Part 39 (1/2)
”But you knew that Perucca was never mine,” she persisted.
”Yes, I knew that, but then Perucca was valueless. So soon as I knew its value, I reclaimed it.”
”I warn Monsieur de Va.s.selot that such frankness is imprudent; he may regret it,” put in the notary with a solemn face. And Denise gave him a glance of withering pity. The poor man, it seemed, was quite at sea.
”Thank you,” laughed de Va.s.selot. ”I only judge myself as the world will judge me. You were very rich, mademoiselle, and I have made you very poor.”
Denise glanced at him, and said nothing. And de Va.s.selot's breath came rather quickly.
”But the Casa Perucca is at your disposal so long as you may choose to live there,” he continued. ”My father is to be buried at Olmeta to-morrow, but I cannot even remain to attend the funeral. So I need not a.s.sure you that I do not want the Casa Perucca for myself.”
”Where are you going?” asked Denise, bluntly.
”Back to France. I have heard news that makes it necessary for me to return. Gambetta has escaped from Paris in a balloon, and is organizing affairs at Tours. We may yet make a defence.”
”You?” said Mademoiselle Brun. Into the one word she threw, or attempted to throw, a world of contempt, as she looked him up and down, with his arm in a sling, and his wounded leg bent awkwardly to one side; but her eyes glittered. This was a man after her own heart.
”One has one's head left, mademoiselle,” answered Lory. Then he turned to the window, and held up one hand. ”Listen!” he added.
It was the music of a second regiment marching down the Boulevard du Palais, towards the port, and, as it approached, it was rendered almost inaudible by the shouts of the men themselves, and of the crowd that cheered them. De Va.s.selot went to the window and opened it, his face twitching, and his eyes s.h.i.+ning with excitement.
”Listen to them,” he said. ”Listen to them. Ah! but it is good to hear them.”
Instinctively the others followed him, and stood grouped in the open window, looking down into the street. The band was now pa.s.sing, clanging out the Ma.r.s.eillaise, and the fickle people cheered the new tricolour, as it fluttered in the wind. Some one looked up, and perceived de Va.s.selot's uniform.
”Come, mon capitaine,” he cried; ”you are coming with us?”
Lory laughed, and shouted back--”Yes--I am coming.”
”See,” cried a sergeant, who was gathering recruits as he went--”see!
there is one who has fought, and is going to fight again! Vive la France, mes enfants! Who comes? Who comes?”
And the soldiers, looking up, gave a cheer for the wounded man who was to lead them. They pa.s.sed on, followed by a troup of young men and boys, half of whom ultimately stepped on board the steamer at the last moment, and went across the sea to fight for France.
De Va.s.selot turned away from the window, and went towards the table, where the papers lay in confusion. The abbe took them up, and began to arrange them in order.
”And the estate and the gold?” he said; ”who manages that, since you are going to fight?”
”You,” replied de Va.s.selot, ”since you cannot fight. There is no one but you in Corsica who can manage it. There is none but you to understand these people.”
”All the world knows who manages half of Corsica,” put in Mademoiselle Brun, looking fiercely at the abbe. But the abbe only stamped his foot impatiently.
”Woman's gossip,” he muttered, as he shook the papers together. ”Yes; I will manage your estate if you like. And if there is gold in the land, I will tear it out. And there is gold. The amiable colonel is not the man to have made a mistake on that point. I shall like the work. It will be an occupation. It will serve to fill one's life.”
”Your life is not empty,” said mademoiselle.
The abbe turned and looked at her, his glittering eyes meeting her twinkling glance.