Part 17 (1/2)
”So,” said the old man, thoughtfully, ”advocate Desmarais owes his election to your efforts, to your exertions?”
”He owes it to his merit, to his value. I only suggested Monsieur Desmarais to those of our fellow citizens who had confidence in me, and all acclaimed him.”
”In short, you powerfully aided in his election. I am no longer astonished that he treats you as a friend, an equal. But it is a far cry, my son, from words to acts. I doubt the sincerity of this lawyer's affection.”
”That doubt would never enter your thoughts, good father, if you knew the excellent man. If you had heard him inveigh, as I have, against the distinctions of birth and fortune--”
”Perhaps he had in mind only the privileges of the n.o.bility,” observed Victoria, who until then had remained grave and silent. ”The prejudices of the Third Estate are tenacious.”
”I should add, dearest sister, that he idolizes his daughter so, that to see her happy, he would sacrifice all the prejudices of his cla.s.s--even if he were still under their influence, which I can not believe. I am well a.s.sured of that.”
”And his daughter is an angel,” added Madam Lebrenn. ”I have seen and can appreciate her.”
”The excellence of our son's choice is not doubted,” replied the old man, half convinced. ”And, after all, it may be that Monsieur Desmarais does belong to that portion of the bourgeoisie which sees in the proletariat, disinherited for so many centuries, a brother to be guided and helped along the path of emanc.i.p.ation. If such is the case, my son, your marriage with Mademoiselle Desmarais may be consummated, and become the joy of my old age.”
”Brother,” asked Victoria, ”has Mademoiselle Desmarais informed her family of this projected union?”
”At our last meeting, she a.s.sured me that she would soon broach the subject to her mother, and inform her that she had pledged me her faith, as I have mine to her. But I can not yet tell you whether the confidence has been made.”
”Does Mademoiselle Desmarais seem to have any doubts as to the consent of her relatives?”
”Among those relatives there is an uncle, Hubert, a rich banker, who without doubt will oppose the project. This moneyed bourgeois entertains for the working cla.s.s the most supreme contempt. But the violence of his opinions has brought about a rupture between him and Monsieur Desmarais.
As to the latter and his wife, Mademoiselle Charlotte has no doubt of their consent, by reason of the affection and esteem they have always evinced for me.”
”Brother,” continued Victoria after a moment's reflection, ”I counsel you, make your demand for the hand of Mademoiselle Charlotte this very day. I base my advice on urgent grounds. If Monsieur Desmarais really sees in you a friend, an equal, if his devotion to the people and the revolution is sincere, the glory you have won at the taking of the Bastille can not but plead in your favor; his consent will be given immediately. On the contrary, if his protestations of love for the people have been but a mask of hypocrisy, it is better to know at once how to regard him; in that case, he will repulse you, or will evade giving you a direct answer. It is not merely a question of your love, brother, but of our cause--of a grave responsibility that weighs upon you. Your friends placed their faith in you when you asked their votes for Monsieur Desmarais; you owe it to them, now that the occasion presents itself, to make a decisive test, and a.s.sure yourself whether the convictions expressed by Monsieur Desmarais are sincere. If he refuses you the hand of his daughter, it shows that he is with us from the lips only, not from the heart. In that case, it will be proven that advocate Desmarais is a hypocrite and a traitor! Would not then your duty, your honor, brother, demand that you unmask the double-dealer?”
”Nothing more just than what Victoria has said,” declared the old man.
”You should, my son, go this very day and lay your suit before Monsieur Desmarais.”
John thought for an instant, and answered: ”You are right, father. My line of conduct is mapped out for me. I go at once to Monsieur Desmarais's, and formally present my request for the hand of Charlotte.”
”Brother,” interposed Victoria, suppressing a sigh, ”have you informed Monsieur Desmarais fully on our father's disappearance? He should know all that relates to that mournful event.”
”Monsieur Desmarais knows that immediately upon the publication of a hand-bill by father, he disappeared, and that we believed him dead or shut up in some state prison. He even knows the contents of the pamphlet which father wrote, and often has he shed tears in my presence when speaking of the disgrace of which you were a victim at the hands of Louis XV.”
A bitter smile contracted Victoria's lips, and she replied, ”My father hid the truth in what he wrote, in order to stigmatize the first crime, and he threw a veil over the consequences of my dishonor. Have you raised the veil which covered my life? Did you speak of the series of a.s.saults of which I was the victim?”
”Sister,” answered John Lebrenn, ”out of respect for our family, I did not inform Monsieur Desmarais of the consequences of that first royal dishonor. I merely told him that you had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from us, the same as my father, and that we knew not what had become of you. My confidences did not extend beyond that.”
”Your reserve was wise and prudent, dear brother. Continue to guard my secret from Monsieur Desmarais and his daughter. For them, as for all who know you, I must remain as dead.”
”Let it be as you desire, sister. But the dissimulation weighs on my heart like an act of cowardice.”
”The dissimulation is necessary to-day, brother, but it will not last forever. When you shall have a deeper knowledge of the character of your wife; after some years of marriage and motherhood shall have ripened her judgment, then, and only then, you may make to her a complete confidence of my past. Until then, I must remain dead to her, as to all--except you three and one other of our relatives, the Prince of Gerolstein, my initiator into the Voyants. Dead I shall be to the world, but living to you and to Franz of Gerolstein.”
”This Franz of Gerolstein,” asked Victoria's father, ”is he not one of the princes of that sovereign house of Germany founded of old by the descendants of our ancestor Gaelo the Pirate?”
”Yes, father; the heir to a reigning prince was to-day one of the most fearless attackers of the Bastille.”
At this moment a knock was heard at the door.
”Enter,” cried John, and to the astonished eyes of the Lebrenn family appeared Franz of Gerolstein. In the Prince, whom Victoria had just named, John recognized one of his fellow-combatants of the day.