CHAPTER III. THE ELOQUENCE OF M. DE VILMORIN
As they walked down the hill together, it was now M. de Vilmorin whowas silent and preoccupied, Andre-Louis who was talkative. He hadchosen Woman as a subject for his present discourse. He claimed--quiteunjustifiably--to have discovered Woman that morning; and the things hehad to say of the sex were unflattering, and occasionally almost gross.M. de Vilmorin, having ascertained the subject, did not listen. Singularthough it may seem in a young French abbe of his day, M. de Vilmorin wasnot interested in Woman. Poor Philippe was in several ways exceptional.Opposite the Breton arme--the inn and posting-house at the entrance ofthe village of Gavrillac--M. de Vilmorin interrupted his companion justas he was soaring to the dizziest heights of caustic invective, andAndre-Louis, restored thereby to actualities, observed the carriage ofM. de La Tour d'Azyr standing before the door of the hostelry.
"I don't believe you've been listening to me," said he.
"Had you been less interested in what you were saying, you might haveobserved it sooner and spared your breath. The fact is, you disappointme, Andre. You seem to have forgotten what we went for. I have anappointment here with M. le Marquis. He desires to hear me further inthe matter. Up there at Gavrillac I could accomplish nothing. The timewas ill-chosen as it happened. But I have hopes of M. le Marquis."
"Hopes of what?"
"That he will make what reparation lies in his power. Provide for thewidow and the orphans. Why else should he desire to hear me further?"
"Unusual condescension," said Andre-Louis, and quoted "Timeo Danaos etdona ferentes."
"Why?" asked Philippe.
"Let us go and discover--unless you consider that I shall be in the way."
Into a room on the right, rendered private to M. le Marquis for so longas he should elect to honour it, the young men were ushered by the host.A fire of logs was burning brightly at the room's far end, and bythis sat now M. de La Tour d'Azyr and his cousin, the Chevalier deChabrillane. Both rose as M. de Vilmorin came in. Andre-Louis following,paused to close the door.
"You oblige me by your prompt courtesy, M. de Vilmorin," said theMarquis, but in a tone so cold as to belie the politeness of his words."A chair, I beg. Ah, Moreau?" The note was frigidly interrogative. "Heaccompanies you, monsieur?" he asked.
"If you please, M. le Marquis."
"Why not? Find yourself a seat, Moreau." He spoke over his shoulder asto a lackey.
"It is good of you, monsieur," said Philippe, "to have offered me thisopportunity of continuing the subject that took me so fruitlessly, as ithappens, to Gavrillac."
The Marquis crossed his legs, and held one of his fine hands to theblaze. He replied, without troubling to turn to the young man, who wasslightly behind him.
"The goodness of my request we will leave out of question for themoment," said he, darkly, and M. de Chabrillane laughed. Andre-Louisthought him easily moved to mirth, and almost envied him the faculty.
"But I am grateful," Philippe insisted, "that you should condescend tohear me plead their cause."
The Marquis stared at him over his shoulder. "Whose cause?" quoth he.
"Why, the cause of the widow and orphans of this unfortunate Mabey."
The Marquis looked from Vilmorin to the Chevalier, and again theChevalier laughed, slapping his leg this time.
"I think," said M. de La Tour d'Azyr, slowly, "that we are atcross-purposes. I asked you to come here because the Chateau deGavrillac was hardly a suitable place in which to carry our discussionfurther, and because I hesitated to incommode you by suggesting that youshould come all the way to Azyr. But my object is connected with certainexpressions that you let fall up there. It is on the subject of thoseexpressions, monsieur, that I would hear you further--if you will honourme."
Andre-Louis began to apprehend that there was something sinister in theair. He was a man of quick intuitions, quicker far than those of M. deVilmorin, who evinced no more than a mild surprise.
"I am at a loss, monsieur," said he. "To what expressions does monsieurallude?"
"It seems, monsieur, that I must refresh your memory." The Marquiscrossed his legs, and swung sideways on his chair, so that at last hedirectly faced M. de Vilmorin. "You spoke, monsieur--and however mistakenyou may have been, you spoke very eloquently, too eloquently almost, itseemed to me--of the infamy of such a deed as the act of summary justiceupon this thieving fellow Mabey, or whatever his name may be. Infamy wasthe precise word you used. You did not retract that word when I had thehonour to inform you that it was by my orders that my gamekeeper Benetproceeded as he did."
"If," said M. de Vilmorin, "the deed was infamous, its infamy is notmodified by the rank, however exalted, of the person responsible. Ratheris it aggravated."
"Ah!" said M. le Marquis, and drew a gold snuffbox from his pocket. "Yousay, 'if the deed was infamous,' monsieur. Am I to understand that youare no longer as convinced as you appeared to be of its infamy?"
M. de Vilmorin's fine face wore a look of perplexity. He did notunderstand the drift of this.
"It occurs to me, M. le Marquis, in view of your readiness to assumeresponsibility, that you must believe justification for the deed whichis not apparent to myself."
"That is better. That is distinctly better." The Marquis took snuffdelicately, dusting the fragments from the fine lace at his throat. "Yourealize that with an imperfect understanding of these matters, not beingyourself a landowner, you may have rushed to unjustifiable conclusions.That is indeed the case. May it be a warning to you, monsieur. WhenI tell you that for months past I have been annoyed by similardepredations, you will perhaps understand that it had become necessaryto employ a deterrent sufficiently strong to put an end to them. Nowthat the risk is known, I do not think there will be any more prowlingin my coverts. And there is more in it than that, M. de Vilmorin. It isnot the poaching that annoys me so much as the contempt for my absoluteand inviolable rights. There is, monsieur, as you cannot fail to haveobserved, an evil spirit of insubordination in the air, and there isone only way in which to meet it. To tolerate it, in however slighta degree, to show leniency, however leniently disposed, would entailhaving recourse to still harsher measures to-morrow. You understand me,I am sure, and you will also, I am sure, appreciate the condescensionof what amounts to an explanation from me where I cannot admit that anyexplanations were due. If anything in what I have said is still obscureto you, I refer you to the game laws, which your lawyer friend therewill expound for you at need."
With that the gentleman swung round again to face the fire. It appearedto convey the intimation that the interview was at an end. And yet thiswas not by any means the intimation that it conveyed to the watchful,puzzled, vaguely uneasy Andre-Louis. It was, thought he, a very curious,a very suspicious oration. It affected to explain, with a politeness ofterms and a calculated insolence of tone; whilst in fact it could onlyserve to stimulate and goad a man of M. de Vilmorin's opinions. And thatis precisely what it did. He rose.
"Are there in the world no laws but game laws?" he demanded, angrily."Have you never by any chance heard of the laws of humanity?"
The Marquis sighed wearily. "What have I to do with the laws ofhumanity?" he wondered.
M. de Vilmorin looked at him a moment in speechless amazement.
"Nothing, M. le Marquis. That is--alas!--too obvious. I hope you willremember it in the hour when you may wish to appeal to those laws whichyou now deride."
M. de La Tour d'Azyr threw back his head sharply, his high-bred faceimperious.
"Now what precisely shall that mean? It is not the first time to-daythat you have made use of dark sayings that I could almost believe toveil the presumption of a threat."
"Not a threat, M. le Marquis--a warning. A warning that such deeds asthese against God's creatures... Oh, you may sneer, monsieur, but theyare God's creatures, even as you or I--neither more nor less, deeplythough the reflection may wound your pride, In His eyes..."
"Of your charity, spare me a sermon, M. l'abbe!"
"You mock, monsieur. You laugh. Will you laugh, I wonder, when Godpresents His reckoning to you for the blood and plunder with which yourhands are full?"
"Monsieur!" The word, sharp as the crack of a whip, was from M.de Chabrillane, who bounded to his feet. But instantly the Marquisrepressed him.
"Sit down, Chevalier. You are interrupting M. l'abbe, and I should liketo hear him further. He interests me profoundly."
In the background Andre-Louis, too, had risen, brought to his feet byalarm, by the evil that he saw written on the handsome face of M. de LaTour d'Azyr. He approached, and touched his friend upon the arm.
"Better be going, Philippe," said he.
But M. de Vilmorin, caught in the relentless grip of passions longrepressed, was being hurried by them recklessly along.
"Oh, monsieur," said he, "consider what you are and what you will be.Consider how you and your kind live by abuses, and consider the harvestthat abuses must ultimately bring."
"Revolutionist!" said M. le Marquis, contemptuously. "You have theeffrontery to stand before my face and offer me this stinking cant ofyour modern so-called intellectuals!"
"Is it cant, monsieur? Do you think--do you believe in your soul--thatit is cant? Is it cant that the feudal grip is on all things that live,crushing them like grapes in the press, to its own profit? Does it notexercise its rights upon the waters of the river, the fire that bakesthe poor man's bread of grass and barley, on the wind that turns themill? The peasant cannot take a step upon the road, cross a crazy bridgeover a river, buy an ell of cloth in the village market, without meetingfeudal rapacity, without being taxed in feudal dues. Is not that enough,M. le Marquis? Must you also demand his wretched life in payment for theleast infringement of your sacred privileges, careless of what widowsor orphans you dedicate to woe? Will naught content you but that yourshadow must lie like a curse upon the land? And do you think in yourpride that France, this Job among the nations, will suffer it forever?"
He paused as if for a reply. But none came. The Marquis considered him,strangely silent, a half smile of disdain at the corners of his lips, anominous hardness in his eyes.
Again Andre-Louis tugged at his friend's sleeve.
"Philippe."
Philippe shook him off, and plunged on, fanatically.
"Do you see nothing of the gathering clouds that herald the coming ofthe storm? You imagine, perhaps, that these States General summonedby M. Necker, and promised for next year, are to do nothing but devisefresh means of extortion to liquidate the bankruptcy of the State?You delude yourselves, as you shall find. The Third Estate, which youdespise, will prove itself the preponderating force, and it will finda way to make an end of this canker of privilege that is devouring thevitals of this unfortunate country."
M. le Marquis shifted in his chair, and spoke at last.
"You have, monsieur," said he, "a very dangerous gift of eloquence. Andit is of yourself rather than of your subject. For after all, whatdo you offer me? A rechauffe of the dishes served to out-at-elbowenthusiasts in the provincial literary chambers, compounded of theeffusions of your Voltaires and Jean-Jacques and such dirty-fingeredscribblers. You have not among all your philosophers one with the wit tounderstand that we are an order consecrated by antiquity, that for ourrights and privileges we have behind us the authority of centuries."
"Humanity, monsieur," Philippe replied, "is more ancient than nobility.Human rights are contemporary with man."
The Marquis laughed and shrugged.
"That is the answer I might have expected. It has the right note of cantthat distinguishes the philosophers."
And then M. de Chabrillane spoke.
"You go a long way round," he criticized his cousin, on a note ofimpatience.
"But I am getting there," he was answered. "I desired to make quitecertain first."
"Faith, you should have no doubt by now."
"I have none." The Marquis rose, and turned again to M. de Vilmorin, whohad understood nothing of that brief exchange. "M. l'abbe," said he oncemore, "you have a very dangerous gift of eloquence. I can conceive ofmen being swayed by it. Had you been born a gentleman, you would not soeasily have acquired these false views that you express."
M. de Vilmorin stared blankly, uncomprehending.
"Had I been born a gentleman, do you say?" quoth he, in a slow,bewildered voice. "But I was born a gentleman. My race is as old, myblood as good as yours, monsieur."
From M. le Marquis there was a slight play of eyebrows, a vague,indulgent smile. His dark, liquid eyes looked squarely into the face ofM. de Vilmorin.
"You have been deceived in that, I fear."
"Deceived?"
"Your sentiments betray the indiscretion of which madame your mothermust have been guilty."
The brutally affronting words were sped beyond recall, and the lips thathad uttered them, coldly, as if they had been the merest commonplace,remained calm and faintly sneering.
A dead silence followed. Andre-Louis' wits were numbed. He stood aghast,all thought suspended in him, what time M. de Vilmorin's eyes continuedfixed upon M. de La Tour d'Azyr's, as if searching there for a meaningthat eluded him. Quite suddenly he understood the vile affront. Theblood leapt to his face, fire blazed in his gentle eyes. A convulsivequiver shook him. Then, with an inarticulate cry, he leaned forward, andwith his open hand struck M. le Marquis full and hard upon his sneeringface.
In a flash M. de Chabrillane was on his feet, between the two men.
Too late Andre-Louis had seen the trap. La Tour d'Azyr's words were butas a move in a game of chess, calculated to exasperate his opponent intosome such counter-move as this--a counter-move that left him entirely atthe other's mercy.
M. le Marquis looked on, very white save where M. de Vilmorin'sfinger-prints began slowly to colour his face; but he said nothing more.Instead, it was M. de Chabrillane who now did the talking, taking up hispreconcerted part in this vile game.
"You realize, monsieur, what you have done," said he, coldly, toPhilippe. "And you realize, of course, what must inevitably follow."
M. de Vilmorin had realized nothing. The poor young man had acted uponimpulse, upon the instinct of decency and honour, never counting theconsequences. But he realized them now at the sinister invitation of M.de Chabrillane, and if he desired to avoid these consequences, it wasout of respect for his priestly vocation, which strictly forbade suchadjustments of disputes as M. de Chabrillane was clearly thrusting uponhim.
He drew back. "Let one affront wipe out the other," said he, in a dullvoice. "The balance is still in M. le Marquis's favour. Let that contenthim."
"Impossible." The Chevalier's lips came together tightly. Thereafter hewas suavity itself, but very firm. "A blow has been struck, monsieur. Ithink I am correct in saying that such a thing has never happened beforeto M. le Marquis in all his life. If you felt yourself affronted, youhad but to ask the satisfaction due from one gentleman to another. Youraction would seem to confirm the assumption that you found sooffensive. But it does not on that account render you immune from theconsequences."
It was, you see, M. de Chabrillane's part to heap coals upon this fire,to make quite sure that their victim should not escape them.
"I desire no immunity," flashed back the young seminarist, stung bythis fresh goad. After all, he was nobly born, and the traditions of hisclass were strong upon him--stronger far than the seminarist schooling inhumility. He owed it to himself, to his honour, to be killed rather thanavoid the consequences of the thing he had done.
"But he does not wear a sword, messieurs!" cried Andre Louis, aghast.
"That is easily amended. He may have the loan of mine."
"I mean, messieurs," Andre-Louis insisted, between fear for his friendand indignation, "that it is not his habit to wear a sword, that he hasnever worn one, that he is untutored in its uses. He is a seminarist--apostulant for holy orders, already half a priest, and so forbidden fromsuch an engagement as you propose."
"All that he sho
uld have remembered before he struck a blow," said M. deChabrillane, politely.
"The blow was deliberately provoked," raged Andre-Louis. Then herecovered himself, though the other's haughty stare had no part inthat recovery. "O my God, I talk in vain! How is one to argue against apurpose formed! Come away, Philippe. Don't you see the trap..."
M. de Vilmorin cut him short, and flung him off. "Be quiet, Andre. M. leMarquis is entirely in the right."
"M. le Marquis is in the right?" Andre-Louis let his arms fallhelplessly. This man he loved above all other living men was caught inthe snare of the world's insanity. He was baring his breast to the knifefor the sake of a vague, distorted sense of the honour due to himself.It was not that he did not see the trap. It was that his honourcompelled him to disdain consideration of it. To Andre-Louis in thatmoment he seemed a singularly tragic figure. Noble, perhaps, but verypitiful.
Scaramouche: A Romance of the French Revolution Page 3