Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume I Part 44

Some trifling details of duty detained me at one or two of the outposts, and it was beyond my usual time when I turned homeward. I had but just reached the broad alley that leads to the foot of the great terrace, when I saw a figure before me hastening on towards the chteau. The flutter of the dress showed it to be a woman; and then the thought flashed on me,--it was Mademoiselle de Meudon. Yes, it was her step; I knew it well. She had left the place thus early to meet De Beauvais.

Without well knowing what I did, I had increased my speed, and was now rapidly overtaking her, when the noise of my footsteps on the ground made her turn about and look back. I stopped short suddenly. An indistinct sense of something culpable on my part in thus pursuing her flitted across my mind, and I could not move. There she stood, too, motionless; but for a second or two only, and then beckoned to me with her hand. I could scarcely trust my eyes, nor did I dare to stir till she had repeated the motion twice or thrice.

As I drew near, I remarked that her eyes were red with weeping, and her face pale as death. For a moment she gazed steadfastly at me, and then, with a voice whose accent I can never forget, she said,--

"And you, too, the dearest friend of my own Charles, whose very deathbed spoke of loyalty to him, how have you been drawn from your allegiance?"

I stood amazed and astounded, unable to utter a word in reply, when she resumed,--

"For them there is reason, too: they lived, or their fathers did, in the suns.h.i.+ne of the old Monarchy; wealth, rank, riches, power,--all were theirs. But you, who came amongst us with high hopes of greatness, where others have earned them on the field of battle,--whose youth is a guarantee that base and unworthy thoughts should form no part of his motives, and whose high career began under the very eyes of him, the idol of every soldier's heart,--oh I why turn from such a path as this, to dark and crooked ways, where low intrigue and plot and treachery are better weapons than your own stout heart and your own bright sword?"

"Hear me, I pray you," said I, bursting into impatience,--"hear me but one word, and know that you accuse me wrongfully. I have no part in, nor have I knowledge of, any treason."

"Oh, speak not thus to me! There are those who may call their acts by high-sounding t.i.tles, and say, 'We are but restoring our own sovereigns to the land they owned.' But you are free to think and feel; no prestige of long years blinds your reason or obstructs your sense of right."

"Once more I swear, that though I can but guess at where your suspicions point, my faith is now as true, my loyalty as firm, as when I pledged myself at your dear brother's side to be a soldier."

"Then why have you mixed yourself with their intrigues? Why are you already suspected? Why has Madame Bonaparte received orders to omit your name in all the invitations to the chteau?"

"Alas! I know not. I learn now, for the first time that suspicion ever attached to me."

"It is said, too,--for already such things are spoken of,--that you know that dreadful man whose very presence is contamination. Oh! does it not seem like fate that his dark path should traverse every portion of my destiny?"

The sobs that burst from her at these words seemed to rend her very bosom. "They say," continued she, while her voice trembled with strong emotion,--"they say he has been here."

"I know not of whom you speak," said I, as a cold chill ran through my blood.

"Mehe de la Touche," replied she, with an effort.

"I never heard of him till now; the very name is unknown to me."

"Thank G.o.d for this!" muttered she between her teeth. "I thought, perhaps, that De Beauvais had made you known to each other."

"No; De Beauvais never introduced me, save to some friends of his one evening at a supper, several months back; and only one of them have I ever seen since,--an Abb, d'Ervan. And, indeed, if I am guilty of any breach of duty, I did not think the reproach was to come from you."

The bitterness of these last words was wrung from me in a moment of wounded pride.

"How! what mean you?" said she, impetuously. "No one has dared to call my fidelity into question, nor speak of me as false to those who cherish and protect me."

"You mistake my meaning," said I, sadly and slowly. Then hesitating how far I should dare allude to De Beauvais's affection, I stopped, when suddenly her face became deeply flushed, and a tear started to her eye.

"Alas, she loves him!" said I to my heart, and a sickness like death pa.s.sed over me. "Leave me, leave me quickly!" cried she. "I see persons watching us from the terrace." And with that she moved hastily on towards the chteau, and I turned into one of the narrow walks that led into the wood.

Two trains of thought struggled for mastery in my mind: how had I become suspected? how should I wipe out the stain upon my honor?

There was not an incident of my life since my landing in France I did not call to mind; and yet, save in the unhappy meeting with De Beauvais, I could not see the slightest probability that even malevolence could attach anything to my reputation. "From d'Ervan, it is true, I heard more than once opinions that startled me; less, however, by anything direct in their meaning, than that they were totally new and strange.

And yet the abb, I had every reason to believe, was a friend of the present Government; at least it was evident he was on terms of close intimacy with Monsieur Savary.

"De Beauvais must clear up some of these doubts for me," thought I; "he must inform me more particularly as to those to whom he introduced me. I shall endeavor to learn, too, something of their schemes, and thus guard myself against the mere chance of suspicion; for unquestionably he is not in ignorance of the movement, whatever it be." And with such intentions I hurried onwards, eager to reach my quarters.

As I entered my room, a low, heavy sob broke on my ear; I started back with surprise. It was De Beauvais, who sat, his head buried in his hands, leaning on the table.

"Ha!" said he, springing up, and pa.s.sing his hand hurriedly across his eyes, "so soon back! I scarcely expected you."

"It is past ten o'clock,--a full hour later than my usual return."

"Indeed!" rejoined he, with an air of impertinent surprise. "So then your pickets have been arresting and detaining some poor devils gathering f.a.gots or acorns? or have you unfathomed the depth of this terrible plot your Prfet de Police has become insane about?"

"Neither," said I, affecting a careless tone. "The Government of the Consul is sufficiently strong to make men's minds easy on that score.

Whatever intrigues are at work, they are as little likely to escape his keen eye as their perpetrators are, when taken, the fire of a grenadier company."

"_Ma foi!_ sir, you speak confidently," replied he, in an accent of pride totally different from his former tone. "And yet I have heard of persons just as confident, too, who afterwards confessed they had been mistaken.

But perhaps it seems less strange to you that a sous-lieutenant of artillery should rule the destinies of France, than that the King of the country should resume the throne of his ancestors."

"Take care, De Beauvais, with whom you speak. I warn you; and be a.s.sured I 'll not be trifled with. One word more, and I put you under arrest."

"Not here, surely," replied he, in a low and searching voice,--"not here. Let us walk out into the park. Let it be in the great alley, or on the terrace yonder; or, better still, let the capture take place in the wood; but do not let your loyalty violate the hospitality of your home."

"Forgive me, I pray; I knew not what I said. You tempted me sorely, though. Think but for a moment, De Beauvais, how I stand here, and let your own heart judge me. I am an alien,--a friendless stranger. There lives not one in all the length and breadth of France who would raise a finger, or speak one word, to save me were my head in peril. My sword and my fidelity are all my hope; that both should remain pure and unblemished is all my wish. The grade I have I owe to him--"

"Great cause for grat.i.tude, truly!" he broke in. "The chief _lve_ of the Polytechnique is made a sous-lieutenant of cavalry, with functions of a sergeant of the gendarmerie, with orders to stop all travellers, and search their pockets. Shame on it! It was not thus the rightful sovereigns of France regarded those who wore their epaulettes; not thus did they esteem the soldier's part. Think, for a second, what you are, and then reflect what you might be. Cold and unimpa.s.sioned as you call yourself, I know your heart better. There lives not one who treasures a higher ambition in his breast than you. Ah! your eyes sparkle already.

Think, then, I say, what a career opens before you, if you have courage to embrace it. It 's a great game that enables a man to spring from sous-lieutenant to colonel of a regiment. Come, Burke! I can have no reason, save your welfare, to press these considerations on you. What are you writing there?"

"A report to the Prfet de Police. I see now, however late it is, the unworthiness of the part I 've acted, in remaining in a service where I 've listened to statements such as these. I shall ask to have my grade withdrawn, and be reduced to the ranks; there, perhaps, I may be permitted to carry a soldier's musket without a stain upon my honor."

"You can do better, sir," interrupted he, as his face grew purple with pa.s.sion, and his eyes flashed fire, "far better: call up your dragoons yonder, and place me, where you threatened, under arrest; forward your report to the minister, that Henri de Beauvais, Marquis et Pair de France when such things were, has been taken with the 'Croix de St.

Louis' and the cordon in his possession." Here he took from his bosom the decoration, and waved it above his head. "Add, too, that he came prepared to tempt your loyalty with this." He drew forth at the words a parchment doc.u.ment, and dashed it on the table before me. "There, sir, read it; it is the King's own handwriting,--your brevet of colonel to a regiment of the Gardes. Such proofs of your devotion can scarcely go unrewarded. They may raise you to the rank of police spy. There is a lady yonder, too, who should also share in your elevation, as she does in your loyal sentiments; Mademoiselle de Meudon may be too quick for you. Lose no time, sir; such chances as these are not the fruit of every day. After all, I can scarcely go to the guillotine under better auspices than with my cousin and my friend as my betrayers. Mayhap, too, they 'll do you the honor to make you mount guard beside the scaffold.

Such an occasion to display your devotion should not escape you,--David found it profitable to catch the expiring agonies of his own friends, as with easel and brush he sat beside the guillotine: the hint should not be lost."

The insulting emphasis with which he spoke the last words cut me to the very heart, and I stood speechless before him, trembling like a criminal.

"Let us part, De Beauvais," said I, at length, as I held my hand towards him. "Let us say adieu to each other, and forever. I can forgive all you have said to me, far better than I could myself had I listened to your persuasions. What may be honorable and just in you, would be black ingrat.i.tude and dark treachery in me. I shall now endeavor to forget we have ever met, and once more, good-by!"

"You are right," replied he, after a pause of some seconds, and in a tone of great sadness; "we never should have met. Adieu!"

"One word more, De Beauvais. I find that I have been suspected of some treasonable intercourse; that even here I am watched and spied upon.

Tell me, I beseech you, before you go, from what quarter comes this danger, that I may guard against it."

"In good truth, you give me credit for quicker perceptions than I have any right to. How so loyal a gentleman should lie under such an imputation I cannot even guess."

"Your sneers shall not provoke me. The fact is as I state it; and if you will not help me to the discovery, tell me, at least, who are the persons to whom you introduced me formerly at Beauvilliers's?"

"Very excellent company! I trust none of them have cheated you at carte."

"Pray, have done with jesting, and answer me. Who is your Abb?"

"_Ma foi_, he is the Abb, d'Ervan. What part of France he comes from, who are his family, friends, and resources,--are all questions I have never thought proper to ask him; possibly because I am not so scrupulous on the score of my acquaintances as you are. He is a very clever, amusing, witty person; knows almost every one; has the entre into every house in the Faubourg St. Germain; can compose a couplet and sing it; make a mayonnaise or a madrigal better than any man I know; and, in fact, if he were one of these days to be a minister of France, I should not be so very much surprised as you appear this moment at my not knowing more about him. As to the other, the Russian secretary,--or spy, if you like the phrase better, he was unlucky enough to have one of his couriers robbed by a party of brigands, which scandal says were sent out for the purpose by Monsieur de Talleyrand. His secret despatches were opened and read; and as they were found to implicate the Russian Government in certain intrigues carrying on, the Czar had only one course open, which was to recall the secretary and disavow his whole proceedings. The better to evince his displeasure, I hear they have slit his nose, and sent him to pa.s.s the winter at Tobolsk. Lastly, the prfet. What shall I say of him, save that he was a prfet in the South, and wants to be one again? His greatest endeavors in any cause will be to pledge its success in Burgundy, or, if you wish, drink the downfall of its enemy; and as to his enthusiasm, he cares a devilish deal more for a change of weather than a change of dynasty, particularly in the truffle season, or when the vines are ripening. Such are the truly dangerous a.s.sociates you have kept company with. It now only remains to speak of my humble self, whose history, I need scarcely say, is far more at your service than worth the hearing. Are you satisfied?"

"Quite so, as regards me; by no means so, however, as to your fate.