The Rose of Old St. Louis

by Mary Dillon

  CHAPTER XXII

  MR. MONROE ARRIVES!

  "No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight."

  It was ten o'clock when I reached Monsieur Marbois's house and foundmy aunt anxiously awaiting me. I had to explain the lateness of myreturn and the bespattered condition of my garments by telling her Ihad lost my way in the Boulogne woods (which was true, for in thosewinding roads Fatima did for a time go astray), and such was herhorror at the thought of the perils to which I had been exposed inthat forest of evil repute that she questioned me not at all about myvisit to St. Cloud, for which I was devoutly thankful. She hadexpected that my uncle would be detained all night, so that I had noexplanations to make in his behalf.

  The dinner-hour was long past, but she insisted on having a hot supperprepared for me, and though my conscience assured me I deserved to goto bed hungry, the little fillet of beef with mushrooms, flanked by anomelet _au gratin_, which Jacques, my aunt's accomplished chef, sentup to my room piping hot, with a glass of fine old Burgundy, tasted alittle better to me than I ever remembered anything to have tastedbefore. _Le petit souper_ was served in my room, because my aunt hadinsisted that my wet clothes should be removed (it had begun to rainlong before we reached the streets of Paris) and I should get into ahot bath at once to prevent, if possible, the cold she was sure I hadcontracted on my wet and perilous ride.

  Safe in my own comfortable room, warm and refreshed from my bath, witha delicious supper smoking before me, the memory of my excitingadventures and the discomforts of the latter part of the ride, lost inthe dismal woods and chilled to the bone by the cold rain, alreadybegan to grow dim and hazy.

  The April rain driving against my windows added to my sense of comfortand security. It had been a good friend to me in at least tworespects: it had washed out every trace of Fatima's hoof-prints, sothat not even Monsieur Fouche's lynx-eyed police could track me whenthe morning light should start them on the trail; and it had ruined mynew puce-colored costume. Remembering how I had rejoiced in thewearing of it that very morning, its destruction might not seem to bea cause for thankfulness. But I would never dare to wear it again,lest some one who had seen me at St. Cloud (most of all, thechevalier) should recognize it; and yet I might have found itdifficult to frame excuses for not wearing it that would satisfy myaunt's minute and anxious care for me, which extended to seeing that Iwore the proper suit for every occasion.

  But I did not feel quite so secure the next morning, when I sawposted all over the city flaming accounts of an attack upon the FirstConsul's life when he was in his bath, frustrated by the vigilance ofhis faithful Mameluke. There followed descriptions of the assassin asgiven by various witnesses who had had deadly hand-to-hand encounterswith him, no two descriptions agreeing in any particulars, except thathe was of great stature and rode a mysterious steed that bore him awayon the wings of the wind.

  There was great excitement throughout all Paris, and there were notwanting those who hinted at supernatural agencies. Some of those whohad stood gaping at our swift flight through St. Cloud village wereready to swear that the horse the assassin rode had wings from hisshoulders and his feet, and one poor lout added a tail and a pair ofhorns for the rider!

  I might have been amused at all this if it had not been for theChevalier Le Moyne. It was almost inevitable that I should meet himsome day in the city, and when he should come to know of my presencein Paris he would at once connect the assassin of great size and hiswonderful horse with the horse and rider that had snatchedMademoiselle Pelagie from his grasp at Rock Spring. And I was quitesure, also, that no considerations of gratitude for his life sparedwhen he was in my power would deter him from handing me over to themerciless police with the greatest delight, now that I was in hispower.

  So it was not with a perfect sense of security that I went about Parisfor the next day or two, and I left Fatima to pine in her stablerather than to run the risk of suggesting a resemblance to some St.Cloud villager while yet the apparition of horse and rider was freshin his mind.

  I did not see my uncle until late on Tuesday afternoon. He had gonedirect to the Treasury office on Monday morning, and had been summonedto St. Cloud again Monday afternoon to spend the night. I had fullymade up my mind to make a clean breast of it to him when I should seehim, though I dreaded much the just reprimands I knew I shouldreceive. It was with a very trembling heart, but striving to keep ascourageous a front as possible, that I obeyed a summons to his privatelibrary late Tuesday afternoon. My uncle was sternness itself.

  "Sit down, sir," he said as I entered, scarcely returning my greeting.

  "If you will permit me, I would prefer to stand until I have made anexplanation and my most heart-felt apologies," I replied, determinedto speak quickly and have it over before my courage should desert me.

  "I desire no apologies," returned my uncle, a little less sternly, Ithought, "and I particularly desire that you make me no explanations.If you had any connection with the mysterious assassin and his horse,I prefer to be able to say that I know nothing at all about it. I mayhave my suspicions that only a daredevil young American couldaccomplish such feats of prowess as were ascribed to this'assassin,'--over-power single-handed all the guards of the palace,and make good his escape on a steed of supernatural swiftness,--but Iprefer that they should remain suspicions; do you understand?"

  I bowed silently, too mortified to make any reply.

  "I may have my theories, also," continued my uncle, "as to this youngdaredevil's presence in the First Consul's closet, and they wouldcertainly not be those entertained by the police. Yet it would be adifficult matter to convince any one, least of all the First Consuland Fouche, that he could be there for any other purpose thanassassination; and should his identity be discovered, I fear noinfluence could be brought to bear strong enough to save his life.Permit me to add, also, that an insatiable curiosity to be present atcouncils of state, such as I have no doubt led this young man tocontrive an entrance into the Consul's private apartments, seems to meonly one degree less culpable than the dastardly designs of anassassin."

  It is impossible to describe the scathing tone with which my uncleuttered this last sentence. Nor, had I been receiving condemnationfrom a just judge for the most dastardly crimes, could I have feltkeener humiliation. I dared not lift my eyes, and every pulse in mybody sent the blood in waves to my already scarlet countenance. Ibroke out into a great sweat all over my body as I realized that I hadforever forfeited the respect and confidence of my uncle, whom Igreatly honored and admired. I felt that I must make one desperateeffort to regain a little of what I had lost. Not until that momentdid I dream that I would be suspected of deliberately hiding in thatcloset for the purpose of eavesdropping, and not to be allowed toexplain to my uncle that my presence there was by accident was almostmore than I could bear.

  "Sir," I began, still not lifting my eyes, "you will not permit me totell you anything when I had desired to tell you all, but I beg thatyou will allow me to say that it was not a spirit of mean curiositythat moved that young man, but a spirit of foolish and recklessadventure, of which he bitterly repents--most of all, because he hasforever forfeited the respect and esteem of him whose good opinion hemost prizes. He will return at once to America, where he will be in nodanger of disgracing those whom he honors so highly. That his visit toParis, so kindly planned by you, looked forward to with such delight,and, until the present moment, enjoyed so keenly, should end in suchfailure, is a greater bitterness than you can comprehend; but he feelsthat he has richly deserved it for his foolish recklessness. He onlyprays that in condemning his actions you will not judge too harshly ofhis motives, and that if it is possible to retain affection whereesteem is forfeited, he may still be permitted to retain a little ofyours."

  I stood with my head bowed for what seemed to me a very long timebefore my uncle spoke. Then he said in the kindest of tones:

  "Sit down, my boy; 'tis not quite so bad as that."

  I looked up quickly. My uncle was ac
tually smiling, and a great loadrolled off my heart. For whereas a moment before I had thought I couldnever look any man in the face again, least of all my uncle, it nowseemed to me that there was almost as much of kindly affection in hisglance as I had ever found there. Yet I would not sit down, as myuncle so kindly insisted, feeling that I deserved still to retain theattitude of culprit; seeing which, my uncle softened still more.

  "Perhaps I have been too hard on you," he said; "it was a foolishtrick, without doubt, and you deserve some punishment for yourthoughtlessness and recklessness. From what I know of you, I cancharge you with no mean motive, and I am not sure but that at your agean adventure of such kind would have tempted me greatly. I do not mindsaying, also, that I am rather proud of the way you got yourself outof your scrape, and I am glad there were no more serious results thana sprained ankle for the Chevalier Le Moyne and a temporary aberrationof mind for the sentry. I am told you sent him spinning in suchfashion that his brains flew out of the top of his head, and it wassome hours before he got them back again. I hear, too, that he insistsit could have been no less a personage than his Satanic Majestyhimself who with a touch of the hand sent his gun flying when he wasin the very act of firing, and then gave him a twirl that sent himspinning down the terraces in the dark."

  I did not want to laugh, but I could not quite suppress a sheepishgrin at this picture of the dazed sentry, seeing which my uncle threwback his head and laughed in a way I am sure he learned in America,for I have never heard the like from these ever-smiling Parisians. Iwould have liked to laugh with him, so jolly did it sound, and myheart growing lighter every moment; but I did not quite dare. In aminute my uncle stopped as suddenly as he had begun, and was allseriousness again.

  "Well, well, my boy, it's all over," he said, "and I am thankful therewas no bloodshed, and not very sorry that the chevalier must golimping for a while. I like not that fellow, and I don't understandwhy he is hanging around the First Consul so much of late. As to yourgoing back to America, it would be the worst possible thing to do. Youmight as well make a confession at once. No; you must go about exactlyas you have always done, no more, no less--certainly no less. And youmust ride Fatima, but always at a moderate pace, and be sure you makeno exhibitions of her training."

  I hardly knew how to thank my uncle, and I told him so. I was indeedglad not to be sent back to America, and I had no doubt that he wasright about the wisdom of showing myself in public places with Fatima.I was glad, too, to hear him say that he did not like the Chevalier LeMoyne. I thought I could have enlightened him as to the chevalier'sreasons for hanging around the First Consul, but my uncle did not knowthat I had ever seen Chevalier Le Moyne before, and I could notexplain to him without telling him also about the Comtesse de Baloit;and--I knew not why, but I shrank greatly from mentioning her name tomy uncle. So I held my peace about the chevalier, and instead mademany promises as to my future conduct, and expressed many regrets forthe past.

  I was leaving the room, feeling myself partly at least restored to myself-respect, when my uncle called me back.

  "I've a piece of news that may interest you," he said. "ThePresident's envoy, Mr. Monroe, has arrived, and I am going to call onhim at Mr. Livingston's this evening. Would you like to go with me?"

  I thanked him much, and assured him that I was greatly honored andpleased at his invitation (which did, indeed, seem to me like a signthat his confidence in me had returned), and then I hastily left theroom with my head in a whirl. Mr. Monroe had arrived! Then so also hadmademoiselle. I knew of no way to quiet the tumult of my heart andbrain but to go for a ride on Fatima, though in my state of excitementit was hard work keeping her down to the moderate pace my uncle hadrecommended.

  I sought the Champs-Elysees, for it was the fashionable hour fordriving, and I hoped that she might be taking the air there with allthe rest of the world, though I hardly thought it probable so soonafter her arrival. I rode slowly up and down the avenue, bowing tomany acquaintances, and looking eagerly at every beautiful woman,whether I knew her or not, for fear that, seeing her in a strange citywith strange surroundings, I might pass her and not know her.

  I was about to give up the quest and go home, when I saw coming towardme a carriage that had just turned into the avenue from a streetleading to the Faubourg St. Germain. It was more magnificent than anyI had seen, with outriders in gorgeous liveries, but I thought thathardly accounted for the way people were staring, stopping to lookback when the carriage had passed, and the young men bowing to theground. My heart began to beat tumultuously, as if it knew what myeyes were soon to look upon; yet I am not sure that I really believedit until it burst upon me, a vision of dazzling loveliness. Had Iforgotten how beautiful she was? or was it that the fine Parisian hatand dress had added the transcendent touch? Unconsciously I drewFatima to one side, so dazzled was I by her radiance; and so she didnot see me, though she was looking eagerly from side to side, tryingto take in at once all this wonderful Paris of which she had heard somuch. She seemed to me like a happy child, eyes and lips smiling withdelight, and I was happy just to be looking at her, though I liked notthe face of the proud and haughty lady who sat beside her, and who, Ifeared, would never let her speak to her old St. Louis friend.

  The carriage passed, and I, too, looked back, as did all the rest ofthe world. Alas! in one moment was my joy turned to bitterness; for,sitting with his back to the horses and facing Pelagie, a proud smileas of ownership on his evil but handsome face, sat the Chevalier LeMoyne!