Part 32

“You offer it in a moment of passion--of desire.”

“I offer it without regret, and forever,” he replied.

She returned to the room they had left. Hiding his emotions the marquis continued the conversation.

“That fat priest whose name you asked is the Abbe Gudin, a Jesuit, obstinate enough--perhaps I ought to say devoted enough,--to remain in France in spite of the decree of 1793, which banished his order. He is the firebrand of the war in these regions and a propagandist of the religious association called the Sacre-Coeur. Trained to use religion as an instrument, he persuades his followers that if they are killed they will be brought to life again, and he knows how to rouse their fanaticism by shrewd sermons. You see, it is necessary to work upon every man’s selfish interests to attain a great end. That is the secret of all political success.”

“And that vigorous, muscular old man, with the repulsive face, who is he? I mean the one in the ragged gown of a barrister.”

“Barrister! he aspires to be considered a brigadier-general. Did you never hear of de Longuy?”

“Is that he!” exclaimed Mademoiselle de Verneuil, horrified. “You employ such men as that?”

“Hush! he’ll hear you. Do you see that other man in malignant conversation with Madame du Gua?”

“The one in black who looks like a judge?”

“That is one of our go-betweens, La Billardiere, son of a councillor to the Breton Parliament, whose real name is something like Flamet; he is in close correspondence with the princes.”

“And his neighbor? the one who is just putting up his white clay pipe, and uses all the fingers of his right hand to snap the box, like a countryman.”

“By Jove, you are right; he was game-keeper to the deceased husband of that lady, and now commands one of the companies I send against the Republican militia. He and Marche-a-Terre are the two most conscientious vassals the king has here.”

“But she--who is she?”

“Charette’s last mistress,” replied the marquis. “She wields great influence over all these people.”

“Is she faithful to his memory?”

For all answer the marquis gave a dubious smile.

“Do you think well of her?”

“You are very inquisitive.”

“She is my enemy because she can no longer be my rival,” said Mademoiselle de Verneuil, laughing. “I forgive her her past errors if she forgives mine. Who is that officer with the long moustache?”

“Permit me not to name him; he wants to get rid of the First Consul by assassination. Whether he succeeds or not you will hear of him. He is certain to become famous.”

“And you have come here to command such men as these!” she exclaimed in horror. “Are they they king’s defenders? Where are the gentlemen and the great lords?”

“Where?” said the marquis, coolly, “they are in all the courts of Europe. Who else should win over kings and cabinets and armies to serve the Bourbon cause and hurl them at that Republic which threatens monarchies and social order with death and destruction?”

“Ah!” she said, with generous emotion, “be to me henceforth the source from which I draw the ideas I must still acquire about your cause--I consent. But let me still remember that you are the only noble who does his duty in fighting France with Frenchmen, without the help of foreigners. I am a woman; I feel that if my child struck me in anger I could forgive him; but if he saw me beaten by a stranger, and consented to it, I should regard him as a monster.”

“You shall remain a Republican,” said the marquis, in the ardor produced by the generous words which confirmed his hopes.

“Republican! no, I am that no longer. I could not now respect you if you submitted to the First Consul,” she replied. “But neither do I like to see you at the head of men who are pillaging a corner of France, instead of making war against the whole Republic. For whom are you fighting? What do you expect of a king restored to his throne by your efforts? A woman did that great thing once, and the liberated king allowed her to be burned. Such men are the anointed of the Lord, and there is danger in meddling with sacred things. Let God take care of his own, and place, displace, and replace them on their purple seats. But if you have counted the cost, and seen the poor return that will come to you, you are tenfold greater in my eyes than I thought you--”

“Ah! you are bewitching. Don’t attempt to indoctrinate my followers, or I shall be left without a man.”

“If you would let me convert you, only you,” she said, “we might live happily a thousand leagues away from all this.”

“These men whom you seem to despise,” said the marquis, in a graver tone, “will know how to die when the struggle comes, and all their misdeeds will be forgotten. Besides, if my efforts are crowned with some success, the laurel leaves of victory will hide all.”