CHAPTER III.
WHERE THE BASTILE STOOD.
Night came: the morning festival had been on the great parade ground;the night rejoicing was to be on the site where the Bastile had stood.
Eighty-three trees, one for each department of France, were stuck upto show the space occupied by the infamous states-prison, on whosefoundation these trees of liberty were planted. Strings of lamps ranfrom tree to tree. In the midst rose a large pole, with a flag lettered:"Freedom!"
Near the moats, in a grave left open on purpose were flung the oldchains, fetters, instruments of torture found in it, and its clock withchained captives the supporters. The dungeons were left open and lightedghastly, where so many tears and groans had been vainly expanded.
Lastly, in the inmost courtyard, a ballroom had been set up and as themusic pealed, the couples could be seen promenading. The predictionof Cagliostro was fulfilled that the Bastile should be a publicstrolling-ground.
At one of the thousand tables set up around the Bastile, under theshadow of the trees outlining the site of the old fortress, two men wererepairing their strength exhausted by the day's marching, and othermilitary manoeuvres. Before them was a huge sausage, a four-pound loaf,and two bottles of wine.
"By all that is blue," said the younger, who wore the National Guardscaptain's uniform, "it is a fine thing to eat when you are hungry anddrink when a-thirst." He paused. "But you do not seem to be hungry orthirsty, Father Billet."
"I have had all I want, and only thirst for one thing----"
"What is that?"
"I will tell you Pitou, when the time for me to sit at my feast shallcome."
Pitou did not see the drift of the reply.
Pitou was a lover of Catherine Billet, but he self-acknowledged that hecould have no chance against the young nobleman who had captivated therustic maid. When her father tried to shoot the gallant, he had--whilenot shielding her or her lover, helped her to conceal herself fromBillet.
It was not he, however, but Isidore who had brought the girl to Paris,after she had given birth to a boy. This occurred in the absence ofBillet and Pitou, both of whom were ignorant of the removal.
Pitou had housed her in a quiet corner, and he went to Paris withoutanything arising to cause him sadness.
He had found Dr. Gilbert, to whom he had to report that with money hehad given, Captain Pitou had equipped his Guards at Haramont in uniformwhich was the admiration of the county.
The doctor gave him five-and-twenty more gold pieces to be applied tomaintaining the company at its present state of efficiency.
"While I am talking with Billet," said Gilbert, "who has much to tellme, would you not like to see Sebastian?"
"I should think I do," answered the peasant, "but I did not like to askyour permission."
After meditating a few instants, Gilbert wrote several words on a paperwhich he folded up like a letter and addressed to his son.
"Take a hack and go find him," he said. "Probably from what I havewritten, he will want to pay a visit; take him thither and wait at thedoor. He may keep you an hour or so, but I know how obliging you are;you will not find the time hang heavy when you know you are doing me akindness."
"Do not bother about that," responded the honest fellow; "I never feeldull; besides, I will get in a supply of something to feed on and I willkill time by eating."
"A good method," laughed Gilbert; "only you must not eat dry bread as amatter of health, but wash it down with good wine."
"I will get a bottle, and some head cheese, too," replied Pitou.
"Bravo!" exclaimed the physician.
Pitou found Sebastian in the Louis-the-Great College, in the gardens.He was a winsome young man of eighteen, or less, with handsome chestnutcurls enframing his melancholy and thoughtful face and blue eyes dartingjuvenile glances like a Spring sun.
In him were combined the lofty aspirations of two aristocracies: that ofthe intellect, as embodied in his father, and of race, personified inAndrea Countess of Charny, who had become his mother while unconsciousin a mesmeric sleep, induced by Balsamo-Cagliostro, but perceived byGilbert, who had not in his wild passion for the beauty been able toshrink from profiting by the trance.
It was to the countess's that Gilbert had suggested his son should go.
On the way Pitou laid in the provisions to fill up time if he had towait any great while in the hack for the youth to come out of hismother's.
As the countess was at home, the janitor made no opposition to awell-dressed young gentleman entering.
Five minutes after, while Pitou was slicing up his loaf and sausage andtaking a pull at his wine, a footman came out to say:
"Her ladyship, the countess of Charny, prays Captain Pitou to do her thehonor to step inside instead of awaiting Master Sebastian in a hiredconveyance."
The Assembly had abolished titles but the servants of the titled had notyet obeyed.
Pitou had to wipe his mouth, pack up in paper the uneaten comestibles,with a sigh, and follow the man in a maze. His astonishment doubled whenhe saw a lovely lady who held Sebastian in her arms and who said, as sheput out her hand to the new-comer:
"Captain Pitou, you give me such great and unhoped-for joy in bringingSebastian to me that I wanted to thank you myself."
Pitou stared, and stammered, but let the hand remain untaken.
"Take and kiss the lady's hand," prompted Sebastian: "it is my mother."
"Your mother? oh, Gemini!" exclaimed the peasant, while the other youngman nodded.
"Yes, his mother," said Andrea with her glance beaming with delight:"you bring him to me after nine months' parting, and then I had onlyseen him once before: in the hope you will again bring him, I wish tohave no secrets from you, though it would be my ruin if revealed."
Every time the heart and trust of our rural friend was appealed to, onemight be sure that he would lose his hesitation and dismay.
"Oh, my lady, be you easy, your secret is here," he responded, graspingher hand and kissing it, before laying his own with some dignity on hisheart.
"My son tells me, Captain Pitou, that you have not breakfasted," went onthe countess; "pray step into the dining-room, and you can make up forlost time while I speak with my boy."
Soon, on the board were arrayed two cutlets, a cold fowl, and a pot ofpreserves, near a bottle of Bordeaux, a fine Venice glass and a pile ofchina plates. But for all the elegance of the set out edibles, Pitourather deplored the head cheese, bread and common wine in the cab.
As he was attacking the chicken after having put away the cutlets, thedoor opened and a young gentleman appeared, meaning to cross the room.But as Pitou lifted his head, they both recognized each other, anduttered a simultaneous cry:
"Viscount Charny!"
"Ange Pitou!"
The peasant sprang up; his heart was violently throbbing; the sight ofthe patrician aroused his most painful memories.
Not only was this his rival but his successful rival and the man who hadwronged Catherine Billet and caused her to lose her father's respect andher place at her mother's side in the farmhouse. Isidore only knew thatCatherine was under obligations to this country lad; he had no idea ofthe latter's profound love for his mistress: love out of which Pitoudrew his devotedness.
Consequently he walked right up to the other, in whom, spite of theuniform, he only saw still the poacher and farm boy of Haramont.
"Oh, you here, Pitou," said he: "delighted to meet you to thank you forall the services you have done us."
"My lord viscount, I did all for Miss Catherine alone," returned theyoung man, in a firm voice though all his frame thrilled.
"That was all well up to your knowing that I loved her; then, I wasbound to take my share in the gratitude and as you must have gone tosome outlay, say for the letters transmitted to her----"
He clapped his hand to his pocket to prick Pitou's conscience. But theother stopped him, saying, with the dignity sometimes astonishing toappear in him:
"My lord, I
do services when I can but not for pay. Besides, I repeat,these were for Miss Catherine solely. She is my friend; if she believesshe is in any way indebted to me, she will regulate the account. Butyou, my lord, owe me nothing; for I did all for her, and not a strokefor you. So you have to offer me nothing."
These words, but especially the tone, struck the hearer; perhaps it wasonly then that he noticed that the speaker was dressed as a captain inthe new army.
"Excuse me, Captain Pitou," said Isidore, slightly bowing: "I do owe yousomething, and that is my thanks, and I offer you my hand; I hope youwill do me the pleasure of accepting one and the honor of accepting theother."
There was such grandeur in the speech and the gesture in company withit, that vanquished Pitou held out his hand and with the fingers' endstouched Isidore's.
At this juncture Countess Charny appeared on the threshold.
"You asked for me, my lord," she said; "I am here."
Isidore saluted the peasant and walked into the next room; he swung thedoor to behind him but the countess caught it and checked it so that itremained ajar. Pitou understood that he was allowed, nay, invited tohear what was spoken. He remarked that on the other side of the sittingroom was another door, leading into a bedroom; if Sebastian was there,he could hear on that side as well as the captain on this other.
"My lady," began Isidore, "I had news yesterday from my brother George;as in other letters, he begs me to ask you to remember him. He does notyet know when he is to return, and will be happy to have news from youeither by letter or by your charging me."
"I could not answer the letter he sent me from want of an address; but Iwill profit by your intermediation to have the duty of a submissive andrespectful wife presented him. If you will take charge of a letter formy lord, one shall be ready on the morrow."
"Have it ready," said Isidore; "but I cannot call for it till some fiveor six days as I have a mission to carry out, a journey of necessity,of unknown duration, but I will come here at once on my return and takeyour message."
As he passed through the dining-room he saw that Pitou was spooningdeeply into the preserves. He had finished when the countess came in,with Sebastian.
It was difficult to recognize the grave Countess Charny in this radiantyoung mother whom two hours of chat with her son had transformed. Thehand which she gave to Pitou seemed to be of marble still, but mollifiedand warmed.
Sebastian embraced his mother with the ardor he infused in all he did.
Pitou took leave without putting a question, and was silent on the wayto the college, absorbing the rest of his head cheese, bread and wine.There was nothing in this incident to spoil his appetite.
But he was chilled to see how gloomy Farmer Billet was.
He resolved to dissipate this sadness.
"I say, Father Billet," he resumed, after preparing his stock of wordsas a sharpshooter makes a provision of cartridges, "who the devil couldhave guessed, in a year and two days, that since Miss Catherine receivedme on the farm, so many events should have taken place."
"Nobody," rejoined Billet whose terrible glance at the mention ofCatherine had not been remarked.
"The idea of the pair of us taking the Bastile," continued he, like thesharpshooter having reloaded his gun.
"Nobody," replied the farmer mechanically.
"Plague on it, he has made up his mind not to talk," thought theyounger man. "Who would think that I should become a captain and you aFederalist, and we both be taking supper under an arbor in the very spotwhere the old prison stood?"
"Nobody," said Billet for the third time, with a more sombre look thanbefore.
The younger man saw that there was no inducing the other to speak but hefound comfort in the thought that this ought not to alienate his right.So he continued, leaving Billet the right to speak if he chose.
"I suppose, like the Bastile, all whom we knew, have become dust, asthe Scriptures foretold. To think that we stormed the Bastile, on yoursaying so, as if it were a chicken-house, and that here we sit whereit used to be, drinking merrily! oh, the racket we kicked up that day.Talking of racket," he interrupted himself, "what is this rumpus allabout?"
The uproar was caused by the passing of a man who had the rare privilegeof creating noise wherever he walked: it was Mirabeau, who, with a ladyon his arm, was visiting the Bastile site.
Another than he would have shrank from the cheers in which were mingledsome sullen murmurs; but he was the bird of the storm and he smiled amidthe thunderous tempest, while supporting the woman, who shivered underher veil at the simoon of such dreadful popularity.
Pitou jumped upon a chair and waved his cocked hat on the tip of hissword as he shouted:
"Long live Mirabeau!"
Billet let escape no token of feelings either way; he folded his arms onhis burly chest and muttered in a hollow voice:
"It is said he betrays the people."
"Pooh, that has been said of all great men, from antiquity down,"replied his friend.
In his excitement he only now noticed that a third chair, drawn up totheir table, was occupied by a stranger who seemed about to accost them.
To be sure it was a day of fraternity, and familiarity was allowableamong fellow-citizens, but Pitou, who had not finished his repast,thought it going too far. The stranger did not apologize but eyed thepair with a jeering manner apparently habitual to him.
Billet was no doubt in no mood to support being "quizzed," as thecurrent word ran, for he turned on the new-comer; but the latter made asign before he was addressed which drew another from Billet.
The two did not know each other, but they were brothers.
Like Billet, he was clad like one of the delegates to the Federation.But he had a change of attire which reminded Billet that so were dressedthe party with Anacharsis Clootz, the German anarchist, representingMankind.
The Royal Life Guard; or, the flight of the royal family. Page 3