La Vendee Part 55

"Brothers always! No, we were never brothers: we never, never can be brothers," screamed the poor madman through his closed teeth. "Oh! if we could have been brothers; if--if we could be brothers!" and the long cherished idea, which, in his frenzy, he even yet had hardly quite abandoned, flashed across his brain, and softened his temper.

"We can at any rate be friends," said Henri, approaching him, and again taking his hand. "Come, Adolphe, sit down by me, and let us talk quietly of these things."

"There are some things," said he, in a more composed manner, "of which a man can't very well talk quietly. A man can't very well talk quietly of h.e.l.l-fire, when he's in the middle of it. Now, I'm in the very hottest of h.e.l.l-fire at this moment. How do you think I can bear to look at you, without sinking into cinders at your feet?"

Henri was again silent for a time, for he did not know what to say to comfort the afflicted man; but, after a while, Denot himself continued speaking.

"I know that I have been a traitor--a base, ign.o.ble, wretched traitor.

I know it; you know it; she knows it;" and as he confessed his wretchedness, he put his bony hand to his forehead, and pus.h.i.+ng back his long matted hair, showed more clearly than he had yet done the ineffable marks of bitter sadness, which a few months had graven on his face. "All La Vendee knows it," continued he; "but no one knows the grief, the sorrow, the wretched sorrow, which drove me to madness, and made me become the thing I am. I know it though, and feel it here," and he put his hand on his heart, and looked into his companion's face with a melancholy gaze, which would have softened the anger of a sterner man than Henri Larochejaquelin.

"My poor, poor Adolphe," said Henri, moving himself close to Denot's side, and putting his arm round his neck and embracing him. "We all know how you have suffered. We know--we always knew, it wasn't your proper self that turned against the cause you loved so well; but, Adolphe, we won't talk of these things now."

"You just now said we must talk of them, and you were quite right. After what has pa.s.sed, you and I cannot meet without having much to say," and again the madman jumped to his feet; and as he paced up and down the room, his fiercer humour again came upon him. "Henri," he exclaimed; and as he spoke he stood still, close to the other, "Henri, why don't you avenge your sister's honour? Why don't you punish the dishonour which I brought on your father's h.o.a.ry head? Henri, I say, why don't you seize by the throat the wretched traitor who brought desolation and destruction into your family?" and he stretched out his long gaunt neck, as though he expected that Larochejaquelin would rise from his bed, and take him at his word.

Henri felt that it was useless to endeavour to reason with him, or to answer the raving of his madness, but he still hoped, that by a mixture of firmness and gentleness, he might yet take him away from his present miserable dwelling, and by degrees bring him back to a happier state of mind. The difficulties in his way, however, were very great; for he knew how serious would be the danger and folly of leading him again into Agatha's presence.

"Nonsense, Adolphe," said he. "Why do you talk to your friend of vengeance? Come, take up your sword, and come away. This is a cold, damp place; and besides, we both want refreshment before our next day's work.

Before six hours are gone, the republican army will be near Laval, and you and I must be prepared to meet them," and he picked up Denot's sword, and handed him his cap, and took his arm within his own, as though to lead him at once out of the room.

"And where are you going to?" said Denot, hesitating, but not refusing to go.

"Why, first, we'll go to the guard-house, and I'll show you a few of our picked men, who are there on duty; real dare-devils, who care no more for a blue than they do for a black-beetle; and then we'll go to the Angers gate. It's there that Lech.e.l.le will show himself; and then--and then--why, then we'll go home, and get some breakfast, for it will be nearly time for us to go to horse."

"Go home!" said Denot; "where's home?"

"Do you know the big stone house, with the square windows, near the market-house?"

"Yes, I know it: but tell me, Henri: who are there? I mean of your own people, you know--the Durbelliere people?"

"Why, we're all there, Adolphe--Marie, and Victorine, and Charles, and Agatha, and my father and all. Poor Charles! You've heard of his state, Adolphe?"

"Yes, yes, I heard. I wish it had been me--I wish, with all my heart, it had been me," and then he paused a while; and again laying down his sword and cap, he said "Henri, you're an angel; I'm sure you are an angel; but all are not like you. I will not go with you now; but if you'll let me, I'll fight close by your side this day."

"You shall, Adolphe, you shall; up or down we'll not leave each other for a moment; but you must come with me, indeed you must. We should be sure to miss each other if we parted."

"I'll meet you at the gate, Henri, but I will not go with you. All men are not like you. Do you think that I could show myself to your father, and to de Lescure? Don't I know how their eyes would look on me? Don't I feel it now?" and again it seemed as though he were about to relapse into his frenzy; and then he continued speaking very gently, almost in a whisper: "Does de Lescure ever talk about the bridge of Saumur?"

Now Henri, to this day, had never heard a word of the want of courage which Denot had shown in the pa.s.sage of the bridge of Saumur. No one but de Lescure had noticed it; and though he certainly had never forgotten it, he had been too generous to speak of it to any one. Henri merely knew that his two friends, Charles and Adolphe, had been together at the bridge.

He had heard from others of de Lescure's gallant conduct. It had oftentimes been spoken of in the army, and Henri had never remarked that an equal tribute of praise was not given to the two, for their deeds on that occasion. He now answered quite at cross purposes, but merely with the object of flattering the vanity of his friend:

"He will never forget it, Adolphe. No Vendean will ever forget the bridge of Saumur. We will all remember that glorious day, when we have forgotten many things that have happened since."

Poor Denot winced dreadfully under the blow, which Henri so innocently inflicted; but he merely said "No--I will not go with you--you needn't ask me, for my mind is made up. Do you know, Henri, I and de Lescure never loved each other? never--never--never, even when we were seemingly such good friends, we never loved each other. He loved you so well, that, for your sake, he bore with a man he despised. Yes: he always despised me, since the time you and I came home from school together.

I do not blame him, for he tried hard to conceal what he felt; and he thought that I did not know it; but from the first day that we pa.s.sed together I found him out, and I was never happy in his company."

All this was perfectly unintelligible to Henri, and was attributed by him to the frenzy of madness; but, in fact, there was truth in it.

Denot's irregular spirit had been cowed by de Lescure's cold reasoning propriety, and he now felt it impossible to submit himself to the pardon of a man who, he thought, would forgive and abhor him. It was to no purpose Henri threatened, implored, and almost strove to drag him from the room. Denot was obstinate in his resolve, and Henri was at last obliged to leave him, with the agreement that they should both meet on horseback an hour before daybreak, at the gate of the town, which led towards Angers.

When Henri returned downstairs he found Chapeau still seated on the lower step, and Plume standing by, discoursing as to the tactics and probable success of the war.

"You found I was right, M. Henri?" said Chapeau, as he followed his master out into the street.

"Yes, Chapeau, you were quite right."

"And is he very bad, M. Henri?" said he, touching his forehead with his finger. "I suppose he cannot be all right there."

"He has suffered dreadfully since we saw him, and his sufferings have certainly told upon him; but there is every reason to hope, that, with kind treatment, he will soon be himself again; but, remember, till after today we will say nothing to any of them about his being here."

It was now three o'clock, and Henri had to be on horseback before six; he had but little time, therefore, either for rest or conversation.

Henri and Chapeau hurried home, after having given orders at the guard-house that all the men on whom they could depend should be under arms before day-break; and, having done so, they laid down and slept for the one short hour which was left to them of the night.

CHAPTER X.

LAVAL.

When Henri arose from his sleep, the whole house was up and stirring, and men and women were moving about through the dark rooms with candles in their hands. They all knew that this would be an eventful day for their cause; that much must depend on the success of that day's battle.

If they were beaten now, their only hope would be to run farther from their homes, towards the coast, from which they expected English aid; but if fortune would once more visit their arms, they might hope to hold their position in Laval, and in other towns in the neighbouring and friendly province of Brittany. The gallant and cordial a.s.sistance which the Vendeans had received from the strangers among whom they were now thrown, had greatly tended to give them new hopes; and the yesterday's victory, which had been gained by the men called La Pet.i.te Vendee, over the advanced troops of the republicans, had made the Poitevins peculiarly anxious to exhibit their own prowess to their gallant friends.

Henri, Arthur, and one or two other Vendean officers, sat down to a hurried breakfast, while Marie and Agatha moved about the room, behind their chairs, attending to their wants. Chapeau had now too many of a soldier's duties to give his time to those of a serving-man, and the sisters and wives of the Vendean officers had long since learnt to wait on the heroes whom they loved and admired. De Lescure was already seated on his sofa, by the window, and his wife was, as usual, close to his side. He had wonderfully improved since he reached Laval; and though it was the firm conviction, both of himself and of his surgeon, that his wound must ultimately prove mortal, he was again alive to all that was done, and heart and soul intent on the interests of the war.

"Oh! what would I give to be but one hour today on horseback!" said he.

"To lie pinioned here, and hear the sounds of brave men fighting! To know that the enemy are in the very street beneath me, and yet to be unable to strike a blow! Oh! it is fearfully tormenting."

Henri said something intended to comfort him.

"It is well for you to talk," continued de Lescure. "How would you have borne it yourself? You would have fretted and fumed, and dashed yourself like a bird against its cage, till either your senses or your breath had left you. Henri," he then added, in a calmer tone, "I feel that you will be successful today."

"That's a most glorious omen," said Henri, jumping up; "I look on success as certain when predicted by Charles, for he is the least sanguine among us all."

"But, Henri," said he, "take my advice, and don't attack them till they are close to the town. You may be sure they will be ready enough to give you an opportunity. After having driven us across the Loire like wild geese, Lech.e.l.le will not doubt his power to drive us also from the streets of Laval."

It was agreed among them that de Lescure's advice should be taken, and that none of the Vendeans should advance above a league on the road towards Antrames. It was already known that General Lech.e.l.le, and his whole army, were in the neighbourhood of that town; and it was not likely that, as he had pursued the Vendeans so far, he would remain there long without giving them the opportunity they now desired, of again trying their strength with them.

As Henri prepared to leave the room, the little Chevalier rose to accompany him: "No," said Henri, stopping him. "Do you remain with Chapeau today. Wherever you are, I know you will do well, but today we must not ride together." As the boy looked woefully disappointed, he added, "I will explain to you why, this evening, if we both live through the day to meet again."

He then kissed his sister, and Madame de Lescure and his cousin. They all of them knew that he was going into the midst of the hottest danger, where the visits of death would be thick and frequent; and they felt how probable it was that, before many hours were over, he might be brought back to them dead or dying. He either made some sign to her, or else from a feeling that she was dearer than the others to him, Marie followed him from the room. He said but a few words to her, as he held her in his close embrace, and she answered him with but one; but with that one she promised him, that if he returned safe and victorious from this day's contest, she would no longer object to join her hand and fate to his.

Henri immediately went to the gate, where he had promised to meet Adolphe, and there he found him on horseback, surrounded by his Breton followers, on foot. He had still the same wild, gaunt look about him, which had so startled his friend when he first saw him; but there was more of hope and spirit in his countenance, and he spoke, if he did not look, like a soldier.

We will now leave the warriors of La Vendee to obtain what success they can against the experienced troops of the republican army--the men so well known in many a b.l.o.o.d.y battle as the soldiers of Mayence, and will return and stay a while with the women and wounded man, who were left to all the horrors of a long day's suspense.

For a considerable time they said nothing to each other as to the probable events of the day, for they knew well that they could hear no news for some few hours to come. By degrees the cold grey dawn of an October morning broke into the room, and the candles were put out. Any ordinary employment at such a time was utterly out of the question, so they cl.u.s.tered together at the window and waited for such news as chance might bring them from time to time. Annot Stein, who was now living with them in the house, came in and joined them, and after a while the old Marquis was brought into the room, and took his station at the opposite window to that occupied by de Lescure.

The noises in the street were incessant. Soldiers on horseback and on foot; cannons and waggons pa.s.sed on without a moment's pause: the men shouted as they went by, eager for revenge against the enemy who had driven them from their homes; and women mixed themselves in the crowd, shrieking and screaming as they parted from their husbands or their lovers.

The morning air was cold and chill, but still de Lescure insisted on having the windows open, that he might cheer with his voice the men as they pa.s.sed below him, and that he might call to those by name whom he might chance to know. His wife was astonished to find how many he remembered, and to perceive that every soldier, as he pa.s.sed, recognized the wan face of his General, and expressed his sincere delight at again seeing his features.