Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XLI. A STORY OF THE YEAR '92.

  I FOUND everything in the rue de rohan as I had left it the day before.General d'Auvergne had not been there during my absence, but a messengerfrom Versailles brought intelligence that the Court would arrive thatevening in Paris, and in all likelihood the general would accompanythem.

  My day was then at my disposal, and having dressed, I strolled out toenjoy all the strange and novel sights of the great capital. They whocan carry their memories back to Paris at that period may remember theprodigious amount of luxury and wealth so prodigally exhibited; theequipages, the liveries, the taste in dress, were all of the most costlycharacter; the very shops, too, vied with each other in the splendor andrichness of their display, and court uniforms and ornaments of jewelryglittered in every window. Hussar jackets in all their bravery, chapeauxcovered with feather trimming and looped with diamonds, sabres withivory scabbards encrusted with topaz and turquoise, replaced the simplecostumes of the Revolutionary era as rapidly as did the high-soundingtitles of "Excellence" and "Monseigneur" the unpretending designation of"citoyen." Still, the military feature of the land was in the ascendant;in the phrase of the day, it was the "mustache" that governed. Not astreet but had its group of officers, on horseback or on foot; regimentspassed on duty, or arrived from the march, at every turn of the way. Thevery rabble kept time and step as they followed, and the warlike spiritanimated every class of the population. All these things ministered tomy enthusiasm, and set my heart beating stronger for the time when thecareer of arms was to open before me. This, if I were to judge from allI saw, could not now be far distant. The country for miles aroundParis was covered with marching men, their faces all turned eastward;orderlies, booted and splashed, trotted rapidly from street to street;and general officers, with their aides-de-camp, rode up and down with ahaste that boded preparation.

  My mind was too full of its own absorbing interests to make me care tovisit the theatre; and having dined in a cafe on the Boulevard, I turnedtowards the general's quarters in the hope of finding him arrived. As Ientered the Rue de Rohan, I was surprised at a crowd collected about thedoor, watching the details of packing a travelling carriage which stoodbefore it. A heavy fourgon, loaded with military chests and boxes,seemed also to attract their attention, and call forth many a surmise asto its destination.

  "Le Petit Caporal has something in his head, depend upon it," said athin, dark-whiskered fellow with a wooden leg, whose air and gesturebespoke the old soldier; "the staff never move off, extra post, withouta good reason for it."

  "It is the English are about to catch it this time," said amiserable-looking, decrepit creature, who was occupied in roastingchestnuts over an open stove. "Hot, all hot! messieurs et mesdames!real 'marrons de Nancy,'--the true and only veritable chestnuts with atruffle flavor. _Sacristi!_ now the sea-wolves will meet their match!It is such brave fellows as you, monsieur le grenadier, can make themtremble."

  The old pensioner smoothed down his mustache, and made no reply.

  "The English, indeed!" said a fat, ruddy-faced woman, with a slightline of dark beard on her upper lip. "My husband 's a pioneer in theTwenty-second, and says they're nothing better than poltroons. Howwe made them run at Arcole! Wasn't it Arcole?" said she, as a buzz oflaughter ran through the crowd.

  "_Tonnerre de guerre_" cried the little man, "if I was at them!"

  A loud burst of merriment met this warlike speech; while the maimedsoldier, apparently pleased with the creature's courage, smiled blandlyon him as he said, "Let me have two sous' worth of your chestnuts."

  Leaving the party to their discussion, I now entered the house, andedging my way upstairs between trunks and packing-cases, arrived atthe drawing-room. The general had just come in; he had been the wholemorning at Court, and was eating a hurried dinner in order to return tothe Tuileries for the evening reception. Although his manner towards mewas kind and cordial in the extreme, I thought he looked agitated andeven depressed, and seemed much older and more broken than before.

  "You see, Burke, you 'll have little time to enjoy Paris gayeties; weleave to-morrow."

  "Indeed, sir! So soon?"

  "Yes; Lasalle is off already; Dorsenne starts in two hours; and we threerendezvous at Coblentz. I wished much to see you," continued he, aftera minute's pause; "but I could not get away from Versailles even for aday. Tell me, have you got a letter I wrote to you when at Mayence? Imean, is it still in existence?"

  "Yes, sir," said I, somewhat astonished at the question.

  "I wrote it hurriedly," added he, with something of confusion in hismanner; "do let me see it."

  I unlocked my writing-desk at once, and handed him his own letter. Heopened it hastily, and having thrown his eyes speedily across it, said,and in a voice far more at ease than before,--

  "That will do. I feared lest perhaps--But no matter; this is better thanI thought."

  With this he gave the letter back into my hands, and appeared for somemoments engaged in deep thought; then, with a voice and manner whichshowed a different channel was given to his thoughts, he said,--

  "The game has opened; the Austrians have invaded Bavaria. The wholedisposable force of France is on the march,--a hurried movement; but soit is. Napoleon always strikes like his own emblem, the eagle."

  "True, sir; but even that serves to heighten the chivalrous feeling ofthe soldier, when the sword springs from the scabbard at the call ofhonor, and is not drawn slowly forth at the whispered counsel of somewily diplomat."

  He smiled half-mournfully at the remark, or at my impetuosity in makingit, as he said:--

  "My dear boy, never flatter yourself that the cause of any war can enterinto the calculation of the soldier. The liberty he fights for is oftenthe rankest tyranny; the patriotism he defends, the veriest oppression.Play the game as though the stake were but your own ambition, if youwould play it manfully. As for me, I buckle on the harness for thelast time, come what will of it. The Emperor feels, and justly feels,indignant that many of the older officers have declined the service bywhich alone they were elevated to rank, and wealth, and honor. Itwas not, then, at the moment when he distinguished me by an unsoughtpromotion,--still more, conferred a personal favor on me, that I couldask leave to retire from the army."

  By the tone in which he said these last few words, I saw that thegeneral was now approaching the topic I felt so curious about, and didnot venture by a word to interrupt or divert his thoughts from it. Mycalculation proved correct; for, after meditating some eight orten minutes, he drew his chair closer to mine, and in a voice ofill-repressed agitation, spoke thus:--

  "You doubtless know the history of our great Revolution,--the causesthat led to, the consequences that immediately sprang from it,--theterrible anarchy, the utter confiscation of wealth, and, worse still,the social disorganization that invaded every family, however humble orhowever exalted, setting wives against their husbands, children againsttheir parents, and making brothers sworn enemies to one another. It wasin vain for any man once engaged in the struggle to draw back; theleast hesitation to perform any order of the Convention--the delay of amoment, to think--was death: some one was ever on the watch to denouncethe man thus deliberating, and he was led forth to the guillotine likethe blackest criminal. The immediate result of all this was a distrustthat pervaded the entire nation. No one knew who to speak to, nordare any confide in him who once had been his dearest friend. The oldRoyalists trembled at every stir; the few demonstrations they forcedthemselves to make of concurrence in the new state of things werereceived with suspicion and jealousy. The 'Blues'--for so theRevolutionary party was called--thirsted for their blood; thearistocracy had been, as they deemed, long their oppressors, andwhere vengeance ceased, cupidity began. They longed to seize upon theconfiscated estates, and revel as masters in the halls where so oft theyhad waited as lackeys. But the evil ended not here. Wherever privatehate or secret malice lurked, an opportunity for revenge now offered;and for one head that fell under the supposed guilt of trea
son toFrance, a hundred dropped beneath the axe from causes of personalanimosity and long-nurtured vengeance: and thus many an idle worduttered in haste or carelessness, some passing slight, some chanceneglect, met now its retribution, and that retribution was ever death.

  "It chanced that in the South, in one of those remote districts whereintelligence is always slow in arriving, and where political movementsrarely disturb the quiet current of daily life, there lived one of thoseold seigneurs who at that period were deemed sovereign princes in thelittle locale they inhabited. The soil had been their own for centuries;long custom had made them respected and looked up to; while the acts ofkindness and benevolence in which, from father to son, their educationconsisted, formed even a stronger tie to the affections of thepeasantry. The Church, too, contributed not a little to the maintenanceof this feudalism; and the chateau' entered into the subject of thevillage prayers as naturally as though a very principle of their faith.There was something beautifully touching in the intercourse between thelord of the soil and its tillers: in the kindly interest of the one,repaid in reverence and devotion by the others; his foresight for theirbenefit, their attachment and fidelity,--the paternal care, the filiallove,--made a picture of rural happiness such as no land ever equalled,such as perhaps none will ever see again. The seigneur of whom I speakwas a true type of this class. He had been in his boyhood a page atthe gorgeous court of Louis the Fifteenth, mixed in the voluptuousfascinations of the period; but, early disgusted by the sensuality ofthe day, retired to his distant chateau, bringing with him a wife,--oneof the most beautiful and accomplished persons of the Court, but onewho, like himself, preferred the peace and tranquillity of a countrylife to the whirlwind pleasures of a vicious capital. For year's theylived childless; but at last, after a long lapse of time, two childrenwere born to this union, a boy and girl,--both lovely, and likely inevery respect to bless them with happiness. Shortly after the birthof the girl, the mother became delicate, and after some months ofsuffering, died. The father, who never rallied from the hour of herdeath, and took little interest in the world, soon followed her, and thechildren were left orphans when the eldest was but four years ofage, and his sister but three. Before the count died, he sent forhis steward. You know that the steward, or intendant, in France, wasformerly the person of greatest trust in any family,--the faithfuladviser in times of difficulty, the depositary of secrets, the friend,in a word, who in humble guise offered his counsel in every domesticarrangement, and without whom no project was entertained or determinedon; and usually the office was hereditary, descending from father to sonfor centuries.

  "In this family such was the case. His father and grandfather before himhad filled the office, and Leon Guichard well knew every tradition ofthe house, and from his infancy his mind had been stored with tales ofits ancient wealth and former greatness. His father had died but a shorttime previous, and when the count's last illness seized him, Leon wasonly in the second year of his stewardship. Brief as the period was,however, it had sufficed to give abundant proof of his zeal andability. New sources of wealth grew up under his judicious management;improvements were everywhere conspicuous; and while the seigneur himselffound his income increased by nearly one-half, the tenants had gained inequal proportion,--such was the result of his activity and intelligence.These changes, marvellous as they may seem, were then of frequentoccurrence. The lands of the South had been tilled for centuries withoutany effort at improvement; sons were content to go on as their fathershad done before them; increased civilization, with its new train ofwants and luxuries, never invaded this remote, untravelled district, andprimitive tastes and simple habits succeeded each other generation aftergeneration unaltered and unchanged.

  "Suddenly, however, a new light broke on the world, which penetratedeven the darkness of the far-off valleys of La Provence. Intelligencebegan to be more widely diffused; men read and reflected; the rudimentsof every art and every science were put within the reach of humblecomprehensions; and they who before were limited to memory or hearsayfor such knowledge as they possessed, could now apply at the fountainfor themselves. Leon Guichard was not slow in cultivating these newresources, and applying them to the circumstances about him; andalthough many an obstacle arose, dictated by stupid adherence to oldcustoms, or fast-rooted prejudice against newfashioned methods, byperseverance he overcame them all, and actually enriched the people inspite of themselves.

  "The seigneur, himself a man of no mean intellect, saw much of this withsorrow; he felt that a mighty change was accomplishing, and that as oneby one the ancient landmarks by which men had been guided for ages wereremoved, none could foresee what results might follow, nor where thepassion for alteration might cease. The superstitions of the Church,harmless in themselves, were now openly attacked; its observances,before so deeply venerated, were even assailed as idle ceremonies; andit seemed as if the strong cable that bound men to faith and loyaltyhad parted, and that their minds were drifting over a broad and pathlesssea. Such was the ominous opening of the Revolution, such the terribleground-swell before the storm.

  "On his deathbed, then, he entreated Leon to be aware that evil dayswere approaching; that the time was not distant when men should relyupon the affection and love of those around them, on the ties thatattached to each other for years long, on the mutual interest thathad grown up from their cradles. He besought him to turn the people's'minds, as far as might be, from the specious theories that were afloat,and fix them on their once-loved traditions; and, above all, he chargedhim, as the guardian of his orphan children, to keep them aloof fromthe contamination of dangerous doctrines, and to train them up in theancient virtues of their house,--in charity and benevolence.

  "Scarce had the old count's grave closed over him, when men began toperceive a marked change in Leon Guichard. No longer humble, even tosubserviency, as before, he now assumed an air of pride and haughtinessthat soon estranged his companions from him. As guardian to the orphanchildren, he resided in the chateau, and took on him the pretensionsof the master. Its stately equipage, with great emblazoned panels,--thevillage wonder at every fete day,--was now replaced by a more modernvehicle, newly arrived from Paris, in which Monsieur Guichard daily tookhis airings. The old servants, many of them born in the chateau, weresent adrift, and a new and very different class succeeded them. All waschanged: even the little path that led up from the presbytere to thechateau, and along which the old cure was seen wending his way on eachSunday to his dinner with the seigneur, was now closed, the gate walledup; while the Sabbath itself was only dedicated to greater festivitiesand excess, to the scandal of the villagers.

  "Meanwhile the children grew up in strength and beauty; like wildflowers, they had no nurture, but they flourished in all this neglect,ignorant and unconscious of the scenes around them. They roved aboutthe livelong day through the meadows, or that wilderness of a garden onwhich no longer any care was bestowed, and where rank luxuriance gavea beauty of its own to the rich vegetation. With the unsuspectingfreshness of their youth, they enjoyed the present without a thought ofthe future,--they loved each other, and were happy.

  "To them the vague reports and swelling waves of the Revolution, whicheach day gained ground, brought neither fear nor apprehension; theylittle dreamed that the violence of political strife could ever reachtheir quiet valleys. Nor did they think the hour was near when the trampof soldiery and the ruffianly shout of predatory war were to replace thesong of the vigneron and the dance of the villager.

  "The Revolution came at last, sweeping like a torrent over the land. Itblasted as it went; beneath its baneful breath everything withered andwasted; loyalty, religion, affection, and brotherly love, all died outin the devoted country; anarchy and bloodshed were masters of the scene.The first dreadful act of this fearful drama passed like a dream tothose who, at a distance from Paris, only read of the atrocities of thatwretched capital; but when the wave rolled nearer; when crowds of armedmen, wild and savage in look, with ragged uniforms and bloodstainedhands, prowled ab
out the villages where in happier times a soldier hadnever been seen; when the mob around the guillotine supplied the placeof the gathering at the market; when the pavement was wet and slipperywith human blood,--men's natures suddenly became changed, as though someterrible curse from on high had fallen on them. Their minds caught upthe fearful contagion of revolt, and a mad impulse to deny all they hadonce held sacred and venerable seized on all. Their blasphemies againstreligion went hand in hand with their desecration of everything holy insocial life, and a pre-eminence in guilt became the highest object ofambition. Sated with slaughter, bloated with crime, the nation reeledlike a drunken savage over the ruin it created, and with the insanelust of blood poured forth its armed thousands throughout the whole ofEurope.

  "Then began the much-boasted triumphs of the Revolutionary armies,--thelauded victories of those great asserters of liberty; say ratherthe carnage of famished wolves, the devastating rage of bloodthirstymaniacs. The conscription seized on the whole youth of France, as iffearful that in the untarnished minds of the young the seeds of betterthings might bear fruit in season. They carried them away to scenes ofviolence and rapine, where, amid the shouts of battle and the criesof the dying, no voice of human sympathy might touch their hearts, notrembling of remorse should stir within them.

  "'You are named in the conscription, Monsieur, said Leon, in a short,abrupt tone, as one morning he entered the dressing-room of his youngmaster.

  "'I! I named in the conscription!' replied the other, with a look ofincredulity and anger. 'This is but a sorry jest, Master Leon; and notin too good taste, either.'

  "'Good or bad,' answered the steward, 'the fact is as I say; here isthe order from the municipalite. You were fifteen yesterday, you know.'

  "'True; and what then? Am I not Marquis de Neufchatel, Comte deRochefort, in right of my mother?'

  "'There are no more marquises, no more counts,' said the other, roughly;'France has had enough of such cattle. The less you allude to them thesafer for your head.'

  "He spoke truly,--the reign of the aristocracy was ended. And while theywere yet speaking, an emissary of the Convention, accompanied by aparty of troops, arrived at the chateau to fetch away the newly-drawnconscript.

  "I must not dwell on the scene which followed: the heartrending sorrowof those who had lived but for each other, now torn asunder for thefirst time, not knowing when, if ever, they were to meet again. Hissister wished to follow him; but even had he permitted it, such wouldhave been impossible: the dreadful career of a Revolutionary soldier wasan obstacle insurmountable. The same evening the battalion of infantryto which he was attached began their march towards Savoy, and the lovelyorphan of the chateau fell dangerously ill.

  "Youth, however, triumphed over her malady, which, indeed, was broughton by grief; and after some weeks she was restored to health. During theinterval, nothing could be more kind and attentive than Leon Guichard;his manner, of late years rough and uncivil, became softened and tender;the hundred little attentions which illness seeks for he paid with zealand watchfulness; everything which could alleviate her sorrow or calmher afflicted mind was resorted to with a kind of instinctive delicacy,and she began to feel that in her long-cherished dislike of theintendant she had done him grievous wrong.

  "This change of manner attracted the attention of many besides theinhabitants of the chateau. They remarked his altered looks and bearing,the more studied attention to his dress and appearance, and the singulardifference in all his habits of life. No longer did he pass his time inthe wild orgies of debauchery and excess, but in careful management ofthe estate, and rarely or never left the chateau after nightfall.

  "A hundred different interpretations were given to this line of acting.Some said that the more settled condition of political affairs had madehim cautious and careful, for it was now the reign of the Directory,and the old excesses of '92 were no longer endured; others, that he wasnaturally of a kind and benevolent nature, and that his savage mannerand reckless conduct were assumed merely in compliance with the horriblefeatures of the time.

  "None, however, suspected the real cause. Leon Guichard was in love!Yes, the humble steward, the coarse follower of the vices of thatdetestable period, was captivated by the beauty of the young girl,now springing into womanhood. The freshness of her artless nature, herguileless innocence, her soft voice, her character so balanced betweengayety and thoughtfulness, her loveliness, so unlike all he had everseen before, had seized upon his whole heart; and, as the sun dartingfrom behind the blackest clouds will light up the surface of a bleaklandscape, touching every barren rock and tipping every bell of purpleheath with color and richness, so over his rugged nature the beauty ofthis fair girl shed a very halo of light, and a spirit awoke within himto seek for better things, to endeavor better things, to fly the coarse,depraved habits of his former self, to conform to the tastes of her heworshipped. Day by day his stern nature became more softened. No longerthose terrible bursts of passion, to which he once gave way, escapedhim; his voice, his very look, too, were changed in their expression,and a gentleness of manner almost amounting to timidity nowcharacterized him who had once been the type of the most savage Jacobin.

  "She to whom this wondrous change was owing knew nothing of the miracleshe had worked; she would not, indeed, have believed, had one told her.She scarcely remarked him when they met, and did not perceive that hewas no longer like his former self; her whole soul wrapped up in herdear brother, s fate, she lived from week to week in the thought of hisletters home. It is true, her life had many enjoyments which owed theirsource to the intendant's care; but she knew not of this, and felt moregrateful to him when he came letter in hand from the little post of thevillage, than when the fair mossroses of spring filled the vases ofthe salon, or the earliest fruits of summer decked her table. At timessomething in his demeanor would strike her,--a tinge of sorrow it seemedrather than aught else; but as she attributed this, as every othergrief, to her brother's absence, she paid no further attention to it,and merely thought good Leon had more feeling than they used to give himcredit for.

  "At last, the campaign of Arcole over, the young soldier obtained ashort leave to see his sister. How altered were they both! She, fromthe child, had become the beautiful girl,--her eyes flashing with thebrilliant sparkle of youth, her step elastic, her color changing withevery passing expression. He was already a man, bronzed and sunburnt,his dark eyes darker, and his voice deeper; but still his former self inall the warmth of his affection to his sister.

  "The lieutenant--for so was he always called by the old soldier whoaccompanied him as his servant, and oftentimes by the rest of hishousehold--had seen much of the world in the few years of his absence.

  "The chances and changes of a camp had taught him many things which liefar beyond its own limits, and he had learned to scan men's minds andmotives with a quick eye and ready wit. He was not long, therefore, inobserving the alteration in Leon Guichard's manner; nor was he slow intracing it to its real cause. At first the sudden impulse of his passionwould have driven him to any length,--the presumption of such a thoughtwas too great to endure. But then the times he lived in taught him somestrong lessons. He remembered the scenes of social disorder and anarchyof his childhood,--how every rank became subverted, and how men'sminds were left to their own unbridled influences to choose their ownposition,--and he bethought him, that in such trials as these Leon hadconducted himself with moderation; that to his skilful management it wasowing if the property had not suffered confiscation like so many others;and that it was perhaps hard to condemn a man for being struck by charmswhich, however above him in the scale of rank, were still continuallybefore his eyes.

  "Reasoning thus, he determined, as the wisest course, to remove hissister to the house of a relative, where she could remain during hisabsence. This would at once put a stop to the steward's folly,--for sohe could not help deeming it,--and, what was of equal consequence inthe young soldier's eyes, prevent his sister being offended by eversuspecting the existence o
f such a feeling towards her. The plan, onceresolved on, met no difficulty from his sister; his promise to returnsoon to see her was enough to compensate for any arrangement, and it wasdetermined that they should set out towards the South by the first weekin September.

  "When the intimation of this change first reached Leon, which it didfrom the other servants, he could not believe it, and resolved tohasten to the lieutenant himself, and ask if it were true. On that day,however, the young soldier was absent shooting, and was not to returnbefore night. Tortured with doubt and fear, trembling at the verythought of her departure whose presence had been the loadstar of hislife, he rushed from the house and hurried into the wood. Every spotreminded him of her; and he shuddered to think that in a few hours hisexistence would have lost its spring; that ere the week was passedhe would be alone without the sight of her whom even to have seenconstituted the happiness of the whole day. Revolving such sad thoughts,he strolled on, not knowing whither, and at last, on turning the angleof a path, found himself before the object of his musings. She wasreturning from a farewell visit to one of the cottagers, and washastening to the chateau to dress for dinner.

  "'Ah, Monsieur Leon,' said she, suddenly, 'I am glad to meet you here.These poor people at the wooden bridge will miss me, I fear; you mustlook to them in my absence. And there is old Jeannette,--she fancies shecan spin still; I pray you let her have her little pension regularly.The children at Calotte, too,--they are too far from the school; mindthat they have their books.'

  "'And are you indeed going from hence, Mademoiselle?' said he, in atone and accent so unlike his ordinary one as to make her start withsurprise.

  "'Yes, to be sure. We leave the day after to-morrow.'

  "'And have you no regret, Mademoiselle, to leave the home of yourchildhood and those you have--known there?'

  "'Sir!' replied she haughtily, as the tone of his voice assumed ameaning which could not be mistaken; 'you seem to have forgottenyourself somewhat, or you had not dared--'

  "'Dared!' interrupted he, in a louder key,--'dared! I have dared morethan that! Yes,' cried he, in a voice where passion could be no longerheld under, 'Leon Guichard, the steward, has dared to love his master'sdaughter! Start not so proudly back, Madame! Time was when such anavowal had been a presumption death could not repay. But these days arepassed; the haughty have been well humbled; they who deemed their blooda stream too pure to mingle with the current in plebeian veins, havepoured it lavishly beneath the guillotine. Leon Guichard has no masternow!'

  "The fire flashed from his eyes as he spoke, and his color, pale atfirst, grew darker and darker, till his face became almost purple;while his nostrils, swelled to twice their natural size, dilated andcontracted like those of a fiery charger. Terrified at the frightfulparoxysm of passion before her, the timid girl endeavored to allay hisanger, and replied,--

  "'You know well, Leon, that my brother has ever treated you as afriend--'

  "'He a friend!' cried he, stamping on the ground, while a look ofdemoniac malice lit up his features. 'He, who talks to me as thoughI were a vassal, a slave; he, who deems his merest word of approval arecompense for all my labor, all my toil; he, whose very glance shootsinto my heart like a dagger! Think you I forgive him the contemptuoustreatment of nineteen years, or that I can pardon insults because theyhave grown into habits? Hear me!'--he grasped her wrist rigidly as hespoke, and continued, 'I have sworn an oath to be revenged on him, fromthe hour when, a boy scarce eight years old, he struck me in the face,and called me canaille. I vowed his ruin. I toiled for it, I strove forit, and I succeeded,--ay, succeeded. I obtained from the Convention theconfiscation of your lands,--all, everything you possessed. I held thetitles in my possession, for I was the owner of this broad chateau,--ay,Leon Guichard! even so; you were but my guest here. I kept it by me manya day, and when your brother was drawn in the conscription I resolved toassert my right before the world.'

  "He paused for a moment, while a tremendous convulsion shook his frame,and made him tremble liker one in an ague; then suddenly rallying, hepassed his hand across his brow, and in a lower voice, resumed, 'I wouldhave done so, but for you.'

  "'For me! What mean you?' said she, almost sinking with terror.

  "'I loved you,--loved you as only he can love who can surrender all hischerished hopes, his dream of ambition, his vengeance even, to his love.I thought, too, that you were not cold to my advances; and fearing lestany hazard should apprise you of my success, and thus run counter to mywishes, I lived on here as your servant, still hoping for the hour whenI might call you mine, and avow myself the lord of this chateau. Howlong I might have continued thus I know not. To see you, to look on you,to live beneath the same roof with you, seemed happiness enough; butwhen I heard that you were to leave this, to go away, never to returnperhaps, or if so, not as her I loved and worshipped, then--But why lookyou thus? Is it because you doubt these things? Look here; see this. Isthat in form? Are these signatures authentic? Is this the seal of theNational Convention? What say you now? It is not the steward Leonthat sues, but the Citizen Guichard, proprietaire de Rochefort. Now,methinks, that makes some difference in the proposition.'

  "'None, sir,' replied she, with a voice whose steady utterance made eachword sink into his heart, 'save that it adds to my contempt for himwho has dared to seek my affection in the ruin of my family. I did notdespise you before--'

  "'Beware!' said he, in a voice of menace, but in which no violence ofpassion entered; 'you are in my power. I ask you again, will youconsent to be my wife? Will you save your brother from the scaffold, andyourself from beggary and ruin? I can accomplish both.'

  "A look of ineffable scorn was all her reply; when he sprang forward andthrew his arm round her waist.

  "'Or would you drive me to the worst--'

  "A terrific shriek broke from her as she felt his hand around her, whenthe brushwood crashed behind her, and her brother's dogs sprang from thethicket. With a loud cry she called upon his name. He answered from thewood, and dashed towards her just as she sank fainting to the ground.Leon was gone.

  "As soon as returning strength permitted, she told her brother thefearful story of the steward; but bound him by every entreaty not tobring himself in contact with a monster so depraved. When they reachedthe chateau, they learned that Guichard had been there and left itagain. And from that hour they saw him no more.

  "I must now conclude in a few words; and, to do so, may mention, thatin the year '99 I became the purchaser of Haut Rochefort at a sale offorfeited estates, it having been bought by Government on some previousoccasion, but from whom and how, I never heard. The story I have told Ilearned from the notaire of Hubane, the village in the neighborhood, whowas conversant with all its details, and knew well the several actors init, as well as their future fortunes.

  "The brother became a distinguished officer, and rose to some rank inthe service; but embarking in the expedition to Ireland, was reportedto Bonaparte as having betrayed the French cause. The result was, hewas struck off the list of the army, and pronounced degraded. He died insome unknown place.

  "The sister became attached to her cousin, but the brother opposingthe union, she was taken away to Paris. The lover returned to Bretagne,where, having heard a false report of her marriage at Court, he assumedholy orders; and being subsequently charged--but it is now believedfalsely--of corresponding with the Bourbons, was shot in his own gardenby a platoon of infantry. But how is this? Are you ill? Has my story soaffected you?"

  "That brother was my friend,--my dearest, my only friend, Charles deMeudon!"

  "What! and did you know poor Charles?"

  But I could not speak; the tears ran fast down my cheeks as I thought ofall his sorrows,--sorrows far greater than ever he had told me.

  "Poor Marie!" said the general, as he wiped a tear from his eye; "fewhave met such an enemy as she did. Every misfortune of her life hassprung from one hand: her brother's, her lover's death, were both hisacts."

  "Laon Guichard! And who is he? or how
could he have done these things?"

  "Methinks you might yourself reply to your own question."

  "I! How could that be? I know him not."

  "Yes, but you do. Laon Guichard is Mehee de la Touche!"

  Had a thunderbolt fallen between us I could not have felt more terror.That name, spoken but twice or thrice in my hearing, had each timebrought its omen of evil.

  It was the same with whose acquaintance Marie de Meudon charged me inthe garden of Versailles; the same who brought the _Chouans_ to theguillotine, and had so nearly involved myself in their ruin; and now Iheard of him as one whose dreadful life had been a course of perfidy andcrime,--one who blasted all around him, and scattered ruin as he went.

  "I have little more to add," resumed the general, after a long pause,and in a voice whose weakened accents evinced how fearfully theremembrance he called up affected him. "What remains, too, moreimmediately concerns myself than others. I am the last of my house. Anancient family, and one not undistinguished in the annals of France,hangs but on the feeble thread of a withered and broken old man's life,with whom it dies. My only brother fell in the Austrian campaign. Inever had a sister. Uncles and cousins I have had in numbers; but deathand exile have been rife these last twenty years, and, save myself, nonebears the name of D'Auvergne.

  "Yet once I nourished the hope of a family,--of a race who should handdown the ancient virtues of our house to after years. I thought of thosegallant ancestors whose portraits graced the walls of the old chateauI was born in, and fancied myself leading my infant boy from pictureto picture, as I pointed out the brave and the good who had been hisforefathers. But this is a dream long since dispelled. I was then ayouth, scarce older than yourself, rich, and with every prospect ofhappiness before me. I fell in love, and the object of my passionseemed one created to have made the very paradise I sought for. She wasbeautiful, beyond even the loveliest of a handsome Court; high-born andgifted. But her heart was bestowed on another,--one who, unlike myself,encouraged no daring thoughts, no ambitious longings, but who, whollydevoted to her he loved, sought in tranquil quiet the happiness suchspirits can give each other. She told me herself frankly, as I speaknow to you, that she could not be mine; and then placed my hand in herhusband's. This was Marie de Rochefort, the mother of Mademoiselle deMeudon.

  "The world's changes seem ever to bring about these strange vicissitudesby which our early deeds of good and evil are brought more forcibly toour memories, and we are made to think over the past by some accident ofthe present. After twenty years I came to live in that chateau where shewhom I once loved had lived and died. I became the lord of that estatewhich her husband once possessed, and where in happiness they had dwelttogether. I will not dwell upon the thoughts such associations ever giverise to; I dare not, old as I am, evoke them."

  He paused for some minutes, and then went on: "Two years ago I learnedthat Mademoiselle de Meudon was the daughter of my once loved Marie.From that hour I felt no longer childless. I watched over her,--without,however, attracting notice on her part,--and followed her everywhere.The very day I saw you first at the Polytechnique, I was beside her.From all I could learn and hear, her life bad been one of devotedattachment to her brother, and then to Madame Bonaparte. Her heart, itwas said, was buried with him she once loved,--at least none sincehad ever won even the slightest acknowledgment from her bordering onencouragement.

  "Satisfied that she was everything I could have wished my own daughter,and feeling that with youth the springs of affection rarely dry up, Iconceived the idea of settling all my property on her, and entreatingthe Emperor to make me her guardian, with her own consent of course. Heagreed: he went further; he repealed, so far as it concerned her, thelaw by which the daughters of Royalists cannot inherit, and made hereligible to succeed to property, and placed her hand at my disposal.

  "Such was the state of matters when I wrote to you. Since that I haveseen her, and spoken to her in confidence. She has consented to everyportion of the arrangement, save that which involves her marrying; butsome strange superstition being over her mind that her fate is to ruinall with whom it is linked, that her name carries an evil destinywith it, she refuses every offer of marriage, and will not yield to mysolicitation.

  "I thought," said the general, as he leaned on his hand, and mutteredhalf aloud, "that I had conceived a plan which must bring happiness withit. But, however, one part of my design is accomplished: she is my heir;the daughter of my own loved Marie is the child of my adoption, and forthis I have reason to feel grateful. The cheerless feeling of a deathbedwhere not one mourns for the dying haunts me no longer, and I feel notas one deserted and alone. To-morrow I go to wish her adieu; and we areto be at the Tuileries by noon. The Emperor holds a levee, and our finalorders will then be given."

  The old general rallied at the last few words he spoke, and pressing myhand affectionately, wished me goodnight, and withdrew; while I, with amind confused and stunned, sat thinking over the melancholy story he hadrelated, and sorrowing over the misfortunes of one whose lot in life hadbeen far sadder than my own.