Part 68 (1/2)
”Well, well! Forsooth, it is I, Castillon, your old foreman, who taught you how to handle a file and hammer a piece of iron, when you were our apprentice.”
”Give you good day, my dear sir, give you good day,” retorted Oliver haughtily and impatiently; and continuing his conversation with Lebrenn: ”And what chance brings you to Paris? Tell me about it.”
But Castillon touched Oliver on the arm before he had time to get an answer, and said: ”Say, my boy, have you truly become, to all intents and purposes, an aristocrat, since you belong to the staff of General Bonaparte, as d.u.c.h.emin says, our old comrade of the Lines of Weissenburg, here, whom you don't seem to recognize either?”
”Hush, my old fellow,” said d.u.c.h.emin in Castillon's ear, ”else he will have the commandant of Paris toss me into the headquarters of police, and then we won't be able to go to St. Antoine.”
After a moment's silence, Colonel Oliver spoke, with difficulty holding himself in: ”I would reply to Monsieur Castillon, that if I was his apprentice, it is nothing to blush for. He should understand that my age and the rank I owe to my sword render inappropriate the pleasantries permissible when I was eighteen.”
”Pardon, excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis!” rejoined Castillon, not a whit put down by Oliver's manner. ”Ah, that's how the staff of General Bonaparte comports itself!”
”As to you, who are still in the service,” continued Colonel Oliver rudely to d.u.c.h.emin, ”do not forget that we put the insolent in cells, and shoot the unruly.”
”I said nothing, Colonel,” replied d.u.c.h.emin quietly.
”Shut your mouth, hang-dog, and go to the devil!”
”Yes, hold your peace, old comrade, and make yourself scarce, since you have but the choice between a cell and the shooting squad,” Castillon advised d.u.c.h.emin; and then he turned on Oliver: ”As to me, who, as a private citizen have hanging over me the shadow of neither, nor yet the awe of gold epaulets, I tell you this, Oliver, son of the people, a poor orphan, put on your feet by the goodness of our friend John--you contemn your brothers. A soldier of the Republic, you conspire against her.
You're an ingrate and a traitor! But the day of remorse will come.”
”Do not provoke me, wretch, or----” cried Colonel Oliver.
Castillon and d.u.c.h.emin turned on their heels and went out, Martin accompanying them to the outer door, as Lebrenn had requested that he be left alone a few minutes with the colonel. The latter hung his head and maintained an embarra.s.sed silence.
”Castillon's reproaches seem to have made some impression on you, Oliver,” Lebrenn began, at last.
”Not at all; such insolence does not trouble me. But let us forget the wretches, and speak of you and your family, my dear Lebrenn.”
”Let us speak rather of you, Oliver; let us speak also of my sister, whose memory should be sacred to you. Her forebodings of your future are realized; I fear her devotion to you has gone for naught.”
”In what may my conduct justify your criticism? Has not my sword been ever at the service of the Republic?”
”At the service of your ambition! And at the present moment you seem to be in a mind to sacrifice the Republic.”
Oliver responded with a start: ”I firmly believe that France has need of order, repose, stability, and a firm hand. I believe that authority should be concentrated in the greatest captain of modern times.”
”And what are your Bonaparte's t.i.tles--for you doubtless mean him--to the government of France?”
”His victories!”
”But is not the military glory of Hoche, Marceau, Joubert, Ma.s.sena, Moreau, Kleber, Augereau, Bernadotte, Desaix, equal to that of your general? And even if he were the greatest captain the world has ever seen, it does not follow that he should be given the dictators.h.i.+p. A nation should never place its destinies in the hands of one man and confide to him that exorbitant power, which smites with vertigo even the hardest heads.”
At this juncture Martin returned, and by a look inquired of his friend the result of his interview with the colonel. Lebrenn shook his head in the negative. Martin then addressed the officer:
”I would have excused myself, citizen, for my absence just now, had I not left you in the company of our comrade John. Now I am at your service. Let us discuss the battle scene you wish to give me the commission for. Some explanation will be requisite.”
”It is a brilliant charge executed by a squadron of my regiment against the Mamelukes of Hussein Bey. I can furnish you with a sketch of the field of battle made by one of my officers, and some notes I took on the feat of arms itself.”