CHAPTER VII.
THE ABDICATION IN A FARMHOUSE.
After having appeased the duties of obedience, Pitou wished to satisfythe cravings of his heart. It is sweet to obey when the order chimes inwith one's secret sympathies.
Ange Pitou was in love with Catherine, daughter of farmer Billet who hadsuccored him when he fled from his aunt's and with whom he had taken thetrip to Paris which returned him a full-fledged hero to hisfellow-villagers.
When he perceived the long ridge of the farmhouse roofs, measured theaged elms which twisted to stand the higher over the smoking chimneys,when he heard the distant lowing of the cattle, the barking of thewatchdogs, and the rumbling of the farm carts, he shook his casque onhis head to tighten its hold, hung the calvary sabre more firmly by hisside, and tried to give himself the bold swagger of a lover and asoldier. As nobody recognized him at the first it was a proof that hehad fairly succeeded.
The farmhands responded to his hail by taking off their caps or pullingtheir forelocks.
Through the dininghall window pane Mother Billet saw the militaryvisitor. She was a comely, kind old soul who fed her employes likefighting cocks. She was, like other housewives, on the alert, as therewas talk of armed robbers being about the country. They cut the woodsdown and reaped the green corn. What did this warrior's appearancesignify? attack or assistance?
She was perplexed by the clodhopper shoes beneath a helmet so shiningand her supposition fluctuated between suspicion and hope.
She took a couple of steps towards the new-comer as he strode into thekitchen, and he took off his headpiece not to be outdone in politeness.
"Ange Pitou?" she ejaculated. "Whoever would have guessed that you wouldenlist."
"Enlist indeed?" sneered Pitou, smiling loftily.
As he looked round him, seeking someone, Mistress Billet smiled,divining who he was after.
"Looking for Catherine?" she asked unaffectedly.
"To present her with my duty," said Pitou.
"She is ironing," responded Mrs. Billet; "but sit ye down and talk tome."
"Quite willing, mother." And he took a chair.
In all the doorways and windows the servants and laboring men flocked tosee their old fellow. He had a kindly glance for them all, a caress inhis smile for the most part.
"So you come from town, Ange?" began Mother Billet. "How did you leavethe master?"
"He is all right, but Paris is all wrong."
The circle of listeners drew in closer.
"What about the King?" inquired the mistress.
Pitou shook his head and clacked his tongue in a way humiliating to thehead of the monarchy.
"And the Queen?"
Pitou said never a word.
"Oh," groaned the crowd.
Pitou was aching for Catherine's coming.
"Why are you wearing a helmet?"
"It is a trophy of war," rejoined the young peasant. "A trophy is atangible testimonial that you have vanquished an enemy."
"Have you vanquished an enemy, Pitou?"
"An enemy--pooh!" said the valiant one, disdainfully. "Ah, good MotherBillet, you do not know that Farmer Billet and yours truly took theBastile between us."
This speech electrified the auditory. Pitou felt the breath on his hairand the helmet mane, while their hands grasped the back of his chair.
"Do tell us what our master has done," pleaded Mrs. Billet, proud andtremulous at the same time.
Pitou was hurt that Catherine did not leave her linen to come and hearsuch a messenger as he was. He shook his head for he was growingdiscontented.
"It will take a time," he observed.
"Are you hungry, or thirsty?"
"I am not saying no."
Instantly all the men and maids bustled about so that Pitou found underhis hand goblets, mugs, bread, meat, cheese, without realizing theextent of his hint. He had a hot liver, as the rustics say: that is, hedigested quickly. But he had not shaken down the Angelican fowl in rice;he tried to eat again but had to give up at the second mouthful.
"If I begin now," he said, "I should have to do it all over again whenMiss Catherine comes."
While they were all hunting after the young girl, Pitou happened to lookup and saw the girl in question leaning out of a window on the upperlanding. She was gazing towards Boursonne Woods.
"Oh," he sighed, "she is looking towards the manor of the Charnys. Sheis in love with Master Isidor Charny, that is what it is."
He sighed again, much more lamentably than before.
Taking the farmer's wife by the hand as the searchers returned fruitlessin their search, he took her up a couple of the stairs and showed herthe girl, mooning on the window sill among the morning glories andvines.
"Catherine!" she called: "Come, Catherine, here is Ange Pitou, with newsfrom town."
"Ah," said Catherine coldly.
So coldly that Pitou's heart failed him as he anxiously waited for herreply.
She came down the stairs with the phlegm of the Flemish girls in the oldDutch paintings.
"Yes, it is he," she said, when on the floor.
Pitou bowed, red and trembling.
"He's wearing a soldier's helmet," said a servant-woman in her youngmistress's ear.
Pitou overheard and watched for the effect. But her somewhat pallidthough evercharming face showed no admiration for the brazen cap.
"What is he wearing that thing for?" she inquired.
This time indignation got the upperhand in the peasant.
"I am wearing helmet and sabre," he retorted proudly, "because I havebeen fighting and have killed Swiss and dragoons: and if you doubt me,Miss Catherine, you can ask your father, and that is all."
She was so absent-minded that she appeared to catch the latter part ofthe speech alone.
"How is my father?" asked she; "and why does he not return home withyou? Is the news from Paris bad?"
"Very," replied the young man.
"I thought that all was settled," the girl objected.
"Quite true, but all is unsettled again."
"Have not the King and the people agreed and is not the recall ofMinister Necker arranged?"
"Necker is not of much consequence now," said Pitou jeeringly.
"But that ought to satisfy the people."
"It falls so short of that, that the people are doing justice on theirown account and killing their enemies."
"Their enemies? who are their enemies?" cried the girl astonished.
"The aristocrats, of course," answered the other.
"Whom do you call aristocrat?" she asked, turning paler.
"Why, naturally, they that have grand houses, and big properties, andstarve the nation--those that have everything while we have nothing;that travel on fine horses or in bright coaches while we jog on foot."
"Heavens," exclaimed the girl, so white as to be corpselike.
"I can name some aristo's of our acquaintance," continued he, noticingthe emotion. "Lord Berthier Sauvigny, for instance, who gave you thosegold earrings you wore on the day you danced with Master Isidore. Well,I have seen men eat the heart of him!"
A terrible cry burst from all breasts and Catherine fell back in thechair she had taken.
"Did you see that?" faltered Mother Billet, quivering with horror.
"And so did Farmer Billet. By this time they have killed or burnt allthe aristocrats of Paris and Versailles. What do you call it dreadfulfor? you are not of the higher classes, Mother Billet."
"Pitou, I did not think you were so bloodthirsty when you started forParis," said Catherine with sombre energy.
"I do not know as I am so, now; but----"
"But then do not boast of the crimes which the Parisians commit, sinceyou are not a Parisian and did not do them."
"I had so little hand in them that Farmer Billet and me were nighslaughtered in taking the part of Lord Berthier--though he had famishedthe people."
"Oh, my good, brave father! that is just like him," said Catherine,e
xcitedly.
"My worthy man," said Mrs. Billet with tearful eyes. "What has he beenabout?"
Pitou related that the mob had seized Foulon and Berthier for being theactive agents for higher personages in the great Grain Ring which heldthe corn from the poor, and torn them to pieces, though Billet and hehad tried to defend them.
"The farmer was sickened and wanted to come home, but Dr. Gilbert wouldnot let him."
"Does he want my man to get killed there?" sobbed poor Mother Billet.
"Oh, no," replied Pitou. "It is all fixed between master and the doctor.He is going to stay a little longer in town to finish up the revolution.Not alone, you understand, but with Mayor Bailly and General Lafayette."
"Oh, I am not so much alarmed about him as long as in the gentlemen'scompany," said the good old soul with admiration.
"When does he think of returning?" inquired the daughter.
"I don't know in the least."
"Then, what have you come back for?"
"To bring Sebastian Gilbert to Father Fortier's school, and you, FarmerBillet's instructions."
Pitou spoke like a herald, with so much dignity that the farmer's wifedismissed all the gapers.
"Mrs. Billet," began the messenger, "the master wants you to be worriedas little as possible, so he thinks that while he is away, themanagement of the farm should be in other hands, younger and livelier."
"Oh!"
"Yes, and he has selected Miss Catherine."
"My daughter to rule in my house," cried the woman, with distrust andinexpressible jealousy.
"Under your orders," the girl hastened to say, while reddening.
"No, no," persisted Pitou, who went on well since he was in full swing:"I bear the commission entire: Master Billet delegates and authorizesMiss Catherine to see to all the work and govern the house and householdin his stead."
As Billet was infallible in his wife's eyes, all her resistance ceasedinstantly.
"Billet is right," she declared after a glance at her daughter; "she isyoung but she has a good head, and she can even be headstrong. She canget along outdoors better than me; she knows how to make folks obey. Butto be running about over field and hills will make a tomboy of her----"
"Fear nothing for her," interposed Pitou with a consequential air; "I amhere and I will go around with her."
This gracious offer, by which Ange probably intended to make an effect,drew such a strange glance from Catherine that he was dumbfounded.
Pitou was not experienced in feminine ways but he guessed by her blushthat she was not giving complete acquiescence, for he said with anagreeable smile which showed his strong teeth between the large lips:
"Even the Queen has a Lifeguard. Besides, I may be useful in the woods."
"Is this also in my husband's instructions?" queried Madam Billet whoshowed some tendency towards cutting sayings.
"Nay," said Catherine, "that would be an idle errand and father wouldnot have set it for Master Pitou while he would not have accepted it."
Pitou rolled his frightened eyes from one to the other: all his castlein the air came tumbling down. A true woman, the younger one understoodhis painful disappointment.
"Did you see the girls in Paris with the young men tagging at theirgown-tails?"
"But you are not a girl, after you become mistress of the house,"remonstrated Pitou.
"Enough chatter," interrupted Mother Billet; "the mistress of the househas too much work to do. Come, Catherine, and let me turn over things toyou, as your father bids us."
As soon as the house was placed under the new ruler the servants andworkmen were presented to her as the one from whom in the future orderswould flow. Each departed with the alacrity shown by the new officialsat the beginning of a fresh term.
"What about me?" inquired Pitou, left alone and going up to the girl.
"I have no orders for you. What do you think of doing?"
"What I did before I went away."
"Then you worked for my father and mother. I have nothing in your line,for you are a scholar and a fine Paris gentleman now."
"But look at the muscle in my arms," protested the poor fellow indesperation. "Why do you force me to die of hunger under the pretencethat I am a learned man? Are you ignorant that Epictetus the philosopherwas a tavern waiter to earn his bread, and that AEsop the fabulist had towork for a living? and yet they were more learned than ever I shall be.But Master Billet sent me down here to help on the farm."
"Be it so; but my father can force you to do things that I should shrinkfrom imposing upon you."
"Don't shrink, and impose on me. You will see that I can stand anything.Besides you have books to keep and accounts to make out; and my strongpoint is figuring and ciphering."
"I do not think it enough for a man," rejoined Catherine.
"Am I good for nothing, then?" groaned Pitou.
"Well, live here a bit," she said; "I will think it over and we shallsee what turns up."
"You want to think it over, about my staying. What have I done to you,Miss Catherine? you do not seem to be the same as before."
Catherine shrugged her shoulders very slightly. She had no good reasonsto fear Pitou and yet his persistency worried her.
"Enough of this," she said, "I am going over to Fertemilon."
"I will saddle a horse and go with you."
"No; stay where you are."
She spoke so imperiously that the peasant remained riveted to the spot,hanging his head.
"She thinks I am changed, but," said he, "it is she who is another sortaltogether."
When he was roused by hearing the horse's hoofs going away, he lookedout and saw Catherine riding by a side path towards the highway.
It occurred to him that though she had forbid him to accompany her, shehad not said he must not follow her.
He dashed out and took a short cut through the woods, where he was athome, till he reached the main road. But though he waited a half-hour,he saw nobody.
He thought she might have forgotten something at the farm and startedback for it; and he returned by the highway. But on looking up a lane hespied her white cap at a distance.
Instead of going to Fertemilon, as she distinctly stated, she wasproceeding to Boursonne.
He darted on in the same direction but by a parallel line.
It was no longer to follow her but to spy her.
She had spoken a falsehood. In what end?
He was answered by seeing her thrash her horse into the trot in order torejoin a horseman who rode to meet her with as much eagerness as sheshowed on her part.
On coming nearer, as the pair halted at meeting, Pitou recognized by hiselegant form and stylish dress the neighboring lord, Isidore Charny. Hewas brother of the Count of Charny, lieutenant of the Royal Lifeguards,and accredited as favorite of the Queen.
Pitou knew him well and lately from having seen him at the villagedances where Catherine chose him for partner.
Dropping to the ground in the brush and creeping up like a viper, heheard the couple.
"You are late to-day, Master Isidore," began Catherine.
"To-day?" thought the eavesdropper; "it appears that he has beenpunctual on other meetings."
"It is not my fault, my darling Kate," replied the young noble. "Aletter from my brother delayed me, to which I had to reply by thebearer. But fear nothing, I shall be more exact another time."
Catherine smiled and Isidore pressed her hand so tenderly that Pitoufelt upon thorns.
"Fresh news from Paris?" she asked. "So have I. Did you not say thatwhen something alike happens to two persons, it is called sympathy?"
"Just so. Who brings you news?"
"Pitou."
"And pray who is Pitou?" asked the young noble with a free and easy airwhich changed the red of the listener's cheek to crimson.
"You know well enough," was her reply: "Pitou is the farmboy that myfather took on out of charity: the one who played propriety for me whenI went to the dance."
&
nbsp; "Lord, yes--the chap with knees that look like knots tied in a rope."
Catherine set to laughing. Pitou felt lowered; he looked at his knees,so useful lately while he was keeping pace with a horse, and he sighed.
"Come, come, do not tear my poor Pitou to pieces," said Catherine; "Letme tell you that he wanted to come with me just now--to Fertemilon,where I pretended I was going."
"Why did you not accept the squire--he would have amused you."
"Not always," laughed the girl.
"You are right, my pet," said Isidore, fixing his eyes, brilliant withlove, on the pretty girl.
She hid her blushing face in his arms closing round it.
Pitou closed his eyes not to see, but he did not close his ears, and thesound of a kiss reached them. He tore his hair in despair.
When he came to his senses the loving couple were slowly riding away.
The last words he caught were:
"You are right, Master Isidore; let us ride about for an hour which Iwill gain by making my nag go faster--he is a good beast who will tellno tales," she added, merrily.
This was all: the vision vanished. Darkness fell on Pitou's spirit andhe said:
"No more of the farm for me, where I am trodden on and made fun of. I amnot going to eat the bread of a woman who is in love with another man,handsomer, richer and more graceful than me, I allow. No, my place isnot in the town but in my village of Haramont, where I may find thosewho will think well of me whether my knees are like knots in a rope ornot."
He marched towards his native place, where his reputation and that ofhis sword and helmet had preceded him, and where glory awaited him, ifnot happiness. But we know that perfect bliss is not a human attribute.
The Hero of the People: A Historical Romance of Love, Liberty and Loyalty Page 7