Part 17 (1/2)
”If you allow me to be insulted in your house without avenging me, marquis, adieu!” she said. ”I will not stay another moment. I have some qualms already about deceiving these poor Republicans, loyal and confiding as they are!”
She made a few hasty steps; the marquis followed her.
”Dear Marie, listen to me. On my honor, I have silenced their evil speaking, without knowing whether it was false or true. But, placed as I am, if friends whom we have in all the ministries in Paris warn me to beware of every woman I meet, and a.s.sure me that Fouche has employed against me a Judith of the streets, it is not unnatural that my best friends here should think you too beautiful to be an honest woman.”
As he spoke the marquis plunged a glance into Mademoiselle de Verneuil's eyes. She colored, and was unable to restrain her tears.
”I deserve these insults,” she said. ”I wish you really thought me that despicable creature and still loved me; then, indeed, I could no longer doubt you. I believed in you when you were deceiving me, and you will not believe me now when I am true. Let us make an end of this, monsieur,” she said, frowning, but turning pale as death,-”adieu!”
She rushed towards the dining-room with a movement of despair.
”Marie, my life is yours,” said the young marquis in her ear.
She stopped short and looked at him.
”No, no,” she said, ”I will be generous. Farewell. In coming with you here I did not think of my past nor of your future-I was beside myself.”
”You cannot mean that you will leave me now when I offer you my life?”
”You offer it in a moment of pa.s.sion-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 a.s.sociation 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?”
”Hus.h.!.+ 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 va.s.sals 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.