CHAPTER VIII. THE INVALIDS AT BOISVERT
There had been friction between the National Convention and GeneralDumouriez, who, though a fine soldier, was a remarkably indifferentRepublican. The Convention had unjustly ordered the arrest of hiscommissariat officers, Petit-Jean and Malus, and in other ways irritateda man whose patience was never of the longest.
On the eve, however, of war with Holland, the great ones in Parishad suddenly perceived their error, and had sought--despite the manyenemies, from Marat downwards, that Dumouriez counted among theirnumbers--to conciliate a general whose services they found that theycould not dispense with. This conciliation was the business uponwhich the Deputy La Boulaye had been despatched to Antwerp, and asan ambassador he proved signally successful, as much by virtue of theexcellent terms he was empowered to offer as in consequence of thesympathy and diplomacy he displayed in offering them.
The great Republican General started upon his campaign in the LowCountries as fully satisfied as under the circumstances he could hope tobe. Malus and Petit-Jean were not only enlarged but reinstated, he waspromised abundant supplies of all descriptions, and he was assured thatthe Republic approved and endorsed his plan of campaign.
La Boulaye, his mission satisfactorily discharged, turned homewards oncemore, and with an escort of six men and a corporal he swiftly retracedhis steps through that blackened, war-ravaged country. They had slept anight at Mons, and they were within a short three leagues of Frenchsoil when they chanced to ride towards noon into the little hamlet ofBoisvert. Probably they would have gone straight through without drawingrein, but that, as they passed the Auberge de l'Aigle, La Boulaye espiedupon the green fronting the wayside hostelry a company of a half-dozensoldiers playing at bowls with cannon-balls.
The sight brought Caron to a sudden halt, and he sat his horse observingthem and wondering how it chanced that these men should find themselvesso far from the army. Three of them showed signs of having been recentlywounded. One carried his arm in a sling, another limped painfully andby the aid of a stick, whilst the head of the third was swathed inbandages. But most remarkable were they by virtue of their clothes. Onefellow--he of the bandaged head--wore a coat of yellow brocaded silk,which, in spite of a rent in the shoulder, and sundry stains of wine andoil, was unmistakably of a comparative newness. Beneath this appearedthe nankeens and black leggings of a soldier. Another covered his greasylocks with a three-cornered hat, richly laced in gold. A third flauntedunder his ragged blue coat a gold-broidered waistcoat and a Brusselscravat. A valuable ring flashed from the grimy finger of a fourth,who, instead of the military white nankeens, wore a pair of blacksilk breeches. There was one--he of the injured arm--resplendent in aredingote of crimson velvet, whilst he of the limp supported himselfupon a gold-headed cane of ebony, which was in ludicrous discord withthe tattered blue coat, the phrygian cap, and the toes that peepedthrough his broken boots.
They paused in their game to inspect, in their turn, the newcomers,and to La Boulaye it seemed that their glances were not free fromuneasiness.
"A picturesque company on my life," he mused aloud. Then beckoned theone in the crimson coat.
"Hola, Citizen," he called to him.
The fellow hesitated a moment, then shuffled forward with a sullen air,and stood by Caron's stirrup.
"In God's name, what are you and who are you?" the Deputy demanded.
"We are invalided soldiers from the army of Dumouriez," the man answeredhim.
"But what are you doing here, at Boisvert?"
"We are in hospital, Citizen."
"Yonder?" asked La Boulaye derisively, pointing with his whip to the"Eagle Inn."
The fellow nodded.
"Yes, Citizen, yonder," he answered curtly.
La Boulaye looked surprised. Then his eyes strayed to the others on thegreen.
"But you are not all invalids?" he questioned.
"Many of us are convalescent."
"Convalescent? But those three braves yonder are something more thanconvalescent. They are as well as I am. Why do they not rejoin thetroops?"
The fellow looked up with a scowl.
"We take our orders from our officer," he answered sourly.
"Ah!" quoth the Deputy. "There is someone in charge here, then? Who mayit be?"
"Captain Charlot," the fellow answered, with an impudent air, whichclearly seemed to ask: "What have you to say to that?"
"Captain Charlot?" echoed La Boulaye, in astonishment, for the name wasthat of the sometime peasant of Bellecour, who had since risen in life,and who, as an officer, had in a few months acquired a brilliant famefor deeds of daring. "Charlot Tardivet?" he inquired.
"Is there any other Captain Charlot in the army of the Republic?" thefellow asked insolently.
"Is he invalided too?" inquired Caron, without heeding the soldier'soffensiveness of manner.
"He was severely wounded at Jemappes," was the answer.
"At Jemappes? But, voyons my friend, Jemappes was fought three monthsago."
"Why, so all the world knows. What then? The General sent CaptainCharlot here to rest and be cured, giving him charge of the invalidedsoldiers who came with him and of others who were already here."
"And of these," cried La Boulaye, his amazement growing, "have nonereturned to Dumouriez?"
"Have I not said that we are invalids?"
Caron eyed him with cold contempt.
"How many of you are there?" he asked. And for all that the man began tomislike this questioning, he had not the hardihood to refuse an answerto the stern tones of that stern man on horseback.
"Some fifty, or thereabouts."
La Boulaye said nothing for a moment, then touching the fellow's sleevewith his whip.
"How came you into this masquerade?" he inquired.
"Ma foi," answered the man, shrugging his shoulders, "we were in rags.The commissariat was demoralised, and supplies were not forthcoming. Wehad to take what we could find, or else go naked."
"And where did you find these things?"
"Diable! Will your questions never come to an end, Citizen? Would younot be better advised in putting them to the Captain himself?"
"Why, so I will. Where is he?"
In the distance a cloud of dust might be perceived above the long, whiteroad. The soldier espied it as La Boulaye put his question.
"I am much at fault if he does not come yonder." And he pointed to thedust-cloud.
"I think," said La Boulaye, turning to his men, "that we will drink acup of wine at the 'Eagle Inn.'"
Mean though the place was, it was equipped with a stable-yard, to whichadmittance was gained by a porte-cochere on the right. Wheeling hishorse, La Boulaye, without another word to the soldier he had beenquestioning, rode through it, followed by his escort.
The hostess, who came forward to receive them, was a tall, bony woman ofvery swarthy complexion, with beady eyes and teeth prominent as a rat's.But if ill-favoured, she seemed, at least, well-intentioned, in additionto which the tricolour scarf of office round La Boulaye's waist was athing that commanded respect and servility, however much it might be theinsignia of a Government of liberty, equality, and fraternity.
She bade the ostler care for their horses, and she brought them her bestwine, seeking under an assumed geniality to conceal the unrest born ofher speculations as to what might happen did Captain Charlot return erethe Deputy departed.
Charlot did return. Scarce were they seated at their wine when theconfused sounds that from the distance had been swelling took moredefinite shape. The hostess looked uneasy as La Boulaye rose and went tothe door of the inn. Down the road marched now a numerous company fromwhich--to judge by their odd appearance--the players at bowls had beendrawn. They numbered close upon threescore, and in the centre of themcame a great lumbering vehicle, which puzzled La Boulaye. He drew awayfrom the door and posted himself at the window, so that unobserved hemight ascertain what was toward. Into the courtyard came that company,pele-mele, an odd mixture of r
ags and gauds, yet a very lusty party,vigorous of limb and loud of voice. With them came the coach, and therewas such a press about the gates that La Boulaye looked to see some ofthem crushed to death. But with a few shouts and oaths and threats atone another they got through in safety, and the unwieldy carriage wasbrought to a standstill.
They were clamouring about its doors, and to La Boulaye it seemed thatthey were on the point of quarrelling among themselves, some wanting toenter the coach and others seeking to restrain them, when through theporte-cochere rode Charlot Tardivet himself.
He barked out a sharp word of command, and they grew silent and still,testifying to a discipline which said much for the strength of characterof their captain. He was strangely altered, was this Tardivet, andhis appearance now was worthy of his followers. Under a gaudily-laced,three-cornered hat his hair hung dishevelled and unkempt, like wisps ofstraw. He wore a coat of flowered black silk, with a heavy gold edging,and a very bright plum-coloured waistcoat showed above the broadtricolour scarf that sashed his middle. His breeches were white (orhad been white in origin), and disappeared into a pair of very lustrouslacquered boots that rose high above his knees. A cavalry sabre ofordinary dimensions hung from a military belt, and a pistol-butt,peeping from his sash, completed the astonishing motley of hisappearance. For the rest, he was the same tall and well-knit fellow;but there was more strength in his square chin, more intelligence in thekeen blue eyes, and, alas! more coarseness in the mouth, which bristledwith a reddish beard of some days' growth.
La Boulaye watched him with interest. He had become intimate with himin the old days in Paris, whither Tardivet had gone, and where, firedby the wrongs he had suffered, he had been one of the apostles of theRevolution. When the frontiers of France had been in danger Tardivethad taken up arms, and by the lustre which he had shed upon the name ofCaptain Charlotas he was come to be called throughout the army--he hadeclipsed the fame of Citizen Tardivet, the erstwhile prophet of liberty.Great changes these in the estate of one who had been a simple peasant;but then the times were times of great changes. Was not Santerre, thebrewer, become a great general, and was not Robespierre, the obscurelawyer of Arras, by way of becoming a dictator? Was it, therefore,wonderful that Charlot should have passed from peasant to preacher, frompreacher to soldier, and from soldier to--what?
A shrewd suspicion was being borne in upon La Boulaye's mind as hestood by that window, his men behind him watching also, with no lessintentness and some uneasiness for themselves--for they misliked thelook of the company.
In five seconds Charlot had restored order in the human chaos without.In five minutes there were but ten men left in the yard. The otherswere gone at Charlot's bidding--a bidding, couched in words that went toconfirm La Boulaye's suspicions.
"You will get back to your posts at once," he had said. "Because wehave made one rich capture is no reason why you should neglect theopportunities of making others no less rich. You, Moulinet, with twentymen, shall patrol the road to Charleroi, and get as near France aspossible. You Boligny, station yourself in the neighbourhood of Conde,with ten men, and guard the road from Valenciennes. You, Aigreville,spread your twenty men from Conde to Tournay, and watch the frontiersclosely. Make an inspection of any captures you may take, and waste notime in bringing hither worthless ones. Now go. I will see that eachman's share of this is assured him. March!"
There were some shouts of "Vive la Republique!" some of "Vive leCaptaine Charlot!" and so they poured out of the yard, and left him togive a few hurried directions to the ten men that remained.
"Sad invalids these, as I live!" exclaimed La Boulaye over his shoulderto his followers. "Ha! There is my friend of the red redingote!"
The fellow with the bandaged head had approached Charlot and was tuggingat his sleeve.
"Let be, you greasy rascal," the Captain snapped at him, to add: "Whatdo you say? A Deputy? Where?" The fellow pointed with his thumb in thedirection of the hostelry.
"Sacred name of a name!" growled Charlot, and, turning suddenly from themen to whom he had been issuing directions, he sprang up the steps andentered the inn. As he crossed the threshold of the common room he wasconfronted by the tall figure of La Boulaye.
"I make you my compliments, Charlot," was Caron's greeting, "upon thevigorous health that appears to prevail in your hospital."
Tardivet stood a moment within the doorway, staring at the Deputy. Thenhis brow cleared, and with a laugh, at once of welcome and amusement, hestrode forward and put out his hand.
"My good Caron!" he cried. "To meet you at Boisvert is a pleasure I hadnot looked for."
"Are you so very sure," asked La Boulaye sardonically, as he took theoutstretched hand, "that it is a pleasure?"
"How could it be else, old friend? By St. Guillotine!" he added,clapping the Deputy on the back, "you shall come to my room, and we willbroach a bottle of green seal."
In some measure of wonder, La Boulaye permitted himself to be led up thecrazy stairs to a most untidy room above, which evidently did duty asthe Captain's parlour. A heavy brass lamp, hanging from the ceiling, afew untrustworthy chairs and a deal table, stained and unclean, were theonly articles of furniture. But in almost every corner there were untidyheaps of garments Of all sorts and conditions; strewn about the floorwere other articles of apparel, a few weapons, a saddle, and three orfour boots; here an empty bottle, lying on its side, yonder a couple offull ones by the hearth; an odd book or two and an infinity of playingcards, cast there much as a sower scatters his seeds upon the ground.
There may be a hundred ways of apprehending the character of a man, butnone perhaps is more reliable than the appearance of his dwelling, andno discerning person that stepped into Captain Tardivet's parlour couldlong remain in doubt of its inhabitant's pursuits and habits.
When Dame Capoulade had withdrawn, after bringing them their wine andcasting a few logs upon the fire, La Boulaye turned his back to thehearth and confronted his host.
"Why are you not with the army, Charlot?" he asked in a tone which madethe question sound like a demand.
"Have they not told you," rejoined the other airily, engrossed infilling the glasses.
"I understand you were sent here to recover from a wound you receivedthree months ago at Jemappes, and to take charge of other invalidedsoldiers. But seemingly, your invalids do not number more than ahalf-dozen out of the fifty or sixty men that are with you. How is itthen, that you do not return with these to Dumouriez?"
"Because I can serve France better here," answered Charlot, "and at thesame time enrich myself and my followers."
"In short," returned La Boulaye coldly, "because you have degeneratedfrom a soldier into a brigand."
Charlot looked up, and for just a second his glance was not withoutuneasiness. Then he laughed. He unbuckled his sword and tossed it into acorner, throwing his hat after it.
"It was ever your way to take extreme views, Caron," he observed, witha certain whimsical regret of tone. "That, no doubt, is what has madea statesman of you. You had chosen more wisely had you elected to servethe Republic with your sword instead. Come, my friend," and he pointedto the wine, "let us pledge the Nation."
La Boulaye shrugged his shoulders slightly, and sighed. In the end hecame forward and took the wine.
"Long live the Republic!" was Charlot's toast, and with a slightinclination of the head La Boulaye drained his glass.
"It is likely to live without you, Charlot, unless you mend yourconduct."
"Diable!" snapped the Captain, a trifle peevishly. "Can you notunderstand that in my own way I am serving my country. You have calledme a brigand. But you might say the same of General Dumouriez himself.How many cities has he not sacked?"
"That is the way of war."
"And so is this. He makes war upon the enemies of France that dwell incities, whilst I, in a smaller way, make war upon those that travel incoaches. I confine myself to emigres--these damned aristocrats whomit is every good Frenchman's duty to aid in stamping out. Overthe
frontiers they come with their jewels, their plate, and theirmoney-chests. To whom belongs this wealth? To France. Too long alreadyhave they withheld from the sons of the soil that which belongs equallyto them, and now they have the effrontery to attempt to carry theseriches out of the country. Would any true Republican dare to reproach mefor what I do? I am but seizing that which belongs to France, and heredividing it among the good patriots that are with me, the soldiers thathave bled for France."
"A specious argument," sneered La Boulaye.
"Specious enough to satisfy the Convention itself if ever I should becalled to task," answered Charlot, with heat. "Do you propose to drawthe attention of the Executive to my doings?"
La Boulaye's grey eyes regarded him steadily for a moment.
"Know you of any reason why I should not?" he asked.
"Yes, Caron, I do," was the ready answer. "I am well aware of the extentof your power with the Mountain. In Paris I can see that it might gohard with me if you were minded that it should, and you were able toseize me. On the other hand, that such arguments that I have advancedto you would be acceptable to the Government I do not doubt. But whilstthey would approve of this that you call brigandage, I also do not doubtthat they would claim that the prizes I have seized are by right theproperty of the Convention, and they might compel me to surrender them.Thus they would pass from my hands into those of some statesman-brigand,who, under the plea of seizing these treasures for the coffers of thenation, would transfer them to his own. Would you rather help such anone to profit than me, Caron? Have you so far forgotten how we sufferedtogether--almost in the self-same cause--at Bellecour, in the old days?Have you forgotten the friendship that linked us later, in Paris, whenthe Revolution was in its dawn? Have you forgotten what I have enduredat the hands of this infernal class that you can feel no sympathy forme? Caron, it is a measure of revenge, and as there is a Heaven, a verymild one. Me they robbed of more than life; them I deprive but of theirjewels and their plate, turning them destitute upon the world. Bethinkyou of my girl-wife, Caron," he added, furiously, "and of how she diedof grief and shame a short three months after our hideous nuptials.God in Heaven! When the memory of it returns to me I marvel at my ownforbearance. I marvel that I do not take every man and woman of themthat fall into my hands and flog them to death as they would haveflogged you when you sought--alas to so little purpose--to intervene onmy behalf."
He grew silent and thoughtful, and the expression of his face was notnice. At last: "Have I given you reason enough," he asked, "why youshould not seek to thwart me?"
"Why, yes," answered La Boulaye, "more than was necessary. I amdesolated that I should have brought you to re-open a sorrow that Ithought was healed."
"So it is, Caron. How it is I do not know. Perhaps it is my nature;perhaps it is that in youth sorrow is seldom long-enduring; perhapsit is the strenuous life I have lived and the changes that have beenwrought in me--for, after all, there is a little in this CaptainTardivet that is like the peasant poor Marie took to husband, four yearsago. I am no longer the same man, and among the other things that Ihave put from me are the sorrows that were of the old Charlot. But somememories cannot altogether die, and if to-day I no longer mourn thatpoor child, yet the knowledge of the debt that lies 'twixt the noblesseof France and me is ever present, and I neglect no opportunity ofdischarging a part of it. But enough of that, Caron. Tell me ofyourself. It is a full twelvemonth since last we met, and in that time,from what I have heard, you have done much and gone far. Tell me of it,Caron."
They drew their chairs to the hearth, and they sat talking so long thatthe early February twilight came down upon them while they were still attheir reminiscences. La Boulaye had intended reaching Valenciennes thatnight; but rather than journey forward in the dark he now proposed tolie at Boisvert, a resolution in which he did not lack for encouragementfrom Charlot.
The Trampling of the Lilies Page 8