Part 22 (1/2)
”Speak the truth,” demanded Amelie imperiously. ”I am no weakling.”
And her face was so gloriously brave that the Knight of Liberty spoke with more than his accustomed frankness.
”Your father did not go immediately to Paris, for we are watched and caution is necessary. Our original plan has been abandoned, namely, that your father intercede with his sister and the Marquis reunite the families attached to the cause. Were that program in progress, your presence in Paris would be of inestimable value. The father and daughter together would present a picture calculated to quiet all lingering doubt. The impression you both produced upon Giacinto and me in the Red Fish would be repeated upon all beholders. But as matters stand today, your very faces would be your condemnation.”
Amelie fixed her brave eyes on the knight's dark face.
”You mean,” she said, ”that Volpetti has been saved.”
”He has, that is to say some of the sailors reached the sh.o.r.e. How they survived fire, explosion, cannon, bullets and s.h.i.+pwreck I cannot say--”
Amelie buried her face in her hands, but the springs of her wonderful iron will soon recovered their tension.
”And how has this been discovered?” she asked. ”I mean that some have been saved?”
”You know, that on reaching French soil, we arranged to travel separately and by circuitous routes until we should reach some neighboring port, from which each on a different day should take the diligence. At Dinan, we spent our first night.
”Yes,” said Amelie.
”At Dinan, Giacinto visited inns and taverns, conversed with sailors and fishermen and from them learned the story he too well knew, the tragedy in which he had played so prominent a part. He was told that two or three sailors had floated ash.o.r.e at Pleneuf, been given shelter by fishermen and were now recovering.”
”If that be all,” said the girl, with a look of relief, ”why conjecture the worst? Volpetti was not in the best condition for swimming.”
”G.o.d grant your wish.”
”When Rene left me after our landing, he a.s.sured me that an inviolable asylum awaited me here and a faithful guardian in Jean Vilon. 'From father to son have the Vilons served the de Brazes,' he said. The present steward's father was executed for his adhesion to the throne and altar. The castle contains places of concealment known only to Jean and myself. If the attempt were made to seize you, 'twould be impossible while breath remains in Jean's body. He thinks that you are an unhappy girl, distantly related to me whom I have rescued from enforced entry into a convent.”
”Louis Pierre, I know that you and Giacinto stand for ideas widely at variance with those of which my father is a symbol; nevertheless, my faith in you is absolute. You are now my guardian angel,” and she extended her hand to him.
He did not dare touch, much less to kiss it. His face was transfigured, beautified, as he solemnly said:
”The daughter of France may trust the sons of the Revolution. She may place faith in the enemy of the inst.i.tutions which the Bourbon symbolizes. No man more than I hates the dynasty which, in committing treason against the country, became the cause of that country's woes, the woes of a foreign invasion. Mortal, eternal, inextinguishable hatred has Louis Pierre sworn against the House. This hate has guided his feet and been the spring of his actions until a few days since. Now I give the Bourbons a chance to prove that they have profited by adversity, that they are capable of being animated by an impulse of justice, that they repent them of their iniquities. I give the usurper a chance to voluntarily abdicate the throne and acknowledge the union of royalty with the strong, pure blood of the people. If this miracle be performed, if the sister open her arms to the brother, Louis Pierre will retract his malediction and forgive the House of Bourbon.”
These extravagant words caused Amelie's expression to become graver and loftier.
”Who doubts, Louis Pierre,” she said in almost affectionate effusion, as from a queen to a subject, ”that my father will accomplish his mission?
The recital of his unparalleled suffering, his atrocious martyrdom, the refuge he sought and obtained among the people, his children born of a daughter of those people; all this will speak for him eloquently.
Humanity has suffered too greatly to remain unmoved before such woes. To my father is reserved the sublime office of reconciling the people and royalty.”
Her eyes and cheeks glowed and the Carbonaro e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed:
”Blessed be the day when that light s.h.i.+nes in France.”
”It will s.h.i.+ne!” she cried. ”Victory is almost ours. My father is secure beneath Rene's protection. He possesses proofs which, were it necessary to appeal to a tribunal, would win the cause instantly. O even tho Volpetti be risen from h.e.l.l, what harm could he do?”
”What could he do?” repeated the Carbonaro. ”He can do everything to accomplish our ruin. Do not deceive yourself, Mademoiselle. If that man lives, we are lost. He holds the strings of our enterprise, he knows the entire history of the mechanic Naundorff. 'Tis he enveloped him in that name as in a winding sheet. If Volpetti be living, woe to your father, woe to you, woe to us all and to Soliviac, who has been of so great service. 'Tis a question of life and death, and we are not sleeping upon the danger, Mademoiselle,” he concluded sombrely.
”What do you mean?” she demanded almost sternly.