The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French Republic

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER XVI.

  LEBRENN AND NEROWEG.

  Night had fallen. Half an hour after his return from the Temple, JohnLebrenn was awaiting in silence the result of his sister's considerationof the letter written him by advocate Desmarais the previous evening,and also one from Charlotte received during the day.

  Seated at her work table, which was lighted by a small lamp, Victoriahung thoughtfully over the two letters.

  "Sister," at last said John, "are you more keen-sighted than I insolving the reason for the condition set by Desmarais upon my marriage?"

  "Nay, I also am at a loss for an explanation," replied Victoria; "but Isuspect some cowardice in the mystery. You often see Billaud-Varenne, henever told you, so far as I know, that he was in close connection withCharlotte's father. And yet I read in Desmarais's letter that he begsyou to keep from Billaud-Varenne the secret of your love for hisdaughter. Doubtless you could easily clear up the matter by seeingBillaud-Varenne and asking him about his relations with Desmarais."

  "Would that not be failing in the discretion which Charlotte's fatherimposes upon me an a condition for my marriage?"

  "Not at all. He asks you to keep from his colleague the secret of yourlove for his daughter. Nothing more. On that subject, my dear brother,you can still be as reserved in your talk with Billaud-Varenne as youhave been in the past."

  "That is so. I shall go and see him this very evening; I am certain tofind him at home. At any rate, does not the condition, placed byCharlotte's father upon our marriage, seem to you, as it does to her andme, acceptable on the score of honor?"

  "Surely, brother. And moreover, have you not always guarded withdelicacy this secret which Desmarais now asks you to keep? How will itembarrass you to engage yourself upon your honor to continue holding ita secret? In no wise. As to the motive for the condition, what mattersit? Go at once to Monsieur Desmarais's; Charlotte, poor child, iscounting the hours, the minutes till you come."

  "Ah, Victoria," cried John, his breast heaving and his eyes filled withtears, "I can hardly believe my good fortune! To marry Charlotte! Tolive with her and my beloved sister!"

  "Me! To live with you and your wife? It is impossible! Think of thepast."

  "Victoria, I might once have hesitated to reveal to Charlotte themystery of your life; it is no longer so, dearest sister. The conduct ofmy betrothed has proved to me the firmness of her character; I am assure of her as of myself. She shall know all that has contributed toyour sad life, and her dearest wish will be like mine, I am certain--tohave you pass the rest of your days with us."

  "I admit that your sweetheart's spirit is sufficiently lofty to riseabove prejudice. But will it be the same with her family?"

  "I answer to that, dearest sister, that there is nothing else for you todo but what I have just indicated. Have you not lived with our parentsand with me since the day the Bastille was taken, when you came home tous? Have I not many a time spoken of you to Billaud-Varenne? If he is onintimate terms with Citizen Desmarais, is it not likely that he hasspoken to him? In fine, for a last reason, the gravest of all, is it notknown in the neighborhood that we live together? Charlotte's father, ourneighbor, must be aware of the circumstance. Shall I resign myself to afalsehood, and say that you are not my sister? What would Charlotte andher father think then? What would that young and beautiful woman whoshared my lodgings then be in their eyes?"

  Victoria remained silent. She found, and, in fact, there was, no answerto John's arguments. The latter, triumphing in his brotherly love, rose,tenderly embraced his sister, and said:

  "You see you are convinced of the necessity of my confidence toCharlotte. Now tell me, darling sister, which do you prefer, to livealone or with us?"

  The young woman did not answer. Instead, her pale visage was bathed intears, always so rare in her. After a moment, she pressed her brother toher heart, and murmured in a voice broken with sobs:

  "Ah, do not fear that the sight of your good fortune will make mychagrin more bitter. On the contrary, perhaps I shall forget it inseeing you happy."

  John tenderly embraced his sister, and set out for Billaud-Varenne's,whom he wished to see before his interview with advocate Desmarais.

  Upon being left alone, Victoria pondered long the recent conversationwith her brother. Then, lending an ear mechanically to the whistling ofthe winter's wind without, she bent over the little stove that warmedtheir humble quarters, and resumed her sewing. Suddenly the young womanuttered a cry of surprise, and jumped to her feet. One of the panes ofthe dormer window which looked out upon the roof fell with a crash, andas the fragments of glass jangled to the floor, a hand passing throughthe opening left by the broken pane forcibly shoved the lower sash ofthe window up in the casing. A great gust of wind filled the room, blewout the lamp, and out of the darkness a muffled, suppliant voice calledto Victoria:

  "Have pity on me. I am an Emigrant; they are searching for me. I have ahundred louis on me; they are yours if you save me!"

  At the same time that the words were pronounced, Victoria heard on thefloor the foot-fall of the fugitive, who had introduced himself by thewindow.

  At the sound of the first words Victoria believed she recognized thevoice that came from out the shadows. The young woman was frozen withastonishment.

  "O, Providence! O, Justice the Avenger," she exclaimed. "It is _he_!"Then, transported with fierce joy, she ran in the darkness to the door,which she double locked, put the key in her pocket, and made sure thatshe had by her the double-barreled pistol she always kept ready andloaded since she became aware of the intentions of the Jesuit Morletand Lehiron. These precautions taken, Victoria groped about on thebureau for a match, and held it to the stove-grate, while the fugitive,surprised at the silence maintained by the occupant of the garret,repeated again, believing it an irresistible argument to the mistress ofso poor a dwelling:

  "I am an Emigrant. You have a hundred louis to win by saving me. Youhave no interest in turning me over to my pursuers."

  Victoria replied in a low voice, as she approached the lighted match toa candle on the bureau, "Draw the curtain before the window, lest thewind blow out my light."

  The Emigrant hastened to execute the order. Victoria lighted the candle.Its light flooded the garret; and when the Count of Plouernel--for itwas that self-same gentleman--turned around once more, he stoodpetrified at the sight of the woman he beheld before him. In spite ofthe poverty of her costume, he recognized--Marchioness Aldini! Her blackeyes flashed; hatred contributed to her face so fearsome an expressionthat Plouernel shuddered as he gasped to himself:

  "I am lost! Abbot Morlet told me that the Lebrenns dwelt near my refuge.Let me flee!"

  He dashed to the door, expecting to open it and reach the stairway, butfound it locked. In vain he tried to beat it down.

  "Count," coldly said Victoria, in mocking accents, "know that this houseis occupied by good patriots. The noise you yourself are making willgive the alarm, and you will be arrested on the instant."

  "Infamous creature!" shouted Plouernel, wild with rage, but ceasing toshake the door. Then, rapidly approaching Victoria he unsheathed aponiard which he carried concealed in his clothes; "You wish to deliverme to the scaffold. But I shall avenge my death before it occurs! Yourlife is in my hands."

  "Be that as it may," replied the young woman, as she leveled her pistolat the Count's breast. The latter recoiled in terror. Still keepingPlouernel covered, Victoria went up to one of the partitions, struck itwith her hand, and called out aloud:

  "Neighbor Jerome, are you there?"

  "Aye, citizeness," responded Jerome from the other side of the wall, "weare here, my son and I, at your service. We have just come in, and aregetting supper."

  "My watch is stopped. Do you know what time it is, neighbor?"

  "Ten has just sounded from the ex-parish of the Assumption. It is late,neighbor. We wish you a good night."

  Plouernel was fairly cornered. He could not think of escaping by thewindow and the roof--one m
ovement by Victoria would send him rolling tothe street below. To break down the door was no less perilous; the twospeakers in the garret, and soon all the inhabitants of the house, wouldrun to the young woman's call. And, finally, to attempt to kill her wasan expedient as fraught with danger as the other two. He would have tobrave two shots at close range and by a sure hand.

  Victoria sat down in such a manner as to place her worktable betweenherself and the Count, and keeping the pistol still in her hand, said:

  "Count of Plouernel, you are the head of one of those families whichhave the honor of tracing their origin back to the early times ofconquest. The further you go back in the centuries the more crimes youtake to your account, and the more terrible should be the punishmentreserved to you. The representatives of these families will pay, likeyou, Neroweg, Count of Plouernel, the debt of blood."

  Victoria was uttering these words in a voice of fierce exaltation whenher brother John, who had another key to the door, suddenly entered. Hissister's last words to Plouernel fell upon his ear. The Count, at theunexpected apparition of the young artisan, fell back defiantly, andinvoluntarily clapped his hand again to his dagger.

  "John, lock the door," cried Victoria quickly. "This man's name isNeroweg, Count of Plouernel!"

  The Count put on a bold front, and said, in an attempt to brazen it outwith the young workman, who, he knew, shared the sentiments of hissister with regard to the sons of Neroweg: "Go on, citizen, do yourbusiness as purveyor of the scaffold."

  Unmoved by the insult, John cast a cold look in the Emigrant's directionand said to his sister:

  "How comes the fellow here?"

  "He was evidently fleeing from the men sent to arrest him. He climbed tothe roof of the next house, and forced his way in by breaking thewindow."

  "So," said John to the Count, "you are an Emigrant, and denounced? Theywant you for judgment?"

  "The marauder has the impudence to question me!" answered the Count witha burst of sardonic laughter. "A switch for the rascal!"

  "Count of Plouernel," returned John Lebrenn imperturbably, "I am of adifferent opinion from my sister on the nature of the punishment to bemeted out to you. The Revolution, in abolishing royalty, nobility andclergy, has already chastised the crimes of the enemies of the people:The evil your race has done to ours is expiated. Count of Plouernel, theconquered have taken their revenge upon the conquerors, the nation hasre-entered upon her sovereignty. The Republic is proclaimed; justice isdone!"

  "Blood of God!" exclaimed Plouernel, "the beggar has the insolence togrant me grace in the name of the people!"

  "Count of Plouernel, your judges and not I will grant you grace, if youmerit it," answered John, controlling himself under the goading flingsof the Emigrant. "If it were for me to say, you would remain in Franceunmolested, like so many other ex-nobles. I would leave you in peace, Iswear it before God! in spite of all the wrong your family has heapedupon mine. I would have pardoned you, Count of Plouernel, and I shalltell you why I would have shown myself thus clement: A century or moreago, one of my forefathers, Nominoe, said to Bertha of Plouernel, wholoved him with a love as passionate as his own, 'I experience I know notwhat emotions at once sad and tender, in loving in you a descendant ofthat race which, from infancy, I have been taught to execrate. You arein my eyes, Bertha, an angel of pardon and concord. In you, I absolveyour ancestors; instead of making you party to their iniquities, Itransfer to them your virtues. You ransom the evil ones of your race, asChrist, they say, ransomed the world by his divine grace.'

  "It is in memory of these words of my ancestor Nominoe," proceededLebrenn, "that I would have pardoned you, Count of Plouernel, in makingyou share, not in the crimes of your stock, but in the virtues of thatyoung girl and in the qualities of another of your blood, a Protestantand republican in his time, Colonel Plouernel, the friend of the greatColigny and of my ancestor Odelin, the armorer of La Rochelle."

  "You lie," cried the Count of Plouernel, furiously. "Never did woman ormaid of the house of Plouernel dishonor herself with love for a vassal!As to Colonel Plouernel, a turn-coat and a Protestant, he is the shameof our family; as such, he may, indeed, have played the part of friendto a base plebeian."

  "Accordingly, I would have pardoned, Count, the evil done by your familyto mine," John Lebrenn continued unperturbed. "But though I have theright to show myself generous to my personal enemy, my duty as a citizenforbids me to furnish asylum to an enemy of the nation and the Republic,to a monarchist conspirator."

  "O, the hypocrite!" exclaimed the Count. "All the while pretending agenerosity which would be an insult to me, the clown wants to gratifyhis hatred by sending me to the scaffold!"

  "I have told you that duty prevents my affording asylum to an enemy ofthe Republic; but I am not an informer, I would not deliver up even mypersonal enemy when he has sought shelter under my roof. Leave thisplace. Go down the stairs softly, and you may gain the street. The gateis not locked. If you were not under the shadow of a capital accusation,I would chastise you as you deserve for your insults. So, out of here!my ex-gentleman."

  "Ah, miserable vassal," replied Plouernel, pale with rage. "You dare tothreaten me!" And suddenly throwing himself upon Lebrenn, he dealt him ablow that crimsoned the side of his face.

  "The fellow now belongs to me," grimly muttered John. He went to thecorner where his tools lay, and arming himself with a bar of iron whichhe found there, tossed to the Count a sword which hung on the wall,saying, as he did so:

  "Come, Count of Plouernel; take the weapon, and guard yourself!"

  "John," shrieked Victoria in terror, "your bar is no match for hissaber. You shall not expose your life so!"

  Plouernel drew the sword from its sheath and prepared to defend himself,while Victoria, unable to intervene, shudderingly followed the duel.

  "Son of the Nerowegs," cried John, brandishing his bar of iron, "myavenging arm is about to fall upon you."

  "I await it," coolly replied the Count, putting himself on his guard.The robust iron-worker advanced upon his adversary, describing with hisweapon a figure-of-eight so lusty, so rapid, and to which the vigor ofhis wrist lent such force that, encountering the sword at the momentwhen the ex-colonel was about to lunge, the iron bar broke down thelatter's guard, and descended heavily upon his skull. Almost withoutlosing a drop of blood, and without a single cry, the Count dropped inhis tracks, and rolled upon the floor like an ox smitten with a sledge.

  With a bound Victoria flung herself on her brother's neck, wrapped himin a convulsive embrace, and, suffocated with emotion, broke into tears,unable to utter a word. Partaking of his sister's emotion, John pressedher tenderly to his breast; but their embrace ended in a start as theyheard a knock at their room door, and the voice of the porter calling:"Citizen John, if you are abed, rise! They are looking for an Emigrantin the house."

  The porter had barely uttered these words when John and his sister hearda low moan from the Count of Plouernel. At the same moment the portercalled still more loudly, once more knocking at the door.

  "The wretch is not dead, and we can not give him up," said the workmanto his sister, looking at Plouernel.

  "Citizen John, awake!" it was the porter's voice as he redoubled hisknocks. "Here is the commissioner of the Section."

  "Who is knocking? Who's there?" answered the artisan, with a meaninggesture to his sister, and saying to her, softly: "I'll feign to bewaking from a deep sleep. Help me carry the wounded man to your room;for it would be an infamous deed to give up a suffering enemy. I shallsay that you are ill in bed, and they will not intrude upon you."

  "It is I, James," replied the porter. "You sleep a sound sleep, CitizenJohn. This is the third time I have pounded at your door."

  "Ah, 'tis you, Father James. I slept so hard I did not hear you. What doyou wish?"

  "The commissioner of the Section and his agents are after an Emigrant.They have already visited three floors; they will doubtless come up toyour chamber, as a matter of form. They know well enough
that you wouldnever harbor an Emigrant in your place."

  "Alright, Father James. I'll slip on my trousers and open the door in aninstant."

  While speaking, John had hustled off his cravat, his vest, and his cloakof municipal officership. He kept on only his pantaloons, and feigningto be but half dressed in his haste to get out of bed, opened the doorat the moment that the commissioner of the Section, the same who theevening before had carried on the search at Desmarais's, appeared on thelanding, followed by his agents and several gendarmes. The magistrate, afriend of Marat's, knew Lebrenn, and greeted him cordially:

  "I regret, Citizen Lebrenn, that you have been awakened. You are one ofthose in whose abodes there is no reason for searches and seizures."

  "No matter, citizen; come in, do your duty. I ask you only not to gointo my sister's room. She is ill."

  "I shall go neither into your sister's room nor yours, Citizen Lebrenn."

  "Who is it you seek?"

  "An ex-noble, the Count of Plouernel, formerly a colonel in the Guards.He was installed in a house next to this, in the rooms of an oldhuntsman of Louis Capet's; but warned, no doubt, of our approach, ourex-noble took to his heels. I first thought he might have escaped by theroofs; but after an inspection of them, I recognized that only a roofer,and an intrepid one at that, would have dared to risk his life on such aslope. To acquit my conscience I came, nevertheless, to inspect theattic of this house. So, good night, Citizen Lebrenn."

  The magistrate shook the hand of the young man, who watched thecommissioner proceed towards the attic, and then re-entered his ownrooms and locked the door.