de La Tour d’Azyr, madame. + Not on my own.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is an indelicacy in you to observe such things. You should be + ignorant of them, and I can’t think who is so... so unfeeling as to inform + you. But since you are informed, at least you should be modestly blind to + things that take place outside the... orbit of a properly conducted + demoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Will they still be outside my orbit when I am married?” + </p> + <p> + “If you are wise. You should remain without knowledge of them. It... it + deflowers your innocence. I would not for the world that M. de La Tour + d’Azyr should know you so extraordinarily instructed. Had you been + properly reared in a convent this would never have happened to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not answer me, madame!” cried Aline in despair. “It is not my + chastity that is in question; but that of M. de La Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + “Chastity!” Madame’s lips trembled with horror. Horror overspread her + face. “Wherever did you learn that dreadful, that so improper word?” + </p> + <p> + And then Mme. de Sautron did violence to her feelings. She realized that + here great calm and prudence were required. “My child, since you know so + much that you ought not to know, there can be no harm in my adding that a + gentleman must have these little distractions.” + </p> + <p> + “But why, madame? Why is it so?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, mon Dieu, you are asking me riddles of nature. It is so because it is + so. Because men are like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Because men are beasts, you mean—which is what I began by asking + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are incorrigibly stupid, Aline.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that I do not see things as you do, madame. I am not + over-expectant as you appear to think; yet surely I have the right to + expect that whilst M. de La Tour d’Azyr is wooing me, he shall not be + wooing at the same time a drab of the theatre. I feel that in this there + is a subtle association of myself with that unspeakable creature which + soils and insults me. The Marquis is a dullard whose wooing takes the form + at best of stilted compliments, stupid and unoriginal. They gain nothing + when they fall from lips still warm from the contamination of that woman’s + kisses.” + </p> + <p> + So utterly scandalized was madame that for a moment she remained + speechless. Then— + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed. “I should never have suspected you of so + indelicate an imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help it, madame. Each time his lips touch my fingers I find + myself thinking of the last object that they touched. I at once retire to + wash my hands. Next time, madame, unless you are good enough to convey my + message to him, I shall call for water and wash them in his presence.” + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to tell him? How... in what words can I convey such a + message?” Madame was aghast. + </p> + <p> + “Be frank with him, madame. It is easiest in the end. Tell him that + however impure may have been his life in the past, however impure he + intend that it shall be in the future, he must at least study purity + whilst approaching with a view to marriage a virgin who is herself pure + and without stain.” + </p> + <p> + Madame recoiled, and put her hands to her ears, horror stamped on her + handsome face. Her massive bosom heaved. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how can you?” she panted. “How can you make use of such terrible + expressions? Wherever have you learnt them?” + </p> + <p> + “In church,” said Aline. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but in church many things are said that... that one would not dream + of saying in the world. My dear child, how could I possibly say such a + thing to M. le Marquis? How could I possibly?” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I say it?” + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there it is,” said Aline. “Something must be done to shelter me + from insult. I am utterly disgusted with M. le Marquis—a disgusting + man. And however fine a thing it may be to become Marquise de La Tour + d’Azyr, why, frankly, I’d sooner marry a cobbler who practised decency.” + </p> + <p> + Such was her vehemence and obvious determination that Mme. de Sautron + fetched herself out of her despair to attempt persuasion. Aline was her + niece, and such a marriage in the family would be to the credit of the + whole of it. At all costs nothing must frustrate it. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, my dear,” she said. “Let us reason. M. le Marquis is away and + will not be back until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “True. And I know where he has gone—or at least whom he has gone + with. Mon Dieu, and the drab has a father and a lout of a fellow who + intends to make her his wife, and neither of them chooses to do anything. + I suppose they agree with you, madame, that a great gentleman must have + his little distractions.” Her contempt was as scorching as a thing of + fire. “However, madame, you were about to say?” + </p> + <p> + “That on the day after to-morrow you are returning to Gavrillac. M. de La + Tour d’Azyr will most likely follow at his leisure.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean when this dirty candle is burnt out?” + </p> + <p> + “Call it what you will.” Madame, you see, despaired by now of controlling + the impropriety of her niece’s expressions. “At Gavrillac there will be no + Mlle. Binet. This thing will be in the past. It is unfortunate that he + should have met her at such a moment. The chit is very attractive, after + all. You cannot deny that. And you must make allowances.” + </p> + <p> + “M. le Marquis formally proposed to me a week ago. Partly to satisfy the + wishes of the family, and partly...” She broke off, hesitating a moment, + to resume on a note of dull pain, “Partly because it does not seem greatly + to matter whom I marry, I gave him my consent. That consent, for the + reasons I have given you, madame, I desire now definitely to withdraw.” + </p> + <p> + Madame fell into agitation of the wildest. “Aline, I should never forgive + you! Your uncle Quintin would be in despair. You do not know what you are + saying, what a wonderful thing you are refusing. Have you no sense of your + position, of the station into which you were born?” + </p> + <p> + “If I had not, madame, I should have made an end long since. If I have + tolerated this suit for a single moment, it is because I realize the + importance of a suitable marriage in the worldly sense. But I ask of + marriage something more; and Uncle Quintin has placed the decision in my + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “God forgive him!” said madame. And then she hurried on: “Leave this to me + now, Aline. Be guided by me—oh, be guided by me!” Her tone was + beseeching. “I will take counsel with your uncle Charles. But do not + definitely decide until this unfortunate affair has blown over. Charles + will know how to arrange it. M. le Marquis shall do penance, child, since + your tyranny demands it; but not in sackcloth and ashes. You’ll not ask so + much?” + </p> + <p> + Aline shrugged. “I ask nothing at all,” she said, which was neither assent + nor dissent. + </p> + <p> + So Mme. de Sautron interviewed her husband, a slight, middle-aged man, + very aristocratic in appearance and gifted with a certain shrewd sense. + She took with him precisely the tone that Aline had taken with herself and + which in Aline she had found so disconcertingly indelicate. She even + borrowed several of Aline’s phrases. + </p> + <p> + The result was that on the Monday afternoon when at last M. de La Tour + d’Azyr’s returning berline drove up to the chateau, he was met by M. le + Comte de Sautron who desired a word with him even before he changed. + </p> + <p> + “Gervais, you’re a fool,” was the excellent opening made by M. le Comte. + </p> + <p> + “Charles, you give me no news,” answered M. le Marquis. “Of what + particular folly do you take the trouble to complain?” + </p> + <p> + He flung himself wearily upon a sofa, and his long graceful body sprawling + there he looked up at his friend with a tired smile on that nobly handsome + pale face that seemed to defy the onslaught of age. + </p> + <p> + “Of your last. This Binet girl.” + </p> + <p> + “That! Pooh! An incident; hardly a folly.” + </p> + <p> + “A folly—at such a time,” Sautron insisted. The Marquis looked a + question. The Count answered it. “Aline,” said he, pregnantly. “She knows. + How she knows I can’t tell you, but she knows, and she is deeply + offended.” + </p> + <p> + The smile perished on the Marquis’ face. He gathered himself up. + </p> + <p> + “Offended?” said he, and his voice was anxious. + </p> + <p> + “But yes. You know what she is. You know the ideals she has formed. It + wounds her that at such a time—whilst you are here for the purpose + of wooing her—you should at the same time be pursuing this affair + with that chit of a Binet girl.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” asked La Tour d’Azyr. + </p> + <p> + “She has confided in her aunt. And the poor child seems to have some + reason. She says she will not tolerate that you should come to kiss her + hand with lips that are still contaminated from... Oh, you understand. You + appreciate the impression of such a thing upon a pure, sensitive girl such + as Aline. She said—I had better tell you—that the next time + you kiss her hand, she will call for water and wash it in your presence.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis’ face flamed scarlet. He rose. Knowing his violent, intolerant + spirit, M. de Sautron was prepared for an outburst. But no outburst came. + The Marquis turned away from him, and paced slowly to the window, his head + bowed, his hands behind his back. Halted there he spoke, without turning, + his voice was at once scornful and wistful. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Charles, I am a fool—a wicked fool! I have just + enough sense left to perceive it. It is the way I have lived, I suppose. I + have never known the need to deny myself anything I wanted.” Then suddenly + he swung round, and the outburst came. “But, my God, I want Aline as I + have never wanted anything yet! I think I should kill myself in rage if + through my folly I should have lost her.” He struck his brow with his + hand. “I am a beast!” he said. “I should have known that if that sweet + saint got word of these petty devilries of mine she would despise me; and + I tell you, Charles, I’d go through fire to regain her respect.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it is to be regained on easier terms,” said Charles; and then to + ease the situation which began to irk him by its solemnity, he made a + feeble joke. “It is merely asked of you that you refrain from going + through certain fires that are not accounted by mademoiselle of too + purifying a nature.” + </p> + <p> + “As to that Binet girl, it is finished—finished,” said the Marquis. + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you. When did you make that decision?” + </p> + <p> + “This moment. I would to God I had made it twenty-four hours ago. As it is—” + he shrugged—“why, twenty-four hours of her have been enough for me + as they would have been for any man—a mercenary, self-seeking little + baggage with the soul of a trull. Bah!” He shuddered in disgust of himself + and her. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! That makes it easier for you,” said M. de Sautron, cynically. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say it, Charles. It is not so. Had you been less of a fool, you + would have warned me sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “I may prove to have warned you soon enough if you’ll profit by the + warning.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no penance I will not do. I will prostrate myself at her feet. I + will abase myself before her. I will make confession in the proper spirit + of contrition, and Heaven helping me, I’ll keep to my purpose of amendment + for her sweet sake.” He was tragically in earnest. + </p> + <p> + To M. de Sautron, who had never seen him other than self-contained, + supercilious, and mocking, this was an amazing revelation. He shrank from + it almost; it gave him the feeling of prying, of peeping through a + keyhole. He slapped his friend’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Gervais, here is a magnificently romantic mood. Enough said. Keep + to it, and I promise you that all will presently be well. I will be your + ambassador, and you shall have no cause to complain.” + </p> + <p> + “But may I not go to her myself?” + </p> + <p> + “If you are wise you will at once efface yourself. Write to her if you + will—make your act of contrition by letter. I will explain why you + have gone without seeing her. I will tell her that you did so upon my + advice, and I will do it tactfully. I am a good diplomat, Gervais. Trust + me.” + </p> + <p> + M. le Marquis raised his head, and showed a face that pain was searing. He + held out his hand. “Very well, Charles. Serve me in this, and count me + your friend in all things.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE FRACAS AT THE THEATRE FEYDAU + </h2> + <p> + Leaving his host to act as his plenipotentiary with Mademoiselle de + Kercadiou, and to explain to her that it was his profound contrition that + compelled him to depart without taking formal leave of her, the Marquis + rolled away from Sautron in a cloud of gloom. Twenty-four hours with La + Binet had been more than enough for a man of his fastidious and discerning + taste. He looked back upon the episode with nausea—the inevitable + psychological reaction—marvelling at himself that until yesterday he + should have found her so desirable, and cursing himself that for the sake + of that ephemeral and worthless gratification he should seriously have + imperilled his chances of winning Mademoiselle de Kercadiou to wife. There + is, after all, nothing very extraordinary in his frame of mind, so that I + need not elaborate it further. It resulted from the conflict between the + beast and the angel that go to make up the composition of every man. + </p> + <p> + The Chevalier de Chabrillane—who in reality occupied towards the + Marquis a position akin to that of gentleman-in-waiting—sat opposite + to him in the enormous travelling berline. A small folding table had been + erected between them, and the Chevalier suggested piquet. But M. le + Marquis was in no humour for cards. His thoughts absorbed him. As they + were rattling over the cobbles of Nantes’ streets, he remembered a promise + to La Binet to witness her performance that night in “The Faithless + Lover.” And now he was running away from her. The thought was repugnant to + him on two scores. He was breaking his pledged word, and he was acting + like a coward. And there was more than that. He had led the mercenary + little strumpet—it was thus he thought of her at present, and with + some justice—to expect favours from him in addition to the lavish + awards which already he had made her. The baggage had almost sought to + drive a bargain with him as to her future. He was to take her to Paris, + put her into her own furniture—as the expression ran, and still runs—and + under the shadow of his powerful protection see that the doors of the + great theatres of the capital should be opened to her talents. He had not—he + was thankful to reflect—exactly committed himself. But neither had + he definitely refused her. It became necessary now to come to an + understanding, since he was compelled to choose between his trivial + passion for her—a passion quenched already—and his deep, + almost spiritual devotion to Mademoiselle de Kercadiou. + </p> + <p> + His honour, he considered, demanded of him that he should at once deliver + himself from a false position. La Binet would make a scene, of course; but + he knew the proper specific to apply to hysteria of that nature. Money, + after all, has its uses. + </p> + <p> + He pulled the cord. The carriage rolled to a standstill; a footman + appeared at the door. + </p> + <p> + “To the Theatre Feydau,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The footman vanished and the berline rolled on. M. de Chabrillane laughed + cynically. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll trouble you not to be amused,” snapped the Marquis. “You don’t + understand.” Thereafter he explained himself. It was a rare condescension + in him. But, then, he could not bear to be misunderstood in such a matter. + Chabrillane grew serious in reflection of the Marquis’ extreme + seriousness. + </p> + <p> + “Why not write?” he suggested. “Myself, I confess that I should find it + easier.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could better have revealed M. le Marquis’ state of mind than his + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Letters are liable both to miscarriage and to misconstruction. Two risks + I will not run. If she did not answer, I should never know which had been + incurred. And I shall have no peace of mind until I know that I have set a + term to this affair. The berline can wait while we are at the theatre. We + will go on afterwards. We will travel all night if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Peste!” said M. de Chabrillane with a grimace. But that was all. + </p> + <p> + The great travelling carriage drew up at the lighted portals of the + Feydau, and M. le Marquis stepped out. He entered the theatre with + Chabrillane, all unconsciously to deliver himself into the hands of + Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis was in a state of exasperation produced by Climene’s long + absence from Nantes in the company of M. le Marquis, and fed by the + unspeakable complacency with which M. Binet regarded that event of quite + unmistakable import. + </p> + <p> + However much he might affect the frame of mind of the stoics, and seek to + judge with a complete detachment, in the heart and soul of him Andre-Louis + was tormented and revolted. It was not Climene he blamed. He had been + mistaken in her. She was just a poor weak vessel driven helplessly by the + first breath, however foul, that promised her advancement. She suffered + from the plague of greed; and he congratulated himself upon having + discovered it before making her his wife. He felt for her now nothing but + a deal of pity and some contempt. The pity was begotten of the love she + had lately inspired in him. It might be likened to the dregs of love, all + that remained after the potent wine of it had been drained off. His anger + he reserved for her father and her seducer. + </p> + <p> + The thoughts that were stirring in him on that Monday morning, when it was + discovered that Climene had not yet returned from her excursion of the + previous day in the coach of M. le Marquis, were already wicked enough + without the spurring they received from the distraught Leandre. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto the attitude of each of these men towards the other had been one + of mutual contempt. The phenomenon has frequently been observed in like + cases. Now, what appeared to be a common misfortune brought them into a + sort of alliance. So, at least, it seemed to Leandre when he went in quest + of Andre-Louis, who with apparent unconcern was smoking a pipe upon the + quay immediately facing the inn. + </p> + <p> + “Name of a pig!” said Leandre. “How can you take your ease and smoke at + such a time?” + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche surveyed the sky. “I do not find it too cold,” said he. “The + sun is shining. I am very well here.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I talk of the weather?” Leandre was very excited. + </p> + <p> + “Of what, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Of Climene, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! The lady has ceased to interest me,” he lied. + </p> + <p> + Leandre stood squarely in front of him, a handsome figure handsomely + dressed in these days, his hair well powdered, his stockings of silk. His + face was pale, his large eyes looked larger than usual. + </p> + <p> + “Ceased to interest you? Are you not to marry her?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis expelled a cloud of smoke. “You cannot wish to be offensive. + Yet you almost suggest that I live on other men’s leavings.” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” said Leandre, overcome, and he stared awhile. Then he burst out + afresh. “Are you quite heartless? Are you always Scaramouche?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect me to do?” asked Andre-Louis, evincing surprise in his + own turn, but faintly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not expect you to let her go without a struggle.” + </p> + <p> + “But she has gone already.” Andre-Louis pulled at his pipe a moment, what + time Leandre clenched and unclenched his hands in impotent rage. “And to + what purpose struggle against the inevitable? Did you struggle when I took + her from you?” + </p> + <p> + “She was not mine to be taken from me. I but aspired, and you won the + race. But even had it been otherwise where is the comparison? That was a + thing in honour; this—this is hell.” + </p> + <p> + His emotion moved Andre-Louis. He took Leandre’s arm. “You’re a good + fellow, Leandre. I am glad I intervened to save you from your fate.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don’t love her!” cried the other, passionately. “You never did. + You don’t know what it means to love, or you’d not talk like this. My God! + if she had been my affianced wife and this had happened, I should have + killed the man—killed him! Do you hear me? But you... Oh, you, you + come out here and smoke, and take the air, and talk of her as another + man’s leavings. I wonder I didn’t strike you for the word.” + </p> + <p> + He tore his arm from the other’s grip, and looked almost as if he would + strike him now. + </p> + <p> + “You should have done it,” said Andre-Louis. “It’s in your part.” + </p> + <p> + With an imprecation Leandre turned on his heel to go. Andre-Louis arrested + his departure. + </p> + <p> + “A moment, my friend. Test me by yourself. Would you marry her now?” + </p> + <p> + “Would I?” The young man’s eyes blazed with passion. “Would I? Let her say + that she will marry me, and I am her slave.” + </p> + <p> + “Slave is the right word—a slave in hell.” + </p> + <p> + “It would never be hell to me where she was, whatever she had done. I love + her, man, I am not like you. I love her, do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “I have known it for some time,” said Andre-Louis. “Though I didn’t + suspect your attack of the disease to be quite so violent. Well, God knows + I loved her, too, quite enough to share your thirst for killing. For + myself, the blue blood of La Tour d’Azyr would hardly quench this thirst. + I should like to add to it the dirty fluid that flows in the veins of the + unspeakable Binet.” + </p> + <p> + For a second his emotion had been out of hand, and he revealed to Leandre + in the mordant tone of those last words something of the fires that burned + under his icy exterior. The young man caught him by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you were acting,” said he. “You feel—you feel as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Behold us, fellows in viciousness. I have betrayed myself, it seems. + Well, and what now? Do you want to see this pretty Marquis torn limb from + limb? I might afford you the spectacle.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” Leandre stared, wondering was this another of Scaramouche’s + cynicisms. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t really difficult provided I have aid. I require only a little. + Will you lend it me?” + </p> + <p> + “Anything you ask,” Leandre exploded. “My life if you require it.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis took his arm again. “Let us walk,” he said. “I will instruct + you.” + </p> + <p> + When they came back the company was already at dinner. Mademoiselle had + not yet returned. Sullenness presided at the table. Columbine and Madame + wore anxious expressions. The fact was that relations between Binet and + his troupe were daily growing more strained. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis and Leandre went each to his accustomed place. Binet’s little + eyes followed them with a malicious gleam, his thick lips pouted into a + crooked smile. + </p> + <p> + “You two are grown very friendly of a sudden,” he mocked. + </p> + <p> + “You are a man of discernment, Binet,” said Scaramouche, the cold loathing + of his voice itself an insult. “Perhaps you discern the reason?” + </p> + <p> + “It is readily discerned.” + </p> + <p> + “Regale the company with it!” he begged; and waited. “What? You hesitate? + Is it possible that there are limits to your shamelessness?” + </p> + <p> + Binet reared his great head. “Do you want to quarrel with me, + Scaramouche?” Thunder was rumbling in his deep voice. + </p> + <p> + “Quarrel? You want to laugh. A man doesn’t quarrel with creatures like + you. We all know the place held in the public esteem by complacent + husbands. But, in God’s name, what place is there at all for complacent + fathers?” + </p> + <p> + Binet heaved himself up, a great towering mass of manhood. Violently he + shook off the restraining hand of Pierrot who sat on his left. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand devils!” he roared; “if you take that tone with me, I’ll break + every bone in your filthy body.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were to lay a finger on me, Binet, you would give me the only + provocation I still need to kill you.” Andre-Louis was as calm as ever, + and therefore the more menacing. Alarm stirred the company. He protruded + from his pocket the butt of a pistol—newly purchased. “I go armed, + Binet. It is only fair to give you warning. Provoke me as you have + suggested, and I’ll kill you with no more compunction than I should kill a + slug, which after all is the thing you most resemble—a slug, Binet; + a fat, slimy body; foulness without soul and without intelligence. When I + come to think of it I can’t suffer to sit at table with you. It turns my + stomach.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed away his platter and got up. “I’ll go and eat at the ordinary + below stairs.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon up jumped Columbine. + </p> + <p> + “And I’ll come with you, Scaramouche!” cried she. + </p> + <p> + It acted like a signal. Had the thing been concerted it couldn’t have + fallen out more uniformly. Binet, in fact, was persuaded of a conspiracy. + For in the wake of Columbine went Leandre, in the wake of Leandre, + Polichinelle and then all the rest together, until Binet found himself + sitting alone at the head of an empty table in an empty room—a badly + shaken man whose rage could afford him no support against the dread by + which he was suddenly invaded. + </p> + <p> + He sat down to think things out, and he was still at that melancholy + occupation when perhaps a half-hour later his daughter entered the room, + returned at last from her excursion. + </p> + <p> + She looked pale, even a little scared—in reality excessively + self-conscious now that the ordeal of facing all the company awaited her. + </p> + <p> + Seeing no one but her father in the room, she checked on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Where is everybody?” she asked, in a voice rendered natural by effort. + </p> + <p> + M. Binet reared his great head and turned upon her eyes that were + blood-injected. He scowled, blew out his thick lips and made harsh noises + in his throat. Yet he took stock of her, so graceful and comely and + looking so completely the lady of fashion in her long fur-trimmed + travelling coat of bottle green, her muff and her broad hat adorned by a + sparkling Rhinestone buckle above her adorably coiffed brown hair. No need + to fear the future whilst he owned such a daughter, let Scaramouche play + what tricks he would. + </p> + <p> + He expressed, however, none of these comforting reflections. + </p> + <p> + “So you’re back at last, little fool,” he growled in greeting. “I was + beginning to ask myself if we should perform this evening. It wouldn’t + greatly have surprised me if you had not returned in time. Indeed, since + you have chosen to play the fine hand you held in your own way and + scorning my advice, nothing can surprise me.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed the room to the table, and leaning against it, looked down + upon him almost disdainfully. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to regret,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “So every fool says at first. Nor would you admit it if you had. You are + like that. You go your own way in spite of advice from older heads. Death + of my life, girl, what do you know of men?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not complaining,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “No, but you may be presently, when you discover that you would have done + better to have been guided by your old father. So long as your Marquis + languished for you, there was nothing you could not have done with the + fool. So long as you let him have no more than your fingertips to kiss... + ah, name of a name! that was the time to build your future. If you live to + be a thousand you’ll never have such a chance again, and you’ve squandered + it, for what?” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle sat down.—“You’re sordid,” she said, with disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Sordid, am I?” His thick lips curled again. “I have had enough of the + dregs of life, and so I should have thought have you. You held a hand on + which to have won a fortune if you had played it as I bade you. Well, + you’ve played it, and where’s the fortune? We can whistle for that as a + sailor whistles for wind. And, by Heaven, we’ll need to whistle presently + if the weather in the troupe continues as it’s set in. That scoundrel + Scaramouche has been at his ape’s tricks with them. They’ve suddenly + turned moral. They won’t sit at table with me any more.” He was + spluttering between anger and sardonic mirth. “It was your friend + Scaramouche set them the example of that. He threatened my life actually. + Threatened my life! Called me... Oh, but what does that matter? What + matters is that the next thing to happen to us will be that the Binet + Troupe will discover it can manage without M. Binet and his daughter. This + scoundrelly bastard I’ve befriended has little by little robbed me of + everything. It’s in his power to-day to rob me of my troupe, and the + knave’s ungrateful enough and vile enough to make use of his power. + </p> + <p> + “Let him,” said mademoiselle contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “Let him?” He was aghast. “And what’s to become of us?” + </p> + <p> + “In no case will the Binet Troupe interest me much longer,” said she. “I + shall be going to Paris soon. There are better theatres there than the + Feydau. There’s Mlle. Montansier’s theatre in the Palais Royal; there’s + the Ambigu Comique; there’s the Comedie Francaise; there’s even a + possibility I may have a theatre of my own.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes grew big for once. He stretched out a fat hand, and placed it on + one of hers. She noticed that it trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Has he promised that? Has he promised?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with her head on one side, eyes sly and a queer little + smile on her perfect lips. + </p> + <p> + “He did not refuse me when I asked it,” she answered, with conviction that + all was as she desired it. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” He withdrew his hand, and heaved himself up. There was disgust on + his face. “He did not refuse!” he mocked her; and then with passion: “Had + you acted as I advised you, he would have consented to anything that you + asked, and what is more he would have provided anything that you asked—anything + that lay within his means, and they are inexhaustible. You have changed a + certainty into a possibility, and I hate possibilities—God of God! I + have lived on possibilities, and infernally near starved on them.” + </p> + <p> + Had she known of the interview taking place at that moment at the Chateau + de Sautron she would have laughed less confidently at her father’s gloomy + forebodings. But she was destined never to know, which indeed was the + cruellest punishment of all. She was to attribute all the evil that of a + sudden overwhelmed her, the shattering of all the future hopes she had + founded upon the Marquis and the sudden disintegration of the Binet + Troupe, to the wicked interference of that villain Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + She had this much justification that possibly, without the warning from M. + de Sautron, the Marquis would have found in the events of that evening at + the Theatre Feydau a sufficient reason for ending an entanglement that was + fraught with too much unpleasant excitement, whilst the breaking-up of the + Binet Troupe was most certainly the result of Andre-Louis’ work. But it + was not a result that he intended or even foresaw. + </p> + <p> + So much was this the case that in the interval after the second act, he + sought the dressing-room shared by Polichinelle and Rhodomont. + Polichinelle was in the act of changing. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t trouble to change,” he said. “The piece isn’t likely to go + beyond my opening scene of the next act with Leandre.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll see.” He put a paper on Polichinelle’s table amid the + grease-paints. “Cast your eye over that. It’s a sort of last will and + testament in favour of the troupe. I was a lawyer once; the document is in + order. I relinquish to all of you the share produced by my partnership in + the company.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t mean that you are leaving us?” cried Polichinelle in alarm, + whilst Rhodomont’s sudden stare asked the same question. + </p> + <p> + Scaramouche’s shrug was eloquent. Polichinelle ran on gloomily: “Of course + it was to have been foreseen. But why should you be the one to go? It is + you who have made us; and it is you who are the real head and brains of + the troupe; it is you who have raised it into a real theatrical company. + If any one must go, let it be Binet—Binet and his infernal daughter. + Or if you go, name of a name! we all go with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” added Rhodomont, “we’ve had enough of that fat scoundrel.” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought of it, of course,” said Andre-Louis. “It was not vanity, + for once; it was trust in your friendship. After to-night we may consider + it again, if I survive.” + </p> + <p> + “If you survive?” both cried. + </p> + <p> + Polichinelle got up. “Now, what madness have you in mind?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “For one thing I think I am indulging Leandre; for another I am pursuing + an old quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + The three knocks sounded as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “There, I must go. Keep that paper, Polichinelle. After all, it may not be + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + He was gone. Rhodomont stared at Polichinelle. Polichinelle stared at + Rhodomont. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil is he thinking of?” quoth the latter. + </p> + <p> + “That is most readily ascertained by going to see,” replied Polichinelle. + He completed changing in haste, and despite what Scaramouche had said; and + then followed with Rhodomont. + </p> + <p> + As they approached the wings a roar of applause met them coming from the + audience. It was applause and something else; applause on an unusual note. + As it faded away they heard the voice of Scaramouche ringing clear as a + bell: + </p> + <p> + “And so you see, my dear M. Leandre, that when you speak of the Third + Estate, it is necessary to be more explicit. What precisely is the Third + Estate?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Leandre. + </p> + <p> + There was a gasp from the audience, audible in the wings, and then swiftly + followed Scaramouche’s next question: + </p> + <p> + “True. Alas! But what should it be?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” said Leandre. + </p> + <p> + The audience roared its acclamations, the more violent because of the + unexpectedness of that reply. + </p> + <p> + “True again,” said Scaramouche. “And what is more, that is what it will + be; that is what it already is. Do you doubt it?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it,” said the schooled Leandre. + </p> + <p> + “You may believe it,” said Scaramouche, and again the acclamations rolled + into thunder. + </p> + <p> + Polichinelle and Rhodomont exchanged glances: indeed, the former winked, + not without mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Sacred name!” growled a voice behind them. “Is the scoundrel at his + political tricks again?” + </p> + <p> + They turned to confront M. Binet. Moving with that noiseless tread of his, + he had come up unheard behind them, and there he stood now in his scarlet + suit of Pantaloon under a trailing bedgown, his little eyes glaring from + either side of his false nose. But their attention was held by the voice + of Scaramouche. He had stepped to the front of the stage. + </p> + <p> + “He doubts it,” he was telling the audience. “But then this M. Leandre is + himself akin to those who worship the worm-eaten idol of Privilege, and so + he is a little afraid to believe a truth that is becoming apparent to all + the world. Shall I convince him? Shall I tell him how a company of + noblemen backed by their servants under arms—six hundred men in all—sought + to dictate to the Third Estate of Rennes a few short weeks ago? Must I + remind him of the martial front shown on that occasion by the Third + Estate, and how they swept the streets clean of that rabble of nobles—cette + canaille noble...” + </p> + <p> + Applause interrupted him. The phrase had struck home and caught. Those who + had writhed under that infamous designation from their betters leapt at + this turning of it against the nobles themselves. + </p> + <p> + “But let me tell you of their leader—le pins noble de cette + canaille, ou bien le plus canaille de ces nobles! You know him—that + one. He fears many things, but the voice of truth he fears most. With such + as him the eloquent truth eloquently spoken is a thing instantly to be + silenced. So he marshalled his peers and their valetailles, and led them + out to slaughter these miserable bourgeois who dared to raise a voice. But + these same miserable bourgeois did not choose to be slaughtered in the + streets of Rennes. It occurred to them that since the nobles decreed that + blood should flow, it might as well be the blood of the nobles. They + marshalled themselves too—this noble rabble against the rabble of + nobles—and they marshalled themselves so well that they drove M. de + La Tour d’Azyr and his warlike following from the field with broken heads + and shattered delusions. They sought shelter at the hands of the + Cordeliers; and the shavelings gave them sanctuary in their convent—those + who survived, among whom was their proud leader, M. de La Tour d’Azyr. You + have heard of this valiant Marquis, this great lord of life and death?” + </p> + <p> + The pit was in an uproar a moment. It quieted again as Scaramouche + continued: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was a fine spectacle to see this mighty hunter scuttling to cover + like a hare, going to earth in the Cordelier Convent. Rennes has not seen + him since. Rennes would like to see him again. But if he is valorous, he + is also discreet. And where do you think he has taken refuge, this great + nobleman who wanted to see the streets of Rennes washed in the blood of + its citizens, this man who would have butchered old and young of the + contemptible canaille to silence the voice of reason and of liberty that + presumes to ring through France to-day? Where do you think he hides + himself? Why, here in Nantes.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was uproar. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say? Impossible? Why, my friends, at this moment he is here + in this theatre—skulking up there in that box. He is too shy to show + himself—oh, a very modest gentleman. But there he is behind the + curtains. Will you not show yourself to your friends, M. de La Tour + d’Azyr, Monsieur le Marquis who considers eloquence so very dangerous a + gift? See, they would like a word with you; they do not believe me when I + tell them that you are here.” + </p> + <p> + Now, whatever he may have been, and whatever the views held on the subject + by Andre-Louis, M. de La Tour d’Azyr was certainly not a coward. To say + that he was hiding in Nantes was not true. He came and went there openly + and unabashed. It happened, however, that the Nantais were ignorant until + this moment of his presence among them. But then he would have disdained + to have informed them of it just as he would have disdained to have + concealed it from them. + </p> + <p> + Challenged thus, however, and despite the ominous manner in which the + bourgeois element in the audience had responded to Scaramouche’s appeal to + its passions, despite the attempts made by Chabrillane to restrain him, + the Marquis swept aside the curtain at the side of the box, and suddenly + showed himself, pale but self-contained and scornful as he surveyed first + the daring Scaramouche and then those others who at sight of him had given + tongue to their hostility. + </p> + <p> + Hoots and yells assailed him, fists were shaken at him, canes were + brandished menacingly. + </p> + <p> + “Assassin! Scoundrel! Coward! Traitor!” + </p> + <p> + But he braved the storm, smiling upon them his ineffable contempt. He was + waiting for the noise to cease; waiting to address them in his turn. But + he waited in vain, as he very soon perceived. + </p> + <p> + The contempt he did not trouble to dissemble served but to goad them on. + </p> + <p> + In the pit pandemonium was already raging. Blows were being freely + exchanged; there were scuffling groups, and here and there swords were + being drawn, but fortunately the press was too dense to permit of their + being used effectively. Those who had women with them and the timid by + nature were making haste to leave a house that looked like becoming a + cockpit, where chairs were being smashed to provide weapons, and parts of + chandeliers were already being used as missiles. + </p> + <p> + One of these hurled by the hand of a gentleman in one of the boxes + narrowly missed Scaramouche where he stood, looking down in a sort of grim + triumph upon the havoc which his words had wrought. Knowing of what + inflammable material the audience was composed, he had deliberately flung + down amongst them the lighted torch of discord, to produce this + conflagration. + </p> + <p> + He saw men falling quickly into groups representative of one side or the + other of this great quarrel that already was beginning to agitate the + whole of France. Their rallying cries were ringing through the theatre. + </p> + <p> + “Down with the canaille!” from some. + </p> + <p> + “Down with the privileged!” from others. + </p> + <p> + And then above the general din one cry rang out sharply and insistently: + </p> + <p> + “To the box! Death to the butcher of Rennes! Death to La Tour d’Azyr who + makes war upon the people!” + </p> + <p> + There was a rush for one of the doors of the pit that opened upon the + staircase leading to the boxes. + </p> + <p> + And now, whilst battle and confusion spread with the speed of fire, + overflowing from the theatre into the street itself, La Tour d’Azyr’s box, + which had become the main object of the attack of the bourgeoisie, had + also become the rallying ground for such gentlemen as were present in the + theatre and for those who, without being men of birth themselves, were + nevertheless attached to the party of the nobles. + </p> + <p> + La Tour d’Azyr had quitted the front of the box to meet those who came to + join him. And now in the pit one group of infuriated gentlemen, in + attempting to reach the stage across the empty orchestra, so that they + might deal with the audacious comedian who was responsible for this + explosion, found themselves opposed and held back by another group + composed of men to whose feelings Andre-Louis had given expression. + </p> + <p> + Perceiving this, and remembering the chandelier, he turned to Leandre, who + had remained beside him. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is time to be going,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Leandre, looking ghastly under his paint, appalled by the storm which + exceeded by far anything that his unimaginative brain could have + conjectured, gurgled an inarticulate agreement. But it looked as if + already they were too late, for in that moment they were assailed from + behind. + </p> + <p> + M. Binet had succeeded at last in breaking past Polichinelle and + Rhodomont, who in view of his murderous rage had been endeavouring to + restrain him. Half a dozen gentlemen, habitues of the green-room, had come + round to the stage to disembowel the knave who had created this riot, and + it was they who had flung aside those two comedians who hung upon Binet. + After him they came now, their swords out; but after them again came + Polichinelle, Rhodomont, Harlequin, Pierrot, Pasquariel, and Basque the + artist, armed with such implements as they could hastily snatch up, and + intent upon saving the man with whom they sympathized in spite of all, and + in whom now all their hopes were centred. + </p> + <p> + Well ahead rolled Binet, moving faster than any had ever seen him move, + and swinging the long cane from which Pantaloon is inseparable. + </p> + <p> + “Infamous scoundrel!” he roared. “You have ruined me! But, name of a name, + you shall pay!” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis turned to face him. “You confuse cause with effect,” said he. + But he got no farther... Binet’s cane, viciously driven, descended and + broke upon his shoulder. Had he not moved swiftly aside as the blow fell + it must have taken him across the head, and possibly stunned him. As he + moved, he dropped his hand to his pocket, and swift upon the cracking of + Binet’s breaking cane came the crack of the pistol with which Andre-Louis + replied. + </p> + <p> + “You had your warning, you filthy pander!” he cried. And on the word he + shot him through the body. + </p> + <p> + Binet went down screaming, whilst the fierce Polichinelle, fiercer than + ever in that moment of fierce reality, spoke quickly into Andre-Louis’ + ear: + </p> + <p> + “Fool! So much was not necessary! Away with you now, or you’ll leave your + skin here! Away with you!” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis thought it good advice, and took it. The gentlemen who had + followed Binet in that punitive rush upon the stage, partly held in check + by the improvised weapons of the players, partly intimidated by the second + pistol that Scaramouche presented, let him go. He gained the wings, and + here found himself faced by a couple of sergeants of the watch, part of + the police that was already invading the theatre with a view to restoring + order. The sight of them reminded him unpleasantly of how he must stand + towards the law for this night’s work, and more particularly for that + bullet lodged somewhere in Binet’s obese body. He flourished his pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Make way, or I’ll burn your brains!” he threatened them, and intimidated, + themselves without firearms, they fell back and let him pass. He slipped + by the door of the green-room, where the ladies of the company had shut + themselves in until the storm should be over, and so gained the street + behind the theatre. It was deserted. Down this he went at a run, intent on + reaching the inn for clothes and money, since it was impossible that he + should take the road in the garb of Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III: THE SWORD + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. TRANSITION + </h2> + <p> + “You may agree,” wrote Andre-Louis from Paris to Le Chapelier, in a letter + which survives, “that it is to be regretted I should definitely have + discarded the livery of Scaramouche, since clearly there could be no + livery fitter for my wear. It seems to be my part always to stir up strife + and then to slip away before I am caught in the crash of the warring + elements I have aroused. It is a humiliating reflection. I seek + consolation in the reminder of Epictetus (do you ever read Epictetus?) + that we are but actors in a play of such a part as it may please the + Director to assign us. It does not, however, console me to have been cast + for a part so contemptible, to find myself excelling ever in the art of + running away. But if I am not brave, at least I am prudent; so that where + I lack one virtue I may lay claim to possessing another almost to excess. + On a previous occasion they wanted to hang me for sedition. Should I have + stayed to be hanged? This time they may want to hang me for several + things, including murder; for I do not know whether that scoundrel Binet + be alive or dead from the dose of lead I pumped into his fat paunch. Nor + can I say that I very greatly care. If I have a hope at all in the matter + it is that he is dead—and damned. But I am really indifferent. My + own concerns are troubling me enough. I have all but spent the little + money that I contrived to conceal about me before I fled from Nantes on + that dreadful night; and both of the only two professions of which I can + claim to know anything—the law and the stage—are closed to me, + since I cannot find employment in either without revealing myself as a + fellow who is urgently wanted by the hangman. As things are it is very + possible that I may die of hunger, especially considering the present + price of victuals in this ravenous city. Again I have recourse to + Epictetus for comfort. ‘It is better,’ he says, ‘to die of hunger having + lived without grief and fear, than to live with a troubled spirit amid + abundance.’ I seem likely to perish in the estate that he accounts so + enviable. That it does not seem exactly enviable to me merely proves that + as a Stoic I am not a success.” + </p> + <p> + There is also another letter of his written at about the same time to the + Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr—a letter since published by M. Emile + Quersac in his “Undercurrents of the Revolution in Brittany,” unearthed by + him from the archives of Rennes, to which it had been consigned by M. de + Lesdiguieres, who had received it for justiciary purposes from the + Marquis. + </p> + <p> + “The Paris newspapers,” he writes in this, “which have reported in + considerable detail the fracas at the Theatre Feydau and disclosed the + true identity of the Scaramouche who provoked it, inform me also that you + have escaped the fate I had intended for you when I raised that storm of + public opinion and public indignation. I would not have you take + satisfaction in the thought that I regret your escape. I do not. I rejoice + in it. To deal justice by death has this disadvantage that the victim has + no knowledge that justice has overtaken him. Had you died, had you been + torn limb from limb that night, I should now repine in the thought of your + eternal and untroubled slumber. Not in euthanasia, but in torment of mind + should the guilty atone. You see, I am not sure that hell hereafter is a + certainty, whilst I am quite sure that it can be a certainty in this life; + and I desire you to continue to live yet awhile that you may taste + something of its bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “You murdered Philippe de Vilmorin because you feared what you described + as his very dangerous gift of eloquence, I took an oath that day that your + evil deed should be fruitless; that I would render it so; that the voice + you had done murder to stifle should in spite of that ring like a trumpet + through the land. That was my conception of revenge. Do you realize how I + have been fulfilling it, how I shall continue to fulfil it as occasion + offers? In the speech with which I fired the people of Rennes on the very + morrow of that deed, did you not hear the voice of Philippe de Vilmorin + uttering the ideas that were his with a fire and a passion greater than he + could have commanded because Nemesis lent me her inflaming aid? In the + voice of Omnes Omnibus at Nantes my voice again—demanding the + petition that sounded the knell of your hopes of coercing the Third + Estate, did you not hear again the voice of Philippe de Vilmorin? Did you + not reflect that it was the mind of the man you had murdered, resurrected + in me his surviving friend, which made necessary your futile attempt under + arms last January, wherein your order, finally beaten, was driven to seek + sanctuary in the Cordelier Convent? And that night when from the stage of + the Feydau you were denounced to the people, did you not hear yet again, + in the voice of Scaramouche, the voice of Philippe de Vilmorin, using that + dangerous gift of eloquence which you so foolishly imagined you could + silence with a sword-thrust? It is becoming a persecution—is it not?—this + voice from the grave that insists upon making itself heard, that will not + rest until you have been cast into the pit. You will be regretting by now + that you did not kill me too, as I invited you on that occasion. I can + picture to myself the bitterness of this regret, and I contemplate it with + satisfaction. Regret of neglected opportunity is the worst hell that a + living soul can inhabit, particularly such a soul as yours. It is because + of this that I am glad to know that you survived the riot at the Feydau, + although at the time it was no part of my intention that you should. + Because of this I am content that you should live to enrage and suffer in + the shadow of your evil deed, knowing at last—since you had not + hitherto the wit to discern it for yourself—that the voice of + Philippe de Vilmorin will follow you to denounce you ever more loudly, + ever more insistently, until having lived in dread you shall go down in + blood under the just rage which your victim’s dangerous gift of eloquence + is kindling against you.” + </p> + <p> + I find it odd that he should have omitted from this letter all mention of + Mlle. Binet, and I am disposed to account it at least a partial + insincerity that he should have assigned entirely to his self-imposed + mission, and not at all to his lacerated feelings in the matter of + Climene, the action which he had taken at the Feydau. + </p> + <p> + Those two letters, both written in April of that year 1789, had for only + immediate effect to increase the activity with which Andre-Louis Moreau + was being sought. + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier would have found him so as to lend him assistance, to urge + upon him once again that he should take up a political career. The + electors of Nantes would have found him—at least, they would have + found Omnes Omnibus, of whose identity with himself they were still in + ignorance—on each of the several occasions when a vacancy occurred + in their body. And the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr and M. de Lesdiguieres + would have found him that they might send him to the gallows. + </p> + <p> + With a purpose no less vindictive was he being sought by M. Binet, now + unhappily recovered from his wound to face completest ruin. His troupe had + deserted him during his illness, and reconstituted under the direction of + Polichinelle it was now striving with tolerable success to continue upon + the lines which Andre-Louis had laid down. M. le Marquis, prevented by the + riot from expressing in person to Mlle. Binet his purpose of making an end + of their relations, had been constrained to write to her to that effect + from Azyr a few days later. He tempered the blow by enclosing in discharge + of all liabilities a bill on the Caisse d’Escompte for a hundred louis. + Nevertheless it almost crushed the unfortunate and it enabled her father + when he recovered to enrage her by pointing out that she owed this turn of + events to the premature surrender she had made in defiance of his sound + worldly advice. Father and daughter alike were left to assign the Marquis’ + desertion, naturally enough, to the riot at the Feydau. They laid that + with the rest to the account of Scaramouche, and were forced in bitterness + to admit that the scoundrel had taken a superlative revenge. Climene may + even have come to consider that it would have paid her better to have run + a straight course with Scaramouche and by marrying him to have trusted to + his undoubted talents to place her on the summit to which her ambition + urged her, and to which it was now futile for her to aspire. If so, that + reflection must have been her sufficient punishment. For, as Andre-Louis + so truly says, there is no worse hell than that provided by the regrets + for wasted opportunities. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the fiercely sought Andre-Louis Moreau had gone to earth + completely for the present. And the brisk police of Paris, urged on by the + King’s Lieutenant from Rennes, hunted for him in vain. Yet he might have + been found in a house in the Rue du Hasard within a stone’s throw of the + Palais Royal, whither purest chance had conducted him. + </p> + <p> + That which in his letter to Le Chapelier he represents as a contingency of + the near future was, in fact, the case in which already he found himself. + He was destitute. His money was exhausted, including that procured by the + sale of such articles of adornment as were not of absolute necessity. + </p> + <p> + So desperate was his case that strolling one gusty April morning down the + Rue du Hasard with his nose in the wind looking for what might be picked + up, he stopped to read a notice outside the door of a house on the left + side of the street as you approach the Rue de Richelieu. There was no + reason why he should have gone down the Rue du Hasard. Perhaps its name + attracted him, as appropriate to his case. + </p> + <p> + The notice written in a big round hand announced that a young man of good + address with some knowledge of swordsmanship was required by M. Bertrand + des Amis on the second floor. Above this notice was a black oblong board, + and on this a shield, which in vulgar terms may be described as red + charged with two swords crossed and four fleurs de lys, one in each angle + of the saltire. Under the shield, in letters of gold, ran the legend: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BERTRAND DES AMIS + + Maitre en fait d’Armes des Academies du Roi +</pre> + <p> + Andre-Louis stood considering. He could claim, he thought, to possess the + qualifications demanded. He was certainly young and he believed of + tolerable address, whilst the fencing-lessons he had received in Nantes + had given him at least an elementary knowledge of swordsmanship. The + notice looked as if it had been pinned there some days ago, suggesting + that applicants for the post were not very numerous. In that case perhaps + M. Bertrand des Amis would not be too exigent. And anyway, Andre-Louis had + not eaten for four-and-twenty hours, and whilst the employment here + offered—the precise nature of which he was yet to ascertain—did + not appear to be such as Andre-Louis would deliberately have chosen, he + was in no case now to be fastidious. + </p> + <p> + Then, too, he liked the name of Bertrand des Amis. It felicitously + combined suggestions of chivalry and friendliness. Also the man’s + profession being of a kind that is flavoured with romance it was possible + that M. Bertrand des Amis would not ask too many questions. + </p> + <p> + In the end he climbed to the second floor. On the landing he paused + outside a door, on which was written “Academy of M. Bertrand des Amis.” He + pushed this open, and found himself in a sparsely furnished, untenanted + antechamber. From a room beyond, the door of which was closed, came the + stamping of feet, the click and slither of steel upon steel, and + dominating these sounds a vibrant sonorous voice speaking a language that + was certainly French; but such French as is never heard outside a + fencing-school. + </p> + <p> + “Coulez! Mais, coulez donc!.... So! Now the flanconnade—en carte.... + And here is the riposte.... Let us begin again. Come! The ward of + tierce.... Make the coupe, and then the quinte par dessus les armes.... O, + mais allongez! Allongez! Allez au fond!” the voice cried in expostulation. + “Come, that was better.” The blades ceased. + </p> + <p> + “Remember: the hand in pronation, the elbow not too far out. That will do + for to-day. On Wednesday we shall see you tirer au mur. It is more + deliberate. Speed will follow when the mechanism of the movements is more + assured.” + </p> + <p> + Another voice murmured in answer. The steps moved aside. The lesson was at + an end. Andre-Louis tapped on the door. + </p> + <p> + It was opened by a tall, slender, gracefully proportioned man of perhaps + forty. Black silk breeches and stockings ending in light shoes clothed him + from the waist down. Above he was encased to the chin in a closely fitting + plastron of leather. His face was aquiline and swarthy, his eyes full and + dark, his mouth firm and his clubbed hair was of a lustrous black with + here and there a thread of silver showing. + </p> + <p> + In the crook of his left arm he carried a fencing-mask, a thing of leather + with a wire grating to protect the eyes. His keen glance played over + Andre-Louis from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur?” he inquired, politely. + </p> + <p> + It was clear that he mistook Andre-Louis’ quality, which is not + surprising, for despite his sadly reduced fortunes, his exterior was + irreproachable, and M. des Amis was not to guess that he carried upon his + back the whole of his possessions. + </p> + <p> + “You have a notice below, monsieur,” he said, and from the swift lighting + of the fencing-master’s eyes he saw that he had been correct in his + assumption that applicants for the position had not been jostling one + another on his threshold. And then that flash of satisfaction was followed + by a look of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You are come in regard to that?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis shrugged and half smiled. “One must live,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “But come in. Sit down there. I shall be at your.... I shall be free to + attend to you in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis took a seat on the bench ranged against one of the whitewashed + walls. The room was long and low, its floor entirely bare. Plain wooden + forms such as that which he occupied were placed here and there against + the wall. These last were plastered with fencing trophies, masks, crossed + foils, stuffed plastrons, and a variety of swords, daggers, and targets, + belonging to a variety of ages and countries. There was also a portrait of + an obese, big-nosed gentleman in an elaborately curled wig, wearing the + blue ribbon of the Saint Esprit, in whom Andre-Louis recognized the King. + And there was a framed parchment—M. des Amis’ certificate from the + King’s Academy. A bookcase occupied one corner, and near this, facing the + last of the four windows that abundantly lighted the long room, there was + a small writing-table and an armchair. A plump and beautifully dressed + young gentleman stood by this table in the act of resuming coat and wig. + M. des Amis sauntered over to him—moving, thought Andre-Louis, with + extraordinary grace and elasticity—and stood in talk with him whilst + also assisting him to complete his toilet. + </p> + <p> + At last the young gentleman took his departure, mopping himself with a + fine kerchief that left a trail of perfume on the air. M. des Amis closed + the door, and turned to the applicant, who rose at once. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you studied?” quoth the fencing-master abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Studied?” Andre-Louis was taken aback by the question. “Oh, at Louis Le + Grand.” + </p> + <p> + M. des Amis frowned, looking up sharply as if to see whether his applicant + was taking the liberty of amusing himself. + </p> + <p> + “In Heaven’s name! I am not asking you where you did your humanities, but + in what academy you studied fencing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—fencing!” It had hardly ever occurred to Andre-Louis that the + sword ranked seriously as a study. “I never studied it very much. I had + some lessons in... in the country once.” + </p> + <p> + The master’s eyebrows went up. “But then?” he cried. “Why trouble to come + up two flights of stairs?” He was impatient. + </p> + <p> + “The notice does not demand a high degree of proficiency. If I am not + proficient enough, yet knowing the rudiments I can easily improve. I learn + most things readily,” Andre-Louis commended himself. “For the rest: I + possess the other qualifications. I am young, as you observe: and I leave + you to judge whether I am wrong in assuming that my address is good. I am + by profession a man of the robe, though I realize that the motto here is + cedat toga armis.” + </p> + <p> + M. des Amis smiled approvingly. Undoubtedly the young man had a good + address, and a certain readiness of wit, it would appear. He ran a + critical eye over his physical points. “What is your name?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis hesitated a moment. “Andre-Louis,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The dark, keen eyes conned him more searchingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well? Andre-Louis what?” + </p> + <p> + “Just Andre-Louis. Louis is my surname.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! An odd surname. You come from Brittany by your accent. Why did you + leave it?” + </p> + <p> + “To save my skin,” he answered, without reflecting. And then made haste to + cover the blunder. “I have an enemy,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + M. des Amis frowned, stroking his square chin. “You ran away?” + </p> + <p> + “You may say so. + </p> + <p> + “A coward, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so.” And then he lied romantically. Surely a man who lived + by the sword should have a weakness for the romantic. “You see, my enemy + is a swordsman of great strength—the best blade in the province, if + not the best blade in France. That is his repute. I thought I would come + to Paris to learn something of the art, and then go back and kill him. + That, to be frank, is why your notice attracted me. You see, I have not + the means to take lessons otherwise. I thought to find work here in the + law. But I have failed. There are too many lawyers in Paris as it is, and + whilst waiting I have consumed the little money that I had, so that... so + that, enfin, your notice seemed to me something to which a special + providence had directed me.” + </p> + <p> + M. des Amis gripped him by the shoulders, and looked into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Is this true, my friend?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word of it,” said Andre-Louis, wrecking his chances on an + irresistible impulse to say the unexpected. But he didn’t wreck them. M. + des Amis burst into laughter; and having laughed his fill, confessed + himself charmed by his applicant’s fundamental honesty. + </p> + <p> + “Take off your coat,” he said, “and let us see what you can do. Nature, at + least, designed you for a swordsman. You are light, active, and supple, + with a good length of arm, and you seem intelligent. I may make something + of you, teach you enough for my purpose, which is that you should give the + elements of the art to new pupils before I take them in hand to finish + them. Let us try. Take that mask and foil, and come over here.” + </p> + <p> + He led him to the end of the room, where the bare floor was scored with + lines of chalk to guide the beginner in the management of his feet. + </p> + <p> + At the end of a ten minutes’ bout, M. des Amis offered him the situation, + and explained it. In addition to imparting the rudiments of the art to + beginners, he was to brush out the fencing-room every morning, keep the + foils furbished, assist the gentlemen who came for lessons to dress and + undress, and make himself generally useful. His wages for the present were + to be forty livres a month, and he might sleep in an alcove behind the + fencing-room if he had no other lodging. + </p> + <p> + The position, you see, had its humiliations. But, if Andre-Louis would + hope to dine, he must begin by eating his pride as an hors d’oeuvre. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” he said, controlling a grimace, “the robe yields not only to the + sword, but to the broom as well. Be it so. I stay.” + </p> + <p> + It is characteristic of him that, having made that choice, he should have + thrown himself into the work with enthusiasm. It was ever his way to do + whatever he did with all the resources of his mind and energies of his + body. When he was not instructing very young gentlemen in the elements of + the art, showing them the elaborate and intricate salute—which with + a few days’ hard practice he had mastered to perfection—and the + eight guards, he was himself hard at work on those same guards, exercising + eye, wrist, and knees. + </p> + <p> + Perceiving his enthusiasm, and seeing the obvious possibilities it opened + out of turning him into a really effective assistant, M. des Amis + presently took him more seriously in hand. + </p> + <p> + “Your application and zeal, my friend, are deserving of more than forty + livres a month,” the master informed him at the end of a week. “For the + present, however, I will make up what else I consider due to you by + imparting to you secrets of this noble art. Your future depends upon how + you profit by your exceptional good fortune in receiving instruction from + me.” + </p> + <p> + Thereafter every morning before the opening of the academy, the master + would fence for half an hour with his new assistant. Under this really + excellent tuition Andre-Louis improved at a rate that both astounded and + flattered M. des Amis. He would have been less flattered and more + astounded had he known that at least half the secret of Andre-Louis’ + amazing progress lay in the fact that he was devouring the contents of the + master’s library, which was made up of a dozen or so treatises on fencing + by such great masters as La Bessiere, Danet, and the syndic of the King’s + Academy, Augustin Rousseau. To M. des Amis, whose swordsmanship was all + based on practice and not at all on theory, who was indeed no theorist or + student in any sense, that little library was merely a suitable adjunct to + a fencing-academy, a proper piece of decorative furniture. The books + themselves meant nothing to him in any other sense. He had not the type of + mind that could have read them with profit nor could he understand that + another should do so. Andre-Louis, on the contrary, a man with the habit + of study, with the acquired faculty of learning from books, read those + works with enormous profit, kept their precepts in mind, critically set + off those of one master against those of another, and made for himself a + choice which he proceeded to put into practice. + </p> + <p> + At the end of a month it suddenly dawned upon M. des Amis that his + assistant had developed into a fencer of very considerable force, a man in + a bout with whom it became necessary to exert himself if he were to escape + defeat. + </p> + <p> + “I said from the first,” he told him one day, “that Nature designed you + for a swordsman. See how justified I was, and see also how well I have + known how to mould the material with which Nature has equipped you.” + </p> + <p> + “To the master be the glory,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + His relations with M. des Amis had meanwhile become of the friendliest, + and he was now beginning to receive from him other pupils than mere + beginners. In fact Andre-Louis was becoming an assistant in a much fuller + sense of the word. M. des Amis, a chivalrous, open-handed fellow, far from + taking advantage of what he had guessed to be the young man’s + difficulties, rewarded his zeal by increasing his wages to four louis a + month. + </p> + <p> + From the earnest and thoughtful study of the theories of others, it + followed now—as not uncommonly happens—that Andre-Louis came + to develop theories of his own. He lay one June morning on his little + truckle bed in the alcove behind the academy, considering a passage that + he had read last night in Danet on double and triple feints. It had seemed + to him when reading it that Danet had stopped short on the threshold of a + great discovery in the art of fencing. Essentially a theorist, Andre-Louis + perceived the theory suggested, which Danet himself in suggesting it had + not perceived. He lay now on his back, surveying the cracks in the ceiling + and considering this matter further with the lucidity that early morning + often brings to an acute intelligence. You are to remember that for close + upon two months now the sword had been Andre-Louis’ daily exercise and + almost hourly thought. Protracted concentration upon the subject was + giving him an extraordinary penetration of vision. Swordsmanship as he + learnt and taught and saw it daily practised consisted of a series of + attacks and parries, a series of disengages from one line into another. + But always a limited series. A half-dozen disengages on either side was, + strictly speaking, usually as far as any engagement went. Then one + recommenced. But even so, these disengages were fortuitous. What if from + first to last they should be calculated? + </p> + <p> + That was part of the thought—one of the two legs on which his theory + was to stand; the other was: what would happen if one so elaborated + Danet’s ideas on the triple feint as to merge them into a series of actual + calculated disengages to culminate at the fourth or fifth or even sixth + disengage? That is to say, if one were to make a series of attacks + inviting ripostes again to be countered, each of which was not intended to + go home, but simply to play the opponent’s blade into a line that must + open him ultimately, and as predetermined, for an irresistible lunge. Each + counter of the opponent’s would have to be preconsidered in this widening + of his guard, a widening so gradual that he should himself be unconscious + of it, and throughout intent upon getting home his own point on one of + those counters. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis had been in his time a chess-player of some force, and at + chess he had excelled by virtue of his capacity for thinking ahead. That + virtue applied to fencing should all but revolutionize the art. It was so + applied already, of course, but only in an elementary and very limited + fashion, in mere feints, single, double, or triple. But even the triple + feint should be a clumsy device compared with this method upon which he + theorized. + </p> + <p> + He considered further, and the conviction grew that he held the key of a + discovery. He was impatient to put his theory to the test. + </p> + <p> + That morning he was given a pupil of some force, against whom usually he + was hard put to it to defend himself. Coming on guard, he made up his mind + to hit him on the fourth disengage, predetermining the four passes that + should lead up to it. They engaged in tierce, and Andre-Louis led the + attack by a beat and a straightening of the arm. Came the demi-contre he + expected, which he promptly countered by a thrust in quinte; this being + countered again, he reentered still lower, and being again correctly + parried, as he had calculated, he lunged swirling his point into carte, + and got home full upon his opponent’s breast. The ease of it surprised + him. + </p> + <p> + They began again. This time he resolved to go in on the fifth disengage, + and in on that he went with the same ease. Then, complicating the matter + further, he decided to try the sixth, and worked out in his mind the + combination of the five preliminary engages. Yet again he succeeded as + easily as before. + </p> + <p> + The young gentleman opposed to him laughed with just a tinge of + mortification in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am all to pieces this morning,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You are not of your usual force,” Andre-Louis politely agreed. And then + greatly daring, always to test that theory of his to the uttermost: “So + much so,” he added, “that I could almost be sure of hitting you as and + when I declare.” + </p> + <p> + The capable pupil looked at him with a half-sneer. “Ah, that, no,” said + he. + </p> + <p> + “Let us try. On the fourth disengage I shall touch you. Allons! En garde!” + </p> + <p> + And as he promised, so it happened. + </p> + <p> + The young gentleman who, hitherto, had held no great opinion of + Andre-Louis’ swordsmanship, accounting him well enough for purposes of + practice when the master was otherwise engaged, opened wide his eyes. In a + burst of mingled generosity and intoxication, Andre-Louis was almost for + disclosing his method—a method which a little later was to become a + commonplace of the fencing-rooms. Betimes he checked himself. To reveal + his secret would be to destroy the prestige that must accrue to him from + exercising it. + </p> + <p> + At noon, the academy being empty, M. des Amis called Andre-Louis to one of + the occasional lessons which he still received. And for the first time in + all his experience with Andre-Louis, M. des Amis received from him a full + hit in the course of the first bout. He laughed, well pleased, like the + generous fellow he was. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! You are improving very fast, my friend.” He still laughed, though + not so well pleased, when he was hit in the second bout. After that he + settled down to fight in earnest with the result that Andre-Louis was hit + three times in succession. The speed and accuracy of the fencing-master + when fully exerting himself disconcerted Andre-Louis’ theory, which for + want of being exercised in practice still demanded too much consideration. + </p> + <p> + But that his theory was sound he accounted fully established, and with + that, for the moment, he was content. It remained only to perfect by + practice the application of it. To this he now devoted himself with the + passionate enthusiasm of the discoverer. He confined himself to a + half-dozen combinations, which he practised assiduously until each had + become almost automatic. And he proved their infallibility upon the best + among M. des Amis’ pupils. + </p> + <p> + Finally, a week or so after that last bout of his with des Amis, the + master called him once more to practice. + </p> + <p> + Hit again in the first bout, the master set himself to exert all his skill + against his assistant. But to-day it availed him nothing before + Andre-Louis’ impetuous attacks. + </p> + <p> + After the third hit, M. des Amis stepped back and pulled off his mask. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this?” he asked. He was pale, and his dark brows were contracted + in a frown. Not in years had he been so wounded in his self-love. “Have + you been taught a secret botte?” + </p> + <p> + He had always boasted that he knew too much about the sword to believe any + nonsense about secret bottes; but this performance of Andre-Louis’ had + shaken his convictions on that score. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Andre-Louis. “I have been working hard; and it happens that I + fence with my brains.” + </p> + <p> + “So I perceive. Well, well, I think I have taught you enough, my friend. I + have no intention of having an assistant who is superior to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Little danger of that,” said Andre-Louis, smiling pleasantly. “You have + been fencing hard all morning, and you are tired, whilst I, having done + little, am entirely fresh. That is the only secret of my momentary + success.” + </p> + <p> + His tact and the fundamental good-nature of M. des Amis prevented the + matter from going farther along the road it was almost threatening to + take. And thereafter, when they fenced together, Andre-Louis, who + continued daily to perfect his theory into an almost infallible system, + saw to it that M. des Amis always scored against him at least two hits for + every one of his own. So much he would grant to discretion, but no more. + He desired that M. des Amis should be conscious of his strength, without, + however, discovering so much of its real extent as would have excited in + him an unnecessary degree of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + And so well did he contrive that whilst he became ever of greater + assistance to the master—for his style and general fencing, too, had + materially improved—he was also a source of pride to him as the most + brilliant of all the pupils that had ever passed through his academy. + Never did Andre-Louis disillusion him by revealing the fact that his skill + was due far more to M. des Amis’ library and his own mother wit than to + any lessons received. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. QUOS DEUS VULT PERDERE + </h2> + <p> + Once again, precisely as he had done when he joined the Binet troupe, did + Andre-Louis now settle down whole-heartedly to the new profession into + which necessity had driven him, and in which he found effective + concealment from those who might seek him to his hurt. This profession + might—although in fact it did not—have brought him to consider + himself at last as a man of action. He had not, however, on that account + ceased to be a man of thought, and the events of the spring and summer + months of that year 1789 in Paris provided him with abundant matter for + reflection. He read there in the raw what is perhaps the most amazing page + in the history of human development, and in the end he was forced to the + conclusion that all his early preconceptions had been at fault, and that + it was such exalted, passionate enthusiasts as Vilmorin who had been + right. + </p> + <p> + I suspect him of actually taking pride in the fact that he had been + mistaken, complacently attributing his error to the circumstance that he + had been, himself, of too sane and logical a mind to gauge the depths of + human insanity now revealed. + </p> + <p> + He watched the growth of hunger, the increasing poverty and distress of + Paris during that spring, and assigned it to its proper cause, together + with the patience with which the people bore it. The world of France was + in a state of hushed, of paralyzed expectancy, waiting for the States + General to assemble and for centuries of tyranny to end. And because of + this expectancy, industry had come to a standstill, the stream of trade + had dwindled to a trickle. Men would not buy or sell until they clearly + saw the means by which the genius of the Swiss banker, M. Necker, was to + deliver them from this morass. And because of this paralysis of affairs + the men of the people were thrown out of work and left to starve with + their wives and children. + </p> + <p> + Looking on, Andre-Louis smiled grimly. So far he was right. The sufferers + were ever the proletariat. The men who sought to make this revolution, the + electors—here in Paris as elsewhere—were men of substance, + notable bourgeois, wealthy traders. And whilst these, despising the + canaille, and envying the privileged, talked largely of equality—by + which they meant an ascending equality that should confuse themselves with + the gentry—the proletariat perished of want in its kennels. + </p> + <p> + At last with the month of May the deputies arrived, Andre-Louis’ friend Le + Chapelier prominent amongst them, and the States General were inaugurated + at Versailles. It was then that affairs began to become interesting, then + that Andre-Louis began seriously to doubt the soundness of the views he + had held hitherto. + </p> + <p> + When the royal proclamation had gone forth decreeing that the deputies of + the Third Estate should number twice as many as those of the other two + orders together, Andre-Louis had believed that the preponderance of votes + thus assured to the Third Estate rendered inevitable the reforms to which + they had pledged themselves. + </p> + <p> + But he had reckoned without the power of the privileged orders over the + proud Austrian queen, and her power over the obese, phlegmatic, irresolute + monarch. That the privileged orders should deliver battle in defence of + their privileges, Andre-Louis could understand. Man being what he is, and + labouring under his curse of acquisitiveness, will never willingly + surrender possessions, whether they be justly or unjustly held. But what + surprised Andre-Louis was the unutterable crassness of the methods by + which the Privileged ranged themselves for battle. They opposed brute + force to reason and philosophy, and battalions of foreign mercenaries to + ideas. As if ideas were to be impaled on bayonets! + </p> + <p> + The war between the Privileged and the Court on one side, and the Assembly + and the People on the other had begun. + </p> + <p> + The Third Estate contained itself, and waited; waited with the patience of + nature; waited a month whilst, with the paralysis of business now + complete, the skeleton hand of famine took a firmer grip of Paris; waited + a month whilst Privilege gradually assembled an army in Versailles to + intimidate it—an army of fifteen regiments, nine of which were Swiss + and German—and mounted a park of artillery before the building in + which the deputies sat. But the deputies refused to be intimidated; they + refused to see the guns and foreign uniforms; they refused to see anything + but the purpose for which they had been brought together by royal + proclamation. + </p> + <p> + Thus until the 10th of June, when that great thinker and metaphysician, + the Abbe Sieyes, gave the signal: “It is time,” said he, “to cut the + cable.” + </p> + <p> + And the opportunity came soon, at the very beginning of July. M. du + Chatelet, a harsh, haughty disciplinarian, proposed to transfer the eleven + French Guards placed under arrest from the military gaol of the Abbaye to + the filthy prison of Bicetre reserved for thieves and felons of the lowest + order. Word of that intention going forth, the people at last met violence + with violence. A mob four thousand strong broke into the Abbaye, and + delivered thence not only the eleven guardsmen, but all the other + prisoners, with the exception of one whom they discovered to be a thief, + and whom they put back again. + </p> + <p> + That was open revolt at last, and with revolt Privilege knew how to deal. + It would strangle this mutinous Paris in the iron grip of the foreign + regiments. Measures were quickly concerted. Old Marechal de Broglie, a + veteran of the Seven Years’ War, imbued with a soldier’s contempt for + civilians, conceiving that the sight of a uniform would be enough to + restore peace and order, took control with Besenval as his + second-in-command. The foreign regiments were stationed in the environs of + Paris, regiments whose very names were an irritation to the Parisians, + regiments of Reisbach, of Diesbach, of Nassau, Esterhazy, and Roehmer. + Reenforcements of Swiss were sent to the Bastille between whose crenels + already since the 30th of June were to be seen the menacing mouths of + loaded cannon. + </p> + <p> + On the 10th of July the electors once more addressed the King to request + the withdrawal of the troops. They were answered next day that the troops + served the purpose of defending the liberties of the Assembly! And on the + next day to that, which was a Sunday, the philanthropist Dr. Guillotin—whose + philanthropic engine of painless death was before very long to find a deal + of work—came from the Assembly, of which he was a member, to assure + the electors of Paris that all was well, appearances notwithstanding, + since Necker was more firmly in the saddle than ever. He did not know that + at the very moment in which he was speaking so confidently, the + oft-dismissed and oft-recalled M. Necker had just been dismissed yet again + by the hostile cabal about the Queen. Privilege wanted conclusive + measures, and conclusive measures it would have—conclusive to + itself. + </p> + <p> + And at the same time yet another philanthropist, also a doctor, one + Jean-Paul Mara, of Italian extraction—better known as Marat, the + gallicized form of name he adopted—a man of letters, too, who had + spent some years in England, and there published several works on + sociology, was writing: + </p> + <p> + “Have a care! Consider what would be the fatal effect of a seditious + movement. If you should have the misfortune to give way to that, you will + be treated as people in revolt, and blood will flow.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis was in the gardens of the Palais Royal, that place of shops + and puppet-shows, of circus and cafes, of gaming houses and brothels, that + universal rendezvous, on that Sunday morning when the news of Necker’s + dismissal spread, carrying with it dismay and fury. Into Necker’s + dismissal the people read the triumph of the party hostile to themselves. + It sounded the knell of all hope of redress of their wrongs. + </p> + <p> + He beheld a slight young man with a pock-marked face, redeemed from utter + ugliness by a pair of magnificent eyes, leap to a table outside the Café + de Foy, a drawn sword in his hand, crying, “To arms!” And then upon the + silence of astonishment that cry imposed, this young man poured a flood of + inflammatory eloquence, delivered in a voice marred at moments by a + stutter. He told the people that the Germans on the Champ de Mars would + enter Paris that night to butcher the inhabitants. “Let us mount a + cockade!” he cried, and tore a leaf from a tree to serve his purpose—the + green cockade of hope. + </p> + <p> + Enthusiasm swept the crowd, a motley crowd made up of men and women of + every class, from vagabond to nobleman, from harlot to lady of fashion. + Trees were despoiled of their leaves, and the green cockade was flaunted + from almost every head. + </p> + <p> + “You are caught between two fires,” the incendiary’s stuttering voice + raved on. “Between the Germans on the Champ de Mars and the Swiss in the + Bastille. To arms, then! To arms!” + </p> + <p> + Excitement boiled up and over. From a neighbouring waxworks show came the + bust of Necker, and presently a bust of that comedian the Duke of Orleans, + who had a party and who was as ready as any other of the budding + opportunists of those days to take advantage of the moment for his own + aggrandizement. The bust of Necker was draped with crepe. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked on, and grew afraid. Marat’s pamphlet had impressed + him. It had expressed what himself he had expressed more than half a year + ago to the mob at Rennes. This crowd, he felt must be restrained. That + hot-headed, irresponsible stutterer would have the town in a blaze by + night unless something were done. The young man, a causeless advocate of + the Palais named Camille Desmoulins, later to become famous, leapt down + from his table still waving his sword, still shouting, “To arms! Follow + me!” Andre-Louis advanced to occupy the improvised rostrum, which the + stutterer had just vacated, to make an effort at counteracting that + inflammatory performance. He thrust through the crowd, and came suddenly + face to face with a tall man beautifully dressed, whose handsome + countenance was sternly set, whose great sombre eyes mouldered as if with + suppressed anger. + </p> + <p> + Thus face to face, each looking into the eyes of the other, they stood for + a long moment, the jostling crowd streaming past them, unheeded. Then + Andre-Louis laughed. + </p> + <p> + “That fellow, too, has a very dangerous gift of eloquence, M. le Marquis,” + he said. “In fact there are a number of such in France to-day. They grow + from the soil, which you and yours have irrigated with the blood of the + martyrs of liberty. Soon it may be your blood instead. The soil is + parched, and thirsty for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Gallows-bird!” he was answered. “The police will do your affair for you. + I shall tell the Lieutenant-General that you are to be found in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “My God, man!” cried Andre-Louis, “will you never get sense? Will you talk + like that of Lieutenant-Generals when Paris itself is likely to tumble + about your ears or take fire under your feet? Raise your voice, M. le + Marquis. Denounce me here, to these. You will make a hero of me in such an + hour as this. Or shall I denounce you? I think I will. I think it is high + time you received your wages. Hi! You others, listen to me! Let me present + you to...” + </p> + <p> + A rush of men hurtled against him, swept him along with them, do what he + would, separating him from M. de La Tour d’Azyr, so oddly met. He sought + to breast that human torrent; the Marquis, caught in an eddy of it, + remained where he had been, and Andre-Louis’ last glimpse of him was of a + man smiling with tight lips, an ugly smile. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the gardens were emptying in the wake of that stuttering + firebrand who had mounted the green cockade. The human torrent poured out + into the Rue de Richelieu, and Andre-Louis perforce must suffer himself to + be borne along by it, at least as far as the Rue du Hasard. There he + sidled out of it, and having no wish to be crushed to death or to take + further part in the madness that was afoot, he slipped down the street, + and so got home to the deserted academy. For there were no pupils to-day, + and even M. des Amis, like Andre-Louis, had gone out to seek for news of + what was happening at Versailles. + </p> + <p> + This was no normal state of things at the Academy of Bertrand des Amis. + Whatever else in Paris might have been at a standstill lately, the fencing + academy had flourished as never hitherto. Usually both the master and his + assistant were busy from morning until dusk, and already Andre-Louis was + being paid now by the lessons that he gave, the master allowing him one + half of the fee in each case for himself, an arrangement which the + assistant found profitable. On Sundays the academy made half-holiday; but + on this Sunday such had been the state of suspense and ferment in the city + that no one having appeared by eleven o’clock both des Amis and + Andre-Louis had gone out. Little they thought as they lightly took leave + of each other—they were very good friends by now—that they + were never to meet again in this world. + </p> + <p> + Bloodshed there was that day in Paris. On the Place Vendome a detachment + of dragoons awaited the crowd out of which Andre-Louis had slipped. The + horsemen swept down upon the mob, dispersed it, smashed the waxen effigy + of M. Necker, and killed one man on the spot—an unfortunate French + Guard who stood his ground. That was a beginning. As a consequence + Besenval brought up his Swiss from the Champ de Mars and marshalled them + in battle order on the Champs Elysees with four pieces of artillery. His + dragoons he stationed in the Place Louis XV. That evening an enormous + crowd, streaming along the Champs Elysees and the Tuileries Gardens, + considered with eyes of alarm that warlike preparation. Some insults were + cast upon those foreign mercenaries and some stones were flung. Besenval, + losing his head, or acting under orders, sent for his dragoons and ordered + them to disperse the crowd, But that crowd was too dense to be dispersed + in this fashion; so dense that it was impossible for the horsemen to move + without crushing some one. There were several crushed, and as a + consequence when the dragoons, led by the Prince de Lambesc, advanced into + the Tuileries Gardens, the outraged crowd met them with a fusillade of + stones and bottles. Lambesc gave the order to fire. There was a stampede. + Pouring forth from the Tuileries through the city went those indignant + people with their story of German cavalry trampling upon women and + children, and uttering now in grimmest earnest the call to arms, raised at + noon by Desmoulins in the Palais Royal. + </p> + <p> + The victims were taken up and borne thence, and amongst them was Bertrand + des Amis, himself—like all who lived by the sword—an ardent + upholder of the noblesse, trampled to death under hooves of foreign + horsemen launched by the noblesse and led by a nobleman. + </p> + <p> + To Andre-Louis, waiting that evening on the second floor of No. 13 Rue du + Hasard for the return of his friend and master, four men of the people + brought that broken body of one of the earliest victims of the Revolution + that was now launched in earnest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. PRESIDENT LE CHAPELIER + </h2> + <p> + The ferment of Paris which, during the two following days, resembled an + armed camp rather than a city, delayed the burial of Bertrand des Amis + until the Wednesday of that eventful week. Amid events that were shaking a + nation to its foundations the death of a fencing-master passed almost + unnoticed even among his pupils, most of whom did not come to the academy + during the two days that his body lay there. Some few, however, did come, + and these conveyed the news to others, with the result that the master was + followed to Pere Lachaise by a score of young men at the head of whom as + chief mourner walked Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + There were no relatives to be advised so far as Andre-Louis was aware, + although within a week of M. des Amis’ death a sister turned up from Passy + to claim his heritage. This was considerable, for the master had prospered + and saved money, most of which was invested in the Compagnie des Eaux and + the National Debt. Andre-Louis consigned her to the lawyers, and saw her + no more. + </p> + <p> + The death of des Amis left him with so profound a sense of loneliness and + desolation that he had no thought or care for the sudden access of fortune + which it automatically procured him. To the master’s sister might fall + such wealth as he had amassed, but Andre-Louis succeeded to the mine + itself from which that wealth had been extracted, the fencing-school in + which by now he was himself so well established as an instructor that its + numerous pupils looked to him to carry it forward successfully as its + chief. And never was there a season in which fencing-academies knew such + prosperity as in these troubled days, when every man was sharpening his + sword and schooling himself in the uses of it. + </p> + <p> + It was not until a couple of weeks later that Andre-Louis realized what + had really happened to him, and he found himself at the same time an + exhausted man, for during that fortnight he had been doing the work of + two. If he had not hit upon the happy expedient of pairing-off his more + advanced pupils to fence with each other, himself standing by to + criticize, correct and otherwise instruct, he must have found the task + utterly beyond his strength. Even so, it was necessary for him to fence + some six hours daily, and every day he brought arrears of lassitude from + yesterday until he was in danger of succumbing under the increasing burden + of fatigue. In the end he took an assistant to deal with beginners, who + gave the hardest work. He found him readily enough by good fortune in one + of his own pupils named Le Duc. As the summer advanced, and the concourse + of pupils steadily increased, it became necessary for him to take yet + another assistant—an able young instructor named Galoche—and + another room on the floor above. + </p> + <p> + They were strenuous days for Andre-Louis, more strenuous than he had ever + known, even when he had been at work to build up the Binet Company; but it + follows that they were days of extraordinary prosperity. He comments + regretfully upon the fact that Bertrand des Amis should have died by + ill-chance on the very eve of so profitable a vogue of sword-play. + </p> + <p> + The arms of the Academie du Roi, to which Andre-Louis had no title, still + continued to be displayed outside his door. He had overcome the difficulty + in a manner worthy of Scaramouche. He left the escutcheon and the legend + “Academie de Bertrand des Amis, Maitre en fait d’Armes des Academies du + Roi,” appending to it the further legend: “Conducted by Andre-Louis.” + </p> + <p> + With little time now in which to go abroad it was from his pupils and the + newspapers—of which a flood had risen in Paris with the + establishment of the freedom of the Press—that he learnt of the + revolutionary processes around him, following upon, as a measure of + anticlimax, the fall of the Bastille. That had happened whilst M. des Amis + lay dead, on the day before they buried him, and was indeed the chief + reason of the delay in his burial. It was an event that had its + inspiration in that ill-considered charge of Prince Lambesc in which the + fencing-master had been killed. + </p> + <p> + The outraged people had besieged the electors in the Hotel de Ville, + demanding arms with which to defend their lives from these foreign + murderers hired by despotism. And in the end the electors had consented to + give them arms, or, rather—for arms it had none to give—to + permit them to arm themselves. Also it had given them a cockade, of red + and blue, the colours of Paris. Because these colours were also those of + the liveries of the Duke of Orleans, white was added to them—the + white of the ancient standard of France—and thus was the tricolour + born. Further, a permanent committee of electors was appointed to watch + over public order. + </p> + <p> + Thus empowered the people went to work with such good effect that within + thirty-six hours sixty thousand pikes had been forged. At nine o’clock on + Tuesday morning thirty thousand men were before the Invalides. By eleven + o’clock they had ravished it of its store of arms amounting to some thirty + thousand muskets, whilst others had seized the Arsenal and possessed + themselves of powder. + </p> + <p> + Thus they prepared to resist the attack that from seven points was to be + launched that evening upon the city. But Paris did not wait for the + attack. It took the initiative. Mad with enthusiasm it conceived the + insane project of taking that terrible menacing fortress, the Bastille, + and, what is more, it succeeded, as you know, before five o’clock that + night, aided in the enterprise by the French Guards with cannon. + </p> + <p> + The news of it, borne to Versailles by Lambesc in flight with his dragoons + before the vast armed force that had sprouted from the paving-stones of + Paris, gave the Court pause. The people were in possession of the guns + captured from the Bastille. They were erecting barricades in the streets, + and mounting these guns upon them. The attack had been too long delayed. + It must be abandoned since now it could lead only to fruitless slaughter + that must further shake the already sorely shaken prestige of Royalty. + </p> + <p> + And so the Court, growing momentarily wise again under the spur of fear, + preferred to temporize. Necker should be brought back yet once again, the + three orders should sit united as the National Assembly demanded. It was + the completest surrender of force to force, the only argument. The King + went alone to inform the National Assembly of that eleventh-hour resolve, + to the great comfort of its members, who viewed with pain and alarm the + dreadful state of things in Paris. “No force but the force of reason and + argument” was their watchword, and it was so to continue for two years + yet, with a patience and fortitude in the face of ceaseless provocation to + which insufficient justice has been done. + </p> + <p> + As the King was leaving the Assembly, a woman, embracing his knees, gave + tongue to what might well be the question of all France: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sire, are you really sincere? Are you sure they will not make you + change your mind?” + </p> + <p> + Yet no such question was asked when a couple of days later the King, alone + and unguarded save by the representatives of the Nation, came to Paris to + complete the peacemaking, the surrender of Privilege. The Court was filled + with terror by the adventure. Were they not the “enemy,” these mutinous + Parisians? And should a King go thus among his enemies? If he shared some + of that fear, as the gloom of him might lead us to suppose, he must have + found it idle. What if two hundred thousand men under arms—men + without uniforms and with the most extraordinary motley of weapons ever + seen—awaited him? They awaited him as a guard of honour. + </p> + <p> + Mayor Bailly at the barrier presented him with the keys of the city. + “These are the same keys that were presented to Henri IV. He had + reconquered his people. Now the people have reconquered their King.” + </p> + <p> + At the Hotel de Ville Mayor Bailly offered him the new cockade, the + tricoloured symbol of constitutional France, and when he had given his + royal confirmation to the formation of the Garde Bourgeoise and to the + appointments of Bailly and Lafayette, he departed again for Versailles + amid the shouts of “Vive le Roi!” from his loyal people. + </p> + <p> + And now you see Privilege—before the cannon’s mouth, as it were—submitting + at last, where had they submitted sooner they might have saved oceans of + blood—chiefly their own. They come, nobles and clergy, to join the + National Assembly, to labour with it upon this constitution that is to + regenerate France. But the reunion is a mockery—as much a mockery as + that of the Archbishop of Paris singing the Te Deum for the fall of the + Bastille—most grotesque and incredible of all these grotesque and + incredible events. All that has happened to the National Assembly is that + it has introduced five or six hundred enemies to hamper and hinder its + deliberations. + </p> + <p> + But all this is an oft-told tale, to be read in detail elsewhere. I give + you here just so much of it as I have found in Andre-Louis’ own writings, + almost in his own words, reflecting the changes that were operated in his + mind. Silent now, he came fully to believe in those things in which he had + not believed when earlier he had preached them. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile together with the change in his fortune had come a change in his + position towards the law, a change brought about by the other changes + wrought around him. No longer need he hide himself. Who in these days + would prefer against him the grotesque charge of sedition for what he had + done in Brittany? What court would dare to send him to the gallows for + having said in advance what all France was saying now? As for that other + possible charge of murder, who should concern himself with the death of + the miserable Binet killed by him—if, indeed, he had killed him, as + he hoped—in self-defence. + </p> + <p> + And so one fine day in early August, Andre-Louis gave himself a holiday + from the academy, which was now working smoothly under his assistants, + hired a chaise and drove out to Versailles to the Café d’Amaury, which he + knew for the meeting-place of the Club Breton, the seed from which was to + spring that Society of the Friends of the Constitution better known as the + Jacobins. He went to seek Le Chapelier, who had been one of the founders + of the club, a man of great prominence now, president of the Assembly in + this important season when it was deliberating upon the Declaration of the + Rights of Man. + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier’s importance was reflected in the sudden servility of the + shirt-sleeved, white-aproned waiter of whom Andre-Louis inquired for the + representative. + </p> + <p> + M. Le Chapelier was above-stairs with friends. The waiter desired to serve + the gentleman, but hesitated to break in upon the assembly in which M. le + Depute found himself. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis gave him a piece of silver to encourage him to make the + attempt. Then he sat down at a marble-topped table by the window looking + out over the wide tree-encircled square. There, in that common-room of the + café, deserted at this hour of mid-afternoon, the great man came to him. + Less than a year ago he had yielded precedence to Andre-Louis in a matter + of delicate leadership; to-day he stood on the heights, one of the great + leaders of the Nation in travail, and Andre-Louis was deep down in the + shadows of the general mass. + </p> + <p> + The thought was in the minds of both as they scanned each other, each + noting in the other the marked change that a few months had wrought. In Le + Chapelier, Andre-Louis observed certain heightened refinements of dress + that went with certain subtler refinements of countenance. He was thinner + than of old, his face was pale and there was a weariness in the eyes that + considered his visitor through a gold-rimmed spy-glass. In Andre-Louis + those jaded but quick-moving eyes of the Breton deputy noted changes even + more marked. The almost constant swordmanship of these last months had + given Andre-Louis a grace of movement, a poise, and a curious, indefinable + air of dignity, of command. He seemed taller by virtue of this, and he was + dressed with an elegance which if quiet was none the less rich. He wore a + small silver-hilted sword, and wore it as if used to it, and his black + hair that Le Chapelier had never seen other than fluttering lank about his + bony cheeks was glossy now and gathered into a club. Almost he had the air + of a petit-maitre. + </p> + <p> + In both, however, the changes were purely superficial, as each was soon to + reveal to the other. Le Chapelier was ever the same direct and downright + Breton, abrupt of manner and of speech. He stood smiling a moment in + mingled surprise and pleasure; then opened wide his arms. They embraced + under the awe-stricken gaze of the waiter, who at once effaced himself. + </p> + <p> + “Andre-Louis, my friend! Whence do you drop?” + </p> + <p> + “We drop from above. I come from below to survey at close quarters one who + is on the heights.” + </p> + <p> + “On the heights! But that you willed it so, it is yourself might now be + standing in my place.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a poor head for heights, and I find the atmosphere too rarefied. + Indeed, you look none too well on it yourself, Isaac. You are pale.” + </p> + <p> + “The Assembly was in session all last night. That is all. These damned + Privileged multiply our difficulties. They will do so until we decree + their abolition.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down. “Abolition! You contemplate so much? Not that you surprise + me. You have always been an extremist.” + </p> + <p> + “I contemplate it that I may save them. I seek to abolish them officially, + so as to save them from abolition of another kind at the hands of a people + they exasperate.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. And the King?” + </p> + <p> + “The King is the incarnation of the Nation. We shall deliver him together + with the Nation from the bondage of Privilege. Our constitution will + accomplish it. You agree?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis shrugged. “Does it matter? I am a dreamer in politics, not a + man of action. Until lately I have been very moderate; more moderate than + you think. But now almost I am a republican. I have been watching, and I + have perceived that this King is—just nothing, a puppet who dances + according to the hand that pulls the string.” + </p> + <p> + “This King, you say? What other king is possible? You are surely not of + those who weave dreams about Orleans? He has a sort of party, a following + largely recruited by the popular hatred of the Queen and the known fact + that she hates him. There are some who have thought of making him regent, + some even more; Robespierre is of the number.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” asked Andre-Louis, to whom the name was unknown. + </p> + <p> + “Robespierre—a preposterous little lawyer who represents Arras, a + shabby, clumsy, timid dullard, who will make speeches through his nose to + which nobody listens—an ultra-royalist whom the royalists and the + Orleanists are using for their own ends. He has pertinacity, and he + insists upon being heard. He may be listened to some day. But that he, or + the others, will ever make anything of Orleans... pish! Orleans himself + may desire it, but the man is a eunuch in crime; he would, but he can’t. + The phrase is Mirabeau’s.” + </p> + <p> + He broke off to demand Andre-Louis’ news of himself. + </p> + <p> + “You did not treat me as a friend when you wrote to me,” he complained. + “You gave me no clue to your whereabouts; you represented yourself as on + the verge of destitution and withheld from me the means to come to your + assistance. I have been troubled in mind about you, Andre. Yet to judge by + your appearance I might have spared myself that. You seem prosperous, + assured. Tell me of it.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis told him frankly all that there was to tell. “Do you know that + you are an amazement to me?” said the deputy. “From the robe to the + buskin, and now from the buskin to the sword! What will be the end of you, + I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “The gallows, probably.” + </p> + <p> + “Pish! Be serious. Why not the toga of the senator in senatorial France? + It might be yours now if you had willed it so.” + </p> + <p> + “The surest way to the gallows of all,” laughed Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + At the moment Le Chapelier manifested impatience. I wonder did the phrase + cross his mind that day four years later when himself he rode in the + death-cart to the Greve. + </p> + <p> + “We are sixty-six Breton deputies in the Assembly. Should a vacancy occur, + will you act as suppleant? A word from me together with the influence of + your name in Rennes and Nantes, and the thing is done.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis laughed outright. “Do you know, Isaac, that I never meet you + but you seek to thrust me into politics?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you have a gift for politics. You were born for politics.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes—Scaramouche in real life. I’ve played it on the stage. Let + that suffice. Tell me, Isaac, what news of my old friend, La Tour d’Azyr?” + </p> + <p> + “He is here in Versailles, damn him—a thorn in the flesh of the + Assembly. They’ve burnt his chateau at La Tour d’Azyr. Unfortunately he + wasn’t in it at the time. The flames haven’t even singed his insolence. He + dreams that when this philosophic aberration is at an end, there will be + serfs to rebuild it for him.” + </p> + <p> + “So there has been trouble in Brittany?” Andre-Louis had become suddenly + grave, his thoughts swinging to Gavrillac. + </p> + <p> + “An abundance of it, and elsewhere too. Can you wonder? These delays at + such a time, with famine in the land? Chateaux have been going up in smoke + during the last fortnight. The peasants took their cue from the Parisians, + and treated every castle as a Bastille. Order is being restored, there as + here, and they are quieter now.” + </p> + <p> + “What of Gavrillac? Do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe all to be well. M. de Kercadiou was not a Marquis de La Tour + d’Azyr. He was in sympathy with his people. It is not likely that they + would injure Gavrillac. But don’t you correspond with your godfather?” + </p> + <p> + “In the circumstances—no. What you tell me would make it now more + difficult than ever, for he must account me one of those who helped to + light the torch that has set fire to so much belonging to his class. + Ascertain for me that all is well, and let me know.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, at once.” + </p> + <p> + At parting, when Andre-Louis was on the point of stepping into his + cabriolet to return to Paris, he sought information on another matter. + </p> + <p> + “Do you happen to know if M. de La Tour d’Azyr has married?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t; which really means that he hasn’t. One would have heard of it in + the case of that exalted Privileged.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure.” Andre-Louis spoke indifferently. “Au revoir, Isaac! You’ll + come and see me—13 Rue du Hasard. Come soon.” + </p> + <p> + “As soon and as often as my duties will allow. They keep me chained here + at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor slave of duty with your gospel of liberty!” + </p> + <p> + “True! And because of that I will come. I have a duty to Brittany: to make + Omnes Omnibus one of her representatives in the National Assembly.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a duty you will oblige me by neglecting,” laughed Andre-Louis, + and drove away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. AT MEUDON + </h2> + <p> + Later in the week he received a visit from Le Chapelier just before noon. + </p> + <p> + “I have news for you, Andre. Your godfather is at Meudon. He arrived there + two days ago. Had you heard?” + </p> + <p> + “But no. How should I hear? Why is he at Meudon?” He was conscious of a + faint excitement, which he could hardly have explained. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. There have been fresh disturbances in Brittany. It may be + due to that.” + </p> + <p> + “And so he has come for shelter to his brother?” asked Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “To his brother’s house, yes; but not to his brother. Where do you live at + all, Andre? Do you never hear any of the news? Etienne de Gavrillac + emigrated years ago. He was of the household of M. d’Artois, and he + crossed the frontier with him. By now, no doubt, he is in Germany with + him, conspiring against France. For that is what the emigres are doing. + That Austrian woman at the Tuileries will end by destroying the monarchy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Andre-Louis impatiently. Politics interested him not at + all this morning. “But about Gavrillac?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, haven’t I told you that Gavrillac is at Meudon, installed in the + house his brother has left? Dieu de Dieu! Don’t I speak French or don’t + you understand the language? I believe that Rabouillet, his intendant, is + in charge of Gavrillac. I have brought you the news the moment I received + it. I thought you would probably wish to go out to Meudon.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. I will go at once—that is, as soon as I can. I can’t + to-day, nor yet to-morrow. I am too busy here.” He waved a hand towards + the inner room, whence proceeded the click-click of blades, the quick + moving of feet, and the voice of the instructor, Le Duc. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, that is your own affair. You are busy. I leave you now. Let + us dine this evening at the Café de Foy. Kersain will be of the party.” + </p> + <p> + “A moment!” Andre-Louis’ voice arrested him on the threshold. “Is Mlle. de + Kercadiou with her uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “How the devil should I know? Go and find out.” + </p> + <p> + He was gone, and Andre-Louis stood there a moment deep in thought. Then he + turned and went back to resume with his pupil, the Vicomte de Villeniort, + the interrupted exposition of the demi-contre of Danet, illustrating with + a small-sword the advantages to be derived from its adoption. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter he fenced with the Vicomte, who was perhaps the ablest of his + pupils at the time, and all the while his thoughts were on the heights of + Meudon, his mind casting up the lessons he had to give that afternoon and + on the morrow, and wondering which of these he might postpone without + deranging the academy. When having touched the Vicomte three times in + succession, he paused and wrenched himself back to the present, it was to + marvel at the precision to be gained by purely mechanical action. Without + bestowing a thought upon what he was doing, his wrist and arm and knees + had automatically performed their work, like the accurate fighting engine + into which constant practice for a year and more had combined them. + </p> + <p> + Not until Sunday was Andre-Louis able to satisfy a wish which the + impatience of the intervening days had converted into a yearning. Dressed + with more than ordinary care, his head elegantly coiffed—by one of + those hairdressers to the nobility of whom so many were being thrown out + of employment by the stream of emigration which was now flowing freely—Andre-Louis + mounted his hired carriage, and drove out to Meudon. + </p> + <p> + The house of the younger Kercadiou no more resembled that of the head of + the family than did his person. A man of the Court, where his brother was + essentially a man of the soil, an officer of the household of M. le Comte + d’Artois, he had built for himself and his family an imposing villa on the + heights of Meudon in a miniature park, conveniently situated for him + midway between Versailles and Paris, and easily accessible from either. M. + d’Artois—the royal tennis-player—had been amongst the very + first to emigrate. Together with the Condes, the Contis, the Polignacs, + and others of the Queen’s intimate council, old Marshal de Broglie and the + Prince de Lambesc, who realized that their very names had become odious to + the people, he had quitted France immediately after the fall of the + Bastille. He had gone to play tennis beyond the frontier—and there + consummate the work of ruining the French monarchy upon which he and those + others had been engaged in France. With him, amongst several members of + his household went Etienne de Kercadiou, and with Etienne de Kercadiou + went his family, a wife and four children. Thus it was that the Seigneur + de Gavrillac, glad to escape from a province so peculiarly disturbed as + that of Brittany—where the nobles had shown themselves the most + intransigent of all France—had come to occupy in his brother’s + absence the courtier’s handsome villa at Meudon. + </p> + <p> + That he was quite happy there is not to be supposed. A man of his almost + Spartan habits, accustomed to plain fare and self-help, was a little + uneasy in this sybaritic abode, with its soft carpets, profusion of + gilding, and battalion of sleek, silent-footed servants—for + Kercadiou the younger had left his entire household behind. Time, which at + Gavrillac he had kept so fully employed in agrarian concerns, here hung + heavily upon his hands. In self-defence he slept a great deal, and but for + Aline, who made no attempt to conceal her delight at this proximity to + Paris and the heart of things, it is possible that he would have beat a + retreat almost at once from surroundings that sorted so ill with his + habits. Later on, perhaps, he would accustom himself and grow resigned to + this luxurious inactivity. In the meantime the novelty of it fretted him, + and it was into the presence of a peevish and rather somnolent M. de + Kercadiou that Andre-Louis was ushered in the early hours of the afternoon + of that Sunday in June. He was unannounced, as had ever been the custom at + Gavrillac. This because Benoit, M. de Kercadiou’s old seneschal, had + accompanied his seigneur upon this soft adventure, and was installed—to + the ceaseless and but half-concealed hilarity of the impertinent + valetaille that M. Etienne had left—as his maitre d’hotel here at + Meudon. + </p> + <p> + Benoit had welcomed M. Andre with incoherencies of delight; almost had he + gambolled about him like some faithful dog, whilst conducting him to the + salon and the presence of the Lord of Gavrillac, who would—in the + words of Benoit—be ravished to see M. Andre again. + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur! Monseigneur!” he cried in a quavering voice, entering a pace + or two in advance of the visitor. “It is M. Andre... M. Andre, your + godson, who comes to kiss your hand. He is here... and so fine that you + would hardly know him. Here he is, monseigneur! Is he not beautiful?” + </p> + <p> + And the old servant rubbed his hands in conviction of the delight that he + believed he was conveying to his master. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis crossed the threshold of that great room, soft-carpeted to the + foot, dazzling to the eye. It was immensely lofty, and its festooned + ceiling was carried on fluted pillars with gilded capitals. The door by + which he entered, and the windows that opened upon the garden, were of an + enormous height—almost, indeed, the full height of the room itself. + It was a room overwhelmingly gilded, with an abundance of ormolu + encrustations on the furniture, in which it nowise differed from what was + customary in the dwellings of people of birth and wealth. Never, indeed, + was there a time in which so much gold was employed decoratively as in + this age when coined gold was almost unprocurable, and paper money had + been put into circulation to supply the lack. It was a saying of + Andre-Louis’ that if these people could only have been induced to put the + paper on their walls and the gold into their pockets, the finances of the + kingdom might soon have been in better case. + </p> + <p> + The Seigneur—furbished and beruffled to harmonize with his + surroundings—had risen, startled by this exuberant invasion on the + part of Benoit, who had been almost as forlorn as himself since their + coming to Meudon. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Eh?” His pale, short-sighted eyes peered at the visitor. + “Andre!” said he, between surprise and sternness; and the colour deepened + in his great pink face. + </p> + <p> + Benoit, with his back to his master, deliberately winked and grinned at + Andre-Louis to encourage him not to be put off by any apparent hostility + on the part of his godfather. That done, the intelligent old fellow + discreetly effaced himself. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want here?” growled M. de Kercadiou. + </p> + <p> + “No more than to kiss your hand, as Benoit has told you, monsieur my + godfather,” said Andre-Louis submissively, bowing his sleek black head. + </p> + <p> + “You have contrived without kissing it for two years.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not, monsieur, reproach me with my misfortune.” + </p> + <p> + The little man stood very stiffly erect, his disproportionately large head + thrown back, his pale prominent eyes very stern. + </p> + <p> + “Did you think to make your outrageous offence any better by vanishing in + that heartless manner, by leaving us without knowledge of whether you were + alive or dead?” + </p> + <p> + “At first it was dangerous—dangerous to my life—to disclose my + whereabouts. Then for a time I was in need, almost destitute, and my pride + forbade me, after what I had done and the view you must take of it, to + appeal to you for help. Later...” + </p> + <p> + “Destitute?” The Seigneur interrupted. For a moment his lip trembled. Then + he steadied himself, and the frown deepened as he surveyed this very + changed and elegant godson of his, noted the quiet richness of his + apparel, the paste buckles and red heels to his shoes, the sword hilted in + mother-o’-pearl and silver, and the carefully dressed hair that he had + always seen hanging in wisps about his face. “At least you do not look + destitute now,” he sneered. + </p> + <p> + “I am not. I have prospered since. In that, monsieur, I differ from the + ordinary prodigal, who returns only when he needs assistance. I return + solely because I love you, monsieur—to tell you so. I have come at + the very first moment after hearing of your presence here.” He advanced. + “Monsieur my godfather!” he said, and held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + But M. de Kercadiou remained unbending, wrapped in his cold dignity and + resentment. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever tribulations you may have suffered or consider that you may have + suffered, they are far less than your disgraceful conduct deserved, and I + observe that they have nothing abated your impudence. You think that you + have but to come here and say, ‘Monsieur my godfather!’ and everything is + to be forgiven and forgotten. That is your error. You have committed too + great a wrong; you have offended against everything by which I hold, and + against myself personally, by your betrayal of my trust in you. You are + one of those unspeakable scoundrels who are responsible for this + revolution.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, monsieur, I see that you share the common delusion. These + unspeakable scoundrels but demanded a constitution, as was promised them + from the throne. They were not to know that the promise was insincere, or + that its fulfilment would be baulked by the privileged orders. The men who + have precipitated this revolution, monsieur, are the nobles and the + prelates.” + </p> + <p> + “You dare—and at such a time as this—stand there and tell me + such abominable lies! You dare to say that the nobles have made the + revolution, when scores of them, following the example of M. le Duc + d’Aiguillon, have flung their privileges, even their title-deeds, into the + lap of the people! Or perhaps you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. Having wantonly set fire to their house, they now try to put it + out by throwing water on it; and where they fail they put the entire blame + on the flames.” + </p> + <p> + “I see that you have come here to talk politics.” + </p> + <p> + “Far from it. I have come, if possible, to explain myself. To understand + is always to forgive. That is a great saying of Montaigne’s. If I could + make you understand...” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t. You’ll never make me understand how you came to render + yourself so odiously notorious in Brittany.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, not odiously, monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, odiously—among those that matter. It is said even that + you were Omnes Omnibus, though that I cannot, will not believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet it is true.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou choked. “And you confess it? You dare to confess it?” + </p> + <p> + “What a man dares to do, he should dare to confess—unless he is a + coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and to be sure you were very brave, running away each time after you + had done the mischief, turning comedian to hide yourself, doing more + mischief as a comedian, provoking a riot in Nantes, and then running away + again, to become God knows what—something dishonest by the affluent + look of you. My God, man, I tell you that in these past two years I have + hoped that you were dead, and you profoundly disappoint me that you are + not!” He beat his hands together, and raised his shrill voice to call—“Benoit!” + He strode away towards the fireplace, scarlet in the face, shaking with + the passion into which he had worked himself. “Dead, I might have forgiven + you, as one who had paid for his evil, and his folly. Living, I never can + forgive you. You have gone too far. God alone knows where it will end. + </p> + <p> + “Benoit, the door. M. Andre-Louis Moreau to the door!” The tone argued an + irrevocable determination. Pale and self-contained, but with a queer pain + at his heart, Andre-Louis heard that dismissal, saw Benoit’s white, scared + face and shaking hands half-raised as if he were about to expostulate with + his master. And then another voice, a crisp, boyish voice, cut in. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle!” it cried, a world of indignation and surprise in its pitch, and + then: “Andre!” And this time a note almost of gladness, certainly of + welcome, was blended with the surprise that still remained. + </p> + <p> + Both turned, half the room between them at the moment, and beheld Aline in + one of the long, open windows, arrested there in the act of entering from + the garden, Aline in a milk-maid bonnet of the latest mode, though without + any of the tricolour embellishments that were so commonly to be seen upon + them. + </p> + <p> + The thin lips of Andre’s long mouth twisted into a queer smile. Into his + mind had flashed the memory of their last parting. He saw himself again, + standing burning with indignation upon the pavement of Nantes, looking + after her carriage as it receded down the Avenue de Gigan. + </p> + <p> + She was coming towards him now with outstretched hands, a heightened + colour in her cheeks, a smile of welcome on her lips. He bowed low and + kissed her hand in silence. + </p> + <p> + Then with a glance and a gesture she dismissed Benoit, and in her + imperious fashion constituted herself Andre’s advocate against that harsh + dismissal which she had overheard. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle,” she said, leaving Andre and crossing to M. de Kercadiou, “you + make me ashamed of you! To allow a feeling of peevishness to overwhelm all + your affection for Andre!” + </p> + <p> + “I have no affection for him. I had once. He chose to extinguish it. He + can go to the devil; and please observe that I don’t permit you to + interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he confesses that he has done wrong...” + </p> + <p> + “He confesses nothing of the kind. He comes here to argue with me about + these infernal Rights of Man. He proclaims himself unrepentant. He + announces himself with pride to have been, as all Brittany says, the + scoundrel who hid himself under the sobriquet of Omnes Omnibus. Is that to + be condoned?” + </p> + <p> + She turned to look at Andre across the wide space that now separated them. + </p> + <p> + “But is this really so? Don’t you repent, Andre—now that you see all + the harm that has come?” + </p> + <p> + It was a clear invitation to him, a pleading to him to say that he + repented, to make his peace with his godfather. For a moment it almost + moved him. Then, considering the subterfuge unworthy, he answered + truthfully, though the pain he was suffering rang in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “To confess repentance,” he said slowly, “would be to confess to a + monstrous crime. Don’t you see that? Oh, monsieur, have patience with me; + let me explain myself a little. You say that I am in part responsible for + something of all this that has happened. My exhortations of the people at + Rennes and twice afterwards at Nantes are said to have had their share in + what followed there. It may be so. It would be beyond my power positively + to deny it. Revolution followed and bloodshed. More may yet come. To + repent implies a recognition that I have done wrong. How shall I say that + I have done wrong, and thus take a share of the responsibility for all + that blood upon my soul? I will be quite frank with you to show you how + far, indeed, I am from repentance. What I did, I actually did against all + my convictions at the time. Because there was no justice in France to move + against the murderer of Philippe de Vilmorin, I moved in the only way that + I imagined could make the evil done recoil upon the hand that did it, and + those other hands that had the power but not the spirit to punish. Since + then I have come to see that I was wrong, and that Philippe de Vilmorin + and those who thought with him were in the right. + </p> + <p> + “You must realize, monsieur, that it is with sincerest thankfulness that I + find I have done nothing calling for repentance; that, on the contrary, + when France is given the inestimable boon of a constitution, as will + shortly happen, I may take pride in having played my part in bringing + about the conditions that have made this possible.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. M. de Kercadiou’s face turned from pink to purple. + </p> + <p> + “You have quite finished?” he said harshly. + </p> + <p> + “If you have understood me, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have understood you, and... and I beg that you will go.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis shrugged his shoulders and hung his head. He had come there so + joyously, in such yearning, merely to receive a final dismissal. He looked + at Aline. Her face was pale and troubled; but her wit failed to show her + how she could come to his assistance. His excessive honesty had burnt all + his boats. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, monsieur. Yet this I would ask you to remember after I am + gone. I have not come to you as one seeking assistance, as one driven to + you by need. I am no returning prodigal, as I have said. I am one who, + needing nothing, asking nothing, master of his own destinies, has come to + you driven by affection only, urged by the love and gratitude he bears you + and will continue to bear you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” cried Aline, turning now to her uncle. Here at least was an + argument in Andre’s favour, thought she. “That is true. Surely that...” + </p> + <p> + Inarticulately he hissed her into silence, exasperated. + </p> + <p> + “Hereafter perhaps that will help you to think of me more kindly, + monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “I see no occasion, sir, to think of you at all. Again, I beg that you + will go.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked at Aline an instant, as if still hesitating. + </p> + <p> + She answered him by a glance at her furious uncle, a faint shrug, and a + lift of the eyebrows, dejection the while in her countenance. + </p> + <p> + It was as if she said: “You see his mood. There is nothing to be done.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed with that singular grace the fencing-room had given him and went + out by the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is cruel!” cried Aline, in a stifled voice, her hands clenched, + and she sprang to the window. + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” her uncle’s voice arrested her. “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “But we do not know where he is to be found.” + </p> + <p> + “Who wants to find the scoundrel?” + </p> + <p> + “We may never see him again.” + </p> + <p> + “That is most fervently to be desired.” + </p> + <p> + Aline said “Ouf!” and went out by the window. + </p> + <p> + He called after her, imperiously commanding her return. But Aline—dutiful + child—closed her ears lest she must disobey him, and sped + light-footed across the lawn to the avenue there to intercept the + departing Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + As he came forth wrapped in gloom, she stepped from the bordering trees + into his path. + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” he cried, joyously almost. + </p> + <p> + “I did not want you to go like this. I couldn’t let you,” she explained + herself. “I know him better than you do, and I know that his great soft + heart will presently melt. He will be filled with regret. He will want to + send for you, and he will not know where to send.” + </p> + <p> + “You think that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know it! You arrive in a bad moment. He is peevish and + cross-grained, poor man, since he came here. These soft surroundings are + all so strange to him. He wearies himself away from his beloved Gavrillac, + his hunting and tillage, and the truth is that in his mind he very largely + blames you for what has happened—for the necessity, or at least, the + wisdom, of this change. Brittany, you must know, was becoming too unsafe. + The chateau of La Tour d’Azyr, amongst others, was burnt to the ground + some months ago. At any moment, given a fresh excitement, it may be the + turn of Gavrillac. And for this and his present discomfort he blames you + and your friends. But he will come round presently. He will be sorry that + he sent you away like this—for I know that he loves you, Andre, in + spite of all. I shall reason with him when the time comes. And then we + shall want to know where to find you.” + </p> + <p> + “At number 13, Rue du Hasard. The number is unlucky, the name of the + street appropriate. Therefore both are easy to remember.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “I will walk with you to the gates.” And side by side now they + proceeded at a leisurely pace down the long avenue in the June sunshine + dappled by the shadows of the bordering trees. “You are looking well, + Andre; and do you know that you have changed a deal? I am glad that you + have prospered.” And then, abruptly changing the subject before he had + time to answer her, she came to the matter uppermost in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “I have so wanted to see you in all these months, Andre. You were the only + one who could help me; the only one who could tell me the truth, and I was + angry with you for never having written to say where you were to be + found.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you encouraged me to do so when last we met in Nantes.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Still resentful?” + </p> + <p> + “I am never resentful. You should know that.” He expressed one of his + vanities. He loved to think himself a Stoic. “But I still bear the scar of + a wound that would be the better for the balm of your retraction.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, I retract, Andre. And now tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a self-seeking retraction,” said he. “You give me something that you + may obtain something.” He laughed quite pleasantly. “Well, well; command + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Andre.” She paused, as if in some difficulty, and then went on, + her eyes upon the ground: “Tell me—the truth of that event at the + Feydau.” + </p> + <p> + The request fetched a frown to his brow. He suspected at once the thought + that prompted it. Quite simply and briefly he gave her his version of the + affair. + </p> + <p> + She listened very attentively. When he had done she sighed; her face was + very thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “That is much what I was told,” she said. “But it was added that M. de La + Tour d’Azyr had gone to the theatre expressly for the purpose of breaking + finally with La Binet. Do you know if that was so?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t; nor of any reason why it should be so. La Binet provided him the + sort of amusement that he and his kind are forever craving...” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there was a reason,” she interrupted him. “I was the reason. I spoke + to Mme. de Sautron. I told her that I would not continue to receive one + who came to me contaminated in that fashion.” She spoke of it with obvious + difficulty, her colour rising as he watched her half-averted face. + </p> + <p> + “Had you listened to me...” he was beginning, when again she interrupted + him. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Sautron conveyed my decision to him, and afterwards represented him + to me as a man in despair, repentant, ready to give proofs—any + proofs—of his sincerity and devotion to me. He told me that M. de La + Tour d’Azyr had sworn to him that he would cut short that affair, that he + would see La Binet no more. And then, on the very next day I heard of his + having all but lost his life in that riot at the theatre. He had gone + straight from that interview with M. de Sautron, straight from those + protestations of future wisdom, to La Binet. I was indignant. I pronounced + myself finally. I stated definitely that I would not in any circumstances + receive M. de La Tour d’Azyr again! And then they pressed this explanation + upon me. For a long time I would not believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “So that you believe it now,” said Andre quickly. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not said that I believe it now. But... but... neither can I + disbelieve. Since we came to Meudon M. de La Tour d’Azyr has been here, + and himself he has sworn to me that it was so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if M. de La Tour d’Azyr has sworn...” Andre-Louis was laughing on a + bitter note of sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever known him lie?” she cut in sharply. That checked him. “M. + de La Tour d’Azyr is, after all, a man of honour, and men of honour never + deal in falsehood. Have you ever known him do so, that you should sneer as + you have done?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he confessed. Common justice demanded that he should admit that + virtue at least in his enemy. “I have not known him lie, it is true. His + kind is too arrogant, too self-confident to have recourse to untruth. But + I have known him do things as vile...” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is as vile,” she interrupted, speaking from the code by which she + had been reared. “It is for liars only—who are first cousin to + thieves—that there is no hope. It is in falsehood only that there is + real loss of honour.” + </p> + <p> + “You are defending that satyr, I think,” he said frostily. + </p> + <p> + “I desire to be just.” + </p> + <p> + “Justice may seem to you a different matter when at last you shall have + resolved yourself to become Marquise de La Tour d’Azyr.” He spoke + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think that I shall ever take that resolve.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are still not sure—in spite of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Can one ever be sure of anything in this world?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. One can be sure of being foolish.” + </p> + <p> + Either she did not hear or did not heed him. + </p> + <p> + “You do not of your own knowledge know that it was not as M. de La Tour + d’Azyr asserts—that he went to the Feydau that night?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” he admitted. “It is of course possible. But does it matter?” + </p> + <p> + “It might matter. Tell me; what became of La Binet after all?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know?” She turned to consider him. “And you can say it with + that indifference! I thought... I thought you loved her, Andre.” + </p> + <p> + “So did I, for a little while. I was mistaken. It required a La Tour + d’Azyr to disclose the truth to me. They have their uses, these gentlemen. + They help stupid fellows like myself to perceive important truths. I was + fortunate that revelation in my case preceded marriage. I can now look + back upon the episode with equanimity and thankfulness for my near escape + from the consequences of what was no more than an aberration of the + senses. It is a thing commonly confused with love. The experience, as you + see, was very instructive.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in frank surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Andre, I sometimes think that you have no heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Presumably because I sometimes betray intelligence. And what of yourself, + Aline? What of your own attitude from the outset where M. de La Tour + d’Azyr is concerned? Does that show heart? If I were to tell you what it + really shows, we should end by quarrelling again, and God knows I can’t + afford to quarrel with you now. I... I shall take another way.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, nothing at the moment, for you are not in any danger of marrying + that animal.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I were?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! In that case affection for you would discover to me some means of + preventing it—unless...” He paused. + </p> + <p> + “Unless?” she demanded, challengingly, drawn to the full of her short + height, her eyes imperious. + </p> + <p> + “Unless you could also tell me that you loved him,” said he simply, + whereat she was as suddenly and most oddly softened. And then he added, + shaking his head: “But that of course is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she asked him, quite gently now. + </p> + <p> + “Because you are what you are, Aline—utterly good and pure and + adorable. Angels do not mate with devils. His wife you might become, but + never his mate, Aline—never.” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the wrought-iron gates at the end of the avenue. Through + these they beheld the waiting yellow chaise which had brought Andre-Louis. + From near at hand came the creak of other wheels, the beat of other + hooves, and now another vehicle came in sight, and drew to a stand-still + beside the yellow chaise—a handsome equipage with polished mahogany + panels on which the gold and azure of armorial bearings flashed + brilliantly in the sunlight. A footman swung to earth to throw wide the + gates; but in that moment the lady who occupied the carriage, perceiving + Aline, waved to her and issued a command. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. MADAME DE PLOUGASTEL + </h2> + <p> + The postilion drew rein, and the footman opened the door, letting down the + steps and proffering his arm to his mistress to assist her to alight, + since that was the wish she had expressed. Then he opened one wing of the + iron gates, and held it for her. She was a woman of something more than + forty, who once must have been very lovely, who was very lovely still with + the refining quality that age brings to some women. Her dress and carriage + alike advertised great rank. + </p> + <p> + “I take my leave here, since you have a visitor,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “But it is an old acquaintance of your own, Andre. You remember Mme. la + Comtesse de Plougastel?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the approaching lady, whom Aline was now hastening forward to + meet, and because she was named to him he recognized her. He must, he + thought, had he but looked, have recognized her without prompting anywhere + at any time, and this although it was some sixteen years since last he had + seen her. The sight of her now brought it all back to him—a + treasured memory that had never permitted itself to be entirely overlaid + by subsequent events. + </p> + <p> + When he was a boy of ten, on the eve of being sent to school at Rennes, + she had come on a visit to his godfather, who was her cousin. It happened + that at the time he was taken by Rabouillet to the Manor of Gavrillac, and + there he had been presented to Mme. de Plougastel. The great lady, in all + the glory then of her youthful beauty, with her gentle, cultured voice—so + cultured that she had seemed to speak a language almost unknown to the + little Breton lad—and her majestic air of the great world, had + scared him a little at first. Very gently had she allayed those fears of + his, and by some mysterious enchantment she had completely enslaved his + regard. He recalled now the terror in which he had gone to the embrace to + which he was bidden, and the subsequent reluctance with which he had left + those soft round arms. He remembered, too, how sweetly she had smelled and + the very perfume she had used, a perfume as of lilac—for memory is + singularly tenacious in these matters. + </p> + <p> + For three days whilst she had been at Gavrillac, he had gone daily to the + manor, and so had spent hours in her company. A childless woman with the + maternal instinct strong within her, she had taken this precociously + intelligent, wide-eyed lad to her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Give him to me, Cousin Quintin,” he remembered her saying on the last of + those days to his godfather. “Let me take him back with me to Versailles + as my adopted child.” + </p> + <p> + But the Seigneur had gravely shaken his head in silent refusal, and there + had been no further question of such a thing. And then, when she said + good-bye to him—the thing came flooding back to him now—there + had been tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Think of me sometimes, Andre-Louis,” had been her last words. + </p> + <p> + He remembered how flattered he had been to have won within so short a time + the affection of this great lady. The thing had given him a sense of + importance that had endured for months thereafter, finally to fade into + oblivion. + </p> + <p> + But all was vividly remembered now upon beholding her again, after sixteen + years, profoundly changed and matured, the girl—for she had been no + more in those old days—sunk in this worldly woman with the air of + calm dignity and complete self-possession. Yet, he insisted, he must have + known her anywhere again. + </p> + <p> + Aline embraced her affectionately, and then answering the questioning + glance with faintly raised eyebrows that madame was directing towards + Aline’s companion— + </p> + <p> + “This is Andre-Louis,” she said. “You remember Andre-Louis, madame?” + </p> + <p> + Madame checked. Andre-Louis saw the surprise ripple over her face, taking + with it some of her colour, leaving her for a moment breathless. + </p> + <p> + And then the voice—the well-remembered rich, musical voice—richer + and deeper now than of yore, repeated his name: + </p> + <p> + “Andre-Louis!” + </p> + <p> + Her manner of uttering it suggested that it awakened memories, memories + perhaps of the departed youth with which it was associated. And she paused + a long moment, considering him, a little wide-eyed, what time he bowed + before her. + </p> + <p> + “But of course I remember him,” she said at last, and came towards him, + putting out her hand. He kissed it dutifully, submissively, instinctively. + “And this is what you have grown into?” She appraised him, and he flushed + with pride at the satisfaction in her tone. He seemed to have gone back + sixteen years, and to be again the little Breton lad at Gavrillac. She + turned to Aline. “How mistaken Quintin was in his assumptions. He was + pleased to see him again, was he not?” + </p> + <p> + “So pleased, madame, that he has shown me the door,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” She frowned, conning him still with those dark, wistful eyes of + hers. “We must change that, Aline. He is of course very angry with you. + But it is not the way to make converts. I will plead for you, Andre-Louis. + I am a good advocate.” + </p> + <p> + He thanked her and took his leave. + </p> + <p> + “I leave my case in your hands with gratitude. My homage, madame.” + </p> + <p> + And so it happened that in spite of his godfather’s forbidding reception + of him, the fragment of a song was on his lips as his yellow chaise + whirled him back to Paris and the Rue du Hasard. That meeting with Mme. de + Plougastel had enheartened him; her promise to plead his case in alliance + with Aline gave him assurance that all would be well. + </p> + <p> + That he was justified of this was proved when on the following Thursday + towards noon his academy was invaded by M. de Kercadiou. Gilles, the boy, + brought him word of it, and breaking off at once the lesson upon which he + was engaged, he pulled off his mask, and went as he was—in a chamois + waistcoat buttoned to the chin and with his foil under his arm to the + modest salon below, where his godfather awaited him. + </p> + <p> + The florid little Lord of Gavrillac stood almost defiantly to receive him. + </p> + <p> + “I have been over-persuaded to forgive you,” he announced aggressively, + seeming thereby to imply that he consented to this merely so as to put an + end to tiresome importunities. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis was not misled. He detected a pretence adopted by the Seigneur + so as to enable him to retreat in good order. + </p> + <p> + “My blessings on the persuaders, whoever they may have been. You restore + me my happiness, monsieur my godfather.” + </p> + <p> + He took the hand that was proffered and kissed it, yielding to the impulse + of the unfailing habit of his boyish days. It was an act symbolical of his + complete submission, reestablishing between himself and his godfather the + bond of protected and protector, with all the mutual claims and duties + that it carries. No mere words could more completely have made his peace + with this man who loved him. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou’s face flushed a deeper pink, his lip trembled, and there + was a huskiness in the voice that murmured “My dear boy!” Then he + recollected himself, threw back his great head and frowned. His voice + resumed its habitual shrillness. “You realize, I hope, that you have + behaved damnably... damnably, and with the utmost ingratitude?” + </p> + <p> + “Does not that depend upon the point of view?” quoth Andre-Louis, but his + tone was studiously conciliatory. + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon a fact, and not upon any point of view. Since I have been + persuaded to overlook it, I trust that at least you have some intention of + reforming.” + </p> + <p> + “I... I will abstain from politics,” said Andre-Louis, that being the + utmost he could say with truth. + </p> + <p> + “That is something, at least.” His godfather permitted himself to be + mollified, now that a concession—or a seeming concession—had + been made to his just resentment. + </p> + <p> + “A chair, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I have come to carry you off to pay a visit with me. You owe it + entirely to Mme. de Plougastel that I consent to receive you again. I + desire that you come with me to thank her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have my engagements here...” began Andre-Louis, and then broke off. “No + matter! I will arrange it. A moment.” And he was turning away to reenter + the academy. + </p> + <p> + “What are your engagements? You are not by chance a fencing-instructor?” + M. de Kercadiou had observed the leather waistcoat and the foil tucked + under Andre-Louis’ arm. + </p> + <p> + “I am the master of this academy—the academy of the late Bertrand + des Amis, the most flourishing school of arms in Paris to-day.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou’s brows went up. + </p> + <p> + “And you are master of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Maitre en fait d’Armes. I succeeded to the academy upon the death of des + Amis.” + </p> + <p> + He left M. Kercadiou to think it over, and went to make his arrangements + and effect the necessary changes in his toilet. + </p> + <p> + “So that is why you have taken to wearing a sword,” said M. de Kercadiou, + as they climbed into his waiting carriage. + </p> + <p> + “That and the need to guard one’s self in these times.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you mean to tell me that a man who lives by what is after all an + honourable profession, a profession mainly supported by the nobility, can + at the same time associate himself with these peddling attorneys and low + pamphleteers who are spreading dissension and insubordination?” + </p> + <p> + “You forget that I am a peddling attorney myself, made so by your own + wishes, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou grunted, and took snuff. “You say the academy flourishes?” + he asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “It does. I have two assistant instructors. I could employ a third. It is + hard work.” + </p> + <p> + “That should mean that your circumstances are affluent.” + </p> + <p> + “I have reason to be satisfied. I have far more than I need.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you’ll be able to do your share in paying off this national debt,” + growled the nobleman, well content that—as he conceived it—some + of the evil Andre-Louis had helped to sow should recoil upon him. + </p> + <p> + Then the talk veered to Mme. de Plougastel. M. de Kercadiou, Andre-Louis + gathered, but not the reason for it, disapproved most strongly of this + visit. But then Madame la Comtesse was a headstrong woman whom there was + no denying, whom all the world obeyed. M. de Plougastel was at present + absent in Germany, but would shortly be returning. It was an indiscreet + admission from which it was easy to infer that M. de Plougastel was one of + those intriguing emissaries who came and went between the Queen of France + and her brother, the Emperor of Austria. + </p> + <p> + The carriage drew up before a handsome hotel in the Faubourg Saint-Denis, + at the corner of the Rue Paradis, and they were ushered by a sleek servant + into a little boudoir, all gilt and brocade, that opened upon a terrace + above a garden that was a park in miniature. Here madame awaited them. She + rose, dismissing the young person who had been reading to her, and came + forward with both hands outheld to greet her cousin Kercadiou. + </p> + <p> + “I almost feared you would not keep your word,” she said. “It was unjust. + But then I hardly hoped that you would succeed in bringing him.” And her + glance, gentle, and smiling welcome upon him, indicated Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + The young man made answer with formal gallantry. + </p> + <p> + “The memory of you, madame, is too deeply imprinted on my heart for any + persuasions to have been necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the courtier!” said madame, and abandoned him her hand. “We are to + have a little talk, Andre-Louis,” she informed him, with a gravity that + left him vaguely ill at ease. + </p> + <p> + They sat down, and for a while the conversation was of general matters, + chiefly concerned, however, with Andre-Louis, his occupations and his + views. And all the while madame was studying him attentively with those + gentle, wistful eyes, until again that sense of uneasiness began to + pervade him. He realized instinctively that he had been brought here for + some purpose deeper than that which had been avowed. + </p> + <p> + At last, as if the thing were concerted—and the clumsy Lord of + Gavrillac was the last man in the world to cover his tracks—his + godfather rose and, upon a pretext of desiring to survey the garden, + sauntered through the windows on to the terrace, over whose white stone + balustrade the geraniums trailed in a scarlet riot. Thence he vanished + among the foliage below. + </p> + <p> + “Now we can talk more intimately,” said madame. “Come here, and sit beside + me.” She indicated the empty half of the settee she occupied. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis went obediently, but a little uncomfortably. “You know,” she + said gently, placing a hand upon his arm, “that you have behaved very ill, + that your godfather’s resentment is very justly founded?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, if I knew that, I should be the most unhappy, the most despairing + of men.” And he explained himself, as he had explained himself on Sunday + to his godfather. “What I did, I did because it was the only means to my + hand in a country in which justice was paralyzed by Privilege to make war + upon an infamous scoundrel who had killed my best friend—a wanton, + brutal act of murder, which there was no law to punish. And as if that + were not enough—forgive me if I speak with the utmost frankness, + madame—he afterwards debauched the woman I was to have married.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, mon Dieu!” she cried out. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me. I know that it is horrible. You perceive, perhaps, what I + suffered, how I came to be driven. That last affair of which I am guilty—the + riot that began in the Feydau Theatre and afterwards enveloped the whole + city of Nantes—was provoked by this.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was she, this girl?” + </p> + <p> + It was like a woman, he thought, to fasten upon the unessential. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a theatre girl, a poor fool of whom I have no regrets. La Binet was + her name. I was a player at the time in her father’s troupe. That was + after the Rennes business, when it was necessary to hide from such justice + as exists in France—the gallows’ justice for unfortunates who are + not ‘born.’ This added wrong led me to provoke a riot in the theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy,” she said tenderly. “Only a woman’s heart can realize what you + must have suffered; and because of that I can so readily forgive you. But + now...” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you don’t understand, madame. If to-day I thought that I had none + but personal grounds for having lent a hand in the holy work of abolishing + Privilege, I think I should cut my throat. My true justification lies in + the insincerity of those who intended that the convocation of the States + General should be a sham, mere dust in the eyes of the nation.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it not, perhaps, wise to have been insincere in such a matter?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Can it ever be wise, madame, to be insincere?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed it can; believe me, who am twice your age, and know my world.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say, madame, that nothing is wise that complicates existence; + and I know of nothing that so complicates it as insincerity. Consider a + moment the complications that have arisen out of this.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely, Andre-Louis, your views have not been so perverted that you + do not see that a governing class is a necessity in any country?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course. But not necessarily a hereditary one.” + </p> + <p> + “What else?” + </p> + <p> + He answered her with an epigram. “Man, madame, is the child of his own + work. Let there be no inheriting of rights but from such a parent. Thus a + nation’s best will always predominate, and such a nation will achieve + greatly.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you account birth of no importance?” + </p> + <p> + “Of none, madame—or else my own might trouble me.” From the deep + flush that stained her face, he feared that he had offended by what was + almost an indelicacy. But the reproof that he was expecting did not come. + Instead— + </p> + <p> + “And does it not?” she asked. “Never, Andre?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, madame. I am content.” + </p> + <p> + “You have never... never regretted your lack of parents’ care?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, sweeping aside her sweet charitable concern that was so + superfluous. “On the contrary, madame, I tremble to think what they might + have made of me, and I am grateful to have had the fashioning of myself.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a moment very sadly, and then, smiling, gently shook + her head. + </p> + <p> + “You do not want self-satisfaction... Yet I could wish that you saw things + differently, Andre. It is a moment of great opportunities for a young man + of talent and spirit. I could help you; I could help you, perhaps, to go + very far if you would permit yourself to be helped after my fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he thought, “help me to a halter by sending me on treasonable + missions to Austria on the Queen’s behalf, like M. de Plougastel. That + would certainly end in a high position for me.” + </p> + <p> + Aloud he answered more as politeness prompted. “I am grateful, madame. But + you will see that, holding the ideals I have expressed, I could not serve + any cause that is opposed to their realization.” + </p> + <p> + “You are misled by prejudice, Andre-Louis, by personal grievances. Will + you allow them to stand in the way of your advancement?” + </p> + <p> + “If what I call ideals were really prejudices, would it be honest of me to + run counter to them whilst holding them?” + </p> + <p> + “If I could convince you that you are mistaken! I could help you so much + to find a worthy employment for the talents you possess. In the service of + the King you would prosper quickly. Will you think of it, Andre-Louis, and + let us talk of this again?” + </p> + <p> + He answered her with formal, chill politeness. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that it would be idle, madame. Yet your interest in me is very + flattering, and I thank you. It is unfortunate for me that I am so + headstrong.” + </p> + <p> + “And now who deals in insincerity?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you see, madame, it is an insincerity that does not mislead.” + </p> + <p> + And then M. de Kercadiou came in through the window again, and announced + fussily that he must be getting back to Meudon, and that he would take his + godson with him and set him down at the Rue du Hasard. + </p> + <p> + “You must bring him again, Quintin,” the Countess said, as they took their + leave of her. + </p> + <p> + “Some day, perhaps,” said M. de Kercadiou vaguely, and swept his godson + out. + </p> + <p> + In the carriage he asked him bluntly of what madame had talked. + </p> + <p> + “She was very kind—a sweet woman,” said Andre-Louis pensively. + </p> + <p> + “Devil take you, I didn’t ask you the opinion that you presume to have + formed of her. I asked you what she said to you.” + </p> + <p> + “She strove to point out to me the error of my ways. She spoke of great + things that I might do—to which she would very kindly help me—if + I were to come to my senses. But as miracles do not happen, I gave her + little encouragement to hope.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. I see. Did she say anything else?” + </p> + <p> + He was so peremptory that Andre-Louis turned to look at him. + </p> + <p> + “What else did you expect her to say, monsieur my godfather?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she fulfilled your expectations.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Oh, a thousand devils, why can’t you express yourself in a sensible + manner that a plain man can understand without having to think about it?” + </p> + <p> + He sulked after that most of the way to the Rue du Hasard, or so it seemed + to Andre-Louis. At least he sat silent, gloomily thoughtful to judge by + his expression. + </p> + <p> + “You may come and see us soon again at Meudon,” he told Andre-Louis at + parting. “But please remember—no revolutionary politics in future, + if we are to remain friends.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. POLITICIANS + </h2> + <p> + One morning in August the academy in the Rue du Hasard was invaded by Le + Chapelier accompanied by a man of remarkable appearance, whose herculean + stature and disfigured countenance seemed vaguely familiar to Andre-Louis. + He was a man of little, if anything, over thirty, with small bright eyes + buried in an enormous face. His cheek-bones were prominent, his nose awry, + as if it had been broken by a blow, and his mouth was rendered almost + shapeless by the scars of another injury. (A bull had horned him in the + face when he was but a lad.) As if that were not enough to render his + appearance terrible, his cheeks were deeply pock-marked. He was dressed + untidily in a long scarlet coat that descended almost to his ankles, + soiled buckskin breeches and boots with reversed tops. His shirt, none too + clean, was open at the throat, the collar hanging limply over an unknotted + cravat, displaying fully the muscular neck that rose like a pillar from + his massive shoulders. He swung a cane that was almost a club in his left + hand, and there was a cockade in his biscuit-coloured, conical hat. He + carried himself with an aggressive, masterful air, that great head of his + thrown back as if he were eternally at defiance. + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier, whose manner was very grave, named him to Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “This is M. Danton, a brother-lawyer, President of the Cordeliers, of whom + you will have heard.” + </p> + <p> + Of course Andre-Louis had heard of him. Who had not, by then? + </p> + <p> + Looking at him now with interest, Andre-Louis wondered how it came that + all, or nearly all the leading innovators, were pock-marked. Mirabeau, the + journalist Desmoulins, the philanthropist Marat, Robespierre the little + lawyer from Arras, this formidable fellow Danton, and several others he + could call to mind all bore upon them the scars of smallpox. Almost he + began to wonder was there any connection between the two. Did an attack of + smallpox produce certain moral results which found expression in this way? + </p> + <p> + He dismissed the idle speculation, or rather it was shattered by the + startling thunder of Danton’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “This ——— Chapelier has told me of you. He says that you + are a patriotic ———.” + </p> + <p> + More than by the tone was Andre-Louis startled by the obscenities with + which the Colossus did not hesitate to interlard his first speech to a + total stranger. He laughed outright. There was nothing else to do. + </p> + <p> + “If he has told you that, he has told you more than the truth! I am a + patriot. The rest my modesty compels me to disavow.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re a joker too, it seems,” roared the other, but he laughed + nevertheless, and the volume of it shook the windows. “There’s no offence + in me. I am like that.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + It disconcerted the king of the markets. “Eh? what’s this, Chapelier? Does + he give himself airs, your friend here?” + </p> + <p> + The spruce Breton, a very petit-maitre in appearance by contrast with his + companion, but nevertheless of a down-right manner quite equal to Danton’s + in brutality, though dispensing with the emphasis of foulness, shrugged as + he answered him: + </p> + <p> + “It is merely that he doesn’t like your manners, which is not at all + surprising. They are execrable.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, bah! You are all like that, you ——— Bretons. Let’s + come to business. You’ll have heard what took place in the Assembly + yesterday? You haven’t? My God, where do you live? Have you heard that + this scoundrel who calls himself King of France gave passage across French + soil the other day to Austrian troops going to crush those who fight for + liberty in Belgium? Have you heard that, by any chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Andre-Louis coldly, masking his irritation before the other’s + hectoring manner. “I have heard that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! And what do you think of it?” Arms akimbo, the Colossus towered above + him. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis turned aside to Le Chapelier. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I understand. Have you brought this gentleman here to + examine my conscience?” + </p> + <p> + “Name of a name! He’s prickly as a ——— porcupine!” + Danton protested. + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” Le Chapelier was conciliatory, seeking to provide an antidote to + the irritant administered by his companion. “We require your help, Andre. + Danton here thinks that you are the very man for us. Listen now...” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it. You tell him,” Danton agreed. “You both talk the same mincing—sort + of French. He’ll probably understand you.” + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier went on without heeding the interruption. “This violation by + the King of the obvious rights of a country engaged in framing a + constitution that shall make it free has shattered every philanthropic + illusion we still cherished. There are those who go so far as to proclaim + the King the vowed enemy of France. But that, of course, is excessive.” + </p> + <p> + “Who says so?” blazed Danton, and swore horribly by way of conveying his + total disagreement. + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier waved him into silence, and proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, the matter has been more than enough, added to all the rest, to + set us by the ears again in the Assembly. It is open war between the Third + Estate and the Privileged.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it ever anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not; but it has assumed a new character. You’ll have heard of the + duel between Lameth and the Duc de Castries?” + </p> + <p> + “A trifling affair.” + </p> + <p> + “In its results. But it might have been far other. Mirabeau is challenged + and insulted now at every sitting. But he goes his way, cold-bloodedly + wise. Others are not so circumspect; they meet insult with insult, blow + with blow, and blood is being shed in private duels. The thing is reduced + by these swordsmen of the nobility to a system.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis nodded. He was thinking of Philippe de Vilmorin. “Yes,” he + said, “it is an old trick of theirs. It is so simple and direct—like + themselves. I wonder only that they didn’t hit upon this system sooner. In + the early days of the States General, at Versailles, it might have had a + better effect. Now, it comes a little late.” + </p> + <p> + “But they mean to make up for lost time—sacred name!” cried Danton. + “Challenges are flying right and left between these bully-swordsmen, these + spadassinicides, and poor devils of the robe who have never learnt to + fence with anything but a quill. It’s just ——— murder. + Yet if I were to go amongst messieurs les nobles and crunch an addled head + or two with this stick of mine, snap a few aristocratic necks between + these fingers which the good God has given me for the purpose, the law + would send me to atone upon the gallows. This in a land that is striving + after liberty. Why, Dieu me damne! I am not even allowed to keep my hat on + in the theatre. But they ——— these ———s!” + </p> + <p> + “He is right,” said Le Chapelier. “The thing has become unendurable, + insufferable. Two days ago M. d’Ambly threatened Mirabeau with his cane + before the whole Assembly. Yesterday M. de Faussigny leapt up and + harangued his order by inviting murder. ‘Why don’t we fall on these + scoundrels, sword in hand?’ he asked. Those were his very words: ‘Why + don’t we fall on these scoundrels, sword in hand.’” + </p> + <p> + “It is so much simpler than lawmaking,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Lagron, the deputy from Ancenis in the Loire, said something that we did + not hear in answer. As he was leaving the Manege one of these bullies + grossly insulted him. Lagron no more than used his elbow to push past when + the fellow cried out that he had been struck, and issued his challenge. + They fought this morning early in the Champs Elysees, and Lagron was + killed, run through the stomach deliberately by a man who fought like a + fencing-master, and poor Lagron did not even own a sword. He had to borrow + one to go to the assignation.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis—his mind ever on Vilmorin, whose case was here repeated, + even to the details—was swept by a gust of passion. He clenched his + hands, and his jaws set. Danton’s little eyes observed him keenly. + </p> + <p> + “Well? And what do you think of that? Noblesse oblige, eh? The thing is we + must oblige them too, these ———s. We must pay them back + in the same coin; meet them with the same weapons. Abolish them; tumble + these assassinateurs into the abyss of nothingness by the same means.” + </p> + <p> + “But how?” + </p> + <p> + “How? Name of God! Haven’t I said it?” + </p> + <p> + “That is where we require your help,” Le Chapelier put in. “There must be + men of patriotic feeling among the more advanced of your pupils. M. + Danton’s idea is that a little band of these—say a half-dozen, with + yourself at their head—might read these bullies a sharp lesson.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis frowned. + </p> + <p> + “And how, precisely, had M. Danton thought that this might be done?” + </p> + <p> + M. Danton spoke for himself, vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “Why, thus: We post you in the Manege, at the hour when the Assembly is + rising. We point out the six leading phlebotomists, and let you loose to + insult them before they have time to insult any of the representatives. + Then to-morrow morning, six ——— phlebotomists themselves + phlebotomized secundum artem. That will give the others something to think + about. It will give them a great deal to think about, by ——! + If necessary the dose may be repeated to ensure a cure. If you kill the + ———s, so much the better.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, his sallow face flushed with the enthusiasm of his idea. + Andre-Louis stared at him inscrutably. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “That it is most ingenious.” And Andre-Louis turned aside to look out of + the window. + </p> + <p> + “And is that all you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not tell you what else I think of it because you probably would + not understand. For you, M. Danton, there is at least this excuse that you + did not know me. But you, Isaac—to bring this gentleman here with + such a proposal!” + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier was overwhelmed in confusion. “I confess I hesitated,” he + apologized. “But M. Danton would not take my word for it that the proposal + might not be to your taste.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not!” Danton broke in, bellowing. He swung upon Le Chapelier, + brandishing his great arms. “You told me monsieur was a patriot. + Patriotism knows no scruples. You call this mincing dancing-master a + patriot?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you, monsieur, out of patriotism consent to become an assassin?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I would. Haven’t I told you so? Haven’t I told you that I would + gladly go among them with my club, and crack them like so many—fleas?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Because I should get myself hanged. Haven’t I said so?” + </p> + <p> + “But what of that ——— being a patriot? Why not, like + another Curtius, jump into the gulf, since you believe that your country + would benefit by your death?” + </p> + <p> + M. Danton showed signs of exasperation. “Because my country will benefit + more by my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me, monsieur, to suffer from a similar vanity.” + </p> + <p> + “You? But where would be the danger to you? You would do your work under + the cloak of duelling—as they do.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you reflected, monsieur, that the law will hardly regard a + fencing-master who kills his opponent as an ordinary combatant, + particularly if it can be shown that the fencing-master himself provoked + the attack?” + </p> + <p> + “So! Name of a name!” M. Danton blew out his cheeks and delivered himself + with withering scorn. “It comes to this, then: you are afraid!” + </p> + <p> + “You may think so if you choose—that I am afraid to do slyly and + treacherously that which a thrasonical patriot like yourself is afraid of + doing frankly and openly. I have other reasons. But that one should + suffice you.” + </p> + <p> + Danton gasped. Then he swore more amazingly and variedly than ever. + </p> + <p> + “By ——! you are right,” he admitted, to Andre-Louis’ + amazement. “You are right, and I am wrong. I am as bad a patriot as you + are, and I am a coward as well.” And he invoked the whole Pantheon to + witness his self-denunciation. “Only, you see, I count for something: and + if they take me and hang me, why, there it is! Monsieur, we must find some + other way. Forgive the intrusion. Adieu!” He held out his enormous hand.. + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier stood hesitating, crestfallen. + </p> + <p> + “You understand, Andre? I am sorry that...” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more, please. Come and see me soon again. I would press you to + remain, but it is striking nine, and the first of my pupils is about to + arrive.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor would I permit it,” said Danton. “Between us we must resolve the + riddle of how to extinguish M. de La Tour d’Azyr and his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + Sharp as a pistol-shot came that question, as Danton was turning away. The + tone of it brought him up short. He turned again, Le Chapelier with him. + </p> + <p> + “I said M. de La Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + “What has he to do with the proposal you were making me?” + </p> + <p> + “He? Why, he is the phlebotomist in chief.” + </p> + <p> + And Le Chapelier added. “It is he who killed Lagron.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a friend of yours, is he?” wondered Danton. + </p> + <p> + “And it is La Tour d’Azyr you desire me to kill?” asked Andre-Louis very + slowly, after the manner of one whose thoughts are meanwhile pondering the + subject. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said Danton. “And not a job for a prentice hand, I can assure + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but this alters things,” said Andre-Louis, thinking aloud. “It offers + a great temptation.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then...?” The Colossus took a step towards him again. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” He put up his hand. Then with chin sunk on his breast, he paced + away to the window, musing. + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier and Danton exchanged glances, then watched him, waiting, what + time he considered. + </p> + <p> + At first he almost wondered why he should not of his own accord have + decided upon some such course as this to settle that long-standing account + of M. de La Tour d’Azyr. What was the use of this great skill in fence + that he had come to acquire, unless he could turn it to account to avenge + Vilmorin, and to make Aline safe from the lure of her own ambition? It + would be an easy thing to seek out La Tour d’Azyr, put a mortal affront + upon him, and thus bring him to the point. To-day this would be murder, + murder as treacherous as that which La Tour d’Azyr had done upon Philippe + de Vilmorin; for to-day the old positions were reversed, and it was + Andre-Louis who might go to such an assignation without a doubt of the + issue. It was a moral obstacle of which he made short work. But there + remained the legal obstacle he had expounded to Danton. There was still a + law in France; the same law which he had found it impossible to move + against La Tour d’Azyr, but which would move briskly enough against + himself in like case. And then, suddenly, as if by inspiration, he saw the + way—a way which if adopted would probably bring La Tour d’Azyr to a + poetic justice, bring him, insolent, confident, to thrust himself upon + Andre-Louis’ sword, with all the odium of provocation on his own side. + </p> + <p> + He turned to them again, and they saw that he was very pale, that his + great dark eyes glowed oddly. + </p> + <p> + “There will probably be some difficulty in finding a suppleant for this + poor Lagron,” he said. “Our fellow-countrymen will be none so eager to + offer themselves to the swords of Privilege.” + </p> + <p> + “True enough,” said Le Chapelier gloomily; and then, as if suddenly + leaping to the thing in Andre-Louis’ mind: “Andre!” he cried. “Would + you...” + </p> + <p> + “It is what I was considering. It would give me a legitimate place in the + Assembly. If your Tour d’Azyrs choose to seek me out then, why, their + blood be upon their own heads. I shall certainly do nothing to discourage + them.” He smiled curiously. “I am just a rascal who tries to be honest—Scaramouche + always, in fact; a creature of sophistries. Do you think that Ancenis + would have me for its representative?” + </p> + <p> + “Will it have Omnes Omnibus for its representative?” Le Chapelier was + laughing, his countenance eager. “Ancenis will be convulsed with pride. It + is not Rennes or Nantes, as it might have been had you wished it. But it + gives you a voice for Brittany.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have to go to Ancenis...” + </p> + <p> + “No need at all. A letter from me to the Municipality, and the + Municipality will confirm you at once. No need to move from here. In a + fortnight at most the thing can be accomplished. It is settled, then?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis considered yet a moment. There was his academy. But he could + make arrangements with Le Duc and Galoche to carry it on for him whilst + himself directing and advising. Le Duc, after all, was become a thoroughly + efficient master, and he was a trustworthy fellow. At need a third + assistant could be engaged. + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier clasped hands with him and became congratulatorily voluble, + until interrupted by the red-coated giant at the door. + </p> + <p> + “What exactly does it mean to our business, anyway?” he asked. “Does it + mean that when you are a representative you will not scruple to skewer M. + le Marquis?” + </p> + <p> + “If M. le Marquis should offer himself to be skewered, as he no doubt + will.” + </p> + <p> + “I perceive the distinction,” said M. Danton, and sneered. “You’ve an + ingenious mind.” He turned to Le Chapelier. “What did you say he was to + begin with—a lawyer, wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was a lawyer, and afterwards a mountebank.” + </p> + <p> + “And this is the result!” + </p> + <p> + “As you say. And do you know that we are after all not so dissimilar, you + and I?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Once like you I went about inciting other people to go and kill the man I + wanted dead. You’ll say I was a coward, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier prepared to slip between them as the clouds gathered on the + giant’s brow. Then these were dispelled again, and the great laugh + vibrated through the long room. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve touched me for the second time, and in the same place. Oh, you can + fence, my lad. We should be friends. Rue des Cordeliers is my address. Any—scoundrel + will tell you where Danton lodges. Desmoulins lives underneath. Come and + visit us one evening. There’s always a bottle for a friend.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE SPADASSINICIDES + </h2> + <p> + After an absence of rather more than a week, M. le Marquis de La Tour + d’Azyr was back in his place on the Cote Droit of the National Assembly. + Properly speaking, we should already at this date allude to him as the + ci-devant Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr, for the time was September of 1790, + two months after the passing—on the motion of that downright Breton + leveller, Le Chapelier—of the decree that nobility should no more be + hereditary than infamy; that just as the brand of the gallows must not + defile the possibly worthy descendants of one who had been convicted of + evil, neither should the blazon advertising achievement glorify the + possibly unworthy descendants of one who had proved himself good. And so + the decree had been passed abolishing hereditary nobility and consigning + family escutcheons to the rubbish-heap of things no longer to be tolerated + by an enlightened generation of philosophers. M. le Comte de Lafayette, + who had supported the motion, left the Assembly as plain M. Motier, the + great tribune Count Mirabeau became plain M. Riquetti, and M. le Marquis + de La Tour d’Azyr just simple M. Lesarques. The thing was done in one of + those exaltations produced by the approach of the great National Festival + of the Champ de Mars, and no doubt it was thoroughly repented on the + morrow by those who had lent themselves to it. Thus, although law by now, + it was a law that no one troubled just yet to enforce. + </p> + <p> + That, however, is by the way. The time, as I have said, was September, the + day dull and showery, and some of the damp and gloom of it seemed to have + penetrated the long Hall of the Manege, where on their eight rows of green + benches elliptically arranged in ascending tiers about the space known as + La Piste, sat some eight or nine hundred of the representatives of the + three orders that composed the nation. + </p> + <p> + The matter under debate by the constitution-builders was whether the + deliberating body to succeed the Constituent Assembly should work in + conjunction with the King, whether it should be periodic or permanent, + whether it should govern by two chambers or by one. + </p> + <p> + The Abbe Maury, son of a cobbler, and therefore in these days of + antitheses orator-in-chief of the party of the Right—the Blacks, as + those who fought Privilege’s losing battles were known—was in the + tribune. He appeared to be urging the adoption of a two-chambers system + framed on the English model. He was, if anything, more long-winded and + prosy even than his habit; his arguments assumed more and more the form of + a sermon; the tribune of the National Assembly became more and more like a + pulpit; but the members, conversely, less and less like a congregation. + They grew restive under that steady flow of pompous verbiage, and it was + in vain that the four ushers in black satin breeches and carefully + powdered heads, chain of office on their breasts, gilded sword at their + sides, circulated in the Piste, clapping their hands, and hissing, + </p> + <p> + “Silence! En place!” + </p> + <p> + Equally vain was the intermittent ringing of the bell by the president at + his green-covered table facing the tribune. The Abbe Maury had talked too + long, and for some time had failed to interest the members. Realizing it + at last, he ceased, whereupon the hum of conversation became general. And + then it fell abruptly. There was a silence of expectancy, and a turning of + heads, a craning of necks. Even the group of secretaries at the round + table below the president’s dais roused themselves from their usual apathy + to consider this young man who was mounting the tribune of the Assembly + for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “M. Andre-Louis Moreau, deputy suppleant, vice Emmanuel Lagron, deceased, + for Ancenis in the Department of the Loire.” + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr shook himself out of the gloomy abstraction in which + he had sat. The successor of the deputy he had slain must, in any event, + be an object of grim interest to him. You conceive how that interest was + heightened when he heard him named, when, looking across, he recognized + indeed in this Andre-Louis Moreau the young scoundrel who was continually + crossing his path, continually exerting against him a deep-moving, + sinister influence to make him regret that he should have spared his life + that day at Gavrillac two years ago. That he should thus have stepped into + the shoes of Lagron seemed to M. de La Tour d’Azyr too apt for mere + coincidence, a direct challenge in itself. + </p> + <p> + He looked at the young man in wonder rather than in anger, and looking at + him he was filled by a vague, almost a premonitory, uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + At the very outset, the presence which in itself he conceived to be a + challenge was to demonstrate itself for this in no equivocal terms. + </p> + <p> + “I come before you,” Andre-Louis began, “as a deputy-suppleant to fill the + place of one who was murdered some three weeks ago.” + </p> + <p> + It was a challenging opening that instantly provoked an indignant outcry + from the Blacks. Andre-Louis paused, and looked at them, smiling a little, + a singularly self-confident young man. + </p> + <p> + “The gentlemen of the Right, M. le President, do not appear to like my + words. But that is not surprising. The gentlemen of the Right notoriously + do not like the truth.” + </p> + <p> + This time there was uproar. The members of the Left roared with laughter, + those of the Right thundered menacingly. The ushers circulated at a pace + beyond their usual, agitated themselves, clapped their hands, and called + in vain for silence. + </p> + <p> + The President rang his bell. + </p> + <p> + Above the general din came the voice of La Tour d’Azyr, who had half-risen + from his seat: “Mountebank! This is not the theatre!” + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur, it is becoming a hunting-ground for bully-swordsmen,” was + the answer, and the uproar grew. + </p> + <p> + The deputy-suppleant looked round and waited. Near at hand he met the + encouraging grin of Le Chapelier, and the quiet, approving smile of + Kersain, another Breton deputy of his acquaintance. A little farther off + he saw the great head of Mirabeau thrown back, the great eyes regarding + him from under a frown in a sort of wonder, and yonder, among all that + moving sea of faces, the sallow countenance of the Arras’ lawyer + Robespierre—or de Robespierre, as the little snob now called + himself, having assumed the aristocratic particle as the prerogative of a + man of his distinction in the councils of his country. With his tip-tilted + nose in the air, his carefully curled head on one side, the deputy for + Arras was observing Andre-Louis attentively. The horn-rimmed spectacles he + used for reading were thrust up on to his pale forehead, and it was + through a levelled spy-glass that he considered the speaker, his + thin-lipped mouth stretched a little in that tiger-cat smile that was + afterwards to become so famous and so feared. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the uproar wore itself out, and diminished so that at last the + President could make himself heard. Leaning forward, he gravely addressed + the young man in the tribune: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, if you wish to be heard, let me beg of you not to be + provocative in your language.” And then to the others: “Messieurs, if we + are to proceed, I beg that you will restrain your feelings until the + deputy-suppleant has concluded his discourse.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall endeavour to obey, M. le President, leaving provocation to the + gentlemen of the Right. If the few words I have used so far have been + provocative, I regret it. But it was necessary that I should refer to the + distinguished deputy whose place I come so unworthily to fill, and it was + unavoidable that I should refer to the event which has procured us this + sad necessity. The deputy Lagron was a man of singular nobility of mind, a + selfless, dutiful, zealous man, inflamed by the high purpose of doing his + duty by his electors and by this Assembly. He possessed what his opponents + would call a dangerous gift of eloquence.” + </p> + <p> + La Tour d’Azyr writhed at the well-known phrase—his own phrase—the + phrase that he had used to explain his action in the matter of Philippe de + Vilmorin, the phrase that from time to time had been cast in his teeth + with such vindictive menace. + </p> + <p> + And then the crisp voice of the witty Canales, that very rapier of the + Privileged party, cut sharply into the speaker’s momentary pause. + </p> + <p> + “M. le President,” he asked with great solemnity, “has the + deputy-suppleant mounted the tribune for the purpose of taking part in the + debate on the constitution of the legislative assemblies, or for the + purpose of pronouncing a funeral oration upon the departed deputy Lagron?” + </p> + <p> + This time it was the Blacks who gave way to mirth, until checked by the + deputy-suppleant. + </p> + <p> + “That laughter is obscene!” In this truly Gallic fashion he flung his + glove into the face of Privilege, determined, you see, upon no half + measures; and the rippling laughter perished on the instant quenched in + speechless fury. + </p> + <p> + Solemnly he proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “You all know how Lagron died. To refer to his death at all requires + courage, to laugh in referring to it requires something that I will not + attempt to qualify. If I have alluded to his decease, it is because my own + appearance among you seemed to render some such allusion necessary. It is + mine to take up the burden which he set down. I do not pretend that I have + the strength, the courage, or the wisdom of Lagron; but with every ounce + of such strength and courage and wisdom as I possess that burden will I + bear. And I trust, for the sake of those who might attempt it, that the + means taken to impose silence upon that eloquent voice will not be taken + to impose silence upon mine.” + </p> + <p> + There was a faint murmur of applause from the Left, splutter of + contemptuous laughter from the Right. + </p> + <p> + “Rhodomont!” a voice called to him. + </p> + <p> + He looked in the direction of that voice, proceeding from the group of + spadassins amid the Blacks across the Piste, and he smiled. Inaudibly his + lips answered: + </p> + <p> + “No, my friend—Scaramouche; Scaramouche, the subtle, dangerous + fellow who goes tortuously to his ends.” Aloud, he resumed: “M. le + President, there are those who will not understand that the purpose for + which we are assembled here is the making of laws by which France may be + equitably governed, by which France may be lifted out of the morass of + bankruptcy into which she is in danger of sinking. For there are some who + want, it seems, not laws, but blood; I solemnly warn them that this blood + will end by choking them, if they do not learn in time to discard force + and allow reason to prevail.” + </p> + <p> + Again in that phrase there was something that stirred a memory in La Tour + d’Azyr. He turned in the fresh uproar to speak to his cousin Chabrillane + who sat beside him. + </p> + <p> + “A daring rogue, this bastard of Gavrillac’s,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Chabrillane looked at him with gleaming eyes, his face white with anger. + </p> + <p> + “Let him talk himself out. I don’t think he will be heard again after + to-day. Leave this to me.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly could La Tour have told you why, but he sank back in his seat with + a sense of relief. He had been telling himself that here was matter + demanding action, a challenge that he must take up. But despite his rage + he felt a singular unwillingness. This fellow had a trick of reminding + him, he supposed, too unpleasantly of that young abbe done to death in the + garden behind the Breton arme at Gavrillac. Not that the death of Philippe + de Vilmorin lay heavily upon M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s conscience. He had + accounted himself fully justified of his action. It was that the whole + thing as his memory revived it for him made an unpleasant picture: that + distraught boy kneeling over the bleeding body of the friend he had loved, + and almost begging to be slain with him, dubbing the Marquis murderer and + coward to incite him. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, leaving now the subject of the death of Lagron, the + deputy-suppleant had at last brought himself into order, and was speaking + upon the question under debate. He contributed nothing of value to it; he + urged nothing definite. His speech on the subject was very brief—that + being the pretext and not the purpose for which he had ascended the + tribune. + </p> + <p> + When later he was leaving the hall at the end of the sitting, with Le + Chapelier at his side, he found himself densely surrounded by deputies as + by a body-guard. Most of them were Bretons, who aimed at screening him + from the provocations which his own provocative words in the Assembly + could not fail to bring down upon his head. For a moment the massive form + of Mirabeau brought up alongside of him. + </p> + <p> + “Felicitations, M. Moreau,” said the great man. “You acquitted yourself + very well. They will want your blood, no doubt. But be discreet, monsieur, + if I may presume to advise you, and do not allow yourself to be misled by + any false sense of quixotry. Ignore their challenges. I do so myself. I + place each challenger upon my list. There are some fifty there already, + and there they will remain. Refuse them what they are pleased to call + satisfaction, and all will be well.” Andre-Louis smiled and sighed. + </p> + <p> + “It requires courage,” said the hypocrite. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it does. But you would appear to have plenty.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly enough, perhaps. But I shall do my best.” + </p> + <p> + They had come through the vestibule, and although this was lined with + eager Blacks waiting for the young man who had insulted them so flagrantly + from the rostrum, Andre-Louis’ body-guard had prevented any of them from + reaching him. + </p> + <p> + Emerging now into the open, under the great awning at the head of the + Carriere, erected to enable carriages to reach the door under cover, those + in front of him dispersed a little, and there was a moment as he reached + the limit of the awning when his front was entirely uncovered. Outside the + rain was falling heavily, churning the ground into thick mud, and for a + moment Andre-Louis, with Le Chapelier ever at his side, stood hesitating + to step out into the deluge. + </p> + <p> + The watchful Chabrillane had seen his chance, and by a detour that took + him momentarily out into the rain, he came face to face with the + too-daring young Breton. Rudely, violently, he thrust Andre-Louis back, as + if to make room for himself under the shelter. + </p> + <p> + Not for a second was Andre-Louis under any delusion as to the man’s + deliberate purpose, nor were those who stood near him, who made a belated + and ineffectual attempt to close about him. He was grievously + disappointed. It was not Chabrillane he had been expecting. His + disappointment was reflected on his countenance, to be mistaken for + something very different by the arrogant Chevalier. + </p> + <p> + But if Chabrillane was the man appointed to deal with him, he would make + the best of it. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are pushing against me, monsieur,” he said, very civilly, and + with elbow and shoulder he thrust M. de Chabrillane back into the rain. + </p> + <p> + “I desire to take shelter, monsieur,” the Chevalier hectored. + </p> + <p> + “You may do so without standing on my feet. I have a prejudice against any + one standing on my feet. My feet are very tender. Perhaps you did not know + it, monsieur. Please say no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I wasn’t speaking, you lout!” exclaimed the Chevalier, slightly + discomposed. + </p> + <p> + “Were you not? I thought perhaps you were about to apologize.” + </p> + <p> + “Apologize?” Chabrillane laughed. “To you! Do you know that you are + amusing?” He stepped under the awning for the second time, and again in + view of all thrust Andre-Louis rudely back. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Andre-Louis, with a grimace. “You hurt me, monsieur. I have + told you not to push against me.” He raised his voice that all might hear + him, and once more impelled M. de Chabrillane back into the rain. + </p> + <p> + Now, for all his slenderness, his assiduous daily sword-practice had given + Andre-Louis an arm of iron. Also he threw his weight into the thrust. His + assailant reeled backwards a few steps, and then his heel struck a baulk + of timber left on the ground by some workmen that morning, and he sat down + suddenly in the mud. + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter rose from all who witnessed the fine gentleman’s + downfall. He rose, mud-bespattered, in a fury, and in that fury sprang at + Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis had made him ridiculous, which was altogether unforgivable. + </p> + <p> + “You shall meet me for this!” he spluttered. “I shall kill you for it.” + </p> + <p> + His inflamed face was within a foot of Andre-Louis’. Andre-Louis laughed. + In the silence everybody heard the laugh and the words that followed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that what you wanted? But why didn’t you say so before? You would + have spared me the trouble of knocking you down. I thought gentlemen of + your profession invariably conducted these affairs with decency, decorum, + and a certain grace. Had you done so, you might have saved your breeches.” + </p> + <p> + “How soon shall we settle this?” snapped Chabrillane, livid with very real + fury. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you please, monsieur. It is for you to say when it will suit + your convenience to kill me. I think that was the intention you announced, + was it not?” Andre-Louis was suavity itself. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning, in the Bois. Perhaps you will bring a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, monsieur. To-morrow morning, then. I hope we shall have fine + weather. I detest the rain.” + </p> + <p> + Chabrillane looked at him almost with amazement. Andre-Louis smiled + pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let me detain you now, monsieur. We quite understand each other. I + shall be in the Bois at nine o’clock to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “That is too late for me, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Any other hour would be too early for me. I do not like to have my habits + disturbed. Nine o’clock or not at all, as you please.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must be at the Assembly at nine, for the morning session.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, monsieur, you will have to kill me first, and I have a + prejudice against being killed before nine o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Now this was too complete a subversion of the usual procedure for M. de + Chabrillane’s stomach. Here was a rustic deputy assuming with him + precisely the tone of sinister mockery which his class usually dealt out + to their victims of the Third Estate. And to heighten the irritation, + Andre-Louis—the actor, Scaramouche always—produced his + snuffbox, and proffered it with a steady hand to Le Chapelier before + helping himself. + </p> + <p> + Chabrillane, it seemed, after all that he had suffered, was not even to be + allowed to make a good exit. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, monsieur,” he said. “Nine o’clock, then; and we’ll see if + you’ll talk as pertly afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + On that he flung away, before the jeers of the provincial deputies. Nor + did it soothe his rage to be laughed at by urchins all the way down the + Rue Dauphine because of the mud and filth that dripped from his satin + breeches and the tails of his elegant, striped coat. + </p> + <p> + But though the members of the Third had jeered on the surface, they + trembled underneath with fear and indignation. It was too much. Lagron + killed by one of these bullies, and now his successor challenged, and + about to be killed by another of them on the very first day of his + appearance to take the dead man’s place. Several came now to implore + Andre-Louis not to go to the Bois, to ignore the challenge and the whole + affair, which was but a deliberate attempt to put him out of the way. He + listened seriously, shook his head gloomily, and promised at last to think + it over. + </p> + <p> + He was in his seat again for the afternoon session as if nothing disturbed + him. + </p> + <p> + But in the morning, when the Assembly met, his place was vacant, and so + was M. de Chabrillane’s. Gloom and resentment sat upon the members of the + Third, and brought a more than usually acrid note into their debates. They + disapproved of the rashness of the new recruit to their body. Some openly + condemned his lack of circumspection. Very few—and those only the + little group in Le Chapelier’s confidence—ever expected to see him + again. + </p> + <p> + It was, therefore, as much in amazement as in relief that at a few minutes + after ten they saw him enter, calm, composed, and bland, and thread his + way to his seat. The speaker occupying the rostrum at that moment—a + member of the Privileged—stopped short to stare in incredulous + dismay. Here was something that he could not understand at all. Then from + somewhere, to satisfy the amazement on both sides of the assembly, a voice + explained the phenomenon contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “They haven’t met. He has shirked it at the last moment.” + </p> + <p> + It must be so, thought all; the mystification ceased, and men were + settling back into their seats. But now, having reached his place, having + heard the voice that explained the matter to the universal satisfaction, + Andre-Louis paused before taking his seat. He felt it incumbent upon him + to reveal the true fact. + </p> + <p> + “M. le President, my excuses for my late arrival.” There was no necessity + for this. It was a mere piece of theatricality, such as it was not in + Scaramouche’s nature to forgo. “I have been detained by an engagement of a + pressing nature. I bring you also the excuses of M. de Chabrillane. He, + unfortunately, will be permanently absent from this Assembly in future.” + </p> + <p> + The silence was complete. Andre-Louis sat down. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE PALADIN OF THE THIRD + </h2> + <p> + M. Le Chevalier de Chabrillane had been closely connected, you will + remember, with the iniquitous affair in which Philippe de Vilmorin had + lost his life. We know enough to justify a surmise that he had not merely + been La Tour d’Azyr’s second in the encounter, but actually an instigator + of the business. Andre-Louis may therefore have felt a justifiable + satisfaction in offering up the Chevalier’s life to the Manes of his + murdered friend. He may have viewed it as an act of common justice not to + be procured by any other means. Also it is to be remembered that + Chabrillane had gone confidently to the meeting, conceiving that he, a + practised ferailleur, had to deal with a bourgeois utterly unskilled in + swordsmanship. Morally, then, he was little better than a murderer, and + that he should have tumbled into the pit he conceived that he dug for + Andre-Louis was a poetic retribution. Yet, notwithstanding all this, I + should find the cynical note on which Andre-Louis announced the issue to + the Assembly utterly detestable did I believe it sincere. It would justify + Aline of the expressed opinion, which she held in common with so many + others who had come into close contact with him, that Andre-Louis was + quite heartless. + </p> + <p> + You have seen something of the same heartlessness in his conduct when he + discovered the faithlessness of La Binet although that is belied by the + measures he took to avenge himself. His subsequent contempt of the woman I + account to be born of the affection in which for a time he held her. That + this affection was as deep as he first imagined, I do not believe; but + that it was as shallow as he would almost be at pains to make it appear by + the completeness with which he affects to have put her from his mind when + he discovered her worthlessness, I do not believe; nor, as I have said, do + his actions encourage that belief. Then, again, his callous cynicism in + hoping that he had killed Binet is also an affectation. Knowing that such + things as Binet are better out of the world, he can have suffered no + compunction; he had, you must remember, that rarely level vision which + sees things in their just proportions, and never either magnifies or + reduces them by sentimental considerations. At the same time, that he + should contemplate the taking of life with such complete and cynical + equanimity, whatever the justification, is quite incredible. + </p> + <p> + Similarly now, it is not to be believed that in coming straight from the + Bois de Boulogne, straight from the killing of a man, he should be + sincerely expressing his nature in alluding to the fact in terms of such + outrageous flippancy. Not quite to such an extent was he the incarnation + of Scaramouche. But sufficiently was he so ever to mask his true feelings + by an arresting gesture, his true thoughts by an effective phrase. He was + the actor always, a man ever calculating the effect he would produce, ever + avoiding self-revelation, ever concerned to overlay his real character by + an assumed and quite fictitious one. There was in this something of + impishness, and something of other things. + </p> + <p> + Nobody laughed now at his flippancy. He did not intend that anybody + should. He intended to be terrible; and he knew that the more flippant and + casual his tone, the more terrible would be its effect. He produced + exactly the effect he desired. + </p> + <p> + What followed in a place where feelings and practices had become what they + had become is not difficult to surmise. When the session rose, there were + a dozen spadassins awaiting him in the vestibule, and this time the men of + his own party were less concerned to guard him. He seemed so entirely + capable of guarding himself; he appeared, for all his circumspection, to + have so completely carried the war into the enemy’s camp, so completely to + have adopted their own methods, that his fellows scarcely felt the need to + protect him as yesterday. + </p> + <p> + As he emerged, he scanned that hostile file, whose air and garments marked + them so clearly for what they were. He paused, seeking the man he + expected, the man he was most anxious to oblige. But M. de La Tour d’Azyr + was absent from those eager ranks. This seemed to him odd. La Tour d’Azyr + was Chabrillane’s cousin and closest friend. Surely he should have been + among the first to-day. The fact was that La Tour d’Azyr was too deeply + overcome by amazement and grief at the utterly unexpected event. Also his + vindictiveness was held curiously in leash. Perhaps he, too, remembered + the part played by Chabrillane in the affair at Gavrillac, and saw in this + obscure Andre-Louis Moreau, who had so persistently persecuted him ever + since, an ordained avenger. The repugnance he felt to come to the point, + with him, particularly after this culminating provocation, was puzzling + even to himself. But it existed, and it curbed him now. + </p> + <p> + To Andre-Louis, since La Tour was not one of that waiting pack, it + mattered little on that Tuesday morning who should be the next. The next, + as it happened, was the young Vicomte de La Motte-Royau, one of the + deadliest blades in the group. + </p> + <p> + On the Wednesday morning, coming again an hour or so late to the Assembly, + Andre-Louis announced—in much the same terms as he had announced the + death of Chabrillane—that M. de La Motte-Royau would probably not + disturb the harmony of the Assembly for some weeks to come, assuming that + he were so fortunate as to recover ultimately from the effects of an + unpleasant accident with which he had quite unexpectedly had the + misfortune to meet that morning. + </p> + <p> + On Thursday he made an identical announcement with regard to the Vidame de + Blavon. On Friday he told them that he had been delayed by M. de + Troiscantins, and then turning to the members of the Cote Droit, and + lengthening his face to a sympathetic gravity: + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to inform you, messieurs, that M. des Troiscantins is in the + hands of a very competent surgeon who hopes with care to restore him to + your councils in a few weeks’ time.” + </p> + <p> + It was paralyzing, fantastic, unreal; and friend and foe in that assembly + sat alike stupefied under those bland daily announcements. Four of the + most redoubtable spadassinicides put away for a time, one of them dead—and + all this performed with such an air of indifference and announced in such + casual terms by a wretched little provincial lawyer! + </p> + <p> + He began to assume in their eyes a romantic aspect. Even that group of + philosophers of the Cote Gauche, who refused to worship any force but the + force of reason, began to look upon him with a respect and consideration + which no oratorical triumphs could ever have procured him. + </p> + <p> + And from the Assembly the fame of him oozed out gradually over Paris. + Desmoulins wrote a panegyric upon him in his paper “Les Revolutions,” + wherein he dubbed him the “Paladin of the Third Estate,” a name that + caught the fancy of the people, and clung to him for some time. + Disdainfully was he mentioned in the “Actes des Apotres,” the mocking + organ of the Privileged party, so light-heartedly and provocatively edited + by a group of gentlemen afflicted by a singular mental myopy. + </p> + <p> + The Friday of that very busy week in the life of this young man who even + thereafter is to persist in reminding us that he is not in any sense a man + of action, found the vestibule of the Manege empty of swordsmen when he + made his leisurely and expectant egress between Le Chapelier and Kersain. + </p> + <p> + So surprised was he that he checked in his stride. + </p> + <p> + “Have they had enough?” he wondered, addressing the question to Le + Chapelier. + </p> + <p> + “They have had enough of you, I should think,” was the answer. “They will + prefer to turn their attention to some one less able to take care of + himself.” + </p> + <p> + Now this was disappointing. Andre-Louis had lent himself to this business + with a very definite object in view. The slaying of Chabrillane had, as + far as it went, been satisfactory. He had regarded that as a sort of + acceptable hors d’oeuvre. But the three who had followed were no affair of + his at all. He had met them with a certain amount of repugnance, and dealt + with each as lightly as consideration of his own safety permitted. Was the + baiting of him now to cease whilst the man at whom he aimed had not + presented himself? In that case it would be necessary to force the pace! + </p> + <p> + Out there under the awning a group of gentlemen stood in earnest talk. + Scanning the group in a rapid glance, Andre-Louis perceived M. de La Tour + d’Azyr amongst them. He tightened his lips. He must afford no provocation. + It must be for them to fasten their quarrels upon him. Already the “Actes + des Apotres” that morning had torn the mask from his face, and proclaimed + him the fencing-master of the Rue du Hasard, successor to Bertrand des + Amis. Hazardous as it had been hitherto for a man of his condition to + engage in single combat it was rendered doubly so by this exposure, + offered to the public as an aristocratic apologia. + </p> + <p> + Still, matters could not be left where they were, or he should have had + all his pains for nothing. Carefully looking away from that group of + gentlemen, he raised his voice so that his words must carry to their ears. + </p> + <p> + “It begins to look as if my fears of having to spend the remainder of my + days in the Bois were idle.” + </p> + <p> + Out of the corner of his eye he caught the stir his words created in that + group. Its members had turned to look at him; but for the moment that was + all. A little more was necessary. Pacing slowly along between his friends + he resumed: + </p> + <p> + “But is it not remarkable that the assassin of Lagron should make no move + against Lagron’s successor? Or perhaps it is not remarkable. Perhaps there + are good reasons. Perhaps the gentleman is prudent.” + </p> + <p> + He had passed the group by now, and he left that last sentence of his to + trail behind him, and after it sent laughter, insolent and provoking. + </p> + <p> + He had not long to wait. Came a quick step behind him, and a hand falling + upon his shoulder, spun him violently round. He was brought face to face + with M. de La Tour d’Azyr, whose handsome countenance was calm and + composed, but whose eyes reflected something of the sudden blaze of + passion stirring in him. Behind him several members of the group were + approaching more slowly. The others—like Andre-Louis’ two companions—remained + at gaze. + </p> + <p> + “You spoke of me, I think,” said the Marquis quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I spoke of an assassin—yes. But to these my friends.” Andre-Louis’ + manner was no less quiet, indeed the quieter of the two, for he was the + more experienced actor. + </p> + <p> + “You spoke loudly enough to be overheard,” said the Marquis, answering the + insinuation that he had been eavesdropping. + </p> + <p> + “Those who wish to overhear frequently contrive to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “I perceive that it is your aim to be offensive.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you are mistaken, M. le Marquis. I have no wish to be offensive. + But I resent having hands violently laid upon me, especially when they are + hands that I cannot consider clean. In the circumstances I can hardly be + expected to be polite.” + </p> + <p> + The elder man’s eyelids flickered. Almost he caught himself admiring + Andre-Louis’ bearing. Rather, he feared that his own must suffer by + comparison. Because of this, he enraged altogether, and lost control of + himself. + </p> + <p> + “You spoke of me as the assassin of Lagron. I do not affect to + misunderstand you. You expounded your views to me once before, and I + remember.” + </p> + <p> + “But what flattery, monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + “You called me an assassin then, because I used my skill to dispose of a + turbulent hot-head who made the world unsafe for me. But how much better + are you, M. the fencing-master, when you oppose yourself to men whose + skill is as naturally inferior to your own!” + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s friends looked grave, perturbed. It was really + incredible to find this great gentleman so far forgetting himself as to + descend to argument with a canaille of a lawyer-swordsman. And what was + worse, it was an argument in which he was being made ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + “I oppose myself to them!” said Andre-Louis on a tone of amused protest. + “Ah, pardon, M. le Marquis; it is they who chose to oppose themselves to + me—and so stupidly. They push me, they slap my face, they tread on + my toes, they call me by unpleasant names. What if I am a fencing-master? + Must I on that account submit to every manner of ill-treatment from your + bad-mannered friends? Perhaps had they found out sooner that I am a + fencing-master their manners would have been better. But to blame me for + that! What injustice!” + </p> + <p> + “Comedian!” the Marquis contemptuously apostrophized him. “Does it alter + the case? Are these men who have opposed you men who live by the sword + like yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, M. le Marquis, I have found them men who died by the + sword with astonishing ease. I cannot suppose that you desire to add + yourself to their number.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, if you please?” La Tour d’Azyr’s face had flamed scarlet before + that sneer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” Andre-Louis raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, a man + considering. He delivered himself slowly. “Because, monsieur, you prefer + the easy victim—the Lagrons and Vilmorins of this world, mere sheep + for your butchering. That is why.” + </p> + <p> + And then the Marquis struck him. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis stepped back. His eyes gleamed a moment; the next they were + smiling up into the face of his tall enemy. + </p> + <p> + “No better than the others, after all! Well, well! Remark, I beg you, how + history repeats itself—with certain differences. Because poor + Vilmorin could not bear a vile lie with which you goaded him, he struck + you. Because you cannot bear an equally vile truth which I have uttered, + you strike me. But always is the vileness yours. And now as then for the + striker there is...” He broke off. “But why name it? You will remember + what there is. Yourself you wrote it that day with the point of your + too-ready sword. But there. I will meet you if you desire it, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “What else do you suppose that I desire? To talk?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis turned to his friends and sighed. “So that I am to go another + jaunt to the Bois. Isaac, perhaps you will kindly have a word with one of + these friends of M. le Marquis’, and arrange for nine o’clock to-morrow, + as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-morrow,” said the Marquis shortly to Le Chapeher. “I have an + engagement in the country, which I cannot postpone.” + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier looked at Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Then for M. le Marquis’ convenience, we will say Sunday at the same + hour.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not fight on Sunday. I am not a pagan to break the holy day.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely the good God would not have the presumption to damn a + gentleman of M. le Marquis’ quality on that account? Ah, well, Isaac, + please arrange for Monday, if it is not a feast-day or monsieur has not + some other pressing engagement. I leave it in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed with the air of a man wearied by these details, and threading his + arm through Kersain’s withdrew. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Dieu de Dieu! But what a trick of it you have,” said the Breton + deputy, entirely unsophisticated in these matters. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I have. I have taken lessons at their hands.” He laughed. He + was in excellent good-humour. And Kersain was enrolled in the ranks of + those who accounted Andre-Louis a man without heart or conscience. + </p> + <p> + But in his “Confessions” he tells us—and this is one of the glimpses + that reveal the true man under all that make-believe—that on that + night he went down on his knees to commune with his dead friend Philippe, + and to call his spirit to witness that he was about to take the last step + in the fulfilment of the oath sworn upon his body at Gavrillac two years + ago. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. TORN PRIDE + </h2> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s engagement in the country on that Sunday was with + M. de Kercadiou. To fulfil it he drove out early in the day to Meudon, + taking with him in his pocket a copy of the last issue of “Les Actes des + Apotres,” a journal whose merry sallies at the expense of the innovators + greatly diverted the Seigneur de Gavrillac. The venomous scorn it poured + upon those worthless rapscallions afforded him a certain solatium against + the discomforts of expatriation by which he was afflicted as a result of + their detestable energies. + </p> + <p> + Twice in the last month, had M. de La Tour d’Azyr gone to visit the Lord + of Gavrillac at Meudon, and the sight of Aline, so sweet and fresh, so + bright and of so lively a mind, had caused those embers smouldering under + the ashes of the past, embers which until now he had believed utterly + extinct, to kindle into flame once more. He desired her as we desire + Heaven. I believe that it was the purest passion of his life; that had it + come to him earlier he might have been a vastly different man. The + cruelest wound that in all his selfish life he had taken was when she sent + him word, quite definitely after the affair at the Feydau, that she could + not again in any circumstances receive him. At one blow—through that + disgraceful riot—he had been robbed of a mistress he prized and of a + wife who had become a necessity to the very soul of him. The sordid love + of La Binet might have consoled him for the compulsory renunciation of his + exalted love of Aline, just as to his exalted love of Aline he had been + ready to sacrifice his attachment to La Binet. But that ill-timed riot had + robbed him at once of both. Faithful to his word to Sautron he had + definitely broken with La Binet, only to find that Aline had definitely + broken with him. And by the time that he had sufficiently recovered from + his grief to think again of La Binet, the comedienne had vanished beyond + discovery. + </p> + <p> + For all this he blamed, and most bitterly blamed, Andre-Louis. That + low-born provincial lout pursued him like a Nemesis, was become indeed the + evil genius of his life. That was it—the evil genius of his life! + And it was odds that on Monday... He did not like to think of Monday. He + was not particularly afraid of death. He was as brave as his kind in that + respect, too brave in the ordinary way, and too confident of his skill, to + have considered even remotely such a possibility as that of dying in a + duel. It was only that it would seem like a proper consummation of all the + evil that he had suffered directly or indirectly through this Andre-Louis + Moreau that he should perish ignobly by his hand. Almost he could hear + that insolent, pleasant voice making the flippant announcement to the + Assembly on Monday morning. + </p> + <p> + He shook off the mood, angry with himself for entertaining it. It was + maudlin. After all Chabrillane and La Motte-Royau were quite exceptional + swordsmen, but neither of them really approached his own formidable + calibre. Reaction began to flow, as he drove out through country lanes + flooded with pleasant September sunshine. His spirits rose. A premonition + of victory stirred within him. Far from fearing Monday’s meeting, as he + had so unreasonably been doing, he began to look forward to it. It should + afford him the means of setting a definite term to this persecution of + which he had been the victim. He would crush this insolent and persistent + flea that had been stinging him at every opportunity. Borne upward on that + wave of optimism, he took presently a more hopeful view of his case with + Aline. + </p> + <p> + At their first meeting a month ago he had used the utmost frankness with + her. He had told her the whole truth of his motives in going that night to + the Feydau; he had made her realize that she had acted unjustly towards + him. True he had gone no farther. + </p> + <p> + But that was very far to have gone as a beginning. And in their last + meeting, now a fortnight old, she had received him with frank + friendliness. True, she had been a little aloof. But that was to be + expected until he quite explicitly avowed that he had revived the hope of + winning her. He had been a fool not to have returned before to-day. + </p> + <p> + Thus in that mood of new-born confidence—a confidence risen from the + very ashes of despondency—came he on that Sunday morning to Meudon. + He was gay and jovial with M. de Kercadiou what time he waited in the + salon for mademoiselle to show herself. He pronounced with confidence on + the country’s future. There were signs already—he wore the rosiest + spectacles that morning—of a change of opinion, of a more moderate + note. The Nation began to perceive whither this lawyer rabble was leading + it. He pulled out “The Acts of the Apostles” and read a stinging + paragraph. Then, when mademoiselle at last made her appearance, he + resigned the journal into the hands of M. de Kercadiou. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou, with his niece’s future to consider, went to read the + paper in the garden, taking up there a position whence he could keep the + couple within sight—as his obligations seemed to demand of him—whilst + being discreetly out of earshot. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis made the most of an opportunity that might be brief. He quite + frankly declared himself, and begged, implored to be taken back into + Aline’s good graces, to be admitted at least to the hope that one day + before very long she would bring herself to consider him in a nearer + relationship. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he told her, his voice vibrating with a feeling that + admitted of no doubt, “you cannot lack conviction of my utter sincerity. + The very constancy of my devotion should afford you this. It is just that + I should have been banished from you, since I showed myself so utterly + unworthy of the great honour to which I aspired. But this banishment has + nowise diminished my devotion. If you could conceive what I have suffered, + you would agree that I have fully expiated my abject fault.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a curious, gentle wistfulness on her lovely face. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, it is not you whom I doubt. It is myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean your feelings towards me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But that I can understand. After what has happened...” + </p> + <p> + “It was always so, monsieur,” she interrupted quietly. “You speak of me as + if lost to you by your own action. That is to say too much. Let me be + frank with you. Monsieur, I was never yours to lose. I am conscious of the + honour that you do me. I esteem you very deeply...” + </p> + <p> + “But, then,” he cried, on a high note of confidence, “from such a + beginning...” + </p> + <p> + “Who shall assure me that it is a beginning? May it not be the whole? Had + I held you in affection, monsieur, I should have sent for you after the + affair of which you have spoken. I should at least not have condemned you + without hearing your explanation. As it was...” She shrugged, smiling + gently, sadly. “You see...” + </p> + <p> + But his optimism far from being crushed was stimulated. “But it is to give + me hope, mademoiselle. If already I possess so much, I may look with + confidence to win more. I shall prove myself worthy. I swear to do that. + Who that is permitted the privilege of being near you could do other than + seek to render himself worthy?” + </p> + <p> + And then before she could add a word, M. de Kercadiou came blustering + through the window, his spectacles on his forehead, his face inflamed, + waving in his hand “The Acts of the Apostles,” and apparently reduced to + speechlessness. + </p> + <p> + Had the Marquis expressed himself aloud he would have been profane. As it + was he bit his lip in vexation at this most inopportune interruption. + </p> + <p> + Aline sprang up, alarmed by her uncle’s agitation. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Happened?” He found speech at last. “The scoundrel! The faithless dog! I + consented to overlook the past on the clear condition that he should avoid + revolutionary politics in future. That condition he accepted, and now”—he + smacked the news-sheet furiously—“he has played me false again. Not + only has he gone into politics, once more, but he is actually a member of + the Assembly, and what is worse he has been using his assassin’s skill as + a fencing-master, turning himself into a bully-swordsman. My God! Is there + any law at all left in France?” + </p> + <p> + One doubt M. de La Tour d’Azyr had entertained, though only faintly, to + mar the perfect serenity of his growing optimism. That doubt concerned + this man Moreau and his relations with M. de Kercadiou. He knew what once + they had been, and how changed they subsequently were by the ingratitude + of Moreau’s own behavior in turning against the class to which his + benefactor belonged. What he did not know was that a reconciliation had + been effected. For in the past month—ever since circumstances had + driven Andre-Louis to depart from his undertaking to steer clear of + politics—the young man had not ventured to approach Meudon, and as + it happened his name had not been mentioned in La Tour d’Azyr’s hearing on + the occasion of either of his own previous visits. He learnt of that + reconciliation now; but he learnt at the same time that the breach was now + renewed, and rendered wider and more impassable than ever. Therefore he + did not hesitate to avow his own position. + </p> + <p> + “There is a law,” he answered. “The law that this rash young man himself + evokes. The law of the sword.” He spoke very gravely, almost sadly. For he + realized that after all the ground was tender. “You are not to suppose + that he is to continue indefinitely his career of evil and of murder. + Sooner or later he will meet a sword that will avenge the others. You have + observed that my cousin Chabrillane is among the number of this assassin’s + victims; that he was killed on Tuesday last.” + </p> + <p> + “If I have not expressed my condolence, Azyr, it is because my indignation + stifles at the moment every other feeling. The scoundrel! You say that + sooner or later he will meet a sword that will avenge the others. I pray + that it may be soon.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis answered him quietly, without anything but sorrow in his + voice. “I think your prayer is likely to be heard. This wretched young man + has an engagement for to-morrow, when his account may be definitely + settled.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with such calm conviction that his words had all the sound of a + sentence of death. They suddenly stemmed the flow of M. de Kercadiou’s + anger. The colour receded from his inflamed face; dread looked out of his + pale eyes, to inform M. de La Tour d’Azyr, more clearly than any words, + that M. de Kercadiou’s hot speech had been the expression of unreflecting + anger, that his prayer that retribution might soon overtake his godson had + been unconsciously insincere. Confronted now by the fact that this + retribution was about to be visited upon that scoundrel, the fundamental + gentleness and kindliness of his nature asserted itself; his anger was + suddenly whelmed in apprehension; his affection for the lad beat up to the + surface, making Andre-Louis’ sin, however hideous, a thing of no account + by comparison with the threatened punishment. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou moistened his lips. + </p> + <p> + “With whom is this engagement?” he asked in a voice that by an effort he + contrived to render steady. + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr bowed his handsome head, his eyes upon the gleaming + parquetry of the floor. “With myself,” he answered quietly, conscious + already with a tightening of the heart that his answer must sow dismay. He + caught the sound of a faint outcry from Aline; he saw the sudden recoil of + M. de Kercadiou. And then he plunged headlong into the explanation that he + deemed necessary. + </p> + <p> + “In view of his relations with you, M. de Kercadiou, and because of my + deep regard for you, I did my best to avoid this, even though as you will + understand the death of my dear friend and cousin Chabrillane seemed to + summon me to action, even though I knew that my circumspection was + becoming matter for criticism among my friends. But yesterday this + unbridled young man made further restraint impossible to me. He provoked + me deliberately and publicly. He put upon me the very grossest affront, + and... to-morrow morning in the Bois... we meet.” + </p> + <p> + He faltered a little at the end, fully conscious of the hostile atmosphere + in which he suddenly found himself. Hostility from M. de Kercadiou, the + latter’s earlier change of manner had already led him to expect; the + hostility of mademoiselle came more in the nature of a surprise. + </p> + <p> + He began to understand what difficulties the course to which he was + committed must raise up for him. A fresh obstacle was to be flung across + the path which he had just cleared, as he imagined. Yet his pride and his + sense of the justice due to be done admitted of no weakening. + </p> + <p> + In bitterness he realized now, as he looked from uncle to niece—his + glance, usually so direct and bold, now oddly furtive—that though + to-morrow he might kill Andre-Louis, yet even by his death Andre-Louis + would take vengeance upon him. He had exaggerated nothing in reaching the + conclusion that this Andre-Louis Moreau was the evil genius of his life. + He saw now that do what he would, kill him even though he might, he could + never conquer him. The last word would always be with Andre-Louis Moreau. + In bitterness, in rage, and in humiliation—a thing almost unknown to + him—did he realize it, and the realization steeled his purpose for + all that he perceived its futility. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly he showed himself calm and self-contained, properly suggesting a + man regretfully accepting the inevitable. It would have been as impossible + to find fault with his bearing as to attempt to turn him from the matter + to which he was committed. And so M. de Kercadiou perceived. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” was all that he said, scarcely above his breath, yet almost in a + groan. + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr did, as always, the thing that sensibility demanded + of him. He took his leave. He understood that to linger where his news had + produced such an effect would be impossible, indecent. So he departed, in + a bitterness comparable only with his erstwhile optimism, the sweet fruit + of hope turned to a thing of gall even as it touched his lips. Oh, yes; + the last word, indeed, was with Andre-Louis Moreau—always! + </p> + <p> + Uncle and niece looked at each other as he passed out, and there was + horror in the eyes of both. Aline’s pallor was deathly almost, and + standing there now she wrung her hands as if in pain. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not ask him—beg him...” She broke off. + </p> + <p> + “To what end? He was in the right, and... and there are things one cannot + ask; things it would be a useless humiliation to ask.” He sat down, + groaning. “Oh, the poor boy—the poor, misguided boy.” + </p> + <p> + In the mind of neither, you see, was there any doubt of what must be the + issue. The calm confidence in which La Tour d’Azyr had spoken compelled + itself to be shared. He was no vainglorious boaster, and they knew of what + a force as a swordsman he was generally accounted. + </p> + <p> + “What does humiliation matter? A life is at issue—Andre’s life.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. My God, don’t I know? And I would humiliate myself if by + humiliating myself I could hope to prevail. But Azyr is a hard, relentless + man, and...” + </p> + <p> + Abruptly she left him. + </p> + <p> + She overtook the Marquis as he was in the act of stepping his carriage. He + turned as she called, and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + At once he guessed her errand, tasted in anticipation the unparalleled + bitterness of being compelled to refuse her. Yet at her invitation he + stepped back into the cool of the hall. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the floor of chequered marbles, black and white, stood a + carved table of black oak. By this he halted, leaning lightly against it + whilst she sat enthroned in the great crimson chair beside it. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I cannot allow you so to depart,” she said. “You cannot + realize, monsieur, what a blow would be dealt my uncle if... if evil, + irrevocable evil were to overtake his godson to-morrow. The expressions + that he used at first...” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, I perceived their true value. Spare yourself. Believe me I + am profoundly desolated by circumstances which I had not expected to find. + You must believe me when I say that. It is all that I can say.” + </p> + <p> + “Must it really be all? Andre is very dear to his godfather.” + </p> + <p> + The pleading tone cut him like a knife; and then suddenly it aroused + another emotion—an emotion which he realized to be utterly unworthy, + an emotion which, in his overwhelming pride of race, seemed almost + sullying, yet not to be repressed. He hesitated to give it utterance; + hesitated even remotely to suggest so horrible a thing as that in a man of + such lowly origin he might conceivably discover a rival. Yet that sudden + pang of jealousy was stronger than his monstrous pride. + </p> + <p> + “And to you, mademoiselle? What is this Andre-Louis Moreau to you? You + will pardon the question. But I desire clearly to understand.” + </p> + <p> + Watching her he beheld the scarlet stain that overspread her face. He read + in it at first confusion, until the gleam of her blue eyes announced its + source to lie in anger. That comforted him; since he had affronted her, he + was reassured. It did not occur to him that the anger might have another + source. + </p> + <p> + “Andre and I have been playmates from infancy. He is very dear to me, too; + almost I regard him as a brother. Were I in need of help, and were my + uncle not available, Andre would be the first man to whom I should turn. + Are you sufficiently answered, monsieur? Or is there more of me you would + desire revealed?” + </p> + <p> + He bit his lip. He was unnerved, he thought, this morning; otherwise the + silly suspicion with which he had offended could never have occurred to + him. + </p> + <p> + He bowed very low. “Mademoiselle, forgive that I should have troubled you + with such a question. You have answered more fully than I could have hoped + or wished.” + </p> + <p> + He said no more than that. He waited for her to resume. At a loss, she sat + in silence awhile, a pucker on her white brow, her fingers nervously + drumming on the table. At last she flung herself headlong against the + impassive, polished front that he presented. + </p> + <p> + “I have come, monsieur, to beg you to put off this meeting.” + </p> + <p> + She saw the faint raising of his dark eyebrows, the faintly regretful + smile that scarcely did more than tinge his fine lips, and she hurried on. + “What honour can await you in such an engagement, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + It was a shrewd thrust at the pride of race that she accounted his + paramount sentiment, that had as often lured him into error as it had + urged him into good. + </p> + <p> + “I do not seek honour in it, mademoiselle, but—I must say it—justice. + The engagement, as I have explained, is not of my seeking. It has been + thrust upon me, and in honour I cannot draw back.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what dishonour would there be in sparing him? Surely, monsieur, none + would call your courage in question? None could misapprehend your + motives.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, mademoiselle. My motives would most certainly be + misapprehended. You forget that this young man has acquired in the past + week a certain reputation that might well make a man hesitate to meet + him.” + </p> + <p> + She brushed that aside almost contemptuously, conceiving it the merest + quibble. + </p> + <p> + “Some men, yes. But not you, M. le Marquis.” + </p> + <p> + Her confidence in him on every count was most sweetly flattering. But + there was a bitterness behind the sweet. + </p> + <p> + “Even I, mademoiselle, let me assure you. And there is more than that. + This quarrel which M. Moreau has forced upon me is no new thing. It is + merely the culmination of a long-drawn persecution...” + </p> + <p> + “Which you invited,” she cut in. “Be just, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that it is not in my nature to be otherwise, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Consider, then, that you killed his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I find in that nothing with which to reproach myself. My justification + lay in the circumstances—the subsequent events in this distracted + country surely confirm it.” + </p> + <p> + “And...” She faltered a little, and looked away from him for the first + time. “And that you... that you... And what of Mademoiselle Binet, whom he + was to have married?” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her for a moment in sheer surprise. “Was to have married?” he + repeated incredulously, dismayed almost. + </p> + <p> + “You did not know that?” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I not tell you that we are as brother and sister almost? I have his + confidence. He told me, before... before you made it impossible.” + </p> + <p> + He looked away, chin in hand, his glance thoughtful, disturbed, almost + wistful. + </p> + <p> + “There is,” he said slowly, musingly, “a singular fatality at work between + that man and me, bringing us ever each by turns athwart the other’s + path...” + </p> + <p> + He sighed; then swung to face her again, speaking more briskly: + “Mademoiselle, until this moment I had no knowledge—no suspicion of + this thing. But...” He broke off, considered, and then shrugged. “If I + wronged him, I did so unconsciously. It would be unjust to blame me, + surely. In all our actions it must be the intention alone that counts.” + </p> + <p> + “But does it make no difference?” + </p> + <p> + “None that I can discern, mademoiselle. It gives me no justification to + withdraw from that to which I am irrevocably committed. No justification, + indeed, could ever be greater than my concern for the pain it must + occasion my good friend, your uncle, and perhaps yourself, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + She rose suddenly, squarely confronting him, desperate now, driven to play + the only card upon which she thought she might count. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, “you did me the honour to-day to speak in certain + terms; to... to allude to certain hopes with which you honour me.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her almost in fear. In silence, not daring to speak, he waited + for her to continue. + </p> + <p> + “I... I... Will you please to understand, monsieur, that if you persist in + this matter, if... unless you can break this engagement of yours to-morrow + morning in the Bois, you are not to presume to mention this subject to me + again, or, indeed, ever again to approach me.” + </p> + <p> + To put the matter in this negative way was as far as she could possibly + go. It was for him to make the positive proposal to which she had thus + thrown wide the door. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, you cannot mean...” + </p> + <p> + “I do, monsieur... irrevocably, please to understand.” He looked at her + with eyes of misery, his handsome, manly face as pale as she had ever seen + it. The hand he had been holding out in protest began to shake. He lowered + it to his side again, lest she should perceive its tremor. Thus a brief + second, while the battle was fought within him, the bitter engagement + between his desires and what he conceived to be the demands of his honour, + never perceiving how far his honour was buttressed by implacable + vindictiveness. Retreat, he conceived, was impossible without shame; and + shame was to him an agony unthinkable. She asked too much. She could not + understand what she was asking, else she would never be so unreasonable, + so unjust. But also he saw that it would be futile to attempt to make her + understand. + </p> + <p> + It was the end. Though he kill Andre-Louis Moreau in the morning as he + fiercely hoped he would, yet the victory even in death must lie with + Andre-Louis Moreau. + </p> + <p> + He bowed profoundly, grave and sorrowful of face as he was grave and + sorrowful of heart. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, my homage,” he murmured, and turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “But you have not answered me!” she called after him in terror. + </p> + <p> + He checked on the threshold, and turned; and there from the cool gloom of + the hall she saw him a black, graceful silhouette against the brilliant + sunshine beyond—a memory of him that was to cling as something + sinister and menacing in the dread hours that were to follow. + </p> + <p> + “What would you, mademoiselle? I but spared myself and you the pain of a + refusal.” + </p> + <p> + He was gone leaving her crushed and raging. She sank down again into the + great red chair, and sat there crumpled, her elbows on the table, her face + in her hands—a face that was on fire with shame and passion. She had + offered herself, and she had been refused! The inconceivable had befallen + her. The humiliation of it seemed to her something that could never be + effaced. + </p> + <p> + Startled, appalled, she stepped back, her hand pressed to her tortured + breast. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE RETURNING CARRIAGE + </h2> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou wrote a letter. + </p> + <p> + “Godson,” he began, without any softening adjective, “I have learnt with + pain and indignation that you have dishonoured yourself again by breaking + the pledge you gave me to abstain from politics. With still greater pain + and indignation do I learn that your name has become in a few short days a + byword, that you have discarded the weapon of false, insidious arguments + against my class—the class to which you owe everything—for the + sword of the assassin. It has come to my knowledge that you have an + assignation to-morrow with my good friend M. de La Tour d’Azyr. A + gentleman of his station is under certain obligations imposed upon him by + his birth, which do not permit him to draw back from an engagement. But + you labour under no such disadvantages. For a man of your class to refuse + an engagement of honour, or to neglect it when made, entails no sacrifice. + Your peers will probably be of the opinion that you display a commendable + prudence. Therefore I beg you, indeed, did I think that I still exercise + over you any such authority as the favours you have received from me + should entitle me to exercise, I would command you, to allow this matter + to go no farther, and to refrain from rendering yourself to your + assignation to-morrow morning. Having no such authority, as your past + conduct now makes clear, having no reason to hope that a proper sentiment + of gratitude to me will induce to give heed to this my most earnest + request, I am compelled to add that should you survive to-morrow’s + encounter, I can in no circumstances ever again permit myself to be + conscious of your existence. If any spark survives of the affection that + once you expressed for me, or if you set any value upon the affection, + which, in spite of all that you have done to forfeit it, is the chief + prompter of this letter, you will not refuse to do as I am asking.” + </p> + <p> + It was not a tactful letter. M. de Kercadiou was not a tactful man. Read + it as he would, Andre-Louis—when it was delivered to him on that + Sunday afternoon by the groom dispatched with it into Paris—could + read into it only concern for M. La Tour d’Azyr, M. de Kercadiou’s good + friend, as he called him, and prospective nephew-in-law. + </p> + <p> + He kept the groom waiting a full hour while composing his answer. Brief + though it was, it cost him very considerable effort and several + unsuccessful attempts. In the end this is what he wrote: + </p> + <p> + Monsieur my godfather—You make refusal singularly hard for me when + you appeal to me upon the ground of affection. It is a thing of which all + my life I shall hail the opportunity to give you proofs, and I am + therefore desolated beyond anything I could hope to express that I cannot + give you the proof you ask to-day. There is too much between M. de La Tour + d’Azyr and me. Also you do me and my class—whatever it may be—less + than justice when you say that obligations of honour are not binding upon + us. So binding do I count them, that, if I would, I could not now draw + back. + </p> + <p> + If hereafter you should persist in the harsh intention you express, I must + suffer it. That I shall suffer be assured. + </p> + <p> + Your affectionate and grateful godson + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis + </p> + <p> + He dispatched that letter by M. de Kercadiou’s groom, and conceived this + to be the end of the matter. It cut him keenly; but he bore the wound with + that outward stoicism he affected. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, at a quarter past eight, as with Le Chapelier—who had + come to break his fast with him—he was rising from table to set out + for the Bois, his housekeeper startled him by announcing Mademoiselle de + Kercadiou. + </p> + <p> + He looked at his watch. Although his cabriolet was already at the door, he + had a few minutes to spare. He excused himself from Le Chapelier, and went + briskly out to the anteroom. + </p> + <p> + She advanced to meet him, her manner eager, almost feverish. + </p> + <p> + “I will not affect ignorance of why you have come,” he said quickly, to + make short work. “But time presses, and I warn you that only the most + solid of reasons can be worth stating.” + </p> + <p> + It surprised her. It amounted to a rebuff at the very outset, before she + had uttered a word; and that was the last thing she had expected from + Andre-Louis. Moreover, there was about him an air of aloofness that was + unusual where she was concerned, and his voice had been singularly cold + and formal. + </p> + <p> + It wounded her. She was not to guess the conclusion to which he had leapt. + He made with regard to her—as was but natural, after all—the + same mistake that he had made with regard to yesterday’s letter from his + godfather. He conceived that the mainspring of action here was solely + concern for M. de La Tour d’Azyr. That it might be concern for himself + never entered his mind. So absolute was his own conviction of what must be + the inevitable issue of that meeting that he could not conceive of any one + entertaining a fear on his behalf. + </p> + <p> + What he assumed to be anxiety on the score of the predestined victim had + irritated him in M. de Kercadiou; in Aline it filled him with a cold + anger; he argued from it that she had hardly been frank with him; that + ambition was urging her to consider with favour the suit of M. de La Tour + d’Azyr. And than this there was no spur that could have driven more + relentlessly in his purpose, since to save her was in his eyes almost as + momentous as to avenge the past. + </p> + <p> + She conned him searchingly, and the complete calm of him at such a time + amazed her. She could not repress the mention of it. + </p> + <p> + “How calm you are, Andre!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not easily disturbed. It is a vanity of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “But... Oh, Andre, this meeting must not take place!” She came close up to + him, to set her hands upon his shoulders, and stood so, her face within a + foot of his own. + </p> + <p> + “You know, of course, of some good reason why it should not?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You may be killed,” she answered him, and her eyes dilated as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + It was so far from anything that he had expected that for a moment he + could only stare at her. Then he thought he had understood. He laughed as + he removed her hands from his shoulders, and stepped back. This was a + shallow device, childish and unworthy in her. + </p> + <p> + “Can you really think to prevail by attempting to frighten me?” he asked, + and almost sneered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are surely mad! M. de La Tour d’Azyr is reputed the most + dangerous sword in France.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never noticed that most reputations are undeserved? Chabrillane + was a dangerous swordsman, and Chabrillane is underground. La Motte-Royau + was an even more dangerous swordsman, and he is in a surgeon’s hands. So + are the other spadassinicides who dreamt of skewering a poor sheep of a + provincial lawyer. And here to-day comes the chief, the fine flower of + these bully-swordsmen. He comes, for wages long overdue. Be sure of that. + So if you have no other reason to urge...” + </p> + <p> + It was the sarcasm of him that mystified her. Could he possibly be sincere + in his assurance that he must prevail against M. de La Tour d’Azyr? To her + in her limited knowledge, her mind filled with her uncle’s contrary + conviction, it seemed that Andre-Louis was only acting; he would act a + part to the very end. + </p> + <p> + Be that as it might, she shifted her ground to answer him. + </p> + <p> + “You had my uncle’s letter?” + </p> + <p> + “And I answered it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. But what he said, he will fulfil. Do not dream that he will + relent if you carry out this horrible purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, that is a better reason than the other,” said he. “If there is + a reason in the world that could move me it would be that. But there is + too much between La Tour d’Azyr and me. There is an oath I swore on the + dead hand of Philippe de Vilmorin. I could never have hoped that God would + afford me so great an opportunity of keeping it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not kept it yet,” she warned him. + </p> + <p> + He smiled at her. “True!” he said. “But nine o’clock will soon be here. + Tell me,” he asked her suddenly, “why did you not carry this request of + yours to M. de La Tour d’Azyr?” + </p> + <p> + “I did,” she answered him, and flushed as she remembered her yesterday’s + rejection. He interpreted the flush quite otherwise. + </p> + <p> + “And he?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s obligations...” she was beginning: then she broke + off to answer shortly: “Oh, he refused.” + </p> + <p> + “So, so. He must, of course, whatever it may have cost him. Yet in his + place I should have counted the cost as nothing. But men are different, + you see.” He sighed. “Also in your place, had that been so, I think I + should have left the matter there. But then...” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand you, Andre.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so very obscure. Not nearly so obscure as I can be. Turn it over + in your mind. It may help to comfort you presently.” He consulted his + watch again. “Pray use this house as your own. I must be going.” + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier put his head in at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive the intrusion. But we shall be late, Andre, unless you...” + </p> + <p> + “Coming,” Andre answered him. “If you will await my return, Aline, you + will oblige me deeply. Particularly in view of your uncle’s resolve.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer him. She was numbed. He took her silence for assent, + and, bowing, left her. Standing there she heard his steps going down the + stairs together with Le Chapelier’s. He was speaking to his friend, and + his voice was calm and normal. + </p> + <p> + Oh, he was mad—blinded by self-confidence and vanity. As his + carriage rattled away, she sat down limply, with a sense of exhaustion and + nausea. She was sick and faint with horror. Andre-Louis was going to his + death. Conviction of it—an unreasoning conviction, the result, + perhaps, of all M. de Kercadiou’s rantings—entered her soul. Awhile + she sat thus, paralyzed by hopelessness. Then she sprang up again, + wringing her hands. She must do something to avert this horror. But what + could she do? To follow him to the Bois and intervene there would be to + make a scandal for no purpose. The conventions of conduct were all against + her, offering a barrier that was not to be overstepped. Was there no one + could help her? + </p> + <p> + Standing there, half-frenzied by her helplessness, she caught again a + sound of vehicles and hooves on the cobbles of the street below. A + carriage was approaching. It drew up with a clatter before the + fencing-academy. Could it be Andre-Louis returning? Passionately she + snatched at that straw of hope. Knocking, loud and urgent, fell upon the + door. She heard Andre-Louis’ housekeeper, her wooden shoes clanking upon + the stairs, hurrying down to open. + </p> + <p> + She sped to the door of the anteroom, and pulling it wide stood + breathlessly to listen. But the voice that floated up to her was not the + voice she so desperately hoped to hear. It was a woman’s voice asking in + urgent tones for M. Andre-Louis—a voice at first vaguely familiar, + then clearly recognized, the voice of Mme. de Plougastel. + </p> + <p> + Excited, she ran to the head of the narrow staircase in time to hear Mme. + de Plougastel exclaim in agitation: + </p> + <p> + “He has gone already! Oh, but how long since? Which way did he take?” + </p> + <p> + It was enough to inform Aline that Mme. de Plougastel’s errand must be + akin to her own. At the moment, in the general distress and confusion of + her mind, her mental vision focussed entirely on the one vital point, she + found in this no matter for astonishment. The singular regard conceived by + Mme. de Plougastel for Andre-Louis seemed to her then a sufficient + explanation. + </p> + <p> + Without pausing to consider, she ran down that steep staircase, calling: + </p> + <p> + “Madame! Madame!” + </p> + <p> + The portly, comely housekeeper drew aside, and the two ladies faced each + other on that threshold. Mme. de Plougastel looked white and haggard, a + nameless dread staring from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Aline! You here!” she exclaimed. And then in the urgency sweeping aside + all minor considerations, “Were you also too late?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, madame. I saw him. I implored him. But he would not listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this is horrible!” Mme. de Plougastel shuddered as she spoke. “I + heard of it only half an hour ago, and I came at once, to prevent it at + all costs.” + </p> + <p> + The two women looked blankly, despairingly, at each other. In the + sunshine-flooded street one or two shabby idlers were pausing to eye the + handsome equipage with its magnificent bay horses, and the two great + ladies on the doorstep of the fencing-academy. From across the way came + the raucous voice of an itinerant bellows-mender raised in the cry of his + trade: + </p> + <p> + “A raccommoder les vieux soufflets!” + </p> + <p> + Madame swung to the housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + “How long is it since monsieur left?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes, maybe; hardly more.” Conceiving these great ladies to be + friends of her invincible master’s latest victim, the good woman preserved + a decently stolid exterior. + </p> + <p> + Madame wrung her hands. “Ten minutes! Oh!” It was almost a moan. “Which + way did he go?” + </p> + <p> + “The assignation is for nine o’clock in the Bois de Boulogne,” Aline + informed her. “Could we follow? Could we prevail if we did?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my God! The question is should we come in time? At nine o’clock! And + it wants but little more than a quarter of an hour. Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!” + Madame clasped and unclasped her hands in anguish. “Do you know, at least, + where in the Bois they are to meet?” + </p> + <p> + “No—only that it is in the Bois.” + </p> + <p> + “In the Bois!” Madame was flung into a frenzy. “The Bois is nearly half as + large as Paris.” But she swept breathlessly on, “Come, Aline: get in, get + in!” + </p> + <p> + Then to her coachman. “To the Bois de Boulogne by way of the Cours la + Reine,” she commanded, “as fast as you can drive. There are ten pistoles + for you if we are in time. Whip up, man!” + </p> + <p> + She thrust Aline into the carriage, and sprang after her with the energy + of a girl. The heavy vehicle—too heavy by far for this race with + time—was moving before she had taken her seat. Rocking and lurching + it went, earning the maledictions of more than one pedestrian whom it + narrowly avoided crushing against a wall or trampling underfoot. + </p> + <p> + Madame sat back with closed eyes and trembling lips. Her face showed very + white and drawn. Aline watched her in silence. Almost it seemed to her + that Mme. de Plougastel was suffering as deeply as herself, enduring an + anguish of apprehension as great as her own. + </p> + <p> + Later Aline was to wonder at this. But at the moment all the thought of + which her half-numbed mind was capable was bestowed upon their desperate + errand. + </p> + <p> + The carriage rolled across the Place Louis XV and out on to the Cours la + Reine at last. Along that beautiful, tree-bordered avenue between the + Champs Elysees and the Seine, almost empty at this hour of the day, they + made better speed, leaving now a cloud of dust behind them. + </p> + <p> + But fast to danger-point as was the speed, to the women in that carriage + it was too slow. As they reached the barrier at the end of the Cours, nine + o’clock was striking in the city behind them, and every stroke of it + seemed to sound a note of doom. + </p> + <p> + Yet here at the barrier the regulations compelled a momentary halt. Aline + enquired of the sergeant-in-charge how long it was since a cabriolet such + as she described had gone that way. She was answered that some twenty + minutes ago a vehicle had passed the barrier containing the deputy M. le + Chapelier and the Paladin of the Third Estate, M. Moreau. The sergeant was + very well informed. He could make a shrewd guess, he said, with a grin, of + the business that took M. Moreau that way so early in the day. + </p> + <p> + They left him, to speed on now through the open country, following the + road that continued to hug the river. They sat back mutely despairing, + staring hopelessly ahead, Aline’s hand clasped tight in madame’s. In the + distance, across the meadows on their right, they could see already the + long, dusky line of trees of the Bois, and presently the carriage swung + aside following a branch of the road that turned to the right, away from + the river and heading straight for the forest. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle broke at last the silence of hopelessness that had reigned + between them since they had passed the barrier. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is impossible that we should come in time! Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say it! Don’t say it!” madame cried out. + </p> + <p> + “But it is long past nine, madame! Andre would be punctual, and these... + affairs do not take long. It... it will be all over by now.” + </p> + <p> + Madame shivered, and closed her eyes. Presently, however, she opened them + again, and stirred. Then she put her head from the window. “A carriage is + approaching,” she announced, and her tone conveyed the thing she feared. + </p> + <p> + “Not already! Oh, not already!” Thus Aline expressed the silently + communicated thought. She experienced a difficulty in breathing, felt the + sudden need of air. Something in her throat was throbbing as if it would + suffocate her; a mist came and went before her eyes. + </p> + <p> + In a cloud of dust an open caleche was speeding towards them, coming from + the Bois. They watched it, both pale, neither venturing to speak, Aline, + indeed, without breath to do so. + </p> + <p> + As it approached, it slowed down, perforce, as they did, to effect a safe + passage in that narrow road. Aline was at the window with Mme. de + Plougastel, and with fearful eyes both looked into this open carriage that + was drawing abreast of them. + </p> + <p> + “Which of them is it, madame? Oh, which of them?” gasped Aline, scarce + daring to look, her senses swimming. + </p> + <p> + On the near side sat a swarthy young gentleman unknown to either of the + ladies. He was smiling as he spoke to his companion. A moment later and + the man sitting beyond came into view. He was not smiling. His face was + white and set, and it was the face of the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr. + </p> + <p> + For a long moment, in speechless horror, both women stared at him, until, + perceiving them, blankest surprise invaded his stern face. + </p> + <p> + In that moment, with a long shuddering sigh Aline sank swooning to the + carriage floor behind Mme. de Plougastel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. INFERENCES + </h2> + <p> + By fast driving Andre-Louis had reached the ground some minutes ahead of + time, notwithstanding the slight delay in setting out. There he had found + M. de La Tour d’Azyr already awaiting him, supported by a M. d’Ormesson, a + swarthy young gentleman in the blue uniform of a captain in the Gardes du + Corps. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis had been silent and preoccupied throughout that drive. He was + perturbed by his last interview with Mademoiselle de Kercadiou and the + rash inferences which he had drawn as to her motives. + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly,” he had said, “this man must be killed.” + </p> + <p> + Le Chapelier had not answered him. Almost, indeed, had the Breton + shuddered at his compatriot’s cold-bloodedness. He had often of late + thought that this fellow Moreau was hardly human. Also he had found him + incomprehensibly inconsistent. When first this spadassinicide business had + been proposed to him, he had been so very lofty and disdainful. Yet, + having embraced it, he went about it at times with a ghoulish flippancy + that was revolting, at times with a detachment that was more revolting + still. + </p> + <p> + Their preparations were made quickly and in silence, yet without undue + haste or other sign of nervousness on either side. In both men the same + grim determination prevailed. The opponent must be killed; there could be + no half-measures here. Stripped each of coat and waistcoat, shoeless and + with shirt-sleeves rolled to the elbow, they faced each other at last, + with the common resolve of paying in full the long score that stood + between them. I doubt if either of them entertained a misgiving as to what + must be the issue. + </p> + <p> + Beside them, and opposite each other, stood Le Chapelier and the young + captain, alert and watchful. + </p> + <p> + “Allez, messieurs!” + </p> + <p> + The slender, wickedly delicate blades clashed together, and after a + momentary glizade were whirling, swift and bright as lightnings, and + almost as impossible to follow with the eye. The Marquis led the attack, + impetuously and vigorously, and almost at once Andre-Louis realized that + he had to deal with an opponent of a very different mettle from those + successive duellists of last week, not excluding La Motte-Royau, of + terrible reputation. + </p> + <p> + Here was a man whom much and constant practice had given extraordinary + speed and a technique that was almost perfect. In addition, he enjoyed + over Andre-Louis physical advantages of strength and length of reach, + which rendered him altogether formidable. And he was cool, too; cool and + self-contained; fearless and purposeful. Would anything shake that calm, + wondered Andre-Louis? + </p> + <p> + He desired the punishment to be as full as he could make it. Not content + to kill the Marquis as the Marquis had killed Philippe, he desired that he + should first know himself as powerless to avert that death as Philippe had + been. Nothing less would content Andre-Louis. M. le Marquis must begin by + tasting of that cup of despair. It was in the account; part of the + quittance due. + </p> + <p> + As with a breaking sweep Andre-Louis parried the heavy lunge in which that + first series of passes culminated, he actually laughed—gleefully, + after the fashion of a boy at a sport he loves. + </p> + <p> + That extraordinary, ill-timed laugh made M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s recovery + hastier and less correctly dignified than it would otherwise have been. It + startled and discomposed him, who had already been discomposed by the + failure to get home with a lunge so beautifully timed and so truly + delivered. + </p> + <p> + He, too, had realized that his opponent’s force was above anything that he + could have expected, fencing-master though he might be, and on that + account he had put forth his utmost energy to make an end at once. + </p> + <p> + More than the actual parry, the laugh by which it was accompanied seemed + to make of that end no more than a beginning. And yet it was the end of + something. It was the end of that absolute confidence that had hitherto + inspired M. de La Tour d’Azyr. He no longer looked upon the issue as a + thing forgone. He realized that if he was to prevail in this encounter, he + must go warily and fence as he had never fenced yet in all his life. + </p> + <p> + They settled down again; and again—on the principle this time that + the soundest defence is in attack—it was the Marquis who made the + game. Andre-Louis allowed him to do so, desired him to do so; desired him + to spend himself and that magnificent speed of his against the greater + speed that whole days of fencing in succession for nearly two years had + given the master. With a beautiful, easy pressure of forte on foible + Andre-Louis kept himself completely covered in that second bout, which + once more culminated in a lunge. + </p> + <p> + Expecting it now, Andre-Louis parried it by no more than a deflecting + touch. At the same moment he stepped suddenly forward, right within the + other’s guard, thus placing his man so completely at his mercy that, as if + fascinated, the Marquis did not even attempt to recover himself. + </p> + <p> + This time Andre-Louis did not laugh: He just smiled into the dilating eyes + of M. de La Tour d’Azyr, and made no shift to use his advantage. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, monsieur!” he bade him sharply. “Am I to run my blade through + an uncovered man?” Deliberately he fell back, whilst his shaken opponent + recovered himself at last. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Ormesson released the breath which horror had for a moment caught. Le + Chapelier swore softly, muttering: + </p> + <p> + “Name of a name! It is tempting Providence to play the fool in this + fashion!” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis observed the ashen pallor that now over spread the face of his + opponent. + </p> + <p> + “I think you begin to realize, monsieur, what Philippe de Vilmorin must + have felt that day at Gavrillac. I desired that you should first do so. + Since that is accomplished, why, here’s to make an end.” + </p> + <p> + He went in with lightning rapidity. For a moment his point seemed to La + Tour d’Azyr to be everywhere at once, and then from a low engagement in + sixte, Andre-Louis stretched forward with swift and vigorous ease to lunge + in tierce. He drove his point to transfix his opponent whom a series of + calculated disengages uncovered in that line. But to his amazement and + chagrin, La Tour d’Azyr parried the stroke; infinitely more to his chagrin + La Tour d’Azyr parried it just too late. Had he completely parried it, all + would yet have been well. But striking the blade in the last fraction of a + second, the Marquis deflected the point from the line of his body, yet not + so completely but that a couple of feet of that hard-driven steel tore + through the muscles of his sword-arm. + </p> + <p> + To the seconds none of these details had been visible. All that they had + seen had been a swift whirl of flashing blades, and then Andre-Louis + stretched almost to the ground in an upward lunge that had pierced the + Marquis’ right arm just below the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The sword fell from the suddenly relaxed grip of La Tour d’Azyr’s fingers, + which had been rendered powerless, and he stood now disarmed, his lip in + his teeth, his face white, his chest heaving, before his opponent, who had + at once recovered. With the blood-tinged tip of his sword resting on the + ground, Andre-Louis surveyed him grimly, as we survey the prey that + through our own clumsiness has escaped us at the last moment. + </p> + <p> + In the Assembly and in the newspapers this might be hailed as another + victory for the Paladin of the Third Estate; only himself could know the + extent and the bitternest of the failure. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Ormesson had sprung to the side of his principal. + </p> + <p> + “You are hurt!” he had cried stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” said La Tour d’Azyr. “A scratch.” But his lip writhed, + and the torn sleeve of his fine cambric shirt was full of blood. + </p> + <p> + D’Ormesson, a practical man in such matters, produced a linen kerchief, + which he tore quickly into strips to improvise a bandage. + </p> + <p> + Still Andre-Louis continued to stand there, looking on as if bemused. He + continued so until Le Chapelier touched him on the arm. Then at last he + roused himself, sighed, and turned away to resume his garments, nor did he + address or look again at his late opponent, but left the ground at once. + </p> + <p> + As, with Le Chapelier, he was walking slowly and in silent dejection + towards the entrance of the Bois, where they had left their carriage, they + were passed by the caleche conveying La Tour d’Azyr and his second—which + had originally driven almost right up to the spot of the encounter. The + Marquis’ wounded arm was carried in a sling improvised from his + companion’s sword-belt. His sky-blue coat with three collars had been + buttoned over this, so that the right sleeve hung empty. Otherwise, saving + a certain pallor, he looked much his usual self. + </p> + <p> + And now you understand how it was that he was the first to return, and + that seeing him thus returning, apparently safe and sound, the two ladies, + intent upon preventing the encounter, should have assumed that their worst + fears were realized. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Plougastel attempted to call out, but her voice refused its + office. She attempted to throw open the door of her own carriage; but her + fingers fumbled clumsily and ineffectively with the handle. And meanwhile + the caleche was slowly passing, La Tour d’Azyr’s fine eyes sombrely yet + intently meeting her own anguished gaze. And then she saw something else. + M. d’Ormesson, leaning back again from the forward inclination of his body + to join his own to his companion’s salutation of the Countess, disclosed + the empty right sleeve of M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s blue coat. More, the near + side of the coat itself turned back from the point near the throat where + it was caught together by a single button, revealed the slung arm beneath + in its blood-sodden cambric sleeve. + </p> + <p> + Even now she feared to jump to the obvious conclusion—feared lest + perhaps the Marquis, though himself wounded, might have dealt his + adversary a deadlier wound. + </p> + <p> + She found her voice at last, and at the same moment signalled to the + driver of the caleche to stop. + </p> + <p> + As it was pulled to a standstill, M. d’Ormesson alighted, and so met + madame in the little space between the two carriages. + </p> + <p> + “Where is M. Moreau?” was the question with which she surprised him. + </p> + <p> + “Following at his leisure, no doubt, madame,” he answered, recovering. + </p> + <p> + “He is not hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately it is we who...” M. d’Ormesson was beginning, when from + behind him M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s voice cut in crisply: + </p> + <p> + “This interest on your part in M. Moreau, dear Countess...” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, observing a vague challenge in the air with which she + confronted him. But indeed his sentence did not need completing. + </p> + <p> + There was a vaguely awkward pause. And then she looked at M. d’Ormesson. + Her manner changed. She offered what appeared to be an explanation of her + concern for M. Moreau. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle de Kercadiou is with me. The poor child has fainted.” + </p> + <p> + There was more, a deal more, she would have said just then, but for M. + d’Ormesson’s presence. + </p> + <p> + Moved by a deep solicitude for Mademoiselle de Kercadiou, de La Tour + d’Azyr sprang up despite his wound. + </p> + <p> + “I am in poor case to render assistance, madame,” he said, an apologetic + smile on his pale face. “But...” + </p> + <p> + With the aid of d’Ormesson, and in spite of the latter’s protestations, he + got down from the caleche, which then moved on a little way, so as to + leave the road clear—for another carriage that was approaching from + the direction of the Bois. + </p> + <p> + And thus it happened that when a few moments later that approaching + cabriolet overtook and passed the halted vehicles, Andre-Louis beheld a + very touching scene. Standing up to obtain a better view, he saw Aline in + a half-swooning condition—she was beginning to revive by now—seated + in the doorway of the carriage, supported by Mme. de Plougastel. In an + attitude of deepest concern, M. de La Tour d’Azyr, his wound + notwithstanding, was bending over the girl, whilst behind him stood M. + d’Ormesson and madame’s footman. + </p> + <p> + The Countess looked up and saw him as he was driven past. Her face + lighted; almost it seemed to him she was about to greet him or to call + him, wherefore, to avoid a difficulty, arising out of the presence there + of his late antagonist, he anticipated her by bowing frigidly—for + his mood was frigid, the more frigid by virtue of what he saw—and + then resumed his seat with eyes that looked deliberately ahead. + </p> + <p> + Could anything more completely have confirmed him in his conviction that + it was on M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s account that Aline had come to plead with + him that morning? For what his eyes had seen, of course, was a lady + overcome with emotion at the sight of blood of her dear friend, and that + same dear friend restoring her with assurances that his hurt was very far + from mortal. Later, much later, he was to blame his own perverse + stupidity. Almost is he too severe in his self-condemnation. For how else + could he have interpreted the scene he beheld, his preconceptions being + what they were? + </p> + <p> + That which he had already been suspecting, he now accounted proven to him. + Aline had been wanting in candour on the subject of her feelings towards + M. de La Tour d’Azyr. It was, he supposed, a woman’s way to be secretive + in such matters, and he must not blame her. Nor could he blame her in his + heart for having succumbed to the singular charm of such a man as the + Marquis—for not even his hostility could blind him to M. de La Tour + d’Azyr’s attractions. That she had succumbed was betrayed, he thought, by + the weakness that had overtaken her upon seeing him wounded. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he cried aloud. “What must she have suffered, then, if I had + killed him as I intended!” + </p> + <p> + If only she had used candour with him, she could so easily have won his + consent to the thing she asked. If only she had told him what now he saw, + that she loved M. de La Tour d’Azyr, instead of leaving him to assume her + only regard for the Marquis to be based on unworthy worldly ambition, he + would at once have yielded. + </p> + <p> + He fetched a sigh, and breathed a prayer for forgiveness to the shade of + Vilmorin. + </p> + <p> + “It is perhaps as well that my lunge went wide,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” wondered Le Chapelier. + </p> + <p> + “That in this business I must relinquish all hope of recommencing.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE OVERWHELMING REASON + </h2> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr was seen no more in the Manege—or indeed in + Paris at all—throughout all the months that the National Assembly + remained in session to complete its work of providing France with a + constitution. After all, though the wound to his body had been + comparatively slight, the wound to such a pride as his had been all but + mortal. + </p> + <p> + The rumour ran that he had emigrated. But that was only half the truth. + The whole of it was that he had joined that group of noble travellers who + came and went between the Tuileries and the headquarters of the emigres at + Coblenz. He became, in short, a member of the royalist secret service that + in the end was to bring down the monarchy in ruins. + </p> + <p> + As for Andre-Louis, his godfather’s house saw him no more, as a result of + his conviction that M. de Kercadiou would not relent from his written + resolve never to receive him again if the duel were fought. + </p> + <p> + He threw himself into his duties at the Assembly with such zeal and effect + that when—its purpose accomplished—the Constituent was + dissolved in September of the following year, membership of the + Legislative, whose election followed immediately, was thrust upon him. + </p> + <p> + He considered then, like many others, that the Revolution was a thing + accomplished, that France had only to govern herself by the Constitution + which had been given her, and that all would now be well. And so it might + have been but that the Court could not bring itself to accept the altered + state of things. As a result of its intrigues half Europe was arming to + hurl herself upon France, and her quarrel was the quarrel of the French + King with his people. That was the horror at the root of all the horrors + that were to come. + </p> + <p> + Of the counter-revolutionary troubles that were everywhere being stirred + up by the clergy, none were more acute than those of Brittany, and, in + view of the influence it was hoped he would wield in his native province, + it was proposed to Andre-Louis by the Commission of Twelve, in the early + days of the Girondin ministry, that he should go thither to combat the + unrest. He was desired to proceed peacefully, but his powers were almost + absolute, as is shown by the orders he carried—orders enjoining all + to render him assistance and warning those who might hinder him that they + would do so at their peril. + </p> + <p> + He accepted the task, and he was one of the five plenipotentiaries + despatched on the same errand in that spring of 1792. It kept him absent + from Paris for four months and might have kept him longer but that at the + beginning of August he was recalled. More imminent than any trouble in + Brittany was the trouble brewing in Paris itself; when the political sky + was blacker than it had been since ‘89. Paris realized that the hour was + rapidly approaching which would see the climax of the long struggle + between Equality and Privilege. And it was towards a city so disposed that + Andre-Louis came speeding from the West, to find there also the climax of + his own disturbed career. + </p> + <p> + Mlle. de Kercadiou, too, was in Paris in those days of early August, on a + visit to her uncle’s cousin and dearest friend, Mme. de Plougastel. And + although nothing could now be plainer than the seething unrest that + heralded the explosion to come, yet the air of gaiety, indeed of + jocularity, prevailing at Court—whither madame and mademoiselle went + almost daily—reassured them. M. de Plougastel had come and gone + again, back to Coblenz on that secret business that kept him now almost + constantly absent from his wife. But whilst with her he had positively + assured her that all measures were taken, and that an insurrection was a + thing to be welcomed, because it could have one only conclusion, the final + crushing of the Revolution in the courtyard of the Tuileries. That, he + added, was why the King remained in Paris. But for his confidence in that + he would put himself in the centre of his Swiss and his knights of the + dagger, and quit the capital. They would hack a way out for him easily if + his departure were opposed. But not even that would be necessary. + </p> + <p> + Yet in those early days of August, after her husband’s departure the + effect of his inspiring words was gradually dissipated by the march of + events under madame’s own eyes. And finally on the afternoon of the ninth, + there arrived at the Hotel Plougastel a messenger from Meudon bearing a + note from M. de Kercadiou in which he urgently bade mademoiselle join him + there at once, and advised her hostess to accompany her. + </p> + <p> + You may have realized that M. de Kercadiou was of those who make friends + with men of all classes. His ancient lineage placed him on terms of + equality with members of the noblesse; his simple manners—something + between the rustic and the bourgeois—and his natural affability + placed him on equally good terms with those who by birth were his + inferiors. In Meudon he was known and esteemed of all the simple folk, and + it was Rougane, the friendly mayor, who, informed on the 9th of August of + the storm that was brewing for the morrow, and knowing of mademoiselle’s + absence in Paris, had warningly advised him to withdraw her from what in + the next four-and-twenty hours might be a zone of danger for all persons + of quality, particularly those suspected of connections with the Court + party. + </p> + <p> + Now there was no doubt whatever of Mme. de Plougastel’s connection with + the Court. It was not even to be doubted—indeed, measure of proof of + it was to be forthcoming—that those vigilant and ubiquitous secret + societies that watched over the cradle of the young revolution were fully + informed of the frequent journeyings of M. de Plougastel to Coblenz, and + entertained no illusions on the score of the reason for them. Given, then, + a defeat of the Court party in the struggle that was preparing, the + position in Paris of Mme. de Plougastel could not be other than fraught + with danger, and that danger would be shared by any guest of birth at her + hotel. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou’s affection for both those women quickened the fears + aroused in him by Rougane’s warning. Hence that hastily dispatched note, + desiring his niece and imploring his friend to come at once to Meudon. + </p> + <p> + The friendly mayor carried his complaisance a step farther, and dispatched + the letter to Paris by the hands of his own son, an intelligent lad of + nineteen. It was late in the afternoon of that perfect August day when + young Rougane presented himself at the Hotel Plougastel. + </p> + <p> + He was graciously received by Mme. de Plougastel in the salon, whose + splendours, when combined with the great air of the lady herself, + overwhelmed the lad’s simple, unsophisticated soul. Madame made up her + mind at once. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou’s urgent message no more than confirmed her own fears and + inclinations. She decided upon instant departure. + </p> + <p> + “Bien, madame,” said the youth. “Then I have the honour to take my leave.” + </p> + <p> + But she would not let him go. First to the kitchen to refresh himself, + whilst she and mademoiselle made ready, and then a seat for him in her + carriage as far as Meudon. She could not suffer him to return on foot as + he had come. + </p> + <p> + Though in all the circumstances it was no more than his due, yet the + kindliness that in such a moment of agitation could take thought for + another was presently to be rewarded. Had she done less than this, she + would have known—if nothing worse—at least some hours of + anguish even greater than those that were already in store for her. + </p> + <p> + It wanted, perhaps, a half-hour to sunset when they set out in her + carriage with intent to leave Paris by the Porte Saint-Martin. They + travelled with a single footman behind. Rougane—terrifying + condescension—was given a seat inside the carriage with the ladies, + and proceeded to fall in love with Mlle. de Kercadiou, whom he accounted + the most beautiful being he had ever seen, yet who talked to him simply + and unaffectedly as with an equal. The thing went to his head a little, + and disturbed certain republican notions which he had hitherto conceived + himself to have thoroughly digested. + </p> + <p> + The carriage drew up at the barrier, checked there by a picket of the + National Guard posted before the iron gates. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant in command strode to the door of the vehicle. The Countess + put her head from the window. + </p> + <p> + “The barrier is closed, madame,” she was curtly informed. + </p> + <p> + “Closed!” she echoed. The thing was incredible. “But... but do you mean + that we cannot pass?” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless you have a permit, madame.” The sergeant leaned nonchalantly + on his pike. “The orders are that no one is to leave or enter without + proper papers.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose orders?” + </p> + <p> + “Orders of the Commune of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must go into the country this evening.” Madame’s voice was almost + petulant. “I am expected.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case let madame procure a permit.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is it to be procured?” + </p> + <p> + “At the Hotel de Ville or at the headquarters of madame’s section.” + </p> + <p> + She considered a moment. “To the section, then. Be so good as to tell my + coachman to drive to the Bondy Section.” + </p> + <p> + He saluted her and stepped back. “Section Bondy, Rue des Morts,” he bade + the driver. + </p> + <p> + Madame sank into her seat again, in a state of agitation fully shared by + mademoiselle. Rougane set himself to pacify and reassure them. The section + would put the matter in order. They would most certainly be accorded a + permit. What possible reason could there be for refusing them? A mere + formality, after all! + </p> + <p> + His assurance uplifted them merely to prepare them for a still more + profound dejection when presently they met with a flat refusal from the + president of the section who received the Countess. + </p> + <p> + “Your name, madame?” he had asked brusquely. A rude fellow of the most + advanced republican type, he had not even risen out of deference to the + ladies when they entered. He was there, he would have told you, to perform + the duties of his office, not to give dancing-lessons. + </p> + <p> + “Plougastel,” he repeated after her, without title, as if it had been the + name of a butcher or baker. He took down a heavy volume from a shelf on + his right, opened it and turned the pages. It was a sort of directory of + his section. Presently he found what he sought. “Comte de Plougastel, + Hotel Plougastel, Rue du Paradis. Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + “That is correct, monsieur,” she answered, with what civility she could + muster before the fellow’s affronting rudeness. + </p> + <p> + There was a long moment of silence, during which he studied certain + pencilled entries against the name. The sections had been working in the + last few weeks much more systematically than was generally suspected. + </p> + <p> + “Your husband is with you, madame?” he asked curtly, his eyes still + conning that page. + </p> + <p> + “M. le Comte is not with me,” she answered, stressing the title. + </p> + <p> + “Not with you?” He looked up suddenly, and directed upon her a glance in + which suspicion seemed to blend with derision. “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is not in Paris, monsieur. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Is he at Coblenz, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + Madame felt herself turning cold. There was something ominous in all this. + To what end had the sections informed themselves so thoroughly of the + comings and goings of their inhabitants? What was preparing? She had a + sense of being trapped, of being taken in a net that had been cast unseen. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, monsieur,” she said, her voice unsteady. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not.” He seemed to sneer. “No matter. And you wish to leave + Paris also? Where do you desire to go?” + </p> + <p> + “To Meudon.” + </p> + <p> + “Your business there?” + </p> + <p> + The blood leapt to her face. His insolence was unbearable to a woman who + in all her life had never known anything but the utmost deference from + inferiors and equals alike. Nevertheless, realizing that she was face to + face with forces entirely new, she controlled herself, stifled her + resentment, and answered steadily. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to conduct this lady, Mlle. de Kercadiou, back to her uncle who + resides there.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all? Another day will do for that, madame. The matter is not + pressing.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, monsieur, to us the matter is very pressing.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not convinced me of it, and the barriers are closed to all who + cannot prove the most urgent and satisfactory reasons for wishing to pass. + You will wait, madame, until the restriction is removed. Good-evening.” + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur...” + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, madame,” he repeated significantly, a dismissal more + contemptuous and despotic than any royal “You have leave to go.” + </p> + <p> + Madame went out with Aline. Both were quivering with the anger that + prudence had urged them to suppress. They climbed into the coach again, + desiring to be driven home. + </p> + <p> + Rougane’s astonishment turned into dismay when they told him what had + taken place. “Why not try the Hotel de Ville, madame?” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “After that? It would be useless. We must resign ourselves to remaining in + Paris until the barriers are opened again.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it will not matter to us either way by then, madame,” said Aline. + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” she exclaimed in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle!” cried Rougane on the same note. And then, because he + perceived that people detained in this fashion must be in some danger not + yet discernible, but on that account more dreadful, he set his wits to + work. As they were approaching the Hotel Plougastel once more, he + announced that he had solved the problem. + </p> + <p> + “A passport from without would do equally well,” he announced. “Listen, + now, and trust to me. I will go back to Meudon at once. My father shall + give me two permits—one for myself alone, and another for three + persons—from Meudon to Paris and back to Meudon. I reenter Paris + with my own permit, which I then proceed to destroy, and we leave + together, we three, on the strength of the other one, representing + ourselves as having come from Meudon in the course of the day. It is quite + simple, after all. If I go at once, I shall be back to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “But how will you leave?” asked Aline. + </p> + <p> + “I? Pooh! As to that, have no anxiety. My father is Mayor of Meudon. There + are plenty who know him. I will go to the Hotel de Ville, and tell them + what is, after all, true—that I am caught in Paris by the closing of + the barriers, and that my father is expecting me home this evening. They + will pass me through. It is quite simple.” + </p> + <p> + His confidence uplifted them again. The thing seemed as easy as he + represented it. + </p> + <p> + “Then let your passport be for four, my friend,” madame begged him. “There + is Jacques,” she explained, indicating the footman who had just assisted + them to alight. + </p> + <p> + Rougane departed confident of soon returning, leaving them to await him + with the same confidence. But the hours succeeded one another, the night + closed in, bedtime came, and still there was no sign of his return. + </p> + <p> + They waited until midnight, each pretending for the other’s sake to a + confidence fully sustained, each invaded by vague premonitions of evil, + yet beguiling the time by playing tric-trac in the great salon, as if they + had not a single anxious thought between them. + </p> + <p> + At last on the stroke of midnight, madame sighed and rose. + </p> + <p> + “It will be for to-morrow morning,” she said, not believing it. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Aline agreed. “It would really have been impossible for him + to have returned to-night. And it will be much better to travel to-morrow. + The journey at so late an hour would tire you so much, dear madame.” + </p> + <p> + Thus they made pretence. + </p> + <p> + Early in the morning they were awakened by a din of bells—the + tocsins of the sections ringing the alarm. To their startled ears came + later the rolling of drums, and at one time they heard the sounds of a + multitude on the march. Paris was rising. Later still came the rattle of + small-arms in the distance and the deeper boom of cannon. Battle was + joined between the men of the sections and the men of the Court. The + people in arms had attacked the Tuileries. Wildest rumours flew in all + directions, and some of them found their way through the servants to the + Hotel Plougastel, of that terrible fight for the palace which was to end + in the purposeless massacre of all those whom the invertebrate monarch + abandoned there, whilst placing himself and his family under the + protection of the Assembly. Purposeless to the end, ever adopting the + course pointed out to him by evil counsellors, he prepared for resistance + only until the need for resistance really arose, whereupon he ordered a + surrender which left those who had stood by him to the last at the mercy + of a frenzied mob. + </p> + <p> + And while this was happening in the Tuileries, the two women at the Hotel + Plougastel still waited for the return of Rougane, though now with + ever-lessening hope. And Rougane did not return. The affair did not appear + so simple to the father as to the son. Rougane the elder was rightly + afraid to lend himself to such a piece of deception. + </p> + <p> + He went with his son to inform M. de Kercadiou of what had happened, and + told him frankly of the thing his son suggested, but which he dared not + do. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou sought to move him by intercessions and even by the offer + of bribes. But Rougane remained firm. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he said, “if it were discovered against me, as it inevitably + would be, I should hang for it. Apart from that, and in spite of my + anxiety to do all in my power to serve you, it would be a breach of trust + such as I could not contemplate. You must not ask me, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do you conceive is going to happen?” asked the half-demented + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “It is war,” said Rougane, who was well informed, as we have seen. “War + between the people and the Court. I am desolated that my warning should + have come too late. But, when all is said, I do not think that you need + really alarm yourself. War will not be made on women.” M. de Kercadiou + clung for comfort to that assurance after the mayor and his son had + departed. But at the back of his mind there remained the knowledge of the + traffic in which M. de Plougastel was engaged. What if the revolutionaries + were equally well informed? And most probably they were. The women-folk + political offenders had been known aforetime to suffer for the sins of + their men. Anything was possible in a popular upheaval, and Aline would be + exposed jointly with Mme. de Plougastel. + </p> + <p> + Late that night, as he sat gloomily in his brother’s library, the pipe in + which he had sought solace extinguished between his fingers, there came a + sharp knocking at the door. + </p> + <p> + To the old seneschal of Gavrillac who went to open there stood revealed + upon the threshold a slim young man in a dark olive surcoat, the skirts of + which reached down to his calves. He wore boots, buckskins, and a + small-sword, and round his waist there was a tricolour sash, in his hat a + tricolour cockade, which gave him an official look extremely sinister to + the eyes of that old retainer of feudalism, who shared to the full his + master’s present fears. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur desires?” he asked, between respect and mistrust. + </p> + <p> + And then a crisp voice startled him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Benoit! Name of a name! Have you completely forgotten me?” + </p> + <p> + With a shaking hand the old man raised the lantern he carried so as to + throw its light more fully upon that lean, wide-mouthed countenance. + </p> + <p> + “M. Andre!” he cried. “M. Andre!” And then he looked at the sash and the + cockade, and hesitated, apparently at a loss. + </p> + <p> + But Andre-Louis stepped past him into the wide vestibule, with its + tessellated floor of black-and-white marble. + </p> + <p> + “If my godfather has not yet retired, take me to him. If he has retired, + take me to him all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but certainly, M. Andre—and I am sure he will be ravished to + see you. No, he has not yet retired. This way, M. Andre; this way, if you + please.” + </p> + <p> + The returning Andre-Louis, reaching Meudon a half-hour ago, had gone + straight to the mayor for some definite news of what might be happening in + Paris that should either confirm or dispel the ominous rumours that he had + met in ever-increasing volume as he approached the capital. Rougane + informed him that insurrection was imminent, that already the sections had + possessed themselves of the barriers, and that it was impossible for any + person not fully accredited to enter or leave the city. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis bowed his head, his thoughts of the gravest. He had for some + time perceived the danger of this second revolution from within the first, + which might destroy everything that had been done, and give the reins of + power to a villainous faction that would plunge the country into anarchy. + The thing he had feared was more than ever on the point of taking place. + He would go on at once, that very night, and see for himself what was + happening. + </p> + <p> + And then, as he was leaving, he turned again to Rougane to ask if M. de + Kercadiou was still at Meudon. + </p> + <p> + “You know him, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “He is my godfather.” + </p> + <p> + “Your godfather! And you a representative! Why, then, you may be the very + man he needs.” And Rougane told him of his son’s errand into Paris that + afternoon and its result. + </p> + <p> + No more was required. That two years ago his godfather should upon certain + terms have refused him his house weighed for nothing at the moment. He + left his travelling carriage at the little inn and went straight to M. de + Kercadiou. + </p> + <p> + And M. de Kercadiou, startled in such an hour by this sudden apparition, + of one against whom he nursed a bitter grievance, greeted him in terms + almost identical with those in which in that same room he had greeted him + on a similar occasion once before. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want here, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “To serve you if possible, my godfather,” was the disarming answer. + </p> + <p> + But it did not disarm M. de Kercadiou. “You have stayed away so long that + I hoped you would not again disturb me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not have ventured to disobey you now were it not for the hope + that I can be of service. I have seen Rougane, the mayor...” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that you say about not venturing to disobey?” + </p> + <p> + “You forbade me your house, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou stared at him helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “And is that why you have not come near me in all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Why else?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou continued to stare. Then he swore under his breath. It + disconcerted him to have to deal with a man who insisted upon taking him + so literally. He had expected that Andre-Louis would have come contritely + to admit his fault and beg to be taken back into favour. He said so. + </p> + <p> + “But how could I hope that you meant less than you said, monsieur? You + were so very definite in your declaration. What expressions of contrition + could have served me without a purpose of amendment? And I had no notion + of amending. We may yet be thankful for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Thankful?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a representative. I have certain powers. I am very opportunely + returning to Paris. Can I serve you where Rougane cannot? The need, + monsieur, would appear to be very urgent if the half of what I suspect is + true. Aline should be placed in safety at once.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou surrendered unconditionally. He came over and took + Andre-Louis’ hand. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” he said, and he was visibly moved, “there is in you a certain + nobility that is not to be denied. If I seemed harsh with you, then, it + was because I was fighting against your evil proclivities. I desired to + keep you out of the evil path of politics that have brought this + unfortunate country into so terrible a pass. The enemy on the frontier; + civil war about to flame out at home. That is what you revolutionaries + have done.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis did not argue. He passed on. + </p> + <p> + “About Aline?” he asked. And himself answered his own question: “She is in + Paris, and she must be brought out of it at once, before the place becomes + a shambles, as well it may once the passions that have been brewing all + these months are let loose. Young Rougane’s plan is good. At least, I + cannot think of a better one.” + </p> + <p> + “But Rougane the elder will not hear of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean he will not do it on his own responsibility. But he has + consented to do it on mine. I have left him a note over my signature to + the effect that a safe-conduct for Mlle. de Kercadiou to go to Paris and + return is issued by him in compliance with orders from me. The powers I + carry and of which I have satisfied him are his sufficient justification + for obeying me in this. I have left him that note on the understanding + that he is to use it only in an extreme case, for his own protection. In + exchange he has given me this safe-conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “You already have it!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou took the sheet of paper that Andre-Louis held out. His + hand shook. He approached it to the cluster of candles burning on the + console and screwed up his short-sighted eyes to read. + </p> + <p> + “If you send that to Paris by young Rougane in the morning,” said + Andre-Louis, “Aline should be here by noon. Nothing, of course, could be + done to-night without provoking suspicion. The hour is too late. And now, + monsieur my godfather, you know exactly why I intrude in violation of your + commands. If there is any other way in which I can serve you, you have but + to name it whilst I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is, Andre. Did not Rougane tell you that there were others...” + </p> + <p> + “He mentioned Mme. de Plougastel and her servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why...?” M. de Kercadiou broke off, looking his question. + </p> + <p> + Very solemnly Andre-Louis shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible,” he said. + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “Impossible!” he + repeated. “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I can do what I am doing for Aline without offending my + conscience. Besides, for Aline I would offend my conscience and do it. But + Mme. de Plougastel is in very different case. Neither Aline nor any of + hers have been concerned in counter-revolutionary work, which is the true + source of the calamity that now threatens to overtake us. I can procure + her removal from Paris without self-reproach, convinced that I am doing + nothing that any one could censure, or that might become the subject of + enquiries. But Mme. de Plougastel is the wife of M. le Comte de + Plougastel, whom all the world knows to be an agent between the Court and + the emigres.” + </p> + <p> + “That is no fault of hers,” cried M. de Kercadiou through his + consternation. + </p> + <p> + “Agreed. But she may be called upon at any moment to establish the fact + that she is not a party to these manoeuvres. It is known that she was in + Paris to-day. Should she be sought to-morrow and should it be found that + she has gone, enquiries will certainly be made, from which it must result + that I have betrayed my trust, and abused my powers to serve personal + ends. I hope, monsieur, that you will understand that the risk is too + great to be run for the sake of a stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “A stranger?” said the Seigneur reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Practically a stranger to me,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “But she is not a stranger to me, Andre. She is my cousin and very dear + and valued friend. And, mon Dieu, what you say but increases the urgency + of getting her out of Paris. She must be rescued, Andre, at all costs—she + must be rescued! Why, her case is infinitely more urgent than Aline’s!” + </p> + <p> + He stood a suppliant before his godson, very different now from the stern + man who had greeted him on his arrival. His face was pale, his hands + shook, and there were beads of perspiration on his brow. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur my godfather, I would do anything in reason. But I cannot do + this. To rescue her might mean ruin for Aline and yourself as well as for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “We must take the risk.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a right to speak for yourself, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and for you, believe me, Andre, for you!” He came close to the young + man. “Andre, I implore you to take my word for that, and to obtain this + permit for Mme. de Plougastel.” + </p> + <p> + Andre looked at him mystified. “This is fantastic,” he said. “I have + grateful memories of the lady’s interest in me for a few days once when I + was a child, and again more recently in Paris when she sought to convert + me to what she accounts the true political religion. But I do not risk my + neck for her—no, nor yours, nor Aline’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! But, Andre...” + </p> + <p> + “That is my last word, monsieur. It is growing late, and I desire to sleep + in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Wait!” The Lord of Gavrillac was displaying signs of unspeakable + distress. “Andre, you must!” + </p> + <p> + There was in this insistence and, still more, in the frenzied manner of + it, something so unreasonable that Andre could not fail to assume that + some dark and mysterious motive lay behind it. + </p> + <p> + “I must?” he echoed. “Why must I? Your reasons, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “Andre, my reasons are overwhelming.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray allow me to be the judge of that.” Andre-Louis’ manner was almost + peremptory. + </p> + <p> + The demand seemed to reduce M. de Kercadiou to despair. He paced the room, + his hands tight-clasped behind him, his brow wrinkled. At last he came to + stand before his godson. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t you take my word for it that these reasons exist?” he cried in + anguish. + </p> + <p> + “In such a matter as this—a matter that may involve my neck? Oh, + monsieur, is that reasonable?” + </p> + <p> + “I violate my word of honour, my oath, if I tell you.” M. de Kercadiou + turned away, wringing his hands, his condition visibly piteous; then + turned again to Andre. “But in this extremity, in this desperate + extremity, and since you so ungenerously insist, I shall have to tell you. + God help me, I have no choice. She will realize that when she knows. + Andre, my boy...” He paused again, a man afraid. He set a hand on his + godson’s shoulder, and to his increasing amazement Andre-Louis perceived + that over those pale, short-sighted eyes there was a film of tears. “Mme. + de Plougastel is your mother.” + </p> + <p> + Followed, for a long moment, utter silence. This thing that he was told + was not immediately understood. When understanding came at last + Andre-Louis’ first impulse was to cry out. But he possessed himself, and + played the Stoic. He must ever be playing something. That was in his + nature. And he was true to his nature even in this supreme moment. He + continued silent until, obeying that queer histrionic instinct, he could + trust himself to speak without emotion. “I see,” he said, at last, quite + coolly. + </p> + <p> + His mind was sweeping back over the past. Swiftly he reviewed his memories + of Mme. de Plougastel, her singular if sporadic interest in him, the + curious blend of affection and wistfulness which her manner towards him + had always presented, and at last he understood so much that hitherto had + intrigued him. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he said again; and added now, “Of course, any but a fool would + have guessed it long ago.” + </p> + <p> + It was M. de Kercadiou who cried out, M. de Kercadiou who recoiled as from + a blow. + </p> + <p> + “My God, Andre, of what are you made? You can take such an announcement in + this fashion?” + </p> + <p> + “And how would you have me take it? Should it surprise me to discover that + I had a mother? After all, a mother is an indispensable necessity to + getting one’s self born.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down abruptly, to conceal the too-revealing fact that his limbs + were shaking. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his brow, + which had grown damp. And then, quite suddenly, he found himself weeping. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of those tears streaming silently down that face that had + turned so pale, M. de Kercadiou came quickly across to him. He sat down + beside him and threw an arm affectionately over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Andre, my poor lad,” he murmured. “I... I was fool enough to think you + had no heart. You deceived me with your infernal pretence, and now I + see... I see...” He was not sure what it was that he saw, or else he + hesitated to express it. + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing, monsieur. I am tired out, and... and I have a cold in the + head.” And then, finding the part beyond his power, he abruptly threw it + up, utterly abandoned all pretence. “Why... why has there been all this + mystery?” he asked. “Was it intended that I should never know?” + </p> + <p> + “It was, Andre. It... it had to be, for prudence’ sake.” + </p> + <p> + “But why? Complete your confidence, sir. Surely you cannot leave it there. + Having told me so much, you must tell me all.” + </p> + <p> + “The reason, my boy, is that you were born some three years after your + mother’s marriage with M. de Plougastel, some eighteen months after M. de + Plougastel had been away with the army, and some four months before his + return to his wife. It is a matter that M. de Plougastel has never + suspected, and for gravest family reasons must never suspect. That is why + the utmost secrecy has been preserved. That is why none was ever allowed + to know. Your mother came betimes into Brittany, and under an assumed name + spent some months in the village of Moreau. It was while she was there + that you were born.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis turned it over in his mind. He had dried his tears. And sat + now rigid and collected. + </p> + <p> + “When you say that none was ever allowed to know, you are telling me, of + course, that you, monsieur...” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mon Dieu, no!” The denial came in a violent outburst. M. de Kercadiou + sprang to his feet propelled from Andre’s side by the violence of his + emotions. It was as if the very suggestion filled him with horror. “I was + the only other one who knew. But it is not as you think, Andre. You cannot + imagine that I should lie to you, that I should deny you if you were my + son?” + </p> + <p> + “If you say that I am not, monsieur, that is sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not. I was Therese’s cousin and also, as she well knew, her + truest friend. She knew that she could trust me; and it was to me she came + for help in her extremity. Once, years before, I would have married her. + But, of course, I am not the sort of man a woman could love. She trusted, + however, to my love for her, and I have kept her trust.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, who was my father?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. She never told me. It was her secret, and I did not pry. It + is not in my nature, Andre.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis got up, and stood silently facing M. de Kercadiou. + </p> + <p> + “You believe me, Andre.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, monsieur; and I am sorry, I am sorry that I am not your son.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou gripped his godson’s hand convulsively, and held it a + moment with no word spoken. Then as they fell away from each other again: + </p> + <p> + “And now, what will you do, Andre?” he asked. “Now that you know?” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis stood awhile, considering, then broke into laughter. The + situation had its humours. He explained them. + </p> + <p> + “What difference should the knowledge make? Is filial piety to be called + into existence by the mere announcement of relationship? Am I to risk my + neck through lack of circumspection on behalf of a mother so very + circumspect that she had no intention of ever revealing herself? The + discovery rests upon the merest chance, upon a fall of the dice of Fate. + Is that to weigh with me?” + </p> + <p> + “The decision is with you, Andre.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, it is beyond me. Decide it who can, I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you refuse even now?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that I consent. Since I cannot decide what it is that I should do, + it only remains for me to do what a son should. It is grotesque; but all + life is grotesque.” + </p> + <p> + “You will never, never regret it.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” said Andre. “Yet I think it very likely that I shall. And + now I had better see Rougane again at once, and obtain from him the other + two permits required. Then perhaps it will be best that I take them to + Paris myself, in the morning. If you will give me a bed, monsieur, I shall + be grateful. I... I confess that I am hardly in case to do more to-night.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. SANCTUARY + </h2> + <p> + Into the late afternoon of that endless day of horror with its perpetual + alarms, its volleying musketry, rolling drums, and distant muttering of + angry multitudes, Mme. de Plougastel and Aline sat waiting in that + handsome house in the Rue du Paradis. It was no longer for Rougane they + waited. They realized that, be the reason what it might—and by now + many reasons must no doubt exist—this friendly messenger would not + return. They waited without knowing for what. They waited for whatever + might betide. + </p> + <p> + At one time early in the afternoon the roar of battle approached them, + racing swiftly in their direction, swelling each moment in volume and in + horror. It was the frenzied clamour of a multitude drunk with blood and + bent on destruction. Near at hand that fierce wave of humanity checked in + its turbulent progress. Followed blows of pikes upon a door and imperious + calls to open, and thereafter came the rending of timbers, the shivering + of glass, screams of terror blending with screams of rage, and, running + through these shrill sounds, the deeper diapason of bestial laughter. + </p> + <p> + It was a hunt of two wretched Swiss guardsmen seeking blindly to escape. + And they were run to earth in a house in the neighbourhood, and there + cruelly done to death by that demoniac mob. The thing accomplished, the + hunters, male and female, forming into a battalion, came swinging down the + Rue du Paradis, chanting the song of Marseilles—a song new to Paris + in those days: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Allons, enfants de la patrie! + Le jour de gloire est arrive + Contre nous de la tyrannie + L’etendard sanglant est leve. +</pre> + <p> + Nearer it came, raucously bawled by some hundreds of voices, a dread sound + that had come so suddenly to displace at least temporarily the merry, + trivial air of the “Ca ira!” which hitherto had been the revolutionary + carillon. Instinctively Mme. de Plougastel and Aline clung to each other. + They had heard the sound of the ravishing of that other house in the + neighbourhood, without knowledge of the reason. What if now it should be + the turn of the Hotel Plougastel! There was no real cause to fear it, save + that amid a turmoil imperfectly understood and therefore the more + awe-inspiring, the worst must be feared always. + </p> + <p> + The dreadful song so dreadfully sung, and the thunder of heavily shod feet + upon the roughly paved street, passed on and receded. They breathed again, + almost as if a miracle had saved them, to yield to fresh alarm an instant + later, when madame’s young footman, Jacques, the most trusted of her + servants, burst into their presence unceremoniously with a scared face, + bringing the announcement that a man who had just climbed over the garden + wall professed himself a friend of madame’s, and desired to be brought + immediately to her presence. + </p> + <p> + “But he looks like a sansculotte, madame,” the staunch fellow warned her. + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts and hopes leapt at once to Rougane. + </p> + <p> + “Bring him in,” she commanded breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + Jacques went out, to return presently accompanied by a tall man in a long, + shabby, and very ample overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat that was turned + down all round, and adorned by an enormous tricolour cockade. This hat he + removed as he entered. + </p> + <p> + Jacques, standing behind him, perceived that his hair, although now in + some disorder, bore signs of having been carefully dressed. It was + clubbed, and it carried some lingering vestiges of powder. The young + footman wondered what it was in the man’s face, which was turned from him, + that should cause his mistress to cry out and recoil. Then he found himself + dismissed abruptly by a gesture. + </p> + <p> + The newcomer advanced to the middle of the salon, moving like a man + exhausted and breathing hard. There he leaned against a table, across + which he confronted Mme. de Plougastel. And she stood regarding him, a + strange horror in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + In the background, on a settle at the salon’s far end, sat Aline staring + in bewilderment and some fear at a face which, if unrecognizable through + the mask of blood and dust that smeared it, was yet familiar. And then the + man spoke, and instantly she knew the voice for that of the Marquis de La + Tour d’Azyr. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” he was saying, “forgive me if I startled you. Forgive me + if I thrust myself in here without leave, at such a time, in such a + manner. But... you see how it is with me. I am a fugitive. In the course + of my distracted flight, not knowing which way to turn for safety, I + thought of you. I told myself that if I could but safely reach your house, + I might find sanctuary.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in danger?” + </p> + <p> + “In danger?” Almost he seemed silently to laugh at the unnecessary + question. “If I were to show myself openly in the streets just now, I + might with luck contrive to live for five minutes! My friend, it has been + a massacre. Some few of us escaped from the Tuileries at the end, to be + hunted to death in the streets. I doubt if by this time a single Swiss + survives. They had the worst of it, poor devils. And as for us—my + God! They hate us more than they hate the Swiss. Hence this filthy + disguise.” + </p> + <p> + He peeled off the shaggy greatcoat, and casting it from him stepped forth + in the black satin that had been the general livery of the hundred knights + of the dagger who had rallied in the Tuileries that morning to the defence + of their king. + </p> + <p> + His coat was rent across the back, his neckcloth and the ruffles at his + wrists were torn and bloodstained; with his smeared face and disordered + headdress he was terrible to behold. Yet he contrived to carry himself + with his habitual easy assurance, remembered to kiss the trembling hand + which Mme. de Plougastel extended to him in welcome. + </p> + <p> + “You did well to come to me, Gervais,” she said. “Yes, here is sanctuary + for the present. You will be quite safe, at least for as long as we are + safe. My servants are entirely trustworthy. Sit down and tell me all.” + </p> + <p> + He obeyed her, collapsing almost into the armchair which she thrust + forward, a man exhausted, whether by physical exertion or by nerve-strain, + or both. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped some of the + blood and dirt from his face. + </p> + <p> + “It is soon told.” His tone was bitter with the bitterness of despair. + “This, my dear, is the end of us. Plougastel is lucky in being across the + frontier at such a time. Had I not been fool enough to trust those who + to-day have proved themselves utterly unworthy of trust, that is where I + should be myself. My remaining in Paris is the crowning folly of a life + full of follies and mistakes. That I should come to you in my hour of most + urgent need adds point to it.” He laughed in his bitterness. + </p> + <p> + Madame moistened her dry lips. “And... and now?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “It only remains to get away as soon as may be, if it is still possible. + Here in France there is no longer any room for us—at least, not + above ground. To-day has proved it.” And then he looked up at her, + standing there beside him so pale and timid, and he smiled. He patted the + fine hand that rested upon the arm of his chair. “My dear Therese, unless + you carry charitableness to the length of giving me to drink, you will see + me perish of thirst under your eyes before ever the canaille has a chance + to finish me.” + </p> + <p> + She started. “I should have thought of it!” she cried in self-reproach, + and she turned quickly. “Aline,” she begged, “tell Jacques to bring...” + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” he echoed, interrupting, and swinging round in his turn. Then, as + Aline rose into view, detaching from her background, and he at last + perceived her, he heaved himself abruptly to his weary legs again, and + stood there stiffly bowing to her across the space of gleaming floor. + “Mademoiselle, I had not suspected your presence,” he said, and he seemed + extraordinarily ill-at-ease, a man startled, as if caught in an illicit + act. + </p> + <p> + “I perceived it, monsieur,” she answered, as she advanced to do madame’s + commission. She paused before him. “From my heart, monsieur, I grieve that + we should meet again in circumstances so very painful.” + </p> + <p> + Not since the day of his duel with Andre-Louis—the day which had + seen the death and burial of his last hope of winning her—had they + stood face to face. + </p> + <p> + He checked as if on the point of answering her. His glance strayed to Mme. + de Plougastel, and, oddly reticent for one who could be very glib, he + bowed in silence. + </p> + <p> + “But sit, monsieur, I beg. You are fatigued.” + </p> + <p> + “You are gracious to observe it. With your permission, then.” And he + resumed his seat. She continued on her way to the door and passed out upon + her errand. + </p> + <p> + When presently she returned they had almost unaccountably changed places. + It was Mme. de Plougastel who was seated in that armchair of brocade and + gilt, and M. de La Tour d’Azyr who, despite his lassitude, was leaning + over the back of it talking earnestly, seeming by his attitude to plead + with her. On Aline’s entrance he broke off instantly and moved away, so + that she was left with a sense of having intruded. Further she observed + that the Countess was in tears. + </p> + <p> + Following her came presently the diligent Jacques, bearing a tray laden + with food and wine. Madame poured for her guest, and he drank a long + draught of the Burgundy, then begged, holding forth his grimy hands, that + he might mend his appearance before sitting down to eat. + </p> + <p> + He was led away and valeted by Jacques, and when he returned he had + removed from his person the last vestige of the rough handling he had + received. He looked almost his normal self, the disorder in his attire + repaired, calm and dignified and courtly in his bearing, but very pale and + haggard of face, seeming suddenly to have increased in years, to have + reached in appearance the age that was in fact his own. + </p> + <p> + As he ate and drank—and this with appetite, for as he told them he + had not tasted food since early morning—he entered into the details + of the dreadful events of the day, and gave them the particulars of his + own escape from the Tuileries when all was seen to be lost and when the + Swiss, having burnt their last cartridge, were submitting to wholesale + massacre at the hands of the indescribably furious mob. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was all most ill done,” he ended critically. “We were timid when + we should have been resolute, and resolute at last when it was too late. + That is the history of our side from the beginning of this accursed + struggle. We have lacked proper leadership throughout, and now—as I + have said already—there is an end to us. It but remains to escape, + as soon as we can discover how the thing is to be accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + Madame told him of the hopes that she had centred upon Rougane. + </p> + <p> + It lifted him out of his gloom. He was disposed to be optimistic. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong to have abandoned that hope,” he assured her. “If this + mayor is so well disposed, he certainly can do as his son promised. But + last night it would have been too late for him to have reached you, and + to-day, assuming that he had come to Paris, almost impossible for him to + win across the streets from the other side. It is most likely that he will + yet come. I pray that he may; for the knowledge that you and Mlle. de + Kercadiou are out of this would comfort me above all.” + </p> + <p> + “We should take you with us,” said madame. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! But how?” + </p> + <p> + “Young Rougane was to bring me permits for three persons—Aline, + myself, and my footman, Jacques. You would take the place of Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, to get out of Paris, madame, there is no man whose place I would + not take.” And he laughed. + </p> + <p> + Their spirits rose with his and their flagging hopes revived. But as dusk + descended again upon the city, without any sign of the deliverer they + awaited, those hopes began to ebb once more. + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr at last pleaded weariness, and begged to be permitted + to withdraw that he might endeavour to take some rest against whatever + might have to be faced in the immediate future. When he had gone, madame + persuaded Aline to go and lie down. + </p> + <p> + “I will call you, my dear, the moment he arrives,” she said, bravely + maintaining that pretence of a confidence that had by now entirely + evaporated. + </p> + <p> + Aline kissed her affectionately, and departed, outwardly so calm and + unperturbed as to leave the Countess wondering whether she realized the + peril by which they were surrounded, a peril infinitely increased by the + presence in that house of a man so widely known and detested as M. de La + Tour d’Azyr, a man who was probably being sought for by his enemies at + this moment. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, madame lay down on a couch in the salon itself, to be ready + for any emergency. It was a hot summer night, and the glass doors opening + upon the luxuriant garden stood wide to admit the air. On that air came + intermittently from the distance sounds of the continuing horrible + activities of the populace, the aftermath of that bloody day. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Plougastel lay there, listening to those sounds for upwards of an + hour, thanking Heaven that for the present at least the disturbances were + distant, dreading lest at any moment they should occur nearer at hand, + lest this Bondy section in which her hotel was situated should become the + scene of horrors similar to those whose echoes reached her ears from other + sections away to the south and west. + </p> + <p> + The couch occupied by the Countess lay in shadow; for all the lights in + that long salon had been extinguished with the exception of a cluster of + candles in a massive silver candle branch placed on a round marquetry + table in the middle of the room—an island of light in the + surrounding gloom. + </p> + <p> + The timepiece on the overmantel chimed melodiously the hour of ten, and + then, startling in the suddenness with which it broke the immediate + silence, another sound vibrated through the house, and brought madame to + her feet, in a breathless mingling of hope and dread. Some one was + knocking sharply on the door below. Followed moments of agonized suspense, + culminating in the abrupt invasion of the room by the footman Jacques. He + looked round, not seeing his mistress at first. + </p> + <p> + “Madame! Madame!” he panted, out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Jacques!” Her voice was steady now that the need for + self-control seemed thrust upon her. She advanced from the shadows into + that island of light about the table. “There is a man below. He is + asking... he is demanding to see you at once.” + </p> + <p> + “A man?” she questioned. + </p> + <p> + “He... he seems to be an official; at least he wears the sash of office. + And he refuses to give any name; he says that his name would convey + nothing to you. He insists that he must see you in person and at once.” + </p> + <p> + “An official?” said madame. + </p> + <p> + “An official,” Jacques repeated. “I would not have admitted him, but that + he demanded it in the name of the Nation. Madame, it is for you to say + what shall be done. Robert is with me. If you wish it... whatever it may + be...” + </p> + <p> + “My good Jacques, no, no.” She was perfectly composed. “If this man + intended evil, surely he would not come alone. Conduct him to me, and then + beg Mlle. de Kercadiou to join me if she is awake.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques departed, himself partly reassured. Madame seated herself in the + armchair by the table well within the light. She smoothed her dress with a + mechanical hand. If, as it would seem, her hopes had been futile, so had + her momentary fears. A man on any but an errand of peace would have + brought some following with him, as she had said. + </p> + <p> + The door opened again, and Jacques reappeared; after him, stepping briskly + past him, came a slight man in a wide-brimmed hat, adorned by a tricolour + cockade. About the waist of an olive-green riding-coat he wore a broad + tricolour sash; a sword hung at his side. + </p> + <p> + He swept off his hat, and the candlelight glinted on the steel buckle in + front of it. Madame found herself silently regarded by a pair of large, + dark eyes set in a lean, brown face, eyes that were most singularly intent + and searching. + </p> + <p> + She leaned forward, incredulity swept across her countenance. Then her + eyes kindled, and the colour came creeping back into her pale cheeks. She + rose suddenly. She was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Andre-Louis!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE BARRIER + </h2> + <p> + That gift of laughter of his seemed utterly extinguished. For once there + was no gleam of humour in those dark eyes, as they continued to consider + her with that queer stare of scrutiny. And yet, though his gaze was + sombre, his thoughts were not. With his cruelly true mental vision which + pierced through shams, and his capacity for detached observation—which + properly applied might have carried him very far, indeed—he + perceived the grotesqueness, the artificiality of the emotion which in + that moment he experienced, but by which he refused to be possessed. It + sprang entirely from the consciousness that she was his mother; as if, all + things considered, the more or less accidental fact that she had brought + him into the world could establish between them any real bond at this time + of day! The motherhood that bears and forsakes is less than animal. He had + considered this; he had been given ample leisure in which to consider it + during those long, turbulent hours in which he had been forced to wait, + because it would have been almost impossible to have won across that + seething city, and certainly unwise to have attempted so to do. + </p> + <p> + He had reached the conclusion that by consenting to go to her rescue at + such a time he stood committed to a piece of purely sentimental quixotry. + The quittances which the Mayor of Meudon had exacted from him before he + would issue the necessary safe-conducts placed the whole of his future, + perhaps his very life, in jeopardy. And he had consented to do this not + for the sake of a reality, but out of regard for an idea—he who all + his life had avoided the false lure of worthless and hollow + sentimentality. + </p> + <p> + Thus thought Andre-Louis as he considered her now so searchingly, finding + it, naturally enough, a matter of extraordinary interest to look + consciously upon his mother for the first time at the age of + eight-and-twenty. + </p> + <p> + From her he looked at last at Jacques, who remained at attention, waiting + by the open door. + </p> + <p> + “Could we be alone, madame?” he asked her. + </p> + <p> + She waved the footman away, and the door closed. In agitated silence, + unquestioning, she waited for him to account for his presence there at so + extraordinary a time. + </p> + <p> + “Rougane could not return,” he informed her shortly. “At M. de Kercadiou’s + request, I come instead.” + </p> + <p> + “You! You are sent to rescue us!” The note of amazement in her voice was + stronger than that of her relief. + </p> + <p> + “That, and to make your acquaintance, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “To make my acquaintance? But what do you mean, Andre-Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “This letter from M. de Kercadiou will tell you.” Intrigued by his odd + words and odder manner, she took the folded sheet. She broke the seal with + shaking hands, and with shaking hands approached the written page to the + light. Her eyes grew troubled as she read; the shaking of her hands + increased, and midway through that reading a moan escaped her. One glance + that was almost terror she darted at the slim, straight man standing so + incredibly impassive upon the edge of the light, and then she endeavoured + to read on. But the crabbed characters of M. de Kercadiou swam distortedly + under her eyes. She could not read. Besides, what could it matter what + else he said. She had read enough. The sheet fluttered from her hands to + the table, and out of a face that was like a face of wax, she looked now + with a wistfulness, a sadness indescribable, at Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “And so you know, my child?” Her voice was stifled to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I know, madame my mother.” + </p> + <p> + The grimness, the subtle blend of merciless derision and reproach in which + it was uttered completely escaped her. She cried out at the new name. For + her in that moment time and the world stood still. Her peril there in + Paris as the wife of an intriguer at Coblenz was blotted out, together + with every other consideration—thrust out of a consciousness that + could find room for nothing else beside the fact that she stood + acknowledged by her only son, this child begotten in adultery, borne + furtively and in shame in a remote Brittany village eight-and-twenty years + ago. Not even a thought for the betrayal of that inviolable secret, or the + consequences that might follow, could she spare in this supreme moment. + </p> + <p> + She took one or two faltering steps towards him, hesitating. Then she + opened her arms. Sobs suffocated her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you come to me, Andre-Louis?” + </p> + <p> + A moment yet he stood hesitating, startled by that appeal, angered almost + by his heart’s response to it, reason and sentiment at grips in his soul. + This was not real, his reason postulated; this poignant emotion that she + displayed and that he experienced was fantastic. Yet he went. Her arms + enfolded him; her wet cheek was pressed hard against his own; her frame, + which the years had not yet succeeded in robbing of its grace, was shaken + by the passionate storm within her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Andre-Louis, my child, if you knew how I have hungered to hold you + so! If you knew how in denying myself this I have atoned and suffered! + Kercadiou should not have told you—not even now. It was wrong—most + wrong, perhaps, to you. It would have been better that he should have left + me here to my fate, whatever that may be. And yet—come what may of + this—to be able to hold you so, to be able to acknowledge you, to + hear you call me mother—oh! Andre-Louis, I cannot now regret it. I + cannot... I cannot wish it otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any need, madame?” he asked her, his stoicism deeply shaken. + “There is no occasion to take others into our confidence. This is for + to-night alone. To-night we are mother and son. To-morrow we resume our + former places, and, outwardly at least, forget.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget? Have you no heart, Andre-Louis?” + </p> + <p> + The question recalled him curiously to his attitude towards life—that + histrionic attitude of his that he accounted true philosophy. Also he + remembered what lay before them; and he realized that he must master not + only himself but her; that to yield too far to sentiment at such a time + might be the ruin of them all. + </p> + <p> + “It is a question propounded to me so often that it must contain the + truth,” said he. “My rearing is to blame for that.” + </p> + <p> + She tightened her clutch about his neck even as he would have attempted to + disengage himself from her embrace. + </p> + <p> + “You do not blame me for your rearing? Knowing all, as you do, + Andre-Louis, you cannot altogether blame. You must be merciful to me. You + must forgive me. You must! I had no choice.” + </p> + <p> + “When we know all of whatever it may be, we can never do anything but + forgive, madame. That is the profoundest religious truth that was ever + written. It contains, in fact, a whole religion—the noblest religion + any man could have to guide him. I say this for your comfort, madame my + mother.” + </p> + <p> + She sprang away from him with a startled cry. Beyond him in the shadows by + the door a pale figure shimmered ghostly. It advanced into the light, and + resolved itself into Aline. She had come in answer to that forgotten + summons madame had sent her by Jacques. Entering unperceived she had seen + Andre-Louis in the embrace of the woman whom he addressed as “mother.” She + had recognized him instantly by his voice, and she could not have said + what bewildered her more: his presence there or the thing she overheard. + </p> + <p> + “You heard, Aline?” madame exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I could not help it, madame. You sent for me. I am sorry if...” She broke + off, and looked at Andre-Louis long and curiously. She was pale, but quite + composed. She held out her hand to him. “And so you have come at last, + Andre,” said she. “You might have come before.” + </p> + <p> + “I come when I am wanted,” was his answer. “Which is the only time in + which one can be sure of being received.” He said it without bitterness, + and having said it stooped to kiss her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You can forgive me what is past, I hope, since I failed of my purpose,” + he said gently, half-pleading. “I could not have come to you pretending + that the failure was intentional—a compromise between the + necessities of the case and your own wishes. For it was not that. And yet, + you do not seem to have profited by my failure. You are still a maid.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her shoulder to him. + </p> + <p> + “There are things,” she said, “that you will never understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Life, for one,” he acknowledged. “I confess that I am finding it + bewildering. The very explanations calculated to simplify it seem but to + complicate it further.” And he looked at Mme. de Plougastel. + </p> + <p> + “You mean something, I suppose,” said mademoiselle. + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” It was the Countess who spoke. She knew the danger of + half-discoveries. “I can trust you, child, I know, and Andre-Louis, I am + sure, will offer no objection.” She had taken up the letter to show it to + Aline. Yet first her eyes questioned him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, none, madame,” he assured her. “It is entirely a matter for + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Aline looked from one to the other with troubled eyes, hesitating to take + the letter that was now proffered. When she had read it through, she very + thoughtfully replaced it on the table. A moment she stood there with bowed + head, the other two watching her. Then impulsively she ran to madame and + put her arms about her. + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” It was a cry of wonder, almost of joy. “You do not utterly abhor + me!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Aline, and kissed the tear-stained face that seemed to + have grown years older in these last few hours. + </p> + <p> + In the background Andre-Louis, steeling himself against emotionalism, + spoke with the voice of Scaramouche. + </p> + <p> + “It would be well, mesdames, to postpone all transports until they can be + indulged at greater leisure and in more security. It is growing late. If + we are to get out of this shambles we should be wise to take the road + without more delay.” + </p> + <p> + It was a tonic as effective as it was necessary. It startled them into + remembrance of their circumstances, and under the spur of it they went at + once to make their preparations. + </p> + <p> + They left him for perhaps a quarter of an hour, to pace that long room + alone, saved only from impatience by the turmoil of his mind. When at + length they returned, they were accompanied by a tall man in a + full-skirted shaggy greatcoat and a broad hat the brim of which was turned + down all around. He remained respectfully by the door in the shadows. + </p> + <p> + Between them the two women had concerted it thus, or rather the Countess + had so concerted it when Aline had warned her that Andre-Louis’ bitter + hostility towards the Marquis made it unthinkable that he should move a + finger consciously to save him. + </p> + <p> + Now despite the close friendship uniting M. de Kercadiou and his niece + with Mme. de Plougastel, there were several matters concerning them of + which the Countess was in ignorance. One of these was the project at one + time existing of a marriage between Aline and M. de La Tour d’Azyr. It was + a matter that Aline—naturally enough in the state of her feelings—had + never mentioned, nor had M. de Kercadiou ever alluded to it since his + coming to Meudon, by when he had perceived how unlikely it was ever to be + realized. + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s concern for Aline on that morning of the duel when + he had found her half-swooning in Mme. de Plougastel’s carriage had been + of a circumspection that betrayed nothing of his real interest in her, and + therefore had appeared no more than natural in one who must account + himself the cause of her distress. Similarly Mme. de Plougastel had never + realized nor did she realize now—for Aline did not trouble fully to + enlighten her—that the hostility between the two men was other than + political, the quarrel other than that which already had taken Andre-Louis + to the Bois on every day of the preceding week. But, at least, she + realized that even if Andre-Louis’ rancour should have no other source, + yet that inconclusive duel was cause enough for Aline’s fears. + </p> + <p> + And so she had proposed this obvious deception; and Aline had consented to + be a passive party to it. They had made the mistake of not fully + forewarning and persuading M. de La Tour d’Azyr. They had trusted entirely + to his anxiety to escape from Paris to keep him rigidly within the part + imposed upon him. They had reckoned without the queer sense of honour that + moved such men as M. le Marquis, nurtured upon a code of shams. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis, turning to scan that muffled figure, advanced from the dark + depths of the salon. As the light beat on his white, lean face the + pseudo-footman started. The next moment he too stepped forward into the + light, and swept his broad-brimmed hat from his brow. As he did so + Andre-Louis observed that his hand was fine and white and that a jewel + flashed from one of the fingers. Then he caught his breath, and stiffened + in every line as he recognized the face revealed to him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” that stern, proud man was saying, “I cannot take advantage of + your ignorance. If these ladies can persuade you to save me, at least it + is due to you that you shall know whom you are saving.” + </p> + <p> + He stood there by the table very erect and dignified, ready to perish as + he had lived—if perish he must—without fear and without + deception. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis came slowly forward until he reached the table on the other + side, and then at last the muscles of his set face relaxed, and he + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You laugh?” said M. de La Tour d’Azyr, frowning, offended. + </p> + <p> + “It is so damnably amusing,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve an odd sense of humour, M. Moreau.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, admitted. The unexpected always moves me so. I have found you many + things in the course of our acquaintance. To-night you are the one thing I + never expected to find you: an honest man.” + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr quivered. But he attempted no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Because of that, monsieur, I am disposed to be clement. It is probably a + foolishness. But you have surprised me into it. I give you three minutes, + monsieur, in which to leave this house, and to take your own measures for + your safety. What afterwards happens to you shall be no concern of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no, Andre! Listen...” Madame began in anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, madame. It is the utmost that I will do, and already I am + violating what I conceive to be my duty. If M. de La Tour d’Azyr remains + he not only ruins himself, but he imperils you. For unless he departs at + once, he goes with me to the headquarters of the section, and the section + will have his head on a pike inside the hour. He is a notorious + counter-revolutionary, a knight of the dagger, one of those whom an + exasperated populace is determined to exterminate. Now, monsieur, you know + what awaits you. Resolve yourself and at once, for these ladies’ sake.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t know, Andre-Louis!” Mme. de Plougastel’s condition was one + of anguish indescribable. She came to him and clutched his arm. “For the + love of Heaven, Andre-Louis, be merciful with him! You must!” + </p> + <p> + “But that is what I am being, madame—merciful; more merciful than he + deserves. And he knows it. Fate has meddled most oddly in our concerns to + bring us together to-night. Almost it is as if Fate were forcing + retribution at last upon him. Yet, for your sakes, I take no advantage of + it, provided that he does at once as I have desired him.” + </p> + <p> + And now from beyond the table the Marquis spoke icily, and as he spoke his + right hand stirred under the ample folds of his greatcoat. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad, M. Moreau, that you take that tone with me. You relieve me of + the last scruple. You spoke of Fate just now, and I must agree with you + that Fate has meddled oddly, though perhaps not to the end that you + discern. For years now you have chosen to stand in my path and thwart me + at every turn, holding over me a perpetual menace. Persistently you have + sought my life in various ways, first indirectly and at last directly. + Your intervention in my affairs has ruined my highest hopes—more + effectively, perhaps, than you suppose. Throughout you have been my evil + genius. And you are even one of the agents of this climax of despair that + has been reached by me to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait! Listen!” Madame was panting. She flung away from Andre-Louis, as if + moved by some premonition of what was coming. “Gervais! This is horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible, perhaps, but inevitable. Himself he has invited it. I am a man + in despair, the fugitive of a lost cause. That man holds the keys of + escape. And, besides, between him and me there is a reckoning to be paid.” + </p> + <p> + His hand came from beneath the coat at last, and it came armed with a + pistol. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Plougastel screamed, and flung herself upon him. On her knees now, + she clung to his arm with all her strength and might. + </p> + <p> + Vainly he sought to shake himself free of that desperate clutch. + </p> + <p> + “Therese!” he cried. “Are you mad? Will you destroy me and yourself? This + creature has the safe-conducts that mean our salvation. Himself, he is + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + From the background Aline, a breathless, horror-stricken spectator of that + scene, spoke sharply, her quick mind pointing out the line of checkmate. + </p> + <p> + “Burn the safe-conducts, Andre-Louis. Burn them at once—in the + candles there.” + </p> + <p> + But Andre-Louis had taken advantage of that moment of M. de La Tour + d’Azyr’s impotence to draw a pistol in his turn. “I think it will be + better to burn his brains instead,” he said. “Stand away from him, + madame.” + </p> + <p> + Far from obeying that imperious command, Mme. de Plougastel rose to her + feet to cover the Marquis with her body. But she still clung to his arm, + clung to it with unsuspected strength that continued to prevent him from + attempting to use the pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Andre! For God’s sake, Andre!” she panted hoarsely over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Stand away, madame,” he commanded her again, more sternly, “and let this + murderer take his due. He is jeopardizing all our lives, and his own has + been forfeit these years. Stand away!” He sprang forward with intent now + to fire at his enemy over her shoulder, and Aline moved too late to hinder + him. + </p> + <p> + “Andre! Andre!” + </p> + <p> + Panting, gasping, haggard of face, on the verge almost of hysteria, the + distracted Countess flung at last an effective, a terrible barrier between + the hatred of those men, each intent upon taking the other’s life. + </p> + <p> + “He is your father, Andre! Gervais, he is your son—our son! The + letter there... on the table... O my God!” And she slipped nervelessly to + the ground, and crouched there sobbing at the feet of M. de La Tour + d’Azyr. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. SAFE-CONDUCT + </h2> + <p> + Across the body of that convulsively sobbing woman, the mother of one and + the mistress of the other, the eyes of those mortal enemies met, invested + with a startled, appalled interest that admitted of no words. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the table, as if turned to stone by this culminating horror of + revelation, stood Aline. + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr was the first to stir. Into his bewildered mind came + the memory of something that Mme. de Plougastel had said of a letter that + was on the table. He came forward, unhindered. The announcement made, Mme. + de Plougastel no longer feared the sequel, and so she let him go. He + walked unsteadily past this new-found son of his, and took up the sheet + that lay beside the candlebranch. A long moment he stood reading it, none + heeding him. Aline’s eyes were all on Andre-Louis, full of wonder and + commiseration, whilst Andre-Louis was staring down, in stupefied + fascination, at his mother. + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr read the letter slowly through. Then very quietly he + replaced it. His next concern, being the product of an artificial age + sternly schooled in the suppression of emotion, was to compose himself. + Then he stepped back to Mme. de Plougastel’s side and stooped to raise + her. + </p> + <p> + “Therese,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Obeying, by instinct, the implied command, she made an effort to rise and + to control herself in her turn. The Marquis half conducted, half carried + her to the armchair by the table. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis looked on. Still numbed and bewildered, he made no attempt to + assist. He saw as in a dream the Marquis bending over Mme. de Plougastel. + As in a dream he heard him ask: + </p> + <p> + “How long have you known this, Therese?” + </p> + <p> + “I... I have always known it... always. I confided him to Kercadiou. I saw + him once as a child... Oh, but what of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why was I never told? Why did you deceive me? Why did you tell me that + this child had died a few days after birth? Why, Therese? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid. I... I thought it better so—that nobody, nobody, not + even you, should know. And nobody has known save Quintin until last night, + when to induce him to come here and save me he was forced to tell him.” + </p> + <p> + “But I, Therese?” the Marquis insisted. “It was my right to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Your right? What could you have done? Acknowledge him? And then? Ha!” It + was a queer, desperate note of laughter. “There was Plougastel; there was + my family. And there was you... you, yourself, who had ceased to care, in + whom the fear of discovery had stifled love. Why should I have told you, + then? Why? I should not have told you now had there been any other way + to... to save you both. Once before I suffered just such dreadful + apprehensions when you and he fought in the Bois. I was on my way to + prevent it when you met me. I would have divulged the truth, as a last + resource, to avert that horror. But mercifully God spared me the necessity + then.” + </p> + <p> + It had not occurred to any of them to doubt her statement, incredible + though it might seem. Had any done so her present words must have resolved + all doubt, explaining as they did much that to each of her listeners had + been obscure until this moment. + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr, overcome, reeled away to a chair and sat down + heavily. Losing command of himself for a moment, he took his haggard face + in his hands. + </p> + <p> + Through the windows open to the garden came from the distance the faint + throbbing of a drum to remind them of what was happening around them. But + the sound went unheeded. To each it must have seemed that here they were + face to face with a horror greater than any that might be tormenting + Paris. At last Andre-Louis began to speak, his voice level and unutterably + cold. + </p> + <p> + “M. de La Tour d’Azyr,” he said, “I trust that you’ll agree that this + disclosure, which can hardly be more distasteful and horrible to you than + it is to me, alters nothing, since it effaces nothing of all that lies + between us. Or, if it alters anything, it is merely to add something to + that score. And yet... Oh, but what can it avail to talk! Here, monsieur, + take this safe-conduct which is made out for Mme. de Plougastel’s footman, + and with it make your escape as best you can. In return I will beg of you + the favour never to allow me to see you or hear of you again.” + </p> + <p> + “Andre!” His mother swung upon him with that cry. And yet again that + question. “Have you no heart? What has he ever done to you that you should + nurse so bitter a hatred of him?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear, madame. Once, two years ago in this very room I told you + of a man who had brutally killed my dearest friend and debauched the girl + I was to have married. M. de La Tour d’Azyr is that man.” + </p> + <p> + A moan was her only answer. She covered her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis rose slowly to his feet again. He came slowly forward, his + smouldering eyes scanning his son’s face. + </p> + <p> + “You are hard,” he said grimly. “But I recognize the hardness. It derives + from the blood you bear.” + </p> + <p> + “Spare me that,” said Andre-Louis. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis inclined his head. “I will not mention it again. But I desire + that you should at least understand me, and you too, Therese. You accuse + me, sir, of murdering your dearest friend. I will admit that the means + employed were perhaps unworthy. But what other means were at my command to + meet an urgency that every day since then proves to have existed? M. de + Vilmorin was a revolutionary, a man of new ideas that should overthrow + society and rebuild it more akin to the desires of such as himself. I + belonged to the order that quite as justifiably desired society to remain + as it was. Not only was it better so for me and mine, but I also contend, + and you have yet to prove me wrong, that it is better so for all the + world; that, indeed, no other conceivable society is possible. Every human + society must of necessity be composed of several strata. You may disturb + it temporarily into an amorphous whole by a revolution such as this; but + only temporarily. Soon out of the chaos which is all that you and your + kind can ever produce, order must be restored or life will perish; and + with the restoration of order comes the restoration of the various strata + necessary to organized society. Those that were yesterday at the top may + in the new order of things find themselves dispossessed without any + benefit to the whole. That change I resisted. The spirit of it I fought + with whatever weapons were available, whenever and wherever I encountered + it. M. de Vilmorin was an incendiary of the worst type, a man of eloquence + full of false ideals that misled poor ignorant men into believing that the + change proposed could make the world a better place for them. You are an + intelligent man, and I defy you to answer me from your heart and + conscience that such a thing was true or possible. You know that it is + untrue; you know that it is a pernicious doctrine; and what made it worse + on the lips of M. de Vilmorin was that he was sincere and eloquent. His + voice was a danger that must be removed—silenced. So much was + necessary in self-defence. In self-defence I did it. I had no grudge + against M. de Vilmorin. He was a man of my own class; a gentleman of + pleasant ways, amiable, estimable, and able. + </p> + <p> + “You conceive me slaying him for the very lust of slaying, like some beast + of the jungle flinging itself upon its natural prey. That has been your + error from the first. I did what I did with the very heaviest heart—oh, + spare me your sneer!—I do not lie, I have never lied. And I swear to + you here and now, by my every hope of Heaven, that what I say is true. I + loathed the thing I did. Yet for my own sake and the sake of my order I + must do it. Ask yourself whether M. de Vilmorin would have hesitated for a + moment if by procuring my death he could have brought the Utopia of his + dreams a moment nearer realization. + </p> + <p> + “After that. You determined that the sweetest vengeance would be to + frustrate my ends by reviving in yourself the voice that I had silenced, + by yourself carrying forward the fantastic apostleship of equality that + was M. de Vilmorin’s. You lacked the vision that would have shown you that + God did not create men equals. Well, you are in case to-night to judge + which of us was right, which wrong. You see what is happening here in + Paris. You see the foul spectre of Anarchy stalking through a land fallen + into confusion. Probably you have enough imagination to conceive something + of what must follow. And do you deceive yourself that out of this filth + and ruin there will rise up an ideal form of society? Don’t you understand + that society must re-order itself presently out of all this? + </p> + <p> + “But why say more? I must have said enough to make you understand the only + thing that really matters—that I killed M. de Vilmorin as a matter + of duty to my order. And the truth—which though it may offend you + should also convince you—is that to-night I can look back on the + deed with equanimity, without a single regret, apart from what lies + between you and me. + </p> + <p> + “When, kneeling beside the body of your friend that day at Gavrillac, you + insulted and provoked me, had I been the tiger you conceived me I must + have killed you too. I am, as you may know, a man of quick passions. Yet I + curbed the natural anger you aroused in me, because I could forgive an + affront to myself where I could not overlook a calculated attack upon my + order.” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment. Andre-Louis stood rigid listening and wondering. So, + too, the others. Then M. le Marquis resumed, on a note of less assurance. + “In the matter of Mlle. Binet I was unfortunate. I wronged you through + inadvertence. I had no knowledge of the relations between you.” + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis interrupted him sharply at last with a question: “Would it + have made a difference if you had?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he was answered frankly. “I have the faults of my kind. I cannot + pretend that any such scruple as you suggest would have weighed with me. + But can you—if you are capable of any detached judgment—blame + me very much for that?” + </p> + <p> + “All things considered, monsieur, I am rapidly being forced to the + conclusion that it is impossible to blame any man for anything in this + world; that we are all of us the sport of destiny. Consider, monsieur, + this gathering—this family gathering—here to-night, whilst out + there... O my God, let us make an end! Let us go our ways and write + ‘finis’ to this horrible chapter of our lives.” + </p> + <p> + M. le La Tour considered him gravely, sadly, in silence for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is best,” he said, at length, in a small voice. He turned to + Mme. de Plougastel. “If a wrong I have to admit in my life, a wrong that I + must bitterly regret, it is the wrong that I have done to you, my dear...” + </p> + <p> + “Not now, Gervais! Not now!” she faltered, interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + “Now—for the first and the last time. I am going. It is not likely + that we shall ever meet again—that I shall ever see any of you again—you + who should have been the nearest and dearest to me. We are all, he says, + the sport of destiny. Ah, but not quite. Destiny is an intelligent force, + moving with purpose. In life we pay for the evil that in life we do. That + is the lesson that I have learnt to-night. By an act of betrayal I begot + unknown to me a son who, whilst as ignorant as myself of our relationship, + has come to be the evil genius of my life, to cross and thwart me, and + finally to help to pull me down in ruin. It is just—poetically just. + My full and resigned acceptance of that fact is the only atonement I can + offer you.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped and took one of madame’s hands that lay limply in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Therese!” His voice broke. He had reached the end of his iron + self-control. + </p> + <p> + She rose and clung to him a moment, unashamed before them. The ashes of + that dead romance had been deeply stirred this night, and deep down some + lingering embers had been found that glowed brightly now before their + final extinction. Yet she made no attempt to detain him. She understood + that their son had pointed out the only wise, the only possible course, + and was thankful that M. de La Tour d’Azyr accepted it. + </p> + <p> + “God keep you, Gervais,” she murmured. “You will take the safe-conduct, + and... and you will let me know when you are safe?” + </p> + <p> + He held her face between his hands an instant; then very gently kissed her + and put her from him. Standing erect, and outwardly calm again, he looked + across at Andre-Louis who was proffering him a sheet of paper. + </p> + <p> + “It is the safe-conduct. Take it, monsieur. It is my first and last gift + to you, and certainly the last gift I should ever have thought of making + you—the gift of life. In a sense it makes us quits. The irony, sir, + is not mine, but Fate’s. Take it, monsieur, and go in peace.” + </p> + <p> + M. de La Tour d’Azyr took it. His eyes looked hungrily into the lean face + confronting him, so sternly set. He thrust the paper into his bosom, and + then abruptly, convulsively, held out his hand. His son’s eyes asked a + question. + </p> + <p> + “Let there be peace between us, in God’s name,” said the Marquis thickly. + </p> + <p> + Pity stirred at last in Andre-Louis. Some of the sternness left his face. + He sighed. “Good-bye, monsieur,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You are hard,” his father told him, speaking wistfully. “But perhaps you + are in the right so to be. In other circumstances I should have been proud + to have owned you as my son. As it is...” He broke off abruptly, and as + abruptly added, “Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + He loosed his son’s hand and stepped back. They bowed formally to each + other. And then M. de La Tour d’Azyr bowed to Mlle. de Kercadiou in utter + silence, a bow that contained something of utter renunciation, of + finality. + </p> + <p> + That done he turned and walked stiffly out of the room, and so out of all + their lives. Months later they were to hear of him in the service of the + Emperor of Austria. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. SUNRISE + </h2> + <p> + Andre-Louis took the air next morning on the terrace at Meudon. The hour + was very early, and the newly risen sun was transmuting into diamonds the + dewdrops that still lingered on the lawn. Down in the valley, five miles + away, the morning mists were rising over Paris. Yet early as it was that + house on the hill was astir already, in a bustle of preparation for the + departure that was imminent. + </p> + <p> + Andre-Louis had won safely out of Paris last night with his mother and + Aline, and to-day they were to set out all of them for Coblenz. + </p> + <p> + To Andre-Louis, sauntering there with hands clasped behind him and head + hunched between his shoulders—for life had never been richer in + material for reflection—came presently Aline through one of the + glass doors from the library. + </p> + <p> + “You’re early astir,” she greeted him. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, yes. I haven’t been to bed. No,” he assured her, in answer to her + exclamation. “I spent the night, or what was left of it, sitting at the + window thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor Andre!” + </p> + <p> + “You describe me perfectly. I am very poor—for I know nothing, + understand nothing. It is not a calamitous condition until it is realized. + Then...” He threw out his arms, and let them fall again. His face she + observed was very drawn and haggard. + </p> + <p> + She paced with him along the old granite balustrade over which the + geraniums flung their mantle of green and scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “Have you decided what you are going to do?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “I have decided that I have no choice. I, too, must emigrate. I am lucky + to be able to do so, lucky to have found no one amid yesterday’s chaos in + Paris to whom I could report myself as I foolishly desired, else I might + no longer be armed with these.” He drew from his pocket the powerful + passport of the Commission of Twelve, enjoining upon all Frenchmen to lend + him such assistance as he might require, and warning those who might think + of hindering him that they did so at their own peril. He spread it before + her. “With this I conduct you all safely to the frontier. Over the + frontier M. de Kercadiou and Mme. de Plougastel will have to conduct me; + and then we shall be quits.” + </p> + <p> + “Quits?” quoth she. “But you will be unable to return!” + </p> + <p> + “You conceive, of course, my eagerness to do so. My child, in a day or two + there will be enquiries. It will be asked what has become of me. Things + will transpire. Then the hunt will start. But by then we shall be well + upon our way, well ahead of any possible pursuit. You don’t imagine that I + could ever give the government any satisfactory explanation of my absence—assuming + that any government remains to which to explain it?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean... that you will sacrifice your future, this career upon which + you have embarked?” It took her breath away. + </p> + <p> + “In the pass to which things have come there is no career for me down + there—at least no honest one. And I hope you do not think that I + could be dishonest. It is the day of the Dantons, and the Marats, the day + of the rabble. The reins of government will be tossed to the populace, or + else the populace, drunk with the conceit with which the Dantons and the + Marats have filled it, will seize the reins by force. Chaos must follow, + and a despotism of brutes and apes, a government of the whole by its + lowest parts. It cannot endure, because unless a nation is ruled by its + best elements it must wither and decay.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were a republican,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Why, so I am. I am talking like one. I desire a society which selects its + rulers from the best elements of every class and denies the right of any + class or corporation to usurp the government to itself—whether it be + the nobles, the clergy, the bourgeoisie, or the proletariat. For + government by any one class is fatal to the welfare of the whole. Two + years ago our ideal seemed to have been realized. The monopoly of power + had been taken from the class that had held it too long and too unjustly + by the hollow right of heredity. It had been distributed as evenly as + might be throughout the State, and if men had only paused there, all would + have been well. But our impetus carried us too far, the privileged orders + goaded us on by their very opposition, and the result is the horror of + which yesterday you saw no more than the beginnings. No, no,” he ended. + “Careers there may be for venal place-seekers, for opportunists; but none + for a man who desires to respect himself. It is time to go. I make no + sacrifice in going.” + </p> + <p> + “But where will you go? What will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, something. Consider that in four years I have been lawyer, + politician, swordsman, and buffoon—especially the latter. There is + always a place in the world for Scaramouche. Besides, do you know that + unlike Scaramouche I have been oddly provident? I am the owner of a little + farm in Saxony. I think that agriculture might suit me. It is a meditative + occupation; and when all is said, I am not a man of action. I haven’t the + qualities for the part.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up into his face, and there was a wistful smile in her deep + blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any part for which you have not the qualities, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really? Yet you cannot say that I have made a success of any of + those which I have played. I have always ended by running away. I am + running away now from a thriving fencing-academy, which is likely to + become the property of Le Duc. That comes of having gone into politics, + from which I am also running away. It is the one thing in which I really + excel. That, too, is an attribute of Scaramouche.” + </p> + <p> + “Why will you always be deriding yourself?” she wondered. + </p> + <p> + “Because I recognize myself for part of this mad world, I suppose. You + wouldn’t have me take it seriously? I should lose my reason utterly if I + did; especially since discovering my parents.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t, Andre!” she begged him. “You are insincere, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am. Do you expect sincerity in man when hypocrisy is the very + keynote of human nature? We are nurtured on it; we are schooled in it, we + live by it; and we rarely realize it. You have seen it rampant and out of + hand in France during the past four years—cant and hypocrisy on the + lips of the revolutionaries, cant and hypocrisy on the lips of the + upholders of the old regime; a riot of hypocrisy out of which in the end + is begotten chaos. And I who criticize it all on this beautiful God-given + morning am the rankest and most contemptible hypocrite of all. It was this—the + realization of this truth kept me awake all night. For two years I have + persecuted by every means in my power... M. de La Tour d’Azyr.” + </p> + <p> + He paused before uttering the name, paused as if hesitating how to speak + of him. + </p> + <p> + “And in those two years I have deceived myself as to the motive that was + spurring me. He spoke of me last night as the evil genius of his life, and + himself he recognized the justice of this. It may be that he was right, + and because of that it is probable that even had he not killed Philippe de + Vilmorin, things would still have been the same. Indeed, to-day I know + that they must have been. That is why I call myself a hypocrite, a poor, + self-duping hypocrite.” + </p> + <p> + “But why, Andre?” + </p> + <p> + He stood still and looked at her. “Because he sought you, Aline. Because + in that alone he must have found me ranged against him, utterly + intransigeant. Because of that I must have strained every nerve to bring + him down—so as to save you from becoming the prey of your own + ambition. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to speak of him no more than I must. After this, I trust never to + speak of him again. Before the lines of our lives crossed, I knew him for + what he was, I knew the report of him that ran the countryside. Even then + I found him detestable. You heard him allude last night to the unfortunate + La Binet. You heard him plead, in extenuation of his fault, his mode of + life, his rearing. To that there is no answer, I suppose. He conforms to + type. Enough! But to me, he was the embodiment of evil, just as you have + always been the embodiment of good; he was the embodiment of sin, just as + you are the embodiment of purity. I had enthroned you so high, Aline, so + high, and yet no higher than your place. Could I, then, suffer that you + should be dragged down by ambition, could I suffer the evil I detested to + mate with the good I loved? What could have come of it but your own + damnation, as I told you that day at Gavrillac? Because of that my + detestation of him became a personal, active thing. I resolved to save you + at all costs from a fate so horrible. Had you been able to tell me that + you loved him it would have been different. I should have hoped that in a + union sanctified by love you would have raised him to your own pure + heights. But that out of considerations of worldly advancement you should + lovelessly consent to mate with him... Oh, it was vile and hopeless. And + so I fought him—a rat fighting a lion—fought him relentlessly + until I saw that love had come to take in your heart the place of + ambition. Then I desisted.” + </p> + <p> + “Until you saw that love had taken the place of ambition!” Tears had been + gathering in her eyes whilst he was speaking. Now amazement eliminated her + emotion. “But when did you see that? When?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I was mistaken. I know it now. Yet, at the time... surely, Aline, + that morning when you came to beg me not to keep my engagement with him in + the Bois, you were moved by concern for him?” + </p> + <p> + “For him! It was concern for you,” she cried, without thinking what she + said. + </p> + <p> + But it did not convince him. “For me? When you knew—when all the + world knew what I had been doing daily for a week!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but he, he was different from the others you had met. His reputation + stood high. My uncle accounted him invincible; he persuaded me that if you + met nothing could save you.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Why this, Aline?” he asked her with some sternness. “I can understand + that, having changed since then, you should now wish to disown those + sentiments. It is a woman’s way, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what are you saying, Andre? How wrong you are! It is the truth I have + told you!” + </p> + <p> + “And was it concern for me,” he asked her, “that laid you swooning when + you saw him return wounded from the meeting? That was what opened my + eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Wounded? I had not seen his wound. I saw him sitting alive and apparently + unhurt in his caleche, and I concluded that he had killed you as he had + said he would. What else could I conclude?” + </p> + <p> + He saw light, dazzling, blinding, and it scared him. He fell back, a hand + to his brow. “And that was why you fainted?” he asked incredulously. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him without answering. As she began to realize how much she + had been swept into saying by her eagerness to make him realize his error, + a sudden fear came creeping into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + He held out both hands to her. + </p> + <p> + “Aline! Aline!” His voice broke on the name. “It was I...” + </p> + <p> + “O blind Andre, it was always you—always! Never, never did I think + of him, not even for loveless marriage, save once for a little while, + when... when that theatre girl came into your life, and then...” She broke + off, shrugged, and turned her head away. “I thought of following ambition, + since there was nothing left to follow.” + </p> + <p> + He shook himself. “I am dreaming, of course, or else I am mad,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Blind, Andre; just blind,” she assured him. + </p> + <p> + “Blind only where it would have been presumption to have seen.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” she answered him with a flash of the Aline he had known of old, + “I have never found you lack presumption.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Kercadiou, emerging a moment later from the library window, beheld + them holding hands and staring each at the other, beatifically, as if each + saw Paradise in the other’s face. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Scaramouche, by Rafael Sabatini + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCARAMOUCHE *** + +***** This file should be named 1947-h.htm or 1947-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/4/1947/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |