3 1822 01293 8817 HE BSE m D IIEGO r 3 1822 01293 8817 MiRIAGK ROLLED ON AND LEFT HIM STANDING TIIH.K " THE RED COCKADE B BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN ^ AUTHOR OK A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE" ETC. ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 1896 Copyright, 1895, by HARPKR i BROTHERS. All right* reterved. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. THE MARQUIS DE ST. ALAIS 1 II. THE ORDEAL ^ 19 III. IN THE ASSEMBLY 36 iv. L'AMI DU PEUPLE 53 V. THE DEPUTATION 68 VI. A MEETING IN THE ROAD 86 VII. THE ALARM 103 VIII. GARGOUF 119 IX. THE TRICOLOR 135 X. THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM 150 XI. THE TWO CAMPS 165 XII. THE DUEL 179 XIII. A LA LANTERNE 193 XIV. IT GOES ILL 208 XV. AT MILHAU 223 XVI. THREE IN A CARRIAGE 239 XVII. FROMENT OF N1MES 254 XVIII. A POOR FIGURE 268 XIX. AT NIMES 283 XX. THE SEARCH 299 XXI. RIVALS 315 XXII. NOBLESSE OBLIGE 331 XXIII. THE CRISIS 347 XXIV. THE MILLENNIUM 362 XXV. BEYOND THE SHADOW 378 ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE "THE CARRIAGE ROLLED ON AND LEFT HIM STANDING THERE" . Frontispiece " ' WHAT HATE YOU DONE WITH THE GARDEN ?' HE ASKED " 3 "I SAW NOT ONLY THE HAVOC CAUSED BY THE GREAT FROSTS " ... 11 " THE STREET SEEMED TO BE ALIVE WITH MOVING LIGHTS AND FIGURES " 21 " ' M. DK SAUX,' HE SAID, POLITELY, ' WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU '" . . 25 "ONE MOMENT AND I HAD THE DOOR OF THE ASSEMBLY OPEN". ... 37 "'GENTLEMEN,' IIK SAID, IN A LOUD, RINGING VOICE, 'THERE is STRANGE NEWS'" 47 " M. LE BARON TURNED IN A FLASH, AND STRUCK THE FELLOW WITH HIS STICK" 55 " SHE STAMPED HER FOOT. ' TO YOUR KENNELS, I SAY !'" 63 "HIS COSTUME WAS AS GREAT A SURPRISE AS HIS APPEARANCE" ... 77 "'WHAT is IT, THEN ?' i SAID. 'ASK WHAT YOU WANT TO ASK'" . . 81 "'MADEMOISELLE,' i SAID" 93 " HE PAUSED TO KISS HIS HAND " ' 99 "FOR A MOMENT I STOOD ROOTED TO THE SPOT 1 ' 107 "AN OLD MAN, LEAN-JAWED AND FEEBLE, CONFRONTED ME " 113 "'WHERE is HE?' i ASKED, HOARSELY" 123 "HUNG THERE HELPLESS BKTWKKN EARTH AND HEAVEN" 131 "HE CAME UP RAPIDLY, HOLDING THE LIGHT HIGH IN FRONT OF HIM 1 ' . 141 " ' RESPECT THE TRICOLOR !' " 147 "I LONGED TO KISS THE LITTLE HALF-SHROUDED HEAD " 153 "SHE MOVED HER FOOT FORWARD AND TOUCHED THE RIBBON" .... 161 "'YES,' I SAID, STIFFLY, FOR I FOUND ALL LOOKING AT ME " . . . ,* . 175 '"FOUL PLAY!' HE CRIED, PASSIONATELY. 'A STROKE DESSOUS F " . . . 185 " ' I TAKE POSSESSION !' I CRIED, HOARSELY " 201 "'WHICH OF YOU WILL GO TO HELL FOR THE REST?'" 205 "ANDRE CAME IN WITH MY BROTH" 211 "'GO 1 .' I SAID. 'i HAVE HKARD ENOUGH. BEGONK !' " 219 " ' WHEREAS I I,' HE ANSWERED, GROWING GUTTURAL IN HIS EXCITEMENT, 'HAVE NONE OF THESE THINGS'" ... . 227 VI M.l.rsTKATIONS MM "'SAFB BIND, SAFE FIND,' AXD UK DREW HIS STICK SHARPLY ACROSS THK BARS OF THK GR1LLK" 236 "WITHIN FIVE MINUTE WK HAD PASSED THE GATES ASH LEIT THEM BE- HIND rs -l.'i "' Yd' HAVE MET FRIENDS?' M. LE BARON PERSISTED, LOOKING AT MADAM "TAKEN ENTIRELY BY SURPRISE, i TRIED TO SHOUT, BUT THK IIKAVY CLOAK STIFLED ME" 2C5 "EACH EVENING THE COMMITTEE CAME TO STARE AND QUESTION" . . . '!",'> "'IT IS I IttTON,' CAMF. THE ANSWER. 'l HAVE YOUR HORSE, M. l.K VI cojmt'" "SHE SIGNED TO MB TO STAND BY THE PILLAR, AND HERSELF KNELT DOW. "THK MAN WAS LOUIS ST. ALAIS" -J '.'." Ul NO, MONSIEUR,' HE SAID. 'l DO NOT KNOW THK GENTLEMAN 1 " . . . 305 " THEY CAME ALONG AT A GOOD PACE, FILLING THE STREET FROM WALL TO WALL" 311 "WK PASSED ANOTHER DOOR, CLOSED THIS T1JJK" "'THEY TOLD ME YOU WERE DEAD!" SHE CRIED 327 '"HE is NO SPY!' DE.MSE CRIED, IN A VOICE THAT WENT TO MY HEART" 333 "THK MAN WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL WALKED THE ROOF ABOVE WITH FRETFUL STEPS 1 ' 337 " MEN BRINGING UP POWDER FROM THE CELLARS BLOCKF.D THE PASSAGI " 855 "STANDING ON THE THRESHOLD, UK GAVE A FEW SHARP ORDERS FOR THK BARRICADING OF THK DOOR" 359 "ON LONG I'lKKS RAISED HIGH ABOVE THE MOB MOVED THE SEVKKKD HKADS" 367 "THE THIRD BORE ME DOWN WITH HIS PIKE FIXED IN MY SHOUI.DH:" . :;7". VEEN THEM i PASSED THROUGH A DOOR THAT SEEMED TO OPEN IN THE WALL" 379 " ' 1 SAY I WILL HAVE NO MORK !' HE ANSWERED, FIERCELY " 389 THE RED COCKADE CHAPTER I THE MARQUIS DE ST. ALAIS WHEN we reached the terraced walk, which my father made a little before his death, and which, running under the windows at the rear of the chateau, separates the house from the new lawn, St. Alais looked round with eyes of scarcely veiled con- tempt. " What have you done with the garden ?" he asked, his lip curling. " My father removed it to the other side of the house," I an- swered. "Out of sight?" " Yes," I said ; " it is beyond the rose garden." " English fashion!" he answered, with a strong and a polite sneer. "And you prefer to see all this grass from your win- dows r " Yes," I said ; " I do." " Ah ! And that plantation ? It hides the village, I suppose, from the house?" " Yes." He laughed. " Yes," he said. " I notice that is the way of all who prate of the people and freedom and fraternity. They love the people; but they love them at a distance, on the far- ther side of a park or a high yew hedge. Now, at St. Alais I like to have ray folks under my eye, and then, if they do not TIIK KKD COCK \I'K behave, there is the carcun. By-the-way, what have you (lone with yours, Vicomtc? It used to stand opposite the entrance." " I have burned it," I said, feeling the blood mount to my templrs. Your father did, you mean," he answered, with a glance of surprise. " No," I said, stubbornly, hating myself for being ashamed of that before St. Alais of which I had been proud enough when alone. " I did. I burned it last winter. I think the day of such things is past." The Marquis was not my senior by more than five years ; bnt those five years, spent in Paris and Versailles, gave him a won- drous advantage, and 1 felt his look of contemptuous surprise as I should have felt a blow. However, he did not say any- thing at the moment, but after a short pause changed the sub- ject and began to speak of my father; recalling him and things in connection with him in a tone of respect and affection that in a moment disarmed my resentment. "The first time that 1 shot a bird on the wing, I was in his company !" he said, witli the wonderful charm of manner that had been St. Alais's even in boyhood. "Twelve years ago," I said. " Kven so, monsieur," he replied, with a laughing bow. " In those days there was a small boy with bare legs, who ran after me, and called me Victor, and thought me the greatest of men. I little im.' Yienmtr, I must keep Louis from yon, or yon will make him as great a reformer as yourself. llnwevcr," he continued, passing from that subject with a smile and an easy gesture, " T did not come here to talk of him, but of one, M. le Vicomte, in whom you should feel even greater interest." I felt the blood mount to my temples again, but for a differ- ent reason. " Mademoiselle has eome home ?" I said. Yesterday," he answered. "She will go with my mother to Cahors to-morrow, and take her first peep at the world. I |. at Cahors ; its aim, to condemn the conduct of our representa- tives at Versailles, iu consenting to sit with the Third Estate. Now, for myself, whatever had been my original views on this question and, as a fact, I should have preferred to see re- form following the English model, the nobles' house remain- ing separate I regarded the step, now it was taken, and legal- ized by the King, as irrevocable, and protest as useless. More, 1 could not help knowing that those who were moving the pro- test desired also to refuse all reform, to cling to all privil. _ to hulk all hopes of better government; hopes which had been rising higher, day by day, since the elections, and which it might not now be so safe or so easy to balk. Without swal- lowing convictions, therefore, which were pretty well known, I could not see my way to supporting it, and 1 hesitated. " Well?" he said, at last, finding me still silent. " I do not think that I can," I answered, Hushing. "Can support it?" \ .," I said. He laughed genially. " 1'ooh !" lie said. " I think that v<>u will. I want your promise, Vicomte. It is a small matter ; a trifle, and of no importance ; but we must be unanimous. That is the one thing necessary." I shook my head. We had both come to a halt under the trees, a little within the gates. His servant was leading the horses up and down the road. "Come," he persisted, pleasantly; "you do not think that anything is going to come of this chaotic States-General, whi<-h THE MARQUIS DE ST. ALAIS 7 His Majesty was mad enough to let Neckar summon ? They met on the 4th of May ; this is the 17th of July ; and to this day they have done nothing but wrangle ! Nothing ! Pres- ently they will be dismissed, and there will be an end of it!" " Why protest, then ?" I said, rather feebly. " I will tell you, my friend," he answered, smiling indulgent- ly, and tapping his boot with his whip. " Have you heard the latest news ?" " What is it ?" I replied, cautiously. " Then I will tell you if I have heard it." " The King has dismissed Neckar !" " No !" I cried, unable to hide my surprise. " Yes," he answered ; " the banker is dismissed. In a week his States-General or National Assembly, or whatever he pleases to call it, will go too, and we shall be where we were before. Only, in the meantime, and to strengthen the King in the wise course he is at last pursuing, we must show that we are alive. We must show our sympathy with him. We must act. We must protest." " But, M. le Marquis," I said, a little heated, perhaps, by the news, "are you sure that the people will quietly endure this? Never was so bitter a winter as last winter ; never a worse har- vest, or such pinching. On the top of these, their hope's have been raised, and their minds excited by the elections, and " " Whom have we to thank for that?" he said, with a whim- sical glance at me. "But, never fear, Vicomte ; they will en- dure it. I know Paris ; and I can assure you that it is not the Paris of the Fronde, though M. de Mirabeau would play the Retz. It is a peaceable, sensible Paris, and it will not rise. Except a bread riot or two, it has seen no rising to speak of for a century and a half nothing that two companies of Swiss could not deal with as easily as D'Argenson cleared the Cotir des Miracles. Believe me, there is no danger of that kind; with the least management, all will go well !" But this news had roused my antagonism. I found it more easy to resist him now. " I do not know," I said, coldly ; " I do not think that the matter is so simple as you say. The King must have money, 8 THE RED COCKADE or be bankrupt; the people have no money to pay him. I <\ not see how things can go back to the old state." M. de St. Alais looked at me, with a gleam of anger in his eyes. "You mean, Vicomte," he said, "that you do not wish them to go back ?" "I mean that the old state was impossible," I said, stilllv. " It could not last. It cannot return." For a moment he did not answer, and we stood confronting one another he just without, I just within, the gateway the cool foliage stretching over us, the dust and July sunshine in the road beyond him ; and if my face reflected his, it was flushed and set and determined. But in a twinkling his changed ; he broke into an easy, polite laugh, and shrugged his shoulders with a touch of contempt. Well," he said, "we will not argue; but I hope that you will sign. Think it over, M. le Vicomte, think it over. Be- cause " he paused, and looked at me gayly " we do not know what may be depending upon it." " That is a reason," I answered, quickly, " for thinking more before I" "It is a reason for thinking more before you refuse," he said, bowing very low, and this time without smiling. Then lie turned to his horse, and his servant held the stirrup while he mounted. When he was in the saddle, and had gathered up the reins, he bent his face to mine. " Of course," he said, speaking in a low voice, and with a searching look at me, " a contract is a contract, M. le Vicomte ; and the Montagues and Capulets, like your carcan, are out of date. But, all the same, we must go one way comprenez vous, we must go one way or separate ! At least, I think so." And, nodding pleasantly, as if he had uttered in these words a compliment instead of a threat, he rode off, leaving me to stand and fret and fume, and finally to stride back under the trees with my thoughts in a whirl, and all my plans and hopes jarring one another in a petty copy of the confusion that that lay prevailed, though I guessed it but dimly, from one end of B to the other. THE MARQUIS DE ST. ALAIS 9 For I could not be blind to his meaning; nor ignorant that he had, no matter how politely, bidden me choose between the alliance with his family, which my father had arranged for me, and the political views in which my father had brought me up, and which a year's residence in England had not failed to strengthen. Alone in the chateau since my father's death, I had lived a good deal in the future in day-dreams of Denise de St. Alais, the fair girl who was to be my wife, and whom I had not seen since she went to her convent school ; in day-dreams, also, of work to be done in spreading round me the prosperity I had seen in England. Now, St. Alais's words menaced one or other of these prospects; and that was bad enough. But, in truth, it was not that so much as his presumption that stung me ; that made me swear one moment and laugh the next, in a kind of irritation not difficult to understand. I was twenty-two, he was twenty-seven ; and he dictated to me ! We were coun- try bumpkins, he of the haute politique, and he had come from Versailles or from Paris to drill us ! If I went his way I might marry his sister ; if not, I might not ! That was the position. No wonder that before he had left me half an hour I had made up my mind to resist him ; and so spent the rest of the day composing sound and unanswerable reasons for the course I intended to take ; now conning over a letter in which M. de Liancourt set forth his plan of reform, now summarizing the opinions with which M. de Rochefoucauld had favored me on his last journey to Luchon. In half an hour and the heat of temper ! thinking no more than ten thousand others, who that week chose one of two courses, what I was doing. Gargouf, the St. Alais steward, who doubtless heard that day the news of Neckar's fall, and rejoiced, had no foresight of what it meant to him. Father Benoit, the cure, who supped with me that evening, and heard the tidings with sorrow he, too, had no special vision. And the innkeeper's son at La Bastide, by Cahors probably he, also, heard the news ; but no shadow of a sceptre fell across his path, nor any of a baton on that of the notary at the other La Bastide. A notary, a baton ! An inn- keeper, a sceptre ! Mon Dipu / what conjunctions they would have seemed in those days ! We should have been wiser than 10 THE RED COCKADE Daniel, and more prudent than Joseph, if we had foreseen such things under the old regime in the old France, in the old world, that died in that month of July, 1789! And yet there were signs, even then, to be read by those with eyes, that foretold something, if but a tithe, of the inconceivable future ; of which signs I myself remarked sufficient by the wav next day to fill my mind with other thoughts than private re- sentment; with some nobler aims than self-assertion. Riding to Cahors, with Gil and Andre at my back, I saw not only the havoc caused by the great frosts of the winter and spring, not only walnut-trees blackened and withered, vines stricken, rye killed, a huge proportion of the land fallow, desert, gloomy, and unsown, not only those common signs of poverty to which use had accustomed me though on my first return from England I had viewed them with horror mud cabins, I mean, and un- glazed windows, starved cattle, and women, bent double, gather- ing weeds, but I saw other things more ominous a strange herding of men at cross-roads and bridges, where they waited for they knew not what; a something lowering in these men's silence, a something expectant in their faces ; worst of all, a something dangerous in their scowling eyes and sunken cheeks. Hunger had pinched them; the elections had roused them. I trembled to think of the issue, and that in the hint of danger I had given St. Alais I had been only too near the mark. A league farther on, where the woodlands skirt Cahors, I lost sight of these things ; but for a time only. They reappeared presently in another form. The first view of the town, as, girt by the shining Lot and protected by ramparts and towers, it nestles under the steep hills, is apt to take the eye, its match- less bridge and time-worn cathedral and great palace seldom failing to rouse the admiration even of those who know them well. But that day I saw none of these things. As I passed down towards the market-place they were selling grain under a guard of soldiers with fixed bayonets ; and the starved faces of the waiting crowd that filled all that side of the square, their shrunken, half-naked figures, and dark looks, and the sullen mntteiinir, which seemed so much at odds with the sunshine, occupied mi- to the exclusion of everything else. l l SAW NOT ONLY THE HAVOC CAUSED BY THE GREAT FROSTS " THE MARQUIS DE ST. ALAIS 13 Or not quite. I had eyes for one other thing, and that was the astonishing indifference with which those whom curiosity or business or habit had brought to the spot viewed this spec- tacle. The inns were full of the gentry of the province, come to the Assembly ; they looked on from the windows as at a show, and talked and jested as if at home in their chateaux. Before the doors of the cathedral a group of ladies and clergy- men walked to and fro, and now and then they turned a listless eye on what was passing ; but for the most part they seemed to be unconscious of it, or, at the best, to have no concern with it. I have heard it said since that in those days we had two worlds in France, as far apart as hell and heaven ; and what I saw that evening went far to prove it. In the square a shop at which pamphlets and journals were sold was full of customers, though other shops in the neighbor- hood were closed, their owners fearing mischief. On the skirts of the crowd, and a little aloof from it, I saw Gargouf, the St. Alais steward. He was talking to a countryman ; and, as I passed, I heard him say, with a gibe, " Well, has your National Assembly fed you yet ?" " Not yet," the clown answered, stupidly, " but I am told that in a few days they will satisfy everybody." " Not they !" the agent answered, brutally. " W r hy, do you think that they will feed you ?" " Oh, yes, by your leave ; it is certain," the man said. " And, besides, every one is agreed " But then Gargouf saw me, saluted me, and I heard no more. A moment later, however, I came on one of my own people Buton, the blacksmith in the middle of a muttering group. He looked at me sheepishly, finding himself caught ; and I stopped and rated him soundly, and saw him start for home before I went to my quarters. These were at the Trois Rois, where I always lay when in town, Doury, the innkeeper, providing a supper ordinary for the gentry at eight o'clock, at which it was the custom to dress and powder. The St. Alais had their own house in Cahors, and, as the Marquis had forewarned me, entertained that evening. The 14 THE RED COCKADE greater part of the company, indeed, repaired to them after the meal. 1 went myself, a little latr, that 1 might avoid any pri- vate talk with the marquis. I found the rooms already full and brilliantly lighted, the staircase crowded with valets, and the strains of a harpsichord trickling melodiously from the windows. Madame de St. Alais was in the habit of entertaining the best company in the province ; with less splendor, perhaps, than some, but with so much ease and taste and good-breeding that 1 look in vain for such a house in these days. Ordinarily she preferred to people her rooms with pleasant groups, that, gracefully disposed, gave to a salon an air elegant and pleasing, and in character with the costume of those days, the silks and laces, powder and diamonds, the hoops and red- heeled shoes. But on this occasion the crowd and the splendor of the entertainment apprised me, as soon as I crossed the thresh- old, that 1 was assisting at a party of more than ordinary im- portance ; nor had I advanced far before I guessed that it was a political rather than a social gathering. All, or almost all, who would attend the Assembly next day were here ; and though, as I wound my way through the glittering crowd, I heard very little serious talk so little that I marvelled to think that people could discuss the respective merits of French and Italian opera, of Gretry and Bianchi, and the like, while so much hung in the balance of the effect intended I had no doubt; nor that inadame, in assembling all the wit and beauty of the province, was aiming at things higher than amusement. With, I am bound to confess, a degree of success. At any rate, it was difficult to mix with the throng which filled her rooms, to run the gantlet of bright eyes and witty tongues, to breathe the atmosphere laden with perfume and music, without falling under the spell, without forgetting. t Inside the door M. de Gontaut, one of my father's oldest friends, was talking with the two JIarincourts. He greeted me with a sly smile, and pointed politely inwards. Pass on, monsieur," he said. "The farthest room. Ah! mv friend, T wish I were young again!" " Your gain would be my loss, M. le Baron," I said, civilly, ami slid bv him. Next, I had to speak to two or thre<- ladies. THE MARQUIS DE ST. ALAIS 15 who detained me with wicked congratulations of the same kind ; and then I came on Louis. He clasped my hand, and we stood a moment together. The crowd elbowed us ; a sim- pering fool at his shoulder was prating of the social contract. But as I felt the pressure of Louis's hand, and looked into his eyes, it seemed to me that a breath of air from the woods pene- trated the room and swept aside the heavy perfumes. Yet there was trouble in his look. He asked me if I had seen Victor. " Yesterday," I said, understanding him perfectly, and what was amiss. " Not to-day." " Nor Denise ?" " No. I have not had the honor of seeing mademoiselle." " Then come," he answered. " My mother expected you earlier. .What did you think of Victor?" " That he went Victor, and has returned a great personage !" I said, smiling. Louis laughed faintly, and lifted his eyebrows with a comical air of sufferance. " I was afraid so," he said. " He did not seem to be very well pleased with you. But we must all do his bidding eh, monsieur ? And, in the meantime, come. My mother and De- nise are in the farthest room." He led the way thither as he spoke ; but we had first to go through the card-room, and then the crowd about the farther doorway was so dense that he could not immediately enter ; and so I had time while outwardly smiling and bowing to feel a little suspense. At last we slipped through and entered a smaller room, where were only Madame la Marquise who was standing in the middle of the floor talking with the Abbe Mesnil two or three ladies, and Denise de St. Alais. Mademoiselle had her seat on a couch by one of the ladies; and naturally my eyes went first to her. She was dressed in white, and it struck me with the force of a blow how small, how childish she was ! Very fair, of the purest complexion, and perfectly formed, she seemed to derive an extravagant, an absurd air of dignity from the formality of her dress, from the height of the powdered hair that strained upward from her 1C TIIK IJK1) COCKADE forehead, from the stiffness of her brocaded petticoat. But she was very small. I had time to note this, to feel a little disap- pointment, and to fancy that, cast in a larger mould, she would have been supremely handsome ; and then the lady beside her, seeing me, spoke to her, and the child she was really little more looked up, her face grown crimson. Our eyes met thank God! she had Louis's eyes and she looked down again, blushing painfully. I advanced to pay my respects to madame, and kissed the hand which, without at once breaking off her conversation, she extended to me. " But such powers !" the abbe, who had something of the reputation of a philosophe, was saying to her. " Without limit ! Without check ! Misused, madame " "But the King is too good!" Madame la Marquise answered, smiling. " When well advised, I agree. But then the deficit ?" The marquise shrugged her shoulders. ** His Majesty must Lave money," she said. "Yes but whence?" the abb6 asked, with an answering ihrog. 14 The King was too good at the beginning," madame replied, with a touch of severity. " He should have made them register the edicts. However, the Parliament has always given way, and will do so again." "The Parliament yes," the abbe retorted, smiling indul- gently. " But it is no longer a question of the Parliament ; and the States-General " " States - General pass," madame responded, grandly. "The King remains !" Vet if trouble comes?" " It will not," madame answered, with the same grand air. " Mis Majesty will prevent it." And then with a word or two more she dismissed the abb6 and turned to me. She tapped me on the shoulder with her fan. " Ah ! truant," she said, with a glanee. in which kindness and a little austerity were mingled. "I do not know what I am to say to you! Indeed, from the account Victor gave me yesterday, I hardly knew whether to THE MARQUIS DE ST. ALAIS 17 expect you this evening or not. Are you sure that it is you who are here ?" '' I will answer for my heart, rnadame," I answered, laying my hand upon it. Her eyes twinkled kindly. "Then," she said, "bring it where it is due, monsieur." And she turned with a fine air of ceremony, and led me to her daugh- ter. "Denise," she said, "this is M. le Vicomte de Saux, the son of my old, my good friend. M. le Vicomte my daugh- ter. Perhaps you will amuse her while I go back to the abbe." Probably mademoiselle had spent the evening in an agony of shyness, expecting this moment, for she courtesied to the floor, and then stood dumb and confused, forgetting even to sit down, until I covered her with fresh blushes by begging her to do so. When she had complied I took my stand before her with my hat in my hand ; but between seeking for the right compliment, and trying to trace a likeness between her and the wild, brown- faced child of thirteen whom I had known four years before and from the dignified height of nineteen immeasurably despised I grew shy myself. " You came home last week, mademoiselle ?" I said at last. " Yes, monsieur," she answered, in a whisper, and with down- cast eyes. " It must be a great change for you !" " Yes, monsieur." Silence : then, " Doubtless the Sisters were good to you ?" I suggested. " Yes, monsieur." " Yet, you were not sorry to leave ?" " Yes, monsieur." But on that the meaning of what she had last said came O home to her, or she felt the banality of her answers ; for, on a sudden, she looked swiftly up at me, her face scarlet, and if I was not mistaken she was within a little of bursting into tears. The thought appalled me. I stooped lower. " Mademoiselle !" I said, hurriedly, " pray do not be afraid of me. Whatever happens, you shall never have need to fear me. 18 TIIK RED COCKAliK I beg of you to look on me as a friend as your brother's friend. Louis is my " Crash ! While the name hung on my lips something struck me in the back, and I staggered forward, almost into her arms, amid a shiver of broken glass, a flickering of lights, a rising chorus of screams and cries. For a moment I could not think what was happening, or had happened; the blow had taken away ray breath. I was conscious only of mademoiselle cling- ing terrified to my arm, of her face, wild with fright, looking up to me, of the sudden cessation of the music. Then, as people pressed in on us, and I began to recover, I turned and saw that the window behind me had been driven in, and the lead and panes shattered ; and that among the debris on the floor lay a great stone. It was that which had struck me. CHAPTER II THE ORDEAL IT was wonderful how quickly the room filled filled with angry faces, so that almost before I knew what had happened I found a crowd round me asking what it was, M. de St. Alais foremost. As all spoke at once, and in the background, where they could not see, ladies were screaming and chattering, I might have found it difficult to explain. But the shattered window and the great stone on the floor spoke for themselves, and told more quickly than I could what had taken place. On the instant, with a speed which surprised me, the sight blew into a flame passions already smouldering. A dozen voices cried, " Out on the canaille !" In a moment some one in the background followed this up with " Swords, messieurs, swords !" Then in a trice half the gentlemen were elbowing one another towards the door, St. Alais, who burned to avenge the insult offered to his guests, taking the lead. M. de Gontaut and one or two of the elders tried to restrain him, but their remonstrances were in vain, and in a moment the room was almost emptied of men. They poured out into the street, and began to scour it with drawn blades and raised voices. A dozen valets, running out officiously with flambeaux, aided in the search; for a few minutes the street, as we who remained viewed it from the win- dows, seemed to be alive with moving lights and figures. But the rascals who had flung the stone, whatever the motive which inspired them, had fled in time ; and presently our party returned, some a little ashamed of their violence, others laugh- ing as they entered, and bewailing their silk stockings and be- spattered shoes ; while a few, less fashionable or more impetu- ous, continued to denounce the insult and threaten vengeance. 20 THE RED COCKADE At another time the act might have seemed trivial, a childish insult; but in the strained state of public feeling it had an unpleasant and menacing air which was not lost on the more thoughtful. During the absence of the street party, the draught from the broken window had blown a curtain against some can- dles and set it alight ; and though the stuff had been torn down with little damage, it still smoked among the debris on the floor. This, with the startled faces of the ladies and the shatter. -tarted. The words were not much in themselves, but the surer underlying them was plain. I could scarcelv pass it bv. "If you think, M. le Manjuis," I said, sharply, "that I knew anything of this outrage " "That you knew anything? Mn /<>/, no!" he replied, lightly, and with a eourtlv gesture of deprecation. " We have not fallen to that yet. That any gentleman in this company should sink to play the fellow to those is not possible! But I think \\ . may draw a useful lesson from this, messieurs," he continued, turning from me and addressing the company, "and that lesson to hold our own, or we shall soon lose all." A hum of approbation ran round the room. -To maintain privileges, or we shall lose rights." Twenty voices were raised in assent. " To stand now," he continued, his color high, his hand t "or never '." "Then now ! N'.-vs '." The cry rose suddenly, not from one, but from a hundred 'THE STREET SEEMED TO BE ALIVE WITH MOVING LIGHTS AND FIGURES' THE ORDEAL 23 throats of men and women ; in a moment the room, catching his, seemed to throb with enthusiasm, with the pulse of resolve. Men's eyes grew bright under the candles, they breathed quickly and with heightened color. Even the weakest felt the influence; the fool who had prated of the social contract and the rights of man was as loud as any. " Now ! Now !" they cried, with one voice. What followed on that I have never completely fathomed ; nor whether it was a thing arranged, or merely an inspiration born of the common enthusiasm. But while the windows still shook with that shout, and every eye was on him, M. de St. Alais stepped forward, the most gallant and perfect figure, and with a splendid gesture drew his sword. " Gentlemen !" he cried, " we are of one mind, of one voice. Let us be also in the fashion. If, while all the world is fighting to get and hold, we alone stand still and on the defensive, we court attack, and, what is worse, defeat ! Let us unite, then, while it is still time, and show that, in Quercy at least, our order will stand or fall together. You have heard of the oath of the Tennis Court and the 20th of Jane. Let us, too, take an oath this 22d of July ; not with uplifted hands, like a club of wordy debaters, promising all things to all men, but with uplifted swords. As nobles and gentlemen let us swear to stand by the rights, the privileges, and the exemptions of our order !" A shout that made the candles flicker and jump, that filled the street, and was heard even in the distant market-place, greeted the proposal. Some drew their swords at once, and flourished them above their heads, while ladies waved their fans or ker- chiefs. But the majority cried, "To the larger room ! To the larger room !" And on the instant, as if in obedience to an order, the company turned that way, and, flushed and eager, pressed through the narrow doorway into the next room. There may have been some among them less enthusiastic than others ; some more earnest in show than at heart ; none, I am sure, who, on this, followed so slowly, so reluctantly, with so heavy a heart and sure a presage of evil, as I did. Already I foresaw the dilemma before me; but angry, hot-faced, and un- certain, I could discern no way out of it. ~2 \ TIIK KEU C-OTKADK If I could have escaped and slipped clear from the room, I would have done so without scruple; but the stairs were on the farther side of the great room which we were entering, and a dense crowd cut me off from them : moreover, I felt that St. Alais's eye was upon me, and that, if he had not framed the ordeal to meet my case and extort my support, he was at i determined, now that his blood was fired, that I should not evade it. Still I would not hasten the evil day, and lingered near the inner door, hoping; but the marquis, on reaching the middle of the room, mounted a chair, and turned round, and so contrived still to face me. The mob of gentlemen formed themselves round him, the younger and more tumultuous uttering cries of " Vive la noblesse !" And a fringe of ladies encircled all. The lights, the brilliant dresses and jewels on which they shone, the impassioned faces, the waving kerchiefs and bright t rendered the scene one to be remembered; though at the mo- ment I was conscious only of St. Alais's ga/e. " Messieurs," he cried, " draw your swords, if you please !" They flashed out at the word, with a steely glitter which the mirrors reflected; and M. de St. Alais passed his eye slowly round, while all waited for the word. He stopped ; his eye \\as on me. M. ile Saux," he said, politelv, " we are waiting for you." Naturally all turned to me. I strove to mutter something, and signed to him with my hand to go on. Hut 1 was too much confused to speak clearly; my only hope was that he would comply, out of prudence. Hut, that was the last thing he thought of d>ing. " Will you take your place, monsieur.'" he said, smoothly. Then I could escape no longer. A bundled eyes, smiie impa- tient, some merely curious, rested \\ me. My face burned. " I cannot do SM." I angered. Tlnre fell a great silence from "lie end of the room to the other. " \Vhy not, monsieur, if I mav ask .'" St. Alais said, still smoothly. "Because I am not entirely at one with you," I stami: " ' M. DE SAUX,' HE SAID, POLITELY, ' WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU ! THE ORDEAL 27 meeting all eyes ae bravely as I could. " My opinions are known, M. de St. Alais," I went on, more steadfastly. " I can- not swear." He stayed with his hand a dozen who would have cried out upon me. "Gently, messieurs," he said, with a gesture of dignity, " gently, if you please. This is no place for threats. M. de Saux is my guest ; and I have too great a respect for him not to respect his scruples. But I think that there is another way. 1 shall not venture to argue with him myself. But, madame," he continued, smiling as he turned with an inimitable air to his mother, " I think that if you would permit Mademoiselle de St. Alais to play the recruiting sergeant for this one time she could not fail to heal the breach." A murmur of laughter and subdued applause, a flutter of fans and women's eyes, greeted the proposal. But for a moment Madame la Marquise, smiling and sphinx-like, stood still, and did not speak. Then she turned to her daughter, who, at the mention of her name, had cowered back, shrinking from sight. " Go, Denise," she said, simply. " Ask M. de Saux to honor you by becoming your recruit." The girl came forward slowly, and with a visible tremor ; nor shall I ever forget the misery of that moment, or the shame and obstinacy that alternately surged through my brain as I awaited her. Thought, quicker than lightning, showed me the trap into which I had fallen a trap far more horrible than the dilemma I had foreseen. Nor was the poor girl herself, as she stood be- fore me tortured by shyness and stammering her little petition in words barely intelligible, the least part of my pain. For to refuse her, in face of all these people, seemed a thing impossible. It seemed a thing as brutal as to strike her; an act as cruel, as churlish, as unworthy of a gentleman as to tram- ple any helpless sensitive thing under foot! And I felt that; I felt it to the utmost. But I felt also that to assent was to turn my back on consistency and my life; to consent to be a dupe, the victim of a ruse ; to be a coward, though every one there might applaud me. I saw both these things, and for a moment I hesitated between rage and pity ; while lights and 28 THE RED COCKADE fair faces, inquisitive or scornful, shifted mazily before my eves. At last " Mademoiselle, I cannot," I muttered. " I cannot." Monsieur!" It was not the girl's word, but madamc's, and it rang high and sharp through the room, so that I thanked God for the intervention. It cleared in a moment the confusion from my brain. I became myself. I turned to her ; I bowed. " Xo, madame, I cannot," I said, firmly, doubting no longer, but stubborn, defiant, resolute. "My opinions are known. And I will not, even for mademoiselle's sake, give the lie to them." As the last word fell from my lips, a glove, flung by an un- seen hand, struck me on the cheek ; and then for a moment the room seemed to go mad. Amid a storm of hisses, of " Yan- ricn !" and "A bas le traitre !" a dozen blades were brandished in my face, a dozen challenges were flung at my head. I had not learned at that time how excitable is a crowd, how much less merciful than any member of it ; and, surprised and deaf- ened by the tumult, which the shrieks of the ladies did not tend to diminish, I recoiled a pace. M. de St. Alais took advantage of the moment. He sprang down, and thrusting aside the blades which threatened me, flung himself in front of me. M.-s*ieurs, listen !" he cried, above the uproar. " Listen, I beg ! This gentleman is my guest. He is no longer of us, but he must go unharmed. A way! A way, if you please, for M. le. Vieomte de Saux." They obeyed him reluctantly, ami, falling bai-k to one side or the other, opened a way across the room to the door. He turned to me, and bowed low his courtliest bow. "This way, Monsieur le Vicomte, if you please," he said. ' Madame la Marquise will not trespass on your time anv longer." I followed him with a burning face down the narrow lane of shining parquet, under the chandelier, between tlic lines of morkinir eyes; ami tiot a man interposed. In dead silence I followed him to the door. There he stood aside, and bowed THE ORDEAL 29 to me, and I to him, and I walked out mechanically walked out alone. I passed through the lobby. The crowd of peeping, grinning lackeys that filled it stared at me, all eyes ; but I was scarce- ly conscious of their impertinence or their presence. Until I reached the street and the cold air revived me, I went like a man stunned and unable to think. The blow had fallen on me so suddenly, so unexpectedly. When I did come a little to myself, my first feeling was rage. I had gone into M. de St. Alais's house that evening possess- ing everything ; I came out stripped of friends, reputation, my betrothed ! I had gone in trusting to his friendship, the friend- ship that was a tradition in our families ; he had worsted me by a trick. I stood in the street and groaned as I thought of it, as I pictured the sorry figure I had cut among them, and reflected on what was before me. For presently I began to think that I had been a fool that I should have given way. I could not, as I stood in the street there, foresee the future, nor know for certain that the old France was passing, and that even now, in Paris, its death-knell had gone forth. I had to Jive by the opinions of the people round me ; to think, as I paced the streets, how I should face the company to-morrow, and whether I should fly or whether I should fight. For in the meeting on the morrow Ah ! the Assembly. The word turned my thoughts into a new channel. I could have my revenge there. That I might not raise a jarring note there they had cajoled me, and when cajolery failed had insulted me. Well, I would show them that the new way would succeed no better than the old, and that where they had thought to suppress a Saux they had raised a Mirabeau. From this point I passed the night in a fever. Re- sentment spurred ambition ; rage against my caste, a love of the people. Every sign of misery and famine that had passed be- fore my eyes during the day recurred now, and was garnered for use. The early daylight found me still pacing my room, still thinking, composing, reciting ; when Andre, my old body- servant, who had been also my father's, came at seven, with a note in his hand, I was still in my clothes. 30 THE RED COCKAHK Doubtless lie had heard down-stairs a garbled account of what had occurred, and my cheek burned. I took no notice of his gloomy looks, however, but without speaking I opened the note. It was not signed, but the handwriting was Louis's. "Go home," it ran, "and do not show yourself at the A--<-ni- bly. They will challenge you one by one ; the event is certain. Leave Cahors at once, or you are a dead man." That was all ! I smiled bitterly at the weakness of the man who could do no more for his friend than this. " Who gave it to you ?" I asked Andre. " A servant, monsieur." Whose ?" But he muttered that he did not know ; and I did not press him. He assisted me to change my dress; when I had done, he asked me at what hour I needed the horses. "The horses! For what?" I said, turning and staring at him. " To return, monsieur." " But I do not return to-day !" I said, in cold displeasure. " Of what are you speaking ? We came only yesterday." " True, monsieur," he muttered, continuing to potter over my dressing things, and keeping his back to me. "Still, it is a good day for returning." " You have been reading this note !" I cried, wrathfully. " Who told you that" " All the town knows !" he answered, shrugging his shoul- ders coolly. " It is, ' Andre, take your master home !' and Andre, you have a hot-pate for a master,' and Andre this, and Andre that, until I am fairly muddled ! Gil has a bloody nose tighting a Harincourt lad that called monsieur a fool ; but for me, I am too old for fighting. And there is one other thing I am too old for," he continued, with a sniff. " What is that, impertinent?" I cried. " To bury another master." I waited a minute. Then I said, " You think that I shall be killed?" " It is the talk of the town !" I thought a moment Then, "You served my father, An- dre ?" I said. THE ORDEAL 31 " Ah ! monsieur." " Yet you would have me run away ?" He turned to me, and flung up his hands in despair. " Mon Dieu !" he cried, " I don't know what I would have ! We are ruined by these canaille. As if God made them to do anything but dig and work; or we could do without the poor. If you had never taken up with them, monsieur " " Silence, man !" I said, sternly. " You know nothing about it. Go down now, and another time be more careful. You talk of the canaille and the poor ! What are you yourself !" "I, monsieur?" he cried, in astonishment. " Yes, you !" He stared at me a moment with a face of bewilderment. Then, slowly and sorrowfully, he shook his head, and went out. He began to think me mad. When he was gone I did not at once move. I fancied it likely that if I showed myself in the streets before the Assem- bly met I should be challenged and forced to fight. I waited, therefore, until the hour of meeting was past ; waited in the dull upper room, feeling the bitterness of isolation, and think- ing, sometimes of Louis St. Alais, who had let me go and spoken no word in my behalf, sometimes of men's unreason- ableness ; for in some of the provinces half of the nobility were of my way of thinking. I thought of Saux, too ; and I will not say that I felt no temptation to adopt the course which An- dre had suggested to withdraw quietly thither, and then at some later time, when men's minds were calmer, to vindicate my courage. But a certain stubbornness, which my father had before me, and which I have heard people say comes of an English strain in the race, conspired with resentment to keep me in the way I had marked out. At a quarter-past ten, there- fore, when I thought that the last of the members would have preceded me to the Assembly, I went down-stairs, with hot cheeks, but eyes that were stern enough ; and finding Andre and Gil waiting at the door, bade them follow me to the chap- ter-house beside the cathedral, where the meetings were held. Afterwards I was told that, had I used my eyes, I must have noticed the excitement which prevailed in the streets ; the THE RED COCK A I> K crowd, dense, yet silont, tliat filled the square ami all the neighboring ways ; the air of expectancy, the closed shops, the cessation of business, the whispering groups in alleys and at doors. But I was wrapped up in myself, like one going on a forlorn hope ; and of all remarked only one thing that as I crossed the square a man called out, "God bless you, monsieur!" and another, " Vive Saux !" and that thereon a dozen or more took off their caps. This I did notice ; but mechanically only. The next moment I was in the entry which leads alongside one wall of the cathedral to the chapter- house, and a crowd of clerks and servants, who blocked it almost from wall to wall, were making way for me to pass ; not without looks of aston- ishment and curiosity. Threading my way through them, I entered the empty resti- bule, kept clear by two or three ushers. Here the change from sunshine to shadow, from the life and light and stir which pre- vailed outside to the silence of this vaulted chamber, was so great that it struck a chill to my heart. Here, in the grayness and stillness, the importance of the step I was about to take, the madness of the challenge I was about to fling down in the teeth of my brethren, rose before me ; and if my mind had not hern braced to the utmost by resentment and obstinacy, I must have turned back. But already my feet rang noisily on the stone pavement, and forbade retreat. I could hear a monoto- in >ns voiee droning in the chamber beyond the closed door; and I cr^ed to the door, setting my teeth hard, and preparing myself tn play the man, whatever awaited me. Another moment, and I should have been inside. Mv hand was already <>ri the latch, when sumo one, who had been sitting on tin- sti.ne bench in the shadow under the window, sprang up, and hurried to stop me. It was Louis de St. Alais. He reached me before I could open the door, and, thrusting himself in front of me, set his hark against the panels. "Stup, man! for God's sake, stop!" he cried, passionately, yet kept, his voice low. " What can one do against two hun- dred ? Go back, man, go back, and I will " "Yon will!" I answered with fierce contempt, yet in the same low tone. The ushers were staring curiously at us from THE ORDEAL 33 the door by which I had entered. "You will? You will do, I suppose, as much as you did last night, monsieur." " Never mind that now !" he answered, earnestly, though he winced, and the color rose to his brow. "Only go! Go to Saux, and " " Keep out of the way !" " Yes," he said, " and keep out of the way. If you will do that" " Keep out of the way ?" I repeated, savagely. " Yes, yes ; then everything will blow over." " Thank you !" I said, slowly ; and I trembled with rage. " And how much, may I ask, are you to have, M. le Comte, for ridding the Assembly of me ?" He stared at me. " Adrien !" he cried. But I was ruthless. " No, Monsieur le Comte not Adrien !" I said, proudly ; " 1 am that only to my friends." " And I am no longer one ?" I raised my eyebrows contemptuously. "After last night?" I said. "After last night? Is it possible, monsieur, that you fancy you played a friendly part ? I came into your house your guest, your friend, your all but relative ; and you laid a trap for me, you held me up to ridicule and odium, you " " I did ?" he exclaimed. " Perhaps not with your own voice. But you stood by and saw it done ! You stood by and said no word for me ! You stood by and raised no finger for me ! If you call th It friend- ship" He stopped me with a gesture full of dignity. " You forget one thing, M. le Vicomte," he said, in a tone of proud reti- cence. " Name it !" I answered, disdainfully. "That Mademoiselle de St. Alais is my sister!" "Ah!" "And that, whether the fault was yours or not, you last evening treated her lightly before two hundred people ! You forgot that, M. le Vicornte." " I treated her lightly?" I replied, in a fresh excess of rage. We had moved, as if by common consent, a little from the 34 THE RED COCKAllK door, and by this time were glaring into one another's eyes. "And with whom lay the fault if 1 did ? With \vh<>m lay the fault, monsieur .' You gave me the choice nay, you forced me to make choice between slighting her and giving up opinions and convictions which I hold, in which I have been bred, in which " " Opinions /" he said, more harshly than he had yet spoken. " And what are, after all, opinions ? Pardon me, I see that 1 annoy you, monsieur. But I am not philosophic; I have not been to England and I cannot understand a man " " Giving up anything for his opinions !" I cried, with a savage sneer. " No, monsieur, I dare say you cannot. If a man will not stand by his friends, he will not stand by his opin- ions. To do either the one or the other, M. le Comte, a man must not be a coward." He grew pale, and looked at me strangely. " Hush, mon- sieur!" he said involuntarily, it seemed to me. And a spasm crossed his face, as if a sharp pain shot through him. But I was beside myself with passion. " A coward !" I re- peated. "Do you understand me, M. le Comte? Or do you wish me to go inside and repeat the word before the Assembly i' ' " There is no need," he said, growing as red as he had before been pale. " There should be none," I answered, with a sneer. " May I conclude that you will meet me after the Assembly rises?" He bowed without speaking; and then, and not till tlu-n, something in his silence and his looks pierced the armor of my rage ; and on a sudden I grew sick at heart and cold. It was too late, however ; I had said that which could never be unsaid. The memory of his patience, of his goodness, of his forbear- ance, came after the event. I saluted him formally ; he re- plied ; and I turned grimly to the door again. But I was not to pass through it yet. A second time, when I had the latch in my grasp, and the door an inch open, a hand plucked me back; so forcibly that the latch rattled as it fell, and I turned in a rage. To my astonishment it was Louis again, but with a changed face a face of strange excitement. 1I> retained his hold on me. THE ORDEAL . 35 " No," he said, between his teeth. " You have called me a coward, M. le Viconite, and I will not wait ! Not an hour. You shall fight me now. There is a garden at the back, and " But I had grown as cold as he hot. " I shall do nothing of the kind," I said, cutting him short. " After the Assembly " lie raised his hand and deliberately struck me with his glove across the face. " Will that persuade you, then ?" he said, as I involuntarily recoiled. " After that, monsieur, if you are a gentleman, you will fight me. There is a garden at the back, and in ten min- utes" " In ten minutes the Assembly may have risen," I said. " I will not keep you so long !" he answered, sternly. " Come, sir ! Or must I strike you again ?" " I will come," I said, slowly. "After you, monsieur." CHAPTER III IN THE ASSEMBLY THE blow, and the insult with which he accompanied it, put an end for the moment to my repentance. But short as was the distance across the floor from the one door to the other, it gave me time to think again ; to remember that this was Louis ; and that whatever cause I had had to complain of him, whatever grounds to suspect that he was the tool of others, no friend could have done more to assuage my wrath, nor the most honest more to withhold me from entering on an impossible task. Melting quickly, melting almost instantly, I felt with a kind of horror that if kindness alone had led him to interpose, I had made him the worst return in the world ; and, in fine, before the outer door could be opened to us I repented anew. When the usher held it for me to pass I bade him close it, and, to Louis's surprise, turned, and, muttering something, ran back. Before he could do more than utter a cry I was across the ves- tibule ; a moment, and I had the door of the Assembly open. Instantly I saw before me I suppose that my hand had raised the latch noisily tiers of surprised faces all turned my \vav. I heard a murmur of mingled annoyance and laughter. The next moment I was threading my way to my place with the monotonous voice of the President in my ears, and the scene round ine so changed from that low -toned altercation out- side to this Chamber full of light and life, and thronged with starers that I sank into my seat dazzled and abashed, and almost forgetful for the time of the purpose which brought me thither. A little, and my face grew hotter still; and with good reason. of the benches on which we sat held three. I shared "ONE MOMENT AND 1 HAD THE DOOR OF THE ASSEMBLY OPKN " IN THE ASSEMBLY 39 mine with one of the Harincourts and M. d'Aulnoy, my place being between them. I had scarcely taken it five seconds when Harincourt rose slowly, and, without turning his face to me, moved away down the gangway, and, fanning himself delicately with his hat, assumed a leaning position against a desk with his gaze on the President. Half a minute and D'Aulnoy followed his example. Then the three behind me rose, and quietly, and without looking at me, found other places. The three before me followed suit. In two minutes I sat alone, isolated, a mark for all eyes ; a kind of leper in the Assembly. I ought to have been prepared for some such demonstration ; but I was not, and my cheeks burned as if the curious looks to which I was exposed were a hot fire. It was impossible for me, taken by surprise, to hide my embarrassment, for wher- ever I gazed I met sneering eyes and contemptuous glances ; and pride would not let me hang my head. For many minutes, therefore, I was unconscious of everything but that scorching gaze. I could not hear what was going forward. The Presi- dent's voice was a dull, meaningless drawl to me. Yet all the while anger and resentment were hardening me in my resolve ; and presently the cloud passed from my mind, and left me exulting. The monotonous reading, to which I had listened without understanding it, came to an end, and was followed by short, sharp interrogations a question and an answer, a name and a reply. It was that awoke me. The drawl had been the reading of the cahier ; now they were vot- ing on it. Presently it would be my turn ; it was coming to my turn now. With each vote I need not say that all were affirmative more faces and yet more were turned to the place where I sat ; more eyes, some hostile, some triumphant, some merely curious, were directed to my face. Under other circumstances this might have cowed me ; now it did not. I was wrought up to face it. The unfriendly looks of so many who had called themselves my friends, the scornful glances of new men of en- nobled families, who had been glad of my father's countenance, the consciousness that all had deserted me merely because I maintained in practice opinions which half of them had pro- TIIK KKU COl'KADK claimed in words these, though, hardened me to a pitch of scorn no whit below that of my opponents ; while the knowledge that to hlench now must cover me with lusting shame cl door to thoughts of surrender. The Assembly, on the other hand, felt the novelty of its position. Men were not yet accustomed to the war of the Senate ; to duels of words more deadly than those of the sw<>nl; and a certain doubt, a certain hesitation, held the major- ity in suspense, watching to see what would happen. More- over, the leaders, both M. de St. Alais, who headed the hotter and prouder of the court party, and the nobles of the Robe and Parliament, who had only lately discovered that their interest lay in the same direction, found themselves embarrassed by the very smallness of the opposition ; since a substantial majority must have been accepted as a fact, whereas one man one man only standing in the way of unanimity presented himself as a thing to be removed, if only the way could be discovered. " M. le Comte de Cantal ?" the President cried, and looked, not at the person he named, but at me. " Content !" " M. le Vicomte de Marignac ?" " Content I'' The next name I could not hear, for in my excitement it seemed that all in the Chamber were looking at me, that voice was failing me, that when the moment came I should sit dumb and paralyzed, unable to speak, and forever disgraced. I thought of this, not of what was passing; then in a moment self-control returned; I heard the last name before mine, that of M. d'Aulnoy ; heard the answer given. Then my own name, echoing in hollow silence. M. le Vicomte de Saux ?" I stood up. T spoke, my voice sounding harsh, and like another man's. " I dissent from this cahier !" I cried. 1 expected an outburst of wrath ; it did not come. Instead, a peal of laughter, in whi'-h I distinguished St. Alai-' rang through the room, and brought the blood to my cheeks. The laughter lasted some time, r- and fell, and rose a^iin, while I stood pilloried. Vet this had one effect the laughers did IN THE ASSEMBLY 41 not anticipate. On occasions the most taciturn become eloquent. I forgot the periods from Rochefoucauld and Liancourt, which I had so carefully prepared ; I forgot the passages from Turgot, of which I had made notes, and I broke out in a strain I had not foreseen or intended. " Messieurs !" I cried, hurling my voice through the Cham- ber, " I dissent from this cahier because it is effete and futile ; because, if for no other reason, the time when it could have been of service is past. You claim your privileges ; they are gone ! Your exemptions ; they are gone ! You protest against the union of your representatives with those of the people ; but they have sat with them ! They have sat with them, and you can no more undo that by a protest than you can set back the tide ! The thing is done. The dog is hungry; you have given it a bone. Do you think to get the bone back, unmouthed, whole, without loss ? Then you are mad. But this is not all, nor the principal of my objections to this cahier. France to- day stands naked, bankrupt, without treasury, without money. Do you think to help her, to clothe her, to enrich her, by main- taining your privileges, by maintaining your exemptions, by standing out for the last jot and tittle of your rights? No, messieurs. In the old days those exemptions, those rights, those privileges, wherein our ancestors gloried, and gloried well, were given to them because they were the buckler of France. They maintained and armed and led men ; the commonalty did the rest. But now the people fight, the people pay, the people do all. Yes, messieurs, it is true ; it is true that which we have all heard, ' Le manant paye pour tout /' ' I paused ; expecting that now, at last, the long-delayed out- burst of anger would come. Instead, before any in the Cham- ber could speak, there rose through the windows, which looked on the market-place and had been widely opened on account of the heat, a great cry of applause the shout of the street, that for the first time heard its wrongs voiced. It was full of assent and rejoicing, yet no attack could have disconcerted me more completely. I stood astonished and silenced. The effect which it had on me was slight, however, in compari- son with that which it had on my opponents. The cries of dis- 42 THE RED COCKADE sent they were abont.to utter died still-born at the portent, and for a moment men stared at one another as if they could not be- lieve tlirir ears. For that moment a silence of rage, of surprise, prevailed through the whole Chamber. Then M. de St. Alais sprung to his feet. " What is this?" he cried, his handsome face dark with ex- citement. " Has the King ordered us, too, to sit with the Third Kstate ? Has he so humiliated us? If not, M. le President if not, I say," he continued, sternly putting down an attempt at applause, "and if this be not a conspiracy between some of our body and the canaille to bring about another Jacquerie " The President, a weak man of a robe family, interrupted him. " Have a care, monsieur," he said. " The windows are still open." " Open ?" The President nodded. " And what if they are ? What of it ?" St. Alais answered, harshlv. "What of it, monsieur?" he continued, looking round him with an eye which seemed to collect and express the scorn of the more fiery spirits. " If so, let it be so ! Let them be open. Let the people hear both sides, and not only those who flatter them ; those who, by building on their weakness and ignorance, and canting about their rights and our wrongs, think to exalt themselves into Retzes and Cromwells ! Ye*. M. le Presi- dent," he continued, while I strove in vain to interrupt him, and half the Assembly rose to their feet in confusion, "I repeat the phrase who to the ambition of a Cromwell or a Retz add their violence, not their parts !" The injustice of the reproach stung me, and I turned on him. " M. le Marquis," I cried, hotly, "if by that phrase you refer to me " lie laughed scornfully. " As you please, monsieur," lie " I fling it bark ! I repudiate it !" I cried. " M. de St. Alais has called me a Retz a Cromwell " ' Pardon me," he interposed, swiftly ; " a would-be Ret/ !'' A trait'-r. either way!" 1 answered, striving against the laughter, which at his repartw Hashed through the room, bring- ing the blood rushing to my face. " A traitor either way ! But IN THE ASSEMBLY 43 I say that he is the traitor who to-day advises the King to his hurt." " And not he who comes here with a mob at his back ?" St. Alais retorted, with heat almost equal to my own. "Who, one man, would browbeat a hundred, and dictate to this Assembly ?" " Monsieur repeats himself," I cried, cutting him short in my turn, though no laughter followed my gibe. " I deny what he says ! I fling back his accusations ! I retort upon him ! And, for the rest, I object to this cahier, I dissent from it, I " But the Assembly was at the end of its patience. A roar of " Withdraw ! withdraw !" drowned my voice, and in a moment the meeting, so orderly a few minutes before, became a scene of wild uproar. A few of the elder men continued to keep their seats, but the majority rose ; some had already sprung to the windows and closed them, and still stood with their feet on the ledge, looking down on the confusion. Others had gone to the door and taken their stand there, perhaps with the idea of resist- ing intrusion. The President in vain cried for silence. His O voice, equally with mine, was lost in the persistent clamor, which swelled to a louder pitch whenever I offered to speak, and sank only when I desisted. At length M. de St. Alais raised his hand, and with little dif- ficulty procured silence. Before I could take advantage of it the President interposed. " The Assembly of the noblesse of Quercy," he said, hurriedly, " is in favor of this cahier, main- taining our ancient rights, privileges, and exemptions. The Vicomte de Saux alone protests. The cahier will be presented." " I protest !" I cried, weakly. "I have said so," the President answered, with a sneer. And a peal of derisive laughter, mingled with shouts of ap- plause, ran round the Chamber. " The cahier will be presented. The matter is concluded." Then in a moment, magically as it seemed to me, the Cham- ber resumed its ordinary aspect. The members who had risen returned to their seats ; those who had closed the windows de- scended ; a few retired; the President proceeded with some ordinary business. Every trace of the storm disappeared. In a twinkling all was as it had been. 3 t 44 TI1K HK1) COCKADE Kven where I sat; for no isolation, no division from my fol- lows, could exceed that in which I had sat before. But whereas before I had had my weapon in reserve and my revenge in prospect, that was no longer so. I had shot my bolt, and I sat miserable, fettered by the silence and the strange glances that hemmed me in, and growing each moment more depressed and more self-conscious; longing to escape, yet shrinking from moving, even from looking about me. In this condition not the least of my misery lay in the re- flection that I had done no good ; that I had suffered for a (juixotism, and shown myself stubborn and obstinate to no purpose. Too late I considered that I might have maintained my principles and yet conformed ; I might have stated my convictions, and waived them in deference to the majority. I might have But, alas ! whatever I might have done, I had not done it, and the die was cast. I had declared myself against my order, I had forfeited all I could claim from my order. Henceforth I was not of it. It was m fancy that already men who had occasion to pass before me drew their skirts aside, and bowed formally, as to one of another class. How long I should have endured this penance these veiled insults and the courtesy that stung deeper before I plucked up spirit to withdraw, I cannot say. It was an interposition from without that broke the spell. An usher came to me with a note. I opened it with clumsy fingers under a fire of hostile eyes, and found that it was from Louis. "If you have a spark of honor," it ran, "you will meet me. without a moment's delay, in the garden at the back of the cbapter-hooM. Do so, and you may still call yourself a gentle- man. Refuse, or delay even for ten minutes, and I will publish your shame from one end of Quercy to the other. He cannot call himself Adrien du Pont do Saux who puts up with a blow !" I read it twice while the usher waited. The words had a ernel, heartless rin^ in them ; the taunting challenge \v;is brutal in its directness. Vet my heart grew soft as I read, and I had much ado to keep the tears from my eyes under all those eyes. IX THE ASSEMBLY 45 For Louis did not deceive me this time. This note, so unlike him, this desperate attempt to draw me out, and save me from opponents more ruthless, were too transparent to delude me; and in a moment the icy bands which had been growing over me melted. I still sat alone; but I was not quite deserted. I could hold up my head again, for I had a friend. I remem- bered that, after all, through aU, I was Adrien du Pont de Saux. guiltless of aught worse than holding in Quercy opinions which the Larneths and Mirabeaus, the Liancourts and Rochefoucaulds held in their provinces ; guiltless, I told myself, of aught be- sides standing for right and justice. But the usher waited. I took from the desk before me a scrap of paper, and wrote my answer. " Adrien does not fight with Louis because St. Alais struck Saux." I wrapped it up and gave it to the usher; than I sat back a different man, able to meet all eyes, with a heart armed against all misfortunes. Friendship, generosity, love still ex- isted, though the gentry of Quercy, the Gontauts, and Mari- gnacs sat aloof. Life would still hold sweets, though the grass should grow in the walnut avenue, and my shield should never quarter the arms of St. Alais. So I took courage, stood up, and moved to go out. But the moment I did so a dozen members sprang to their feet also; and as I walked down one gangway towards the door they crowded down another parallel with it offensively, openlv, with the evident intention of intercepting me before I could escape. The commotion was so great that the President paused in his reading to watch the result, while the mass of members who kept their places rose that they might have a better view. I saw that I was to be publicly insulted, and a fierce joy took the place of every other feeling. If I went slowly, it was not through fear ; the pent-up passions of the last hour inspired me, and I would not have hastened the climax for the world. I reached the foot of the gangway; in another moment we must have come into collision, when an abrupt explosion of voices, a great roar in the street, that penetrated through the closed windows, brought us to a halt. We paused, listening and glaring, while the few who had not stood up before rose hurried- 46 THE RED COCKADE ly, and the President, startled and suspicious, asked what it was. For answer the sound rose again dull, prolonged, shaking the windows; a hoarse shout of triumph. It fell not ceasing, but passing away into the distance and then once more it swelled up. It was unlike any shout I have ever heard. Little by little articulate words grew out of it, or succeeded it, until the air shook with the measured rhythm of one stern sentence. " A bas la Bastille ! A bas la Bastille !" We were to hear many such cries in the time to come, and grow accustomed to such alarms ; to the hungry roar in the street, and the loud knocking at the door that spelled fate. But they were a new thing then, and the Assembly, as much outraged as alarmed by this second trespass on its dignity, could only look at its President, and mutter wrathful threats against the canaille. The canaille that had crouched for a century seemed in some unaccountable way to be changing its posture ! One man cried out one thing, and one another ; that the streets should be cleared, the regiment sent for, or complaint made to the Intendant. They were still speaking when the door opened and a member came in. It was Louis de St. Alais, and his face was aglow with excitement. Commonly the most modest and quiet of men, he stood forward now and raised his hand im- peratively for silence. "Gentlemen," he said, in a loud, ringing voice, " there is strange news! A courier with letters for my brother, M. de St. Alais, has spoken in the street. He brings strange tidings." " "What ?" two or three cried. " The Bastille has fallen !" No one understood how should they? but all were silent. Then, " What do you mean, M. St. Alais?" the President asked, in bewilderment; and he raised his hand that the silence might be preserved. "The Bastille has fall.-n ? How ? What is it?" " It was captured on Tuesday by the mob of Paris," Louis answered, distinctly, his eyes bright, "and M. de Launay, the Governor, murdered in cold blood." " The Bastille captured ? By the mob ?" the President ex- '1 .> ^v*v m \- " ' GENTiKMKN,' HE SAID, IS A LOUD, RINGING VOICE, ' THERE IS STRANGK NUVS 1' " IN THE ASSEMBLY 49 claimed, incredulously. "It is impossible, monsieur. You must have misunderstood." Louis shook his head. " It is true, I fear," he said. " And M. de Launay f ' " That too, I fear, M. le President." Then, indeed, men looked at one another, startled, pale- faced, each asking mute questions of his fellows ; while in the street outside the hum of disorder and rejoicing grew moment by moment more steady and continuous. Men looked at each other alarmed, and could not believe. The Bastille, which had stood so many centuries, captured ? The Governor killed ? Im- possible, they muttered, impossible. For what, in that case, was the King doing ? What the army ? What the Governor of Paris? Old M. de Gontaut put the thought into words. " But the King ?" he said, as soon as he could get a hearing. " Doubt- less His Majesty has already punished the wretches?" The answer came from an unexpected quarter, in words as little expected. M. de St. Alais, to whom Louis had handed a letter, rose from his seat with an open paper in his hand. Doubtless if he had taken time to consider he would have seen the imprudence of making public all he knew; but the surprise and mortification of the news he had received news that gave the lie to his confident assurances, news that made the most certain doubt the ground on which they stood, swept away his discretion. He spoke. " I do not know what the King was doing," he said, in mock- ing accents, " at Versailles ; but I can tell you how the army was employed in Paris. The Garde Franchise were foremost in the attack. Besenval, with such troops as have not deserted, has withdrawn. The city is in the hands of the mob. They have shot Flesselles, the Provost, and elected Bailly Mayor. They have raised a militia and armed it. They have ap- pointed Lafayette General. They have adopted a badge. They have" " But, mon Dieu !" the President cried, aghast. " This is a revolt !" " Precisely, monsieur," St. Alais answered. .")< THE KKD COCKADK " And what docs the King?" "He is so good that he has done nothing," was the bitter answer. "And the States - General, the National Assembly at Ver- sailles?" 44 Oh, they ? They, too, have done nothing." 44 It is Paris, then ?" the President said. 44 Yes, monsieur, it is Paris," the marquis answered. 44 But Paris?" the President exclaimed, helplessly. 44 Paris has been quiet so many years." To this, however, the thought in every one's mind, there seemed to be no answer. St. Alais sat down again, and for a moment the Assembly remained stunned by astonishment, prostrate under these new, these marvellous facts. No better comment on the discussions in which it had been engaged a few minutes before could have been found. Its members had been dreaming of their rights, their privileges, their exemp- tions; they awoke to find Paris in flames, the army in revolt, order and law in the utmost peril. But St. Alais was not the man to be long wanting to his part, nor one to abdicate of his free will a leadership which vigor and audacity had secured for him. He sprang to his feet again, and in an impassioned harangue called upon the rnblv to remember the Fronde. u Ai Paris was then, Paris is now!" he cried. 44 Fickle and seditious, to be won by no gifts, but always to be over- come by famine. Rest assured that the fat bourgeois will not ]<>i\ne down had to walk along the skirts of the |>iv-s to get to the inn. \Ve who came later saw this, and it hail its weight with us. We \\i-re m.hles of L'AMI DU PEUPLE 53 the province ; but we were only two hundred, and between us and the Trois Rois, between us and our horses and servants, stretched this line of gloomy faces, these thousands of silent men. No wonder that the sight, and something that underlay the sight, diverted my mind for a moment from M. Harincourt and his purpose, and that I looked abroad ; while he, too, stood gaping and frowning, and forgot me. Perforce we had to go down, one by one, reluctantly, a meagre string winding across the face of the crowd sullen defiance on one side, scorn on the other. In Cahors it came to be remembered as the first triumph of the people, the first step in the degradation of the privileged. A word had brought it about. A word, the Bastille fallen, had combined the floating groups, and formed of them this which we saw the people. Under such circumstances it needed only the slightest spark to bring about an explosion; and that was presently supplied. M. de Gontaut, a tall, thin old man, who could remember the early days of the late King, walked a little way in front of me. He was lame, and used a cane, and, as a rule, a servant's arm. This morning the lackey was not forthcoming, and he felt the in- convenience of skirting instead of crossing the square. Never- theless, he was not foolish enough to thrust himself into the crowd ; and all might have gone well if a rogue in the front rank of the throng had not, perhaps by accident, tripped up the cnne with his foot. M. le Baron turned in a flash, every hair of his eyebrows on end, and struck the fellow with his stick. " Stand back, rascal !" he cried, trembling, and threatening to repeat the blow. " If I had you, I would soon " The man spat at him. M. de Gontaut uttered an oath, and in ungovernable rage struck the wretch two or three blows how many I could not see, though I was only a few paces behind. Apparently the man did not strike back, but shrank, cowed by the old noble's fury. But those behind flung him forward, with cries of " Shame ! A has la Noblesse!" and he fell against M. de Gontaut. In a moment the baron was on the ground. It was so quickly done, while we were walking three or four .". t T1IF. liKl> COCK AUK paces, that only those in the immediate neighborhood St. Alais, the Harincourts, and myself saw the fall. 1'rohably the mob meant no great harm ; they had not yet lost all reverence. But at the time, with the tale of De Launay in my ears and my imag- ination inflamed, I thought that they intended M. ntaut's death, and as I saw bis old head fall I sprang forward to pro- tect him. St. Alais was before me, however. Bounding forward, with rage not less than Gontant's, be burled the aggressor back with a blow which sent him into the arms of bis supporters. Then dragging M. do Gontaut to bis feet, the marquis whipped out his sword, and darting the bright point hither and thither with the skill of a practised fencer, in a twinkling he cleared a s: round him, and made the nearest give back with shrieks and curses. Unfortunately he touched one man; the fellow was not hurt, but at the prick he sank down screaming, and in a second the mood of the crowd changed. Shrieks, half playful, gave way to a howl of rage. Some one flung a stick, which struck the marquis on the chest, and for a moment stopped him. The next instant he sprang at the man who had thrown it, and would have run him through, but the fellow fled, and the crowd, with a yell of triumph, closed over his path. This stopped St. Alais in mid-course, and left him only the choice between retreating or wounding people who were innocent. 1I<- fell back with a sneering word, and sheathed his sword. But the moment his back was turned a stone struck him on the head, and be staggered forward. As he fell the crowd uttered a yell, and half a dozen men dashed at him to trample <>n him. Their blood was up; this time I made no mistake, 1 read mischief in their eyes. The scream of the man whom he had wounded, though the fellow was more frightened than hurt, \\.-is in their ears. One of the Ilarincourts struck down the foremost, but this only enraged without checking them. In a moment he was swept aside and flung back, stunned and reel- ing, and the crowd rushed upon their victim. I threw myself before him. I had just time to do that, and TV "Shame ! shame '." and force back one or two; and then my 1 M. LK BARON TURNKD IN A FLASH, AND STRUCK THE FELLOW WITH HIS STICK' L'AMI DC PKCPLK 57 intervention mast have come to nothing, it mast hare fared as ill with me as with him, if in the nick of time, with a ring of grimy faces threatening us, and a dozen hands upraised, I had not been recognized. Baton, the blacksmith of Saux one of the foremost screamed oat my name, and, turning with out- - tched arms, forced back his neighbors. A man of huge strength, it was as much as he could do to stem the torrent ; but in a moment his frenzied cries became heard and under- stood. Others recognized me ; the crowd fell back. Some one raised a cry of " Vive Saax ! Long live the friend of the peo- ple !" and the shout being taken up first in one place and then in another, in a trice the square rang with the words. I had not then learned the fickleness of the multitude, or that from a bas to vire is the step of an instant ; and despite myself, and though I despised myself for the feeling, I felt my heart swell on the wave of sound. " Vive Saux ! Vive Pami du peuple P* My equals had scorned me, but the people the people whose faces wore a new look to-day, the people to whom this one word, the Bastille fallen, had given new life acclaimed me, For a moment, even while I cried to them, and shook my hands to them to be silent, there flashed on me the things it meant; the things they had to give, power and triboneship ! " Vive Saux ! Long live the friend of the people !" The air shook with the sonnd ; the domes above me gave it back. I felt my- self lifted np on it ; I felt myself for the minute another and a greater man. Then I turned and met St. Alais's eye, and I fell to earth. He had risen, and, pale with rage, was wiping the dust from his coat with a handkerchief. A little blood was flowing from the wound in his head, but he paid no heed to it in the intentness with which he was staring at me, as if he read my thoughts. As soon as something like silence was obtained, he spoke. "Perhaps, if your friends have quite done with us, M. de Saux, we may go home f he said. His voice trembled a little. I stammered something in answer to the sneer, and turned to accompany him, though my way to the inn lay in the opposite direction. Only the two Harincourts and M. de Gontaut were with us. The rest of the Assembly had either got clear, or 58 THE RED COCKADE wen- viewing the fracas from the door of the chapter-house, win- iv they stood, cut off from us by a wall of people. 1 offered my arm to M. <1<- (Juiitaiit, hut he declined it with a frigid how. and t'>.k Ilarincourt's ; and M. le Marquis, when I turned to liim. said, with a cold smile, that they need not trouble me. " Doubtless we shall be safe," he sneered, "if you will give orders to that effect." I bowed, without retorting on him ; he bowed, and he turned away. But the crowd had either read his attitude aright, or gathered that there was an altercation between us, for the mo- ment he moved they set up a howl. Two or three stones were thrown, notwithstanding Buton's efforts to prevent it; and lie- fore the party had retired ten yards the rabble began to press on them savagely. Embarrassed by M. do (Jontaut's presence and helplessness, the other three could do nothing. For an in- stant I had a view of St. Alais standing gallantly at bay with the old noble behind him, and the blood trickling down his cheek. Then I followed them ; the crowd made instant way for me. Again the air rang with cheers, and the square, in the hot July sunshine, seemed a sea of waving hands. M. de St. Alais turned to me. He could still smile, and, with marvellous self-command, in one and the same instant he re- covered from his discomfiture and changed his tactics. " I am afraid that after all we must trouble you," he said, po- litely. " M. le Baron is not a young man, and your people, M. de Saiix, are somewhat obstreperous." " What can I do ?" I said, sullenly. I had not the heart to leave them to their fortunes ; at the same time I was as little disposed to accept the onus he would lay on me. Accompany us home," he said, pleasantly, drawing out his snuffbox and taking a pineh. The people had fallen silent again, but watched us heedfully. " If you think it will serve ?" I answered. " It will," he said, briskly. "You know, M. le Vicomto, that a man is burn and a man dies every minute ? Believe me no KiiiLC dies but another King is born." I winced under the sarcasm, under the laughing contempt "f his eye. Yet I saw nothing for it but to comply, and I bowed L'AMI DU PEUPLE 59 and turned to go with them. The crowd opened before us ; amid mingled cheers and yells we moved away. I intended only to accompany them to the outskirts of the throng, and then to gain the inn by a by-path, get my horses, and be gone. But a party of the crowd continued to follow us through the streets, and I found no opportunity. Almost before I knew it we were at the St. Alais door, still with this rough attendance at our heels. Madame and mademoiselle, with two or three women, were on the balcony, looking and listening ; at the door below stood a group of scared servants. While I looked, however, madame left her place above and in a moment appeared at the door, the servants making way for her. She stared in wonder at us, and from us to the rabble that followed ; then her eye caught the bloodstains on M. de St. Alais's cravat, and she cried out to know if he were hurt. " No, madame," he said, lightly. " But M. de Gontaut has had a fall." " What has happened ?" she asked, quickly. " The town seems to have gone mad ! I heard a great noise a while ago, and the servants brought in a wild tale about the Bastille." " It is true." " What ? That the Bastille" " Has been taken by the mob, madame ; and M. de Launay murdered." " Impossible !" madame cried, with flashing eyes. " That old man ?" " Yes," M. de St. Alais answered, with treacherous severity. " Messieurs the Mob are no respecters of persons. Fortunately, however," he went on, smiling at me in a way that brought the blood to my cheeks, " they have leaders more prudent and saga- cious than themselves." But madame had no ears for his last words, no thought save of this astonishing news from Paris. She stood, her cheeks on fire, her eyes full of tears ; she had known De Launay. " Oh, but the King will punish them !" she cried at last. " The wretches ! The ingrates ! They should all be broken on the wheel ! Doubtless the King has already punished them." . " He will, by-and-by, if he has not yet," St. Alais answered. 60 THE RED COCKADE " But for the moment you will easily understand, madame, that things are out of joint. Men's heads are turned, and they do not know themselves. "We have had a little trouble here. M. de Gontaut has been roughly handled, and I have not entirely escaped. If M. de Saux had not had his people well in hand," he continued, turning to me with a laughing eye, " I am afraid that we should have come off worse." Madame stared at me, and, beginning slowly to comprehend, seemed to freeze before me. The light died out of her haughty face. She looked at me grimly. I had a glimpse of mademoi- selle's startled eyes behind her, and of the peeping servants; then madame spoke. " Are these some of M. de Saux's peo- ple ?" she asked, stepping forward a pace, and pointing to the crew of ruffians who had halted a few paces away, and were watching us doubtfully. "A handful," M. de St. Alais answered, lightly. "Just his body-guard, madame. But pray do not speak of him so harsh- ly ; for, being my mother, you must be obliged to him. If he did not quite save my life, at least he saved my beauty." " With those ?" she said, scornfully. With those or from those," he answered, gayly. " Besides, for a day or two we may need his protection. I am sure that, if you ask him, madame, he will not refuse it." I stood, raging and helpless, under the lash of his tongue ; and Madame de St. Alais looked at me. " Is it possible," she said at last, " that M. de Saux has thrown in his lot with wretches such as those?" And she pointed, with magnificent scorn, to the scowling crew behind me. " With wretches who" Hush, madame," M. le Marquis said, in liis gibing fashion. " You are too bold. For the moment they are our masters, and M. her full height, and speaking with flashing eye. " What ? Would you have me palter with the scum of the streets? With the dirt under our feet '. With the sweepings of the gutter? Ne\ I and mine have no part with traitors !" Madame !" I cried, stung to speech by her injustice. " You L'AMI DU PEUPLE 61 do not know what you say ! If I have been able to stand be- tween your son and danger, it has been through no vileness such as you impute to me." " Impute !" she exclaimed. " What need of imputation, monsieur, with those wretches behind you ? Is it necessary to cry 'A bas le roi !' to be a traitor ? Is not that man as guilty who fosters false hopes and misleads the ignorant? Who hints what he dare not say, and holds out what he dare not promise ? Is he not the worst of traitors ! For shame, mon- sieur, for shame !" she continued. " If your father " " Oh !" I cried. " This is intolerable !" She caught me up with a bitter gibe. "It is !" she retorted. " It is intolerable that the King's fortresses should be taken by the rabble, and old men slain by scullions ! It is intolerable that nobles should forget whence they are sprung, and stoop to the kennel ! It is intolerable that the King's name should be flouted, and catchwords set above it! All these things are in- tolerable ; but they are not of our doing. They are your acts. And for you," she continued and, suddenly stepping by me, she addressed the group of rascals who lingered, listening and scowling, a few paces away "for you, poor fools, do not be deceived. This gentleman has told you, doubtless, that there is no longer a King of France! That there are to be no more taxes nor corvees ; that the poor will be rich, and everybody noble ! Well, believe him if you please. There have been poor and rich, noble and simple, spenders and makers, since the world began, and a King in France. But believe him if yon please. Only now go ! Leave my house. Go, or I will call out my ser- vants, and whip you through the streets like dogs ! To your kennels, I say !" She stamped her foot, and, to my astonishment, the men, who must have known that her threat was an empty one, sneaked away like the dogs to which she had compared them. In a moment I could scarcely believe it the street was empty. The men who had come near to killing M. de Gontaut, who had stoned M. de St. Alais, quailed before a woman ! In a twin- kling the last man was gone, and she turned to me, her face flushed, her eyes gleaming with scorn. til' TMK KKI) COCKADE " There, sir," she said, " take that lesson to heart. That is your brave people ! And now, monsieur, do you go, too ! Henceforth ray house is no place for you. I will have no trai- tors under my roof no, not for a moment." She signed to me to go with the same insolent contempt which had abashed the crowd; but before I went I said out- word. " You were my father's friend, madame," I said, before them all. She looked at me harshly, but did not answer. " It would have better become you, therefore," I continued, ' to help me than to hurt me. As it is, were I the most loyal of His Majesty's subjects, you have done enough to drive me to treason. In the future, Madame la Marquise, I beg that you will remember that." And I turned and went, trembling with rage. The crowd in the square had melted by this time, but the streets were full of those who had composed it; who now stood about in eager groups, discussing what had happened. The \\ord Bastille was on every tongue ; and, as I passed, way \\as made for me, and caps were lifted. "God bless you, M. de Saux," and "You are a good man," were muttered in mv ear. If there seemed to be less noise and less excitement than in the morning, the air of purpose that everywhere prevailed was not to be mistaken. This was so clear that, though noon was barely past, shop- keepers had closed their shops and bakers their bakehoi; and a calm, more ominous than the storm that had preceded it, brooded over the town. The majority of the Assembly had dispersed in haste, for I saw none of the members, though I heard that a large body had gone to the barracks. No one mo- lested me the fall of the Hastille served me so far and 1 mounted, and rode out of town without seeing any one, even Louis. To tell the truth,! was in a fever to be at home; in a fever to consult the only man who, it seemed to me, could advise mo in this crisis. In front of me, I saw it plainly, stretched two roads, the one easv and smooth, if perilous, the other and and toilsome. Madame had called me the Tribune of the iVo- ne.c.w " SHE STAMPED HER FOOT. ' TO TOtTR KENNELS, I SAY !' " L AMI DU PEUPLE 65 pie, a would-be Retz, a would-be Mirabeau. The people had cried my name, had hailed me as a savior. Should I fit on the cap ? Should I take up the role ? My own caste had spurned me. Should I snatch at the dangerous honor offered to me, and stand or fall with the people ? With the people ? It sounded well, but in those days it was a vaguer phrase than it is now ; and I asked myself who that had ever taken up that cause had stood ? A bread-riot, a tumult, a local revolt such as this which had cost M. de Launay his life of things of that size the people had shown themselves capable ; but of no lasting victory. Always the King had held his own, always the nobles had kept their privileges. Why should it be otherwise now ? There were reasons. Yes, truly ; but they seemed less co- gent, the weight of precedent against them heavier, when I came to think, with a trembling heart, of acting on them. And the odium of deserting my order was no small matter to face. Hitherto I had been innocent ; if they had put out the lip at me, they had done it wrongfully. But if I accepted this part, the part they assigned to me, I must be prepared to face not only the worst in case of failure, but in success to be a pariah. To be Tribune of the People, and an outcast from my kind ! I rode hard to keep pace with these thoughts, and I did not doubt that I should be the first to bring the tale to Saux. But in those days nothing was more marvellous than the speed with which news of this kind crossed the country. It passed from mouth to mouth, from eye to eye ; the air seemed to carry it. It went before the quickest traveller. Everywhere, therefore, I found it known. Known by people who had stood for days at cross-roads, waiting for they knew not what; known by scowling men on village bridges, who talked in low voices and eyed the towers of the chateau ; known by stewards and agents, men of the stamp of Gargouf, who smiled incredulously, or talked, like Madame St. Alais, of the King, and how good he was, and how many he would hang for it. Known, last of all, by Father Benoit, the man I would con- sult. He met me at the gate of the chateau, opposite the place where the carcan had stood. It was too dark to see his face, 4 06 l>ut I knew the fall of his soutane and the shape of his hat. I sent on Gil and Andre, and he walked beside me up the ave- nue, with his hand on the withers of my horse. " Well, M. le Vicomte, it has come at last," he said. " You have heard .'" " Buton told me." " What ? Is he here ?" I said in surprise. " I saw him at Cahors less than three hours ago." " Such news gives a man wings," Father Benoit answered, with energy. " I say again, it has come. It has come, M. le Vicomte." " Something," I said, prudently. "Everything," he answered, confidently. "The mob took the Bastille, but who headed them ? The soldiers ; the Garde l'Yanc,aise. Well, M. le Vicomte, if the army cannot be trusted, there is an end of abuses, an end of exemptions, of extortions, of bread famines, of Foulons and Berthiers, of grinding the faces of the poor, of " The cure's list was not half exhausted when I cut it short. "But if the army is with the mob, where will things stop .'" I said, wearily. " We must see to that," he answered. "Come and sup with me," I said; " I have something to tell you, and more to ask you." !!' assented gladly. "For there will be no sleep forme to- night," he said, his eye sparkling. "This is great news, glo- rious news, M. 1 1' Vicomte. Your father would have heard it with j<>\." \iie no change without suffering," he answered, Btontly, though his face fell a little. "His fathers sinned, and he has paid the penalty. But God rest his soul ! I have heard that he was a good man." "And died in his duty," I said, rather tartly. ' "Amen," Father Benoit answered. Vet it was not until we were sitting down in the Chestnut Parlor (which the servants called the English Room), and, with candles us, were busy with our cheese and fruit, that I aj- L'AMI DU PEUPLE 67 predated to the full the impression which the news had made on the cure. Then, as he talked, as he told and listened, his long limbs and lean form trembled with excitement ; his thin face worked. " It is the end," he said. " You may depend upon it, M. le Vicomte, it is the end. Your father told me many times that in money lay the secret of power. Money, he used to say, pays the army, the army secures all. A while ago the money failed. Now the army fails. There is nothing left." " The King ?" I said, unconsciously quoting Madame la Marquise. " God bless His Majesty !" the cure answered, heartily. " He means well, and now he will be able to do well, because the na- tion will be with him. But without the nation, without money or an army a name only. And the name did not save the Bastille." " Then, beginning with the scene at Madame de St. Alais's re- ception, I told him all that had happened to me the oath of the sword, the debate in the Assembly, the tumult in the square; . last of all, the harsh words with which madame had given me my conge all. As he listened he was extraordinarily moved. When I described the scene in the Chamber he could not be still, but in his enthusiasm walked about the parlor muttering. And when I told him how the crowd had cried "Vive Saux !" he repeated the words softly, and looked at me with delighted eyes. But when I came halting somewhat in my speech, and coloring and playing with my bread to hide my disorder to tell him my thoughts on the way home, and the choice that as it seemed to me was offered to me, he sat down, and fell also to crumbling his bread, and was silent. CHAPTER V THE DEPUTATION HE sat silent so long, with his eyes on the table, that pres- ently I grew nettled, wondering what ailed him, and why he did not speak and say the things that I expected. I had been so confident of the advice he would give me that from the first I had tinged my story with the appropriate color. I had let my bitterness be seen ; I had suppressed no scornful word, but supplied him with all the ground he could desire for giving me the advice I supposed to be upon his lips. And yet he did not speak. A hundred times I had heard him declare his sympathy with the people, his hatred of the corruption, the selfishness, the abuses of the government ; with- in the hour I had seen his eye kindle as he spoke of the fall of the Bastille. It was at his word I had burned the carcan ; at his instance I had spent a large sum in feeding the village during the famine of the past year. Yet now now, when 1 expected him to rise up and bid me do my part, lie was silent ! I had to speak at last. "Well?" I said, irritably. " II.-uv you nothing to say, M. le Cure ?" And I moved one of the can- dles, so as to get a better view of his features. But he still looked down at the table, he still avoided my eye, his thin face thoughtful, his hand toying with the crumbs. At last, " M. le Vicomte," he said, softly, " through my moth- er's mother I, too, am noble." I gasped ; not at the fact, with which I was familiar, but at the application I thought lie intended. " And for that," I said, amazed, " you would He raised his hand to stop me. " No," he said, gently, " I THE DEPUTATION 69 would not. Because, for all that, I am of the people by birth, and of the poor by my calling. But " " But what ?" I said, peevishly. Instead of answering me, he rose from his seat, and, taking up one of the candles, turned to the panelled wall behind him, on which hung a full-length portrait of my father, framed in a curious border of carved foliage. He read the name below it. " Antoine du Pont, Vicomte de Saux," he said, as if to himself. " He was a good man, and a friend to the poor. God keep him." He lingered a moment, gazing at the grave, handsome face, and doubtless recalling many things ; then he passed, holding the candle aloft, to another picture, which flanked the table ; each wall boasted one. " Adrien du Pont, Vicomte de Saux," he read, "Colonel of the Regiment Flamande. He was killed, I think, at Minden. Knight of St. Louis, and of the King's bed- chamber. A handsome man, and doubtless a gallant gentle- man. I never knew him." I answered nothing, but my face began to burn as he passed to a third picture behind me. " Antoine du Pont, Vicomte de Saux," he read, holding up the candle, " Marshal and Peer of France, Knight of the King's Orders, a Colonel of the House- hold, and of the King's Council. Died of the plague at Genoa, in 1710. I think I have heard that he married a Rohan." He looked long, then passed to the fourth wall, and stood a moment quite silent. " And this one ?" he said, at last. " He, I think, has the noblest face of all. Antoine, Seigneur du Pont de Saux, of the order of St. John of Jerusalem, Preceptor of the French tongue. Died at Valetta in the year after the Great Siege of his wounds, some say ; of incredible labors and exer- tions, say the order. A Christian soldier." It was the last picture, and after gazing at it a moment he brought the candle back and set it down with its two fellows on the shining table ; that, with the panelled walls, swallowed up the light, and left only our faces, white and bright, with a halo round them, and darkness behind them. He bowed to me. " M. le Vicomte," he said, at last, in a voice which shook a little, " you come of a noble stock." 70 TIIK KKD COCKADK 1 shrugged my shoulders. " It is known," I said. " And for that?" " I dare not advise you." " But the cause is good !" I cried. " Yes," he answered, staring at me, slowly. " I have been saying so all my life. I dare not say otherwise now. But the cause of the people is the people's. Leave it to the people." "Pou say that !" I answered, angry and perplexed. " Von, who have told me a hundred times that I am of the people ! that the nobility are of the people ; that there are only two things in France, the King and the people !" lie smiled somewhat sadly, tapping on the table with .his fingers. " That was theory," he said. " I try to put it into practice, and my heart fails me. Because I, too, have a little nobility, M. le Vicomte, and know what it is." "I don't understand you," I said, in despair. "You blow hot and cold, M. le Cure. I told you just now that I spoke for the people at the meeting of the noblesse, and you approved." " It was nobly done." "Yet now?" "1 say the same thing," Father Ben6it answered, his fine face illumined with feeling. " It was nobly done. Fight for the peo- ple, M. le Vicomte, but among your fellows. Let your voice be heard there, where all you will gain for yourself will be obloquy and black looks. But if it comes, if it has come, to a struggle between your class and the commons, between the nobility and the vulgar; if the noble must side with his fellows or take the people's pay, then " Father Bendit's voice trembled a little, and his thin, white hand tapped softly on the table " I would rather see you ranked with your kind." Against the people?" " Yes, against the people," he answered, shrinking a little. I was astonished. " Why, great Heaven," I said, " the small- est logic " " Ali !" he answered, shaking his head, sadly, and looking at me with kind eyes. " There you beat me; logic is against me. -on, too. The cause of the people, the cause of reform, of honesty, of cheap grain, of equal justice, must be a good one. THE DEPUTATION 71 And who forwards it must be in the right. That is so, M. le Vicomte. Nay, more than that. If the people are left to fight their battle alone, the danger of excesses is greater. I see that. But instinct does not let me act on the knowledge." "Yet, M. de Mirabeau?" I said. "I have heard you call him a great man." " It is true," Father Benoit answered, keeping his eyes on mine, while he drummed softly on the table with his fingers. " I have heard you speak of him with admiration." " Often." " And of M. de Lafayette." "Yes." " And the Lameths." M. le Cure nodded. " Yet all these," I said, stubbornly, " all these are nobles nobles leading the people !" " Yes," he said. " And you do not blame them ?" " No, I do not blame them." " Nay, you admire them ! You admire them, father," I per- sisted, glowering at him. " I know I do," he said. "I know that I am weak and a fool. Perhaps worse, M. le Vicomte, in that I have not the courage of my convictions. But though I admire those men, though I think them great and to be admired, I have heard men speak of them who thought otherwise; and it may be weak, but I knew you as a boy, and I would not have men speak so of you. There are things we admire at a distance," he continued, looking at me a little drolly, to hide the affection that shone in his eyes, " which we nevertheless do not desire to find in those we love. Odium heaped on a stranger is nothing to us; on our friends, it were worse than death." He stopped, his voice trembling, and we were both silent for a while. Still, I would not let him see how much his words had touched me, and by-and-by " But my father ?" I said. " He was strongly on the side of reform !" " Yes, by the nobles, for the people," 7- THE RED C'OCKADE " But the nobles have cast me out !" I answered. " Because I have gone a yard, 1 have lost all. Shall I not go two, and win all back?" " Win all," he said, softly, "but lose how much ;" "Yet if the people win? And you say they will." Fven then, Tribune of the People," he answered, gently, " and an outcast !" They were the very words I had applied to myself as I nde, and I started. With .sudden vividness I saw the picture they presented ; and I understood why Father Benoit had hesitated so long in my case. With the purest intentions and the most upright heart, I could not make myself other than what I was; 1 should rise, were my efforts crowned with success, to a point of splendid isolation : suspected by the people whose benefactor 1 had been, hated and cursed by the nobles whom I had deserted. Such a prospect would have been far from deterring some; and others it might have lured. But I found myself, in this moment of clear vision, no hero. Old prejudices stirred in the blood; old traditions, born of centuries of precedence and privilege, awoke in the memory. A shiver of douht and mis- trust such as, I suppose, has tormented reformers from the first, and caused all but the hardiest to flinch passed through me as I gazed across the candles at the cure. I feared the people the unknown. The howl of exultation, that had rent the air in the market-place at Cahors, the brutal cries that had hailed Gontaut's fall, rang again in my ears. I shrank back, as a man shrinks who finds himself on the brink of an ahvss, and through the wavering mist, parted for a brief in- stant by the wind, sees the cruel rocks and jagged points that wait for him below. It was a moment of extraordinary prevision once more, and though it passed and speedily left me conscious of the silent room and the good cure who affected to be snuffing one of the long candles the effect it produced on my mind con- tinued. After Father Ileiiuit had taken his leave and the house \\a-~ closed, I walked for an hour up and down the walnut avenue, now standing to gaze between the open iron gates that gave upon the road, now turning my back on them, and THE DEPUTATION 73 staring at the gray, gaunt, steep-roofed house with its flanking tower and round tourelles. Henceforth, I made up my mind, I would stand aside. I would welcome reform, I would do in private what I could to forward it ; but I would not a second time set myself against my fellows. I had had the courage of my opinions. Hence- forth no man could say that I had hidden them ; but after this I would stand aside and watch the course of events. A cock crowed at the rear of the house untimely; and across the hushed fields, through the dusk, came the barking of a distant dog. As I stood listening, while the solemn stars gazed down, the slight which St. Alais had put upon me dwindled dwindled to its true dimensions. I thought of Mademoiselle Denise, of the bride I had lost, with a faint regret that was almost amusement. What would she think of this sudden rupture, I wondered. Of this strange loss of her fiance? Would it awaken her curiosity, her interest? Or would she, fresh from her convent school, think that things in the world went commonly so that fiances came and passed, and recep- tions found their natural end in riot ? I laughed softly, pleased that I had made up my mind. But, had I known, as I listened to the rustling of the poplars in the road and the sounds that came out of the darkened world beyond them, what was passing there had I known that, I should have felt even greater satisfaction. For this was Wednesday, the 22d of July ; and that night Paris still palpitated after viewing strange things. For the first time she had heard the horrid cry, " A la lanterne !" and seen a man, old and white-headed, hanged and tortured until death freed him. She had seen another, the very Intendant of the City, flung down, trampled, and torn to pieces in his own streets publicly, in full day, in the presence of thousands. She had seen these things', trembling; and other things also things that had made the cheeks of reformers grow pale, and be- trayed to all thinking men that below Lafayette, below Baillv, below the Municipality and the Electoral Committee, roared and seethed the awakened forces of the faubourgs, of St. Antoine and St. Marceau ! 74 THE RED COCKADE \Vliat could he expected, what was to be expected, but that such outrage's, remaining unpunished, should spread. Within a week the provinces followed the lead of I'aris. Already, on the 21st, the mob of Strasbourg had sacked the Hotel de Ville and destroyed the archives; and during the same week the Bastilles at Bordeaux and Caen were taken and destroyed. At Rouen, at Kennes, at Lyons, at St. Mal<>, were great riots, with lighting; and nearer I'aris, at 1'oissy and St. Germain, the populace hung the millers. But as far as Cahors was con- cerned, it was not until the astonishing tidings of the King's surrender reached us, a few days later tidings that on the 17th of July he had entered insurgent Paris and tamely ac- quiesced in the destruction of the Bastille it was not until that news reached us, and hard on its heels a rumor of the second rising on the 22d, and the slaughter of Foulon and Berthier it was not until then, I say, that the country round us began to be moved. Father Benoit, with a face of aston- ishment and doubt, brought me the tidings, and we walked on the terrace discussing it. Probably reports, containing more or less of the truth, had 1 - reached the city before, and, giving men something else to think of, had saved me from challenge or molestation. But in the country, where I had spent the week iii moody unrest, and not unfrequently reversing in the morning the decision at which I had arrived in the night, I had heard nothing until the cure came I think on the morn- ing of the 29th of July. "And what do you think now?" I said, thoughtfully, when I had listened to his tale. "Only what I did before," he answered, stoutly. "It has eome. Without money, and, therefore, without soldiers who will light, with a starving people, with men's minds full of theories and abstractions that all tend towards change, what can a government do?" "Apparently it can cease to govern," I said, tartly; "and that is not what any one wants." "There must be a period of unrest," he replied, but less confidently. "The forces of order, however, the forces of tin- law, have always triumphed. I don't doubt that they will again." THE DEPUTATION 75 "After a period of unrest?" " Yes," he answered. " After a period of unrest. And I confess I wish that we were through that. But we must be of good heart, M. le Vicomte. We must trust the people ; we must confide in their good sense, their capacity for govern- ment, their moderation " I had to interrupt him. "What is it, Gil?" I said, with a gesture of apology. The servant had come out of the house and was waiting to speak to me. " M. Doury, M. le Vicomte, from Cahors," he answered. "The innkeeper?" " Yes, monsieur, and Buton. They ask to see you." " Together ?" I said. It seemed a strange conjunction. " Yes, monsieur." " Well, show therri* here," I answered, after consulting my companion's face. " But Doury ? 1 paid my bill. What can he want?" " We shall see," Father Benoit answered, his eyes on the door. " Here they come. Ah ! now, M. le Vicomte," he con- tinued in a lower tone, " I feel less confident." I suppose he guessed something akin to the truth ; but for my part I was completely at a loss. The innkeeper, a sleek, complaisant man, of whom, though I had known him some years, I had never seen much beyond the crown of his head, nor ever thought of him as apart from his guests and his ordi- nary, wore, as he advanced, a strange motley of dignity and subservience ; now strutting with pursed lips and an air of extreme importance, and now stooping to bow in a shamefaced and half-hearted manner. His costume was as great a surprise as his appearance, for, instead of his citizen's suit of black he sported a blue coat with gold buttons, and a canary waistcoat, and he carried a gold-headed cane sober splendors, which, nevertheless, paled before two large bunches of ribbons, white, red, and blue, which he wore, one on his breast, and one in his hat. His companion, who followed a foot or two behind, his giant frame and sunburnt face setting off the citizen's plumpness, was similarly bedizened. But though beribboned and in strange 70 THE KED COCKADE company, lie was still Buton, the smith. His face reddened as he met my eyes, and he shielded himself as well as he could behind Doury's form. "Good-morning, Donry," I said. I could have laughed at the awkward complaisance of the man's manner if something in the gravity of the cure's face had not restrained me. " What brings you to Saux?" I continued. "And what can I do for " If it please you, M. le Vicomte," he began. Then he paused, and, straightening himself for habit had bent his la'k he continued, abruptly, " Public business, monsieur. And to have the honor of conferring with you on it." " With me ?" I said, amazed. " On public business ?" He smiled in a sickly way, but stuck to his text. " Kvn so, monsieur," he said. " There are such' great changes, and and so great need of advice " "That I ought not to wonder at M. Doury seeking it at Saux?" " Even so, monsieur." I did not try to hide my contempt and amusement ; but shrugged my shoulders, and looked at the cure. " Well," I said, after a moment of silence, "and what is it ? Have you been selling bad wine ? Or do you want the number of courses limited by Act of the States-General ? Or " Monsieur," he said, drawing himself up with an attempt at diijnitv, " this is no time for jesting. In the present crisis inn- krrpers have as much at stake as, with reverence, the noblesse; and deserted by those who should lead them " " What, the innkeepers?" I cried. He grew as red as a beetroot. " M. le Vicomte understands that I mean the people," he said, stiffly. " Who, deserted, I say, l>y their natural leaders " ' For instance?" " Nf. ](.'. Due d'Artois, M. le Prince de Conde, M. le Due de J'nliirnai-, M. " Hah '." I said. " II. iw have tlu-y deserted?" "Pardien, monsieur! Have you not heard?" " Have I not heard what?" " HIS COSTUME WAS AS GREAT A SURPRISE AS HIS APPEARANCE " THE DEPUTATION 79 " That they have left France ? That on the night of the 17th, three days after the capture of the Bastille, the princes of the blood left France by stealth, and " " Impossible !" I said. " Impossible ! Why should they leave ?" " That is the very question, M. le Vicomte," he answered, with eager forwardness, " that is being asked. Some say that they thought to punish Paris by withdrawing from it. Some that they did it to show their disapproval of His Most Gracious Majesty's amnesty, which was announced on that day. Some that they stand in fear. Some even that they anticipated Foulon's fate " "Fool !" I cried, stopping him sternly for I found this too much for my stomach " you rave ! Go back to your menus and your bouillis! What do you know about state affairs? Why, in my grandfather's time," I continued, wrathfully, " if you had spoken of princes of the blood after that fashion, you would have tasted bread and water for six months, and been lucky had you got off unwhipped !" He quailed before me, and, forgetting his new part in old habits, muttered an apology. He had not meant to give of- fence, he said. He had not understood. Nevertheless I was preparing to read him a lesson when, to my astonishment, Buton intervened. " But, monsieur, that is thirty years back," he said, doggedly. " What, villain !" I exclaimed, almost breathless with astonish- ment, "what do you in this galere?" " I am with him," he answered, indicating his companion by a sullen gesture. " On state business ?" " Yes, monsieur." " Why, mon Dieu" I cried, staring at them between amuse- ment and incredulity, " if this is true, why did you not bring the watch-dog as well ? And Farmer Jean's ram ? And the good-wife's cat? And M. Doury's turnspit? And " M. le Cure touched my arm. "Perhaps you had better hear what they have to say," he observed, softly. " Afterwards, M. le Vicomte " 80 THE KED COCKADE I nodded sulkily. "What is it, then?" I said. " Ask what you want to ask." "The Intendant has fled," Dotiry answered, recovering some- thing of his lost dignity, "and we are forming, in pursuance of advice received from Paris, and following the glorious example of that city, a Committee ; a Committee to administer the affairs of the district. From that Committee I, monsieur, with my good friend here, have the honor to be a deputation." " With him ?" I said, unable to control myself longer. "But, in Heaven's name, what has he to do with the Committee or the affairs of the district ?" And I pointed with relentless finger to Buton, who reddened under his tan, and moved his huge feet uneasily, but did not speak. " He is a member of it," the innkeeper answered, regarding his colleague with a side glance which seemed to express any- thing but liking. "This Committee, to be as perfect as possi- ble, Monsieur le Vicomte will understand, must represent all classes." " Even mine, I suppose," I said, with a sneer. " It is on that business we have come," he answered, awk- wardly. "To ask, in a word, M. le Vicomte, that you will allow yourself to be elected a member, and not only a mem- ber" " What elevation !" " But President of the Committee." After all, it was no more than I had been foreseeing ! It had come suddenly, but in the main it was only that in sober fact which I had foreseen in a dream. Styled the mandate of the people, it had sounded well ; by the mouth of Doury, the innkeeper, Buton assessor, it jarred every nerve in me. I say it should not have surprised me; while such things were hap- pening in the world, with a King who stood by and saw his fortress taken, and his servants killed, and pardoned the rebels ; with an Intendant of Paris slaughtered in his own streets; with rumors and riots in every province, and flying princes, and swinging millers, there was really nothing wonderful in the invitation. And now, looking back, I find nothing surprising '''WHAT IS IT, THEM? 1 I SAID. ' ASK WHAT YOU WANT TO ASK' THE DEPUTATION 83 in it. I have lived to see men of the same trade as Doury stand by the throne glittering in stars and orders, and a smith born in the forge sit down to dine with emperors. But that July day, on the terrace at Saux, the offer seemed of all farces the wildest, and of all impertinences the most absurd. "Thanks, monsieur," I said, at last, when I had sufficiently recovered from my astonishment. " If I understand you right- ly, you ask me to sit on the same Committee with that man?" And I pointed grimly to Buton. " With the peasant born on my land, and subject yesterday to my justice ? With the serf whom my fathers freed ? With the workman living on my wages ?" Doury glanced at his colleague. " Well, M. le Vicomte," he said, with a cough, " to be perfect, you understand, a Com- mittee must represent all." " A Committee !" I retorted, unable to repress my scorn. " It is a new thing in France. And what is the perfect Com- mittee to do ?" Doury, on a sudden, recovered himself, and swelled with im- portance. " The Intendant has fled," he said, " and people no longer trust the magistrates. There are rumors of brigands, too ; and corn is required. With all this the Committee must deal. It must take measures to keep the peace, to supply the city, to satisfy the soldiers, to hold meetings and consider future steps. Besides, M. le Vicomte," he continued, puffing all his cheek, "it will correspond with Paris; it will administer the law ; it will " "In a word," I said, quietly, "it will govern, the King, I suppose, having abdicated." Doury shrank bodily, and even lost some of his color. " God forbid !" he said, in a whining tone. " It will do all in His Majesty's name." " And by his authority ?'* The innkeeper stared at me, startled and nonplussed, and muttered something about the people. " Ah !" I said. " It is the people who invite me to govern, then, is it? With an innkeeper and a peasant? And other innkeepers and peasants, I suppose ? To govern ! To usurp 84 THE RED COCKADK Jlis Majesty's functions? To supersede his magistrates; to bribe his forces? In a word, friend Doury," I continued, suave- ly, "to commit treason? Treason, you understand .'" The innkeeper did; and lie wiped his forehead witli a shak- ing hand, and stood, scared and speechless, looking at me pit- eously. A second time the blacksmith took it on himself to answer. " Monseigneur," he muttered, drawing his great black hand across his beard. " Buton," I answered, suavely, "permit me. For a man who aspires to govern the country, you are too respectful." " You have omitted one thing it is for the Committee to do," the smith answered, hoarsely, looking, like a timid yet sullen dog, anywhere but in my face. "And that is?" " To protect the seigneurs." I stared at him, between anger and surprise. This was a new light. After a pause, "From whom?" I said, curtlv. "Their people," he answered. "Their Butons," I said. "I see. We are to be burned in our beds, are we '" He stood sulkily silent. " Tliank you, Buton," I said. " And that is your return for a winter's corn. Thanks ! In this world it is profitable to do good !" The man reddened through his tan, and on a sudden looked at me for the first time. "You know that you lie, M. le Yi- comte !" he said. " Lie, sirrah T I cried. Yi ^, monsieur," he answered. "You know that I would die f.ir the seigneur, as much as if the iron collar were n>iin.l my neck. That before fire touched the house of Saiix it should burn me. That I am my lord's man, alive and dead. But, mooaeigneur," and, as he continued, he lowered his tone to one of earnestness, striking in a man so mii^h. "there are al>' and there must be an end of them. There are tyrants, and they must go. There are men and women and children starving, and there must be an end of that. There is grinding of the THE DEPUTATION 85 faces of the poor, monseigneur not here, but everywhere round us and there must be an end of that. And the poor pay taxes and the rich go free ; the poor make the roads, and the rich use them ; the poor have no salt, while the King eats gold. To all these things there is now to be an end quietly, if the seigneurs will but an end. An end, monseigneur, though we burn chateaux," he added, grimly. CHAPTER VI A MEETING IN THE ROAD THE unlooked-for eloquence which rang in the blacksmith's words, and the assurance of his tone, no less than this startling disclosure of thoughts with which I had never dreamed of cred- iting him or any peasant, took me so aback for a moment that I stood silent. Doury seized the occasion, and struck in : " You see now, M. le Vicomte," he said, complacently, " the necessity for such a Committee. The King's peace must be maintained." " I see," I answered, harshly, " that there are violent men abroad, who were better in the stocks. Committee? Let the King's officers keep the King's peace ! The proper machin- ery" " It is shattered !" The words were Doury's. The next moment he quailed at his presumption. " Then let it be repaired !" I thundered. "Afon Dieuf that a set of tavern cooks and base-born rascals should go about the country prating of it, and prating to me ! Go, I will have nothing to do with you or your Committee. Go, I say '." " Nevertheless a little patience, M. le Vicomte," he persist- ed, chagrin on his pale face " nevertheless, if any of the no- bility would give us countenance, you most of all " " There would then be some one to hang instead of Doury !" I answered, bluntly. "Some one behind whom he could shield himself, and lesser villains hide. But I will not be the stalking- horse." And yet, in other provinces,'' he answered, desperately, his disappointment more and more pronounced, " M. de Liancourt and M. dc Rochefoucauld have not disdained to " A MEETING IN THE ROAD 87 " Nevertheless, I disdain !" I retorted. " And more, I tell you, and I bid you remember it, you will have to answer for the work you are doing. I have told you it is treason. It is treason ; I will have neither act not part in it. Now go." " There will be burning," the smith muttered. " Begone !" I said, sternly. " If you do not " " Before the morn is old the sky will be red," he answered. " On your head, seigneur, be it !" I aimed a blow at him with my cane, but he avoided it with a kind of dignity and stalked away, Doury following him with a pale, hang-dog face, and his finery sitting very ill upon him. I stood and watched them go, and then I turned to the cure to hear what he had to say. But I found him gone, also. He, too, had slipped away ; through the house, to intercept them at the gates, perhaps, and dissuade them. I waited for him, querulously tapping the walk with my stick, and watching the corner of the house. Pres- ently he came round it, holding his hat an inch or two above his head, his lean, tall figure almost shadowless, for it was noon. I noticed that his lips moved as he came towards me ; but when I spoke he looked up cheerfully. " Yes," he said, in answer to my question, " I went through, the house and stopped them." " It would be useless," I said. " Men so mad as to think that they could replace His Majesty's government with a Com- mittee of smiths and pastry-cooks " " I have joined it," he answered, smiling faintly. " The Committee ?" I ejaculated, breathless with surprise. " Even so." " Impossible !" " Why ?" he said, quietly. " Have I not always predicted this day? Is not this what Rousseau, with his Social Con- tract, and Beaumarchais, with his Figaro, and every philosopher who ever repeated the one, and every fine lady who ever ap- plauded the other, have been teaching? Well, it has come, and I have advised you, M. le Vicomte, to stand by your order. But I, a poor man, I stand by mine. And for the Committee of what seems to you, my friend, impossible people, is not any 88 THE RED COCKADE kind of government " this more warmly, and as if he were arguing with himself " better than none? Understand, mn- sieur, the old machinery lias broken down. The Intendant ha< fled. The people defy the magistrates. The soldiers side with the people. The huissiers and tax-collectors are the good God knows where !" "Then," I said, indignantly, " it is time for the gentry to " Take the lead and govern ?" he rejoined. " By whom ? A handful of servants and game-keepers? Against the people? against such a mob as you saw in the square at Cahors ? Im- possible, monsieur." " But the world seems to be turning upside down," I said, helplessly. " The greater need of a strong, unchanging holdfast not of the world," he answered, reverently, and he lifted his hat a mo- ment from his head and stood in thought. Then he continued : " However, the matter is this: I hear from Doury that the gen- try are gathering at Cahors, with the view of combining, as you , r est, and checking the people. Now it must be useless, and it may be worse. It may lead to the very excesses they would prevent." " In Cahors ?" " No, in the country. Buton, be sure, did not speak without warrant. He is a good man, but he knows some who are not, and there are lonely chateaux in Quercy, and dainty women who have never known the touch of a rough hand, and and children." " But," I cried, aghast, " do you fear a Jacquerie ?" "God knows," he answered, solemnly. "The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge. How many years have men spent at Versailles the peasant's blood, life, bone, flesh ! To pay back at last, it may be, of their own ! But God forbid, monsieur, God forbid ! Yet, if ever, it comes now." When he was gone I could not rest. His words had raised a fever in me what might not be afoot? what might not l>e going on while I lay idle and presently, to quen< !i my thirst for news, I mounted and rode out on the way to Cahors. A MEETING IN THE ROAD 89 The day was hot, and the time for riding ill chosen ; but the exercise did me good. I began to recover from the giddiness of thought into which the cure's fears, coming on the top of Buton's warning, had thrown me. For a while I had seen things with their eyes ; I had allowed myself to be carried away by their imaginations ; and the prospect of a France ruled by a set of farriers and postilions had not seemed so bizarre as it began to look, now that 1 had time, mounting the long hill which lies one league from Saux and two from Cahors, to consider it calm- ly. For a moment the wild idea of a whole gentry fleeing like hares before their peasantry had not seemed so very wild. Now, on reflection, beginning to see things in their normal sizes, I called myself a simpleton. A Jacquerie ? Three cen- turies and more had passed since France had known the thing in the Dark Ages. Could any, save a child alone in the night, or a romantic maiden solitary in her rock castle, dream of its recurrence ? True, as I skirted St. Alais, which lies a little aside from the road at the foot of the hill, I saw at the village turning a sullen group of faces that should have been bent over the hoe ; a group gloomy, discontented, waiting waiting, with shock heads and eyes glittering under low brows, for God knows what. But I had seen such a gathering before ; in bad times, when seed was lacking, or when despair, or some ex- cessive outrage on the part of tliefermier, had driven the peas- ants to fold their hands and quit the fields. And always it had ended in nothing, or a hanging at most. Why should I suppose that anything would come of it now, or that a spark in Paris must kindle a fire here ? In fact, I as good as made up my mind, and laughed at my simplicity. The cure had let his predictions run away with him, and Buton's ignorance and credulity had done the rest. What, I now saw, could be more absurd than to suppose that France, the first, the most stable, the most highly civilized of states, wherein for two centuries none had resisted the royal power and stood, could become in a moment the theatre of bar- barous excesses ? What more absurd than to conceive it turned into the Petit Trianon of a gang of roturiers and canaille ? At this point in my thoughts I broke off, for as I reached it 90 THE RED COCKADE a coach came slowly over the ridge before me and began to de- scend the road. For a space it hung clear-cut against the sky, the burly figure of the coachman and the heads of the two lackeys who swung behind it visible above the hood. Then it began to drop down cautiously towards me. The men behind sprang down and locked the wheels, and the lumbering vehicle slid and groaned downward, the wheelers pressing back, the leading horses tossing their heads impatiently. The road there descends not in lacets, but straight, for nearly half a mile be- tween poplars; and on the summer air the screaming of the wheels and the jingling of the harness came distinctly to the ear. Presently I made out that the coach was Madame St. Alais's, and I felt inclined to turn and avoid it. But the next moment pride came to my aid, and I shook my reins and went on to meet it. I had scarcely seen a person except Father Benoit since the affair at Cahors, and my cheek flamed at the thought of the rencontre before me. For the same reason the coach seemed to come on very slowly ; but at last I came abreast of it, passed the straining horses, and looked into the carriage, with my hat in my hand, fearing that I might see madamc, hoping I might see Louis, ready with a formal salute at least. Politeness re- quired no less. But sitting in the place of honor, instead o/ M. le Marquis or his mother or M. le Comte, was one little figure throned in the middle of the seat; a little figure with a pale, inquiring face that blushed scarlet at sight of me, and eyes that opened wide with fright, and lips that trembled piteously. It was mademoiselle ! Had I known a moment earlier that she was in the carriage and alone, I should have passed by in silence, as was doubtless inv duty after what had happened. I was the last person who should have intruded on her. But the men, grinning, I dare say, at the encounter for probahly madame's treatment of me ws the talk of the house had drawn nj>, and I had reined up instinctively; so that before 1 <|iiitc understood that she was alone, save for two maids who sat with tlieir hacks to the horses, we were gazing at one another like two fools! A MEETING IN THE ROAD 91 " Mademoiselle !" I said. " Monsieur !" she answered, mechanically. Now when I had said that I had said all that I had a right to say. I should have saluted and gone on with that. But something impelled me to add, " Mademoiselle is going to St. Alais ?" Her lips moved, but I heard no sound. She stared at me like one under a spell. The elder of her women, however, an- swered for her, and said, briskly : " Ah, oui, monsieur." " And madame de St. Alais ?" " Madame remains at Cahors," the woman answered, in the same tone, " with M. le Marquis, who has business." Then, at any rate, I should have gone on ; but the girl sat looking at me, silent and blushing ; and something in the pict- ure, something in the thought of her arriving alone and unpro- tected at St. Alais, taken with a memory of the lowering faces I had seen in the village, impelled me to stand and linger, and finally to blurt out what I had in my mind. " Mademoiselle," I said, impulsively, ignoring her attendants, " if you will take my advice you will not go on." One of the women muttered " Ma foi !" under her breath. The other said " Indeed ?" and tossed her head impertinently. But mademoiselle found her voice. " Why, monsieur ?" she said, clearly and sweetly, her eyes wide with a surprise that for the moment overcame her shyness. "Because," I answered, diffidently I repented already that I had spoken " the state of the country is such I mean that Madame la Marquise scarcely understands perhaps that that" " What, monsieur?" mademoiselle asked, primly. " That at St. Alais," I stammered, " there is a good deal of discontent, mademoiselle, and " " At St. Alais ?" she said. " In the neighborhood, I should have said," I answered, awk- wardly. " And and in fine," I continued, very much embar- rassed, " it would be better, in my poor opinion, for mademoiselle to turn and " 92 THE RED COCKADE "Accompany monsieur, perhaps ?" one of the women said; and she giggled insolently. Mademoiselle St. Alais flashed a look at the offender that made me wink. Then, with her cheeks burning, she said : " Drive on !" I was foolish and would not let ill alone. " But, mademoiselle," I said, "a thousand pardons, but " " Drive on !" she repeated ; this time in a tone which, though it was still sweet and clear, was not to be gainsaid. The maid who had not offended the other looked no little scared re- peated the order, the coach began to move, and in a moment I was left in the road, sitting on my horse with my hat in my hand, and looking foolishly at nothing. The straight road running down between lines of poplars, the descending coach, lurching and jolting as it went, the faces of the grinning lackeys as they looked back at me through the dust I well remember them all. They form a picture strange- ly vivid and distinct in that gallery where so many more im- portant have faded into nothingness. I was hot, angry, vexed with myself j conscious that I had trespassed beyond the be- coming, and that I more than deserved the repulse I had suf- fered. But through all ran a thread of a new feeling a quite new feeling. Mademoiselle's face moved before my eyes showing through the dust; her eyes full of daintv surprise, or disdain as delicate, accompanied me as I rode. I thought of her, not of Buton or Doury, the Committee or the cure, the heat or the dull road. I ceased to speculate except on the chances of a peasant rising. That, that alone, assumed a new and more formidable aspect, and became in a moment imminent and probable. The sight of mademoiselle's childish face had given a reality to Buton's warnings which all the cure's hints had failed to impart to them. So much did the thought now harass me that to escape it I shook up my horse and cantered on, Gil and Andr6 followiiiLT, and wondering, doubtless, why I did not turn. Hut, wholly taken uj> with the horrid visions which the blacksmith's words had called up, I took no heed of time until I awoke to find my- self more than half-way on the road to Cahors, which lies three MADEMOISELLE,' I SAID 1 ' A MEETING IN THE ROAD 95 leagues and a mile from Saux. Then I drew rein and stood in the road, in a fit of excitement and indecision. Within the half- hour I might be at Madame St. Alais's door in Cahors, and whatever happened then I should have no need to reproach myself. Or in a little more I might be at home, inglorionsly safe. Which was it to be ? The moment, though I did not know it, was fateful. On the one hand, mademoiselle's face, her beauty, her innocence, her helplessness, pleaded with me strongly, and dragged me on to give the warning. On the other, my pride urged me to return, and avoid such a reception as I had every reason to expect. In the end I went on. In less than half an hour I had crossed the Valandre bridge. Yet it must not be supposed that I decided without doubt, or went forward without misgiving. The taunts and sneers to which madame had treated me were too recent for that, and a dozen times pride and resentment almost checked my steps, and I turned and went towards home again. On each occasion, how- ever, the ugly faces and brutish eyes I had seen in the village rose before me-, I remembered the hatred in which Gargouf, the St. Alais steward, was held ; I pictured the horrors that might be enacted before help could come from Cahors-, and I went on. Yet with a mind made up to ridicule, which even the crowded streets, when I reached them, failed to relieve, though they wore an unmistakable air of excitement. Groups of people, busily conversing, were everywhere to be seen, and in two or three places men were standing on stools in a fashion then new to me haranguing knots of idlers. Some of the shops were shut; there were guards before others, and before the bakehouses. I remarked a great number of journals and pamphlets in men's hands, and that where these were the talk rose loudest. In some places, too, my appearance seemed to create excitement, but this was of a doubtful character a few greeting me respectfully, while more stared at me in silence. Several asked me as I passed if I brought news, and seemed disappointed when I said I did not ; and at two points a handful of people hooted me. This angered me a little, but I forgot it in a thing still more 96 TMK KEU C'OC'KADK surprising. Presently, as I rode, I heard my name called, and, turning, found M. de Gontaut hurrying after mo as fast as liis dignity and lameness would permit. He leaned, as usual, on the arm of a servant, his other hand holding a cane ami snuff- box ; and two stout fellows followed him. I had no reason to suppose that he would appreciate the service I had done him more highly, or acknowledge it more gratefully, than on the day of the riot, and my surprise was great when he came up, his face all smiles. Nothing for months has given me so mucli pleasure as this," he said, saluting me with overwhelming cordiality. " By my faith, M. le Vicomte, you have outdone us all! You will have such a reception yonder ! and you have brought two good knaves, I see. It is not fair," lie continued, nodding his head with senile jocularity. " I declare it is not fair. But you know the text? 'There is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than ' Ha ! ha ! Well, we must not be jealous. You have taught them a lesson, and now we are united." "But, M. le Baron," I said, in amazement, as, obeying his gesture, I moved on, while he limped jauntily beside me, "I do not understand you in the least?" " You don't ?" " No !" I said. Ah ! you did not think that we should hear it so soon," lie replied, shaking his head sagely. "Oh, I can tell yon we are well provided. The campaign has begun, and the information department has not been neglected. Little escapes us, ami we shall soon set these rogues right. But, for the fact, that damned rascal Doury let it out. I hear you told them some tine home truths. A Committee, the insolents ! And in our teeth ! But you gave them a sharp set-k'U'k, 1 hear, M. le Yieomte. If you had joined it, now " II' stopped abruptly. A man crossing the street had slightly jostled him. The old noble lost his temper, and on the instant raised his stick with a passionate oath, and the man cowered away, l>ege appea !" he eried after him, in a voice trembling with A MEETING IN THE ROAD 97 rage, " you would throw me down again, would you ? We will put you in your place by-and-by. We will why, Dieuf when I was young " " But, M. le Baron," I said, to divert his attention, for two or three bystanders were casting ugly looks at us, and I saw that it needed little to bring about a fracas, "are you quite sure that we shall be able to keep them in check ?" The old noble still trembled, but he drew himself up with a gesture of pathetic gallantry. " You shall see !" he cried. " When it comes to hard knocks, you shall see, monsieur. But here we are ; and there is Ma- dame St. Alais on the balcony, with some of her body-guard." He paused to kiss his hand, with the air of a Polignac. " Up there, M. le Vicomte, you will see what you will see," he con- tinued. "And I I shall be in luck, too; for I have brought you." It seemed to me more like a dream than a reality. A fort- night before I had been spurned from this house with insults ; I had been bidden never to enter it again. Now, on the balco- nies, from which pretty faces and powdered heads looked down, handkerchiefs fluttered to greet me. On the stairs, which, crowded with servants and lackeys, shook under the constant stream of comers and goers, I was received with a. hum of ap- plause. In every corner snuffboxes were being tapped and canes handled ; the flashing of roguish eyes behind fans vied with the glitter of mirrors. And through all a lane was made for me. At the door Louis met me. A little farther on madame came half- way xacross the room to me. It was a triumph a tri- umph which 1 found inexplicable, unintelligible, until I learned that the rebuff which I had administered to the deputation had been exaggerated a dozen times, nay, a hundred times, until it met oven the wishes of the most violent ; while the sober and thoughtful were too glad to hail in my adhesion the proof of that reaction which the royalist party, from the first day of the troubles, never ceased to expect. No wonder that, taken by surprise and intoxicated with in- cense, I let myself go. To have declared, in that company, and with madame's gracious words in my ears, that I had not come to 98 THK RED COCKADK join them, that I had come on a different errand altogether ; that though I had repelled the deputation I had no intention of act- ing against it, would have required a courage and a hardnes- I could not boast; while the circumstances of the deputation, Doury's presumption and Buton's hints, to say nothing of the violence of the Parisian mob, had not failed to impress me unfa- vorably. With a thousand others who had prepared themselves to welcome reform, I recoiled when I saw the lengths to which it was tending; and, though nothing had been further from my mind when I entered Cahors than to join myself to the St. Alais faction, I found it impossible to reject their apologies on the spot, or explain on the instant the real purpose with which I had come to them. I was, in fact, the sport of circumstances ; weak, it will be said, in the wrong place, and stubborn in the wrong; betraying a boy's petulance at one time, and a boy's fickleness at another; and now a tool and now a churl. Perhaps truly. But it was a time of trial; nor was I the only man or the oldest man who in those days changed his opinions, and again within the week went back, or who found it hard to find a cockade, white, Mark, red, or tricolor, to his taste. Besides, flattery is sweet, and I was young; moreover, 1 had mademoiselle in my head, and nothing could exceed madam< \ graciousness. I think she valued me the more for my late revolt, and prided herself on my reduction in proportion as I had shown myself able to resist. 44 Few words are better, M. le Vicomte," she said, with a dig- nitv which honored me equally with herself. " Many things have happened since I saw yon. We arc neither of us quite of the same opinion. Forgive me. A woman's word and a man's sword do no dishonor." I bowed, blushing with pleasure. After a fortnight spent in solitude these moving groups, bowing, smiling, talking in low. earnest tones of the one purpose, the one aim, had immense in- fluence with me. I felt the contagion. 1 let madame take me into her confidence. " The King" it was always the King with her " in a week or two the King will assert himself. \- \< t his ear has been -. JHBHH^B^HIHHiSB ''HK PAUSED TO KISS HIS HAND" A MEETING IN THE ROAD 101 abused. It will pass ; in the meantime we must take our proper places. We must arm our servants and keepers, repress disor- der, and resist encroachment." " And the Committee, madame !" She tapped me, smiling, with the ends of her dainty fingers. " We will treat it as you treated it," she said. "You think that you will be strong enough?" " We," she answered. " We?" I said, correcting myself, with a blush. " Why not? How can it be otherwise ?" she replied, looking proudly round her. " Can you look round and doubt it, M. le Vicomte ?" " But France ?" I said. " We are France," she retorted, with a superb gesture. And certainly the splendid crowd that filled her rooms was almost warrant for the words ; a crowd of stately men and fair women such as I have seen only once or twice since those days. Under the surface there may have been pettiness and senility ; the exhaustion of vice ; jealousy and lukewarmness and dissen- sion ; but the powder and patches, the silks and velvets of the old regime, gave to all a semblance of strength, and at least the appearance of dignity. If few were soldiers, all wore swords and could use them. The fact that the small sword, so power- ful a weapon in the duel, is useless against a crowd armed with stones and clubs had not yet been made clear. Nothing seemed more easy than for two or three hundred swordsmen to rule a province. At any rate, I found nothing but what was feasible in the no- tion ; and with little real reluctance, if no great enthusiasm, I pinned on the white cockade. Putting all thoughts of present reform from my mind, I agreed that order order was the one pressing need of the country. On that all were agreed, and all were hopeful. I heard no misgivings, but a good deal of vaporing, in which poor M. le Gontaut, with the palsy almost upon him, had his part. No one dropped a hint of danger in the country, or of a revolt of the peasants. Even to me, as I stood in the brilliant crowd, the danger grew to seem so remote and unreal that delicacy as well 102 THE RED COCKADE as the fear of ridicule kept me silent. I could not speak of mademoiselle without awkwardness, and so the warning wlii<-h I had come to give died on my lips. I saw that I should be laughed at; I fancied myself deceived, and I was silent. It was only when, after promising to return next day, I stood at the door prepared to leave, and found myself alone with Louis, that I let a word fall. Then I asked him, with a little hesita- tion, if he thought that his sister was quite safe at St. Alais. Why not?" he said, easily, with his hand on my shoulder. "The trouble is not in the town only," I hinted. " Nor per- haps the worst of the trouble." II'- shrugged his shoulders, smiling. "You think too much of it, mon cker" he answered. " Believe me, now that we are at one the trouble is over." And that was the evening of the 4th of August, the day on which the Assembly in Paris renounced at a single sitting all immunities, exemptions, and privileges, all feudal dues, and fines, and rights, all tolls, all tithes, the salt tax, the game laws, capitaineries ! At one sitting, on that evening ; and Louis thought that the trouble was over ! CHAPTER VII THE ALARM AT that time a brazier in the market-place and three or four lanterns at street crossings made up the most of the piiblic lighting. When I paused, therefore, to breathe my horse on the brow of the slope beyond the Valandre bridge, and looked back on Cahors, I saw only darkness, broken here and there by a blur of yellow light, that still, by throwing up a fragment of wall or eaves, told in a mysterious way of the sleeping city. The river, a faint, shimmering line, conjectured rather than seen, wound round all. Above, clouds were flying across the sky, and a wind, cold for the time of year, cold, at least, after, the heat of the day chilled the blood, and slowly filled the mind with the solemnity of night. As I stood listening to the breathing of the horses, the ex- citement in which I had passed the last few hours died away, and left me wondering wondering, and a little regretful. The exaltation gone, I found the scene I had just left flavorless ; I even presently began to find it worse. Some false note in the cynical, boastful voices and the selfish, the utterly selfish, plans to which I had been listening for hours, made itself heard in the stillness. Madame's "We are France," which had sounded well enough amid the lights and glitter of the salon, among laces and fripons and rose-pink coats, seemed folly in the face of the infinite night, behind which lay twenty-five mill- ions of Frenchman. However, what I had done, I had done. I had the white cock- ade on my breast ; I was pledged to order and to my order. And it might be the better course. But, with reflection, enthu- siasm faded ; and, by some strange process, as it faded, and the 104 THE RED COCKADE scene in which I had just taken part lost its hold, the errand that had brought me to Cahors recovered importance. As Madame St. Alais's influence grew weak, the memory of mad- emoiselle, sitting lonely and scared in her coach, grew vivid, until I turned my horse fretfully, and endeavored to lose the thought in rapid movement. But it is not so easy to escape from one's self at night as in the day. The soughing of the wind through the chestnut-trees, the drifting clouds, and the sharp ring of hoofs on the road, all laid as it were a solemn finger on the pulses and stilled them. The men behind me talked in sleepy voices, or rode silently. The town lay a hundred leagues behind. Not a light appeared on the upland. In the world of night through which wo rode, a world of black, mysterious bulks rising suddenly against the gray sky, and as suddenly sinking, we were the only inhab- itants. At last we reached the hill above St. Alais, and I looked eagerly for lights in the valley ; forgetting that, as it wanted only an hour of midnight, the village would have retired hours before. The disappointment and the delay for the steepness of the hill forbade any but a walking pace fretted me ; and when I heard, a moment later, a certain noise behind me, a noise I knew only too well, I flared up. "Stay, fool !" I cried, reining in my horse, and turning in the saddle. " That mare has broken her shoe again, and you are riding on as if nothing were the matter! Get down and see. Do you think that I " " Pardon, monsieur," Gil muttered. He had been sleeping in his saddle. ll< scrambled down. The mare he rode, a valuable one, had a knack of breaking her hind shoe ; after which she never failed to lame herself at the first opportunity. Buton had tried every method of shoeing, but without success. I sprang to the ground while he lifted the foot. My oar had not deceived me ; the shoe was broken. Gil tried to remove the jagged fragment left on the hoof, but the mare was restive, and !) had to desist. She cannot go to Saux in that state," I said, angrily. THE ALARM 105 The men were silent for a moment, peering at the mare. Then Gil spoke. " The St. Alais forge is not three hundred yards down the lane, monsieur," he said. " And the turn is yonder. We could knock up Petit Jean, and get him to bring his pincers here. Only" " Only what ?" I said, peevishly. " I quarrelled with him at Cahors Fair, monsieur," Gil an- swered, sheepishly ; "and he might not come for us." " Very well," I said, gruffly, " I will go. And do you stay here and keep the mare quiet." Andre held the stirrup for me to mount. The smithy, the first hovel in the village, was a quarter of a mile away, and, in reason, I should have ridden to it. But in my irritation I was ready to do anything they did not propose, and, roughly reject- ing his help, I started on foot. Fifty paces brought me to the branch road that led to St. Alais, and, making out the turning with a little difficulty, I plunged into it, losing in a moment the cheerful sound of jingling bits and the murmur of the men's voices. Poplars rose on high banks on either side of the lane and made the place as dark as a pit, and I had almost to grope my way. A stumble added to my irritation, and I cursed the St. Alais for the ruts, and the moon for its untimely setting. The ceaseless whispering of the poplar leaves went with me, and, in some unaccountable way, annoyed me. I stumbled again, and swore at Gil, and then stopped to listen. I was in the road, and yet I heard the jingling of bits again, as if the horses were fol- lowing me. I stopped angrily to listen, thinking that the men had dis- obeyed my orders. Then I found that the sound came from the front, and was heavier and harder than the ringing of bit or bridle. I groped my way forward, wondering somewhat, until a faint, ruddy light, shining on the darkness and the poplars, prepared me for the truth welcome, though it seemed of the strangest that the forge was at work. As I took this in, I turned a corner, and came within sight of the smithy, and stood in astonishment. The forge was in full 106 THE RED COCKADE blast. Two hammers were at work ; I could see them rising and falling, and hear, though they seemed to he muffled, the rhythmical jarring clang as they struck the metal. The ruddy glare of the fire flooded the road and burnished the opp trees, and flung long, black shadows on the sky. Such a sight filled me with the utmost astonishment, for it was nearly midnight. Fortunately, something else I saw aston- ished me still more, and stayed my foot. Between the point where I stood by the hedge and the forge a number of men were moving and flitting to and fro ; men with bare arms and matted heads, half-naked, with skins burned black. It would have been hard to count them, they shifted so quickly ; and I did not try. It was enough for me that one-half of them car- ried pikes and pitchforks, and that one man seemed to be de- tailing them into groups, and giving them directions ; and that, notwithstanding the occasional jar of the hammers, an air of ferocious stealth marked their movements. For a moment I stood rooted to the spot. Then, instinctively, I stepped aside into the shadow of the hedge, and looked again. The man who acted as the leader carried an axe on his shoul- der, the broad blade of which, as it caught the glow of the furnace, seemed to be bathed in blood. He was never still this man. One moment he moved from group to group, ges- ticulating, ordering, encouraging. Now he pulled a man out of one troop and thrust him forcibly into another; now he made a little speech, which was dumb play to me, a hundred paces away ; now he went into the forge, and his huge luilk for a moment intercepted the light. It was iVtit Jean, the smith. I made use of the momentary darkness which he caused on one of these occasions and stole a little nearer. Fur I knew now what was before me. I knew perfectly that all this meant blood, fire, outrage ; flames rising l heaven, screams startling the stricken night ! But I must know more if I would do anything. I went nearer, therefore, creeping along the hedge and crouching in the ditch, until no more than twelve yards separated me from the muster. Then I stood still, as IVtit Jean came out again to distribute another bundle of weapons, clutched instantly and eagerly by grimy hands. I could hear " FOR A MOMENT I STOOD ROOTED TO THE SPOT ' THE ALARM 109 now, and I shuddered at what I heard. Gargouf was in every mouth. Gargouf, the steward, coupled with grisly tortures and slow deaths, with old sins and outrages and tyrannies, now for the first time voiced, now to be expiated ! At last one man laid the torch by crying alond, " To the chateau ! To the chateau !" and in an instant the words changed the feelings with which I had hitherto stared into immediate horror. I started forward. My impulse, for a mo- ment, was to step into the light and confront them to per- suade, menace, cajole, turn them any way from their purpose. But in the same moment reflection showed me the hopelessness of the attempt. These were no longer peasants, dull, patient clods, such as I had known all my life, but maddened beasts ; I read it in their gestures and the growl of their voices. To step forward would be only to sacrifice myself ; and with this thought I crept back, gained the deeper shadow, and, turning on my heel, sped down the lane. The ruts and the darkness were no longer anything to me. If I stumbled, I did not notice it. If I fell, it was no matter. In less than a minute I was standing breathless by the astonished servants, striving to tell them quickly what they must do. " The village is rising !" I panted. " They are going to burn the chateau, and mademoiselle is in it ! Gil, ride, gallop, lose not a minute, to Cahors, and tell M. le Marquis. He must bring what forces he can. And do you, Andre, go to Saux. Tell Father Benoit. Bid him do his utmost bring all he can." For answer they stared, open-mouthed, through the dusk. "And the mare, monsieur?" one asked, at last, dully. "Fool! Let her go!" I cried. "The mare? Do you under- stand ? The chateau is " " And you, monsieur ?" " I am going to the house by the garden wing. Now go ! Go, men !" I continued. " A hundred livres to each of you if the house is saved !" I said the house, because I dared not speak what was really in my mind, because 1 dared not picture the girl, young, help- less, a woman, in the hands of those monsters. Yet it was that which goaded me now ; it was that which gave me such 110 THE KKD COCKADE strength that, before the men had ridden many yards, I had forced my way through the thick fence as if it bad been a mass of cobwebs. Once on the other side, in the open, I hastened across one field and a second, skirted the village, and made for the gardens which abutted on the east wing of the chateau. I knew these well; the part farthest from the house, and most easy of entrance, was a wilderness, in which I had often played as a child. There was no fence round this except a wooden paling, and none between it and the more orderly portion, while a side door opened from the latter into a passage leading to the great hall of the chateau. The house, a long, regular building, reared by the marquis's father, was composed of two wings and a main block. All faced the end of the village street at a dis- tance of a hundred paces a wide, dusty, ill-planted avenue leading from the iron gates, which stood always open, to the state entrance. The rioters had only a short distance to go, therefore, and no obstacle between them and the house ; none when they reached it of greater consequence than ordinary doors and shut- ters, should the latter be closed. As I ran I shuddered to think how defenceless all lay ; and how quickly the wretches, burst- ing in the doors, would overrun the shining parquets and sweep up the spacious staircase. The thought added wings to my feet. I had farther to go than they had, and over hedges, but before the first sounds of their approach reached the house I was already in the wilder- ness, and forcing my way through it, stumbling over stumps and bushes, falling more than once, covered with dust and sweat, but still pushing on. At last I sprang into the open garden, with its shadowy walks and nymphs and fauns, and looked towards the village. A dull red light was beginning to show among the trunks of the avenue; a murmur of voices sounded in tlu- distance. They were coming! I wasted no more than a single glance ; then I ran down the walk between the statues. In a moment I passed into the darker shadow under the house ; I was at the door. I thrust my shoulder against it. It resisted ; it resisted, and every moment was precious. I could no longer see the ap- THE ALARM 111 preaching lights nor hear the voices of the crowd the angle of the house interposed ; but I could imagine only too vividly how they were coming on ; I fancied them already at the great door. I hammered on the panels with my fist ; then I fumbled for the latch, and found it. It rose, but the door held. I shook it. I shook it again in a frenzy ; at last, forgetting caution, I shouted shouted more loudly. Then, after an age, as it seemed to me, standing panting in the darkness, I heard halting foot- steps come along the passage, and saw a line of light grow and brighten under the door. At last a quavering voice asked : " Who is it ?" " M. de Saux," I answered, impatiently. " M. de Saux. Let me in; let me in. Do you hear?" And I struck the panels wrathfully. " Monsieur," the voice answered, quavering more and more, " Is there anything the matter ?" " Matter ? They are going to burn the house, fool !" I cried. " Open ! open ! if you do not wish to be burned in your beds !" For a moment I fancied that the man still hesitated. Then he unbarred. In a twinkling I was inside, in a narrow passage, with dingy, stained walls. An old man, lean-jawed and feeble, an old valet whom I had often seen at worsted work in the ante- room, confronted me, holding an iron candlestick. The light shook in his hands, and his jaw fell as he looked at me. I saw that I had nothing to expect from him, and I snatched the bar from his hands and set it back in its place myself. Then I seized the light. " Quick !" I said, passionately. " To your mistress." " Monsieur ?" " Up-stairs ! Up-stairs !" He had more to say, but I did not wait to hear it. Knowing the way and having the candle, I left him, and hurried along the passage. Stumbling over three or four mattresses that lay on the floor, doubtless for the servants, I reached the hall. Here my taper shone a mere speck in a cavern of blackness ; but it gave me light enough to see that the door was barred, and I turned to the staircase. As I set my foot on the lowest 112 THK RED COCKADE step the old valet, who was following me as fast as his trem- bling legs would carry him, blundered against a spinning-wheel that stood in the hall. It fell with a clatter, and in u moment a chorus of screams and cries broke out above. 1 sprang up the stairs three at a stride, and in the lobby came on the screamers a terrified group, whose alarm the doubtful light of a tallow-candle, that stood beside them on the floor, could not exaggerate. Nearest to me stood an old footman and a boy ; their terror-stricken eyes met mine as I mounted the last stairs. Behind them, and crouching against a tapestry-covered seat that ran along the wall, were the rest three or four women, who shrieked and hid their faces in one another's garments. They did not look up or take any heed of me, but continued to scream steadily. The old man, with a quavering oath, tried to still them. " Where is Gargouf ?" I asked him. " I le has gone to fasten the back doors, monsieur," he answered. " Ami mademoiselle ?" " She is yonder." He turned as he spoke, and I saw behind him a heavy cur- tain hiding the oriel-window of the lobby. It moved while I looked, and mademoiselle emerged from its folds, her small, childish face pale but strangely composed. She wore a light, loose robe, hastily arranged, and had her hair hanging free at her back. In the gloom and confusion, which the feeble can- dles did little to disperse, she did not at first see me. " Has Gargouf come back ?" she asked. " No, mademoiselle, but " The man was going to point me out; she interrupted him with a sharp cry of anger. " Stop these fools !" she said. " Oh, stop these fools ! I can- not hear myself speak. Let some one call Gargouf ! Is there no one to do anything?" One of the old men pottered off to do it, leaving her standing in the middle of the terror-stricken group a white, pathetic little figure, keeping fear at bay with both hands. The dark curtains behind threw her face and form into high relief ; but admiration was the last thought in my mind. 1 AN OLD MAN, LEAN-JAWED AND FEEBLE, CONFRONTED ME ' THE ALARM 115 " Mademoiselle," I said, " you must fly by the garden door." She started and stared at me, her eyes dilating. " Monsieur de Saux," she muttered. " Are you here ? I do not I do not understand. I thought " " The village is rising," I said. " In a moment they will be here." " They are here already," she answered, faintly. She meant only that she had seen their approach from the window ; but a dull murmur that at the moment rose on the air outside, and penetrating the walls, grew each instant louder and more sinister, seemed to give another significance to her words. The women listened with white faces, then began to scream afresh. A reckless movement of one of them dashed out the nearer of the two lights. The old man who had admitted me began to whimper. "Oh, man Dieuf" I cried, fiercely, "can no one still these cravens?" For the noise almost robbed me of the power of thought, and never had thought been more necessary. " Be still, fools!" I continued. " No one will hurt you. And do you, mademoiselle, please to come with me. There is not a mo- ment to be lost. The garden by which I entered " But she looked at me in such a way that I stopped. " Is it necessary to go ?" she said, doubtfully. " Is there no other way, monsieur?" The noise outside was growing louder. " What men have you ?" I said. "Here is Gargouf," she answered, promptly. "He will tell you." I turned to the staircase, and saw the steward's face, at all times harsh and grim, rising out of the well of the stairs. He had a candle in one hand and a pistol in the other ; and his features as his eyes met mine wore an expression of dogged anger, the sight of which drew fresh cries from the women. But I rejoiced to see him, for he at least betrayed no signs of flinching. I asked him what men he had. " You see them," he answered, dryly, betraying no surprise at my presence. " Only these ?" 116 THE RED COCKADE " There were three more," he said. u But I found the doors unbarred, and the- men gone. I am keeping this," he continued, with a dark glance at his pistol, "for one of them." Mademoiselle must go!" I said. He shrugged his shoulders with an indifference that mad- dened me. " IIow ?" he asked. " By the garden door." " They are there. The house is surrounded." I cried out at that, in despair ; and on the instant, as if to give point to his words, a furious blow fell on the great doors below, and, awakening every echo in the house, proclaimed that the moment was come. A second shock followed; then a rain 'of blows. While the maids shrieked and clung to one another, I looked at mademoiselle, and she at me. " We must hide you," I muttered. " No," she said. " There must be some place," I said, looking round me des- perately, and disregarding her answer. The noise of the blows was deafening. "In the " " I will not hide, monsieur," she answered. Her cheeks were white, and her eyes seemed to flicker with each blow. But the maiden who had been dumb before me a few days earlier was gone, and in her place I saw Mademoiselle de St. Alais, conscious of a hundred ancestors. " They are our people. I will meet them," she continued, stepping forward bravely, though her lip trembled. " Then if they dare " "They are mad!" 1 answered; "they are mad! Yet it is a chance ; and we have few ! If I can get to them before they break in I may do something. One moment, mademoiselle ; screen the light, will you ?" Some one did so, and I turned feverishly and caught hold of the curtain. But Gargouf was before me. He seized my arm, and for the moment checked nn-. " What is it? What are you going to do?" he growled. Speak to them from this window." " They will not list.-n." >;ill, I will try. What else is there?" " Lead and iron," he answered, in a tone that made me shiver. THE ALARM ] 1 7 " Here are M. le Marquis's sporting guns ; they shoot straight. Take one, M. le Vicomte; I will take the other. There are two more, and the men can shoot. We can hold the staircase, at least." I took one of the guns, mechanically, amid a dismal uproar wailing and the thunder of blows within ; outside, the savage booing of the crowd. No help could come for another hour ; and for a moment in this desperate strait my heart failed me. I wondered at the steward's courage. "You are not afraid?" I said. I knew how he had trampled on the poor wretches outside ; how he had starved them and ground them down and misused them through long years. He cursed the dogs. " You will stand by mademoiselle ?" I said, feverishly. I think it was to hearten myself by his assurance. He squeezed my hand in a grip of iron, and I asked no more. In a moment, however, I cried aloud. " Ah, but they will burn the house !" I said. " What is the use of holding the staircase, when they can burn us like rats !" " We shall die together," was his only answer. And he kicked one of the weeping, crouching women. " Be still, you whelp!" he said. "Do you think that will help you?" But I heard the door below groan, and I sprang to the win- dow and dragged aside the curtain, letting in a ruddy glow that dyed the ceiling the color of blood. My one fear was that I might be too late ; that the door would yield or the crowd break in at the back before I could get a hearing. Luckily the casement gave to the hand, and I thrust it open, and, meet- ing a cold blast of air, in a twinkling was outside on the narrow ledge of the window over the great doors, looking down on such a scene as few chateaux in France had witnessed since the days of the third Henry God be thanked ! A little to one side the great dove-cot was burning, and sending up a trail of smoke that, blown across the avenue, hid all beyond in a murky reek, through which the flames now and again flickered hotly. Men busy as devils, black against the light, were plying the fire with straw. Beyond the dove - cot an out-house and a stack were blazing ; and nearer, immediately 118 THE RED COCK A D K before the house, a crowd of moving figures were hurrying to ami fro, some battering the doors ami \vindo\vs, others bring- ing fuel, .-ill moving, yelling, laughing laughing the laughter of fiends to the music of crackling flames and shivering glass. I saw Petit Jean in the fore-front giving orders, and men round him. There were women, too, hanging on the skirts of the men ; and one woman, in the midst of all, half-naked, screaming curses and brandishing her arms. It was she who added the last touch of horror to the scene; and she, too, who saw me first, and pointed me out with dreadful words, and cursed me and the house, and cried for our blood. CHAPTER VIII GARGOUF SOME called for silence, while others stared at me stupidly, or pointed me out to their fellows ; but the greater part took up the woman's cry, and, enraged by my presence, shook their fists at me, and shouted vile threats and viler abuse. For a min- ute the air rang with " A bas les seigneurs ! A bas les tyrans !" And I found this bad enough. But presently, whether they caught sight of the steward, or merely returned to their first hatred, from which my appearance had only for the moment diverted them, the cry changed to a sullen roar of " Gargouf ! Gargouf !" A roar so full of the lust for blood, and coupled with threats so terrible, that the heart sickened and the cheek grew pale at the sound. " Gargouf ! Gargouf ! Give us Gargouf !" they howled. " Give us Gargouf ! and he shall eat hot gold ! Give us Gargouf, and he shall need no more of our daughters !" I shuddered to think that mademoiselle heard ; shuddered to think of the peril in which she stood. The wretches be- low were no longer men ; under the influence of this frenzied woman they were mad brute beasts, drunk with fire and license. As the smoke from the burning building eddied away for a moment across the crowd and hid it, and still that hoarse cry came out of the murk, I could believe that I heard not men, but maddened hounds raving in the kennel. Again the smoke drifted away, and some one in the rear shot at me. I heard the glass splinter beside me. Another, a little nearer, flung up a burning fragment that, alighting on the ledge, blazed and sputtered by my foot. I kicked it down. The act for the moment stilled the riot, and I seized the 120 THE RED COCKADE opportunity. " You dogs !" I said, striving to make my voice heard above the hissing of the flames. " Begone ! The soldiers from Cahors are on the road. I sent for them this hour ba-'k. Begone before they come, and I will intercede for you. Stay and do further mischief, and you shall hang, to the last man !" Some answered with a yell of derision, crying out that the soldiers were with them. More, that the nobles were abolished, and their houses given to the people. One, who was drunk, kept shouting: "A bas la Bastille! A bas la Bastille!" with a stupid persistence. A moment more and I should lose my chance. I waved ray hand. " What do you want ?" I cried. "Justice!" one shouted, and another, "Vengeance!" A third, " Gargouf !" And then all, " Gargouf ! Gargouf !" until Petit Jean stilled the tumult. " Have done !" he cried to them, in his coarse, brutal voice. "Have we come here only to yell? And do you, seigneur, give up Gargouf, and you shall go free. Otherwise we will burn the house and all in it." " You villain !" I said. " We have guns, and " " The rats have teeth, but they burn ! They burn !" he answered, pointing triumphantly with the axe he held to the flaming buildings. " They burn ! Yet listen, seigneur," he continued, " and you shall have a minute to make up your minds. Give up Gargouf to us to do with as we please, and the rest shall go." " All ?" "All." I trembled. " But Gargouf, man ?" I said. " Will you what will you do with him ?" " Roast him !" the smith cried, with a fearful oath ; and the wretches round him laughed like fiends. "Roast him, when we have plucked him bare." I shuddered. From Cahors help could not come for another hour. From Saux it might not come at all. The doors below me could not stand long, and these brutes were thirty to one, and mad with the lust of vengeance. With the wrongs, the crimes, the vices of centuries to avenge, they dreamed that the GARGOUF 121 day of requital was come, and the dream had turned clods into devils. The very flames they had kindled gave them assurance of it. The fire was in their blood. A bas la Bastille ! A bas les tyrans ! I hesitated. I " One minute !" the smith cried, with a boastful gesture " one minute we give you ! Gargouf or all." " Wait !" I turned and went in turned from the smoky glare, the circling pigeons, the grotesque black figures, and the terror and confusion of the night, and went in to that other scene, scarcely less dreadful to me, though only two candles gutter- ing in tin sockets lit the landing, and it borrowed from the outside no more than the ruddy reflection of horror. The women had ceased to scream and sob, and crowded together silent and panic-stricken. The old men and the lad moistened their lips, and looked furtively from the arms they handled to one another's faces. Mademoiselle alone stood erect, pale, firm. I shot a glance at the slender little figure in the white robe, then I looked away. I dared not say what I had in my mind. 1 knew that she had heard, and She said it ! " You have answered them ?" she muttered, her eyes meeting mine. " No," I said, looking away again. " They have given us a minute to decide, and " " I heard them," she answered, shivering. " Tell them." " But, mademoiselle " " Tell them never ! Never !" she cried, feverishly. " Be quick, or they will think that we are dreaming of it." Yet I hesitated while the flames crackled outside. What, after all, was this rascal's life beside hers ? What his taint- ed existence, who all these years had ground the faces of the poor and dishonored the helpless, beside her youth? It was a dreadful moment, and I hesitated. " Mademoiselle," I muttered at last, avoiding her eyes, "you have not thought, perhaps. But to refuse this offer may be to sacrifice all and not save him." " I have thought !" she answered, with a passionate gesture. iL'li THE KED COCKADK " I have thought. But lie was my father's steward, monsieur, and he is my brother's; if he has sinned, it was for them. It is for them to pay the penalty. And after all, it may not come to that," she continued, her face changing, and her seeking mine, full of sudden terror. "They will not dare, I think. They will never dare to " " \Vhcre is he?" I asked, hoarsely. She pointed to the corner behind her. I looked, and could scarcely believe my eyes. The man whom I had left full of a desperate courage, prepared to sell his life dearly, now crouched a huddled figure in the darkest angle of the tapestry Beat. Though I had spoken of him in a low voice, and without nam- ing him, he heard me, and looked up, and showed a face to match his attitude a face pallid and sweating with fear ; a face that, vile at the best and when redeemed by hardihood, looked now the vilest thing on earth. Cicl ! that fear should reduce a man to that! He tried to speak as his eyes met mine, but his lips moved inaudibly, and he only crouched lower, the picture of panic and guilt. I cried out to the others to know what had happened to him. " What is it ?" I said. No one answered; and then I seemed to know. While he had thought all in danger, while he had felt himself only one among many, the common courage of a man had supported him. But God knows what voices only too well known to him what accents of starving men and wronged women, had spoken in that fierce cry for his life! What plaints from the dead, what curses of babes hanging on dry breasts! At any rate, whatever he had heard in that call for his blood his blood it had unmanned him. In a moment, in a twinkling, it had dashed him back into this corner, a trembling craven, holding up his hands for his life. Such fear is infectious, and I strode to him in a rage and shook him. "Get up, hound!" I said. "Get up and strike a blow for your life ; or, by Heaven, no one else will!" II-- stood up. Ye-, yes, monsieur," he muttered. " I will ! I will stand up for mademoiselle. I will " " ' WHERE IS HE ?' I ASKED, HOARSELY " GARGOUF 125 But I heard his teeth chatter, and I saw that his eyes wan- dered this way and that, as do a hare's when the dogs close on it ; and I knew that I had nothing to expect from him. A howl outside warned me at the same moment that our respite was spent ; and I flung him off and turned to the window. Too late, however. Before I could reach it a thundering blow on the doors below set the candles flickering and the women shrieking ; then for an instant I thought that all was over. A stone came through the window ; another followed it, and another. The shattered glass fell over us ; the draught put out one light, and the women, terrified beyond control, ran this way and that with the others, shrieking dismally. This, the yelling of the crowd outside, the sombre light and more sombre glare, the utter confusion and panic so distracted me that for a mo- ment I stood irresolute, inactive, looking wildly about me a poltroon waiting for some one to lead. Then a touch fell on my arm, and I turned and found mademoiselle at my side, and saw her face upturned to mine. It was white, and her eyes were wide with the terror she had so long repressed. Her hold on me grew heavier ; she swayed against me, clinging to me. " Oh !" she whispered in my ear, in a voice that went to my heart, " save me ! save me ! Can nothing be done, monsieur ? Must we die ?" " We must gain time," I said. My courage returned wonder- fully as I felt her weight on my arm. " All is not over yet," I said. " I will speak to them." And setting her on the seat, I sprang to the window and passed through it. Outside, things at a first glance seemed un- changed. The wavering flames, the glow, the trail of smoke and sparks, all were there. But a second glance showed that the rioters no longer moved to and fro about the fire, but were massed directly below me in a dense body round the doors, waiting for them to give way. I shouted to them frantically, hoping still to delay them. I called Petit Jean by name. But I could not make myself heard in the uproar, or they would not heed ; and while I vainly tried, the great doors yielded at last, and with a roar of triumph the crowd burst in. 126 THE RED COCKADE Not a moment was to be lost. I sprang back through the window, clutching up as I did so the gun Gargouf had given me and then I stood in amazement. The landing was empty ! The rush of feet across the hall below shook the house. Ten seconds and the mob, whose screams of triumph aln-adv eehoed through the passages, would be on us. But where was made- moiselle ? Where was Gargouf? Where were the servants, the waiting-maids, the boy whom I had left here ? I stood an instant paralyzed, like a man in a nightmare, brought up short in that supreme moment. Then, as the first crash of heavy feet sounded on the stairs, I heard a faint scream, somewhere to my right, as I stood. On the instant I sprang to the door which on that side led to the left wing. I tore it open and passed through it not a moment too soon. The slightest delay, and the foremost rioters must have seen me. As it was I had time to turn the key, which, fortunately, was on the inside. Then I hurried across the room, making my way to an open door at the farther end, from which light issued ; I p.-.- through the room beyond, which was empty, then into the last of the suite. Here I found the fugitives, who had fled o precipitately that they had not even thought of closing the doors behind them. In this last refuge madame's boudoir, all white and gold I found them crouching among gilt-backed chairs and flowered cushions. They had brought only one candle with them ; and the silks and gewgaws and knick-knacks on which its light shone dimly gave a peculiar horror to their white faces and glaring eyes, as, almost mad with terror, they huddled in the farthest corner and stared at me. They were such cowards that they put mademoiselle foremost ; or it was she who stood out to meet me. She knew me before they did, therefore, and quieted them. When I could hear mv own voice I asked where Gargouf was. They had not discovered that he was not with them, and they cried out, saying that he had come that way. " You followed him ?" Yes, monsieur." GARGOUF 127 This explained their flight, but not the steward's absence. What matter where he had gone, however, since his help could avail little. I looked round looked round in despair; the very simpering Cupids on the walls seemed to mock our danger. I had the gun ; I could fire one shot ; I had one life in my hands. But to what end ? In a moment, at any moment, within a minute or two at most, the doors would be forced, and the horde of mad brutes would pour in upon us, and " Ah, monsieur, the closet staircase ! He has gone by the closet staircase !" It was the boy who spoke. He alone of them had his wits about him. "Where is it?" I said. The lad sprang forward to show me, but mademoiselle was before him with the candle. She flew back into the passage a passage of four or five feet only between that room and the second of the suite ; in the wall of this she flung open a door, apparently of a closet. I looked in, and saw the beginning of a staircase. My heart leaped at the sight. " To the floor above ?" I said. " No, monsieur, to the roof !" " Up, up, then !" I cried, in a frenzy of impatience. " It will give us time ! Quick ! They are coming." For I heard the door at the end of the suite, the door I had locked, creak and yield. They were forcing it ; at any moment it might give. Where I stood waiting to bring up the rear their hoarse cries and curses came to my ears. But the good door held ; it held long enough, at any rate. Before it gave way we were on the stairs, and I had shut the door of the closet behind me. Then, holding to the skirts of the woman before me, I groped my way up quickly up and up, through darkness, with a clos,e smell of bats in my nostrils ; and almost before I could believe it I stood with the panting, trembling group on the roof. The glare of the burning out-houses below shone on a great stack of chimneys beside us, and reddened the sky above, and burnished the leaves of the chestnut-trees that rose on a level with our eyes. But all the lower part of the steep roofs round us, and the lead gutters that ran between them, lay in 128 THE RED COCKADE darkness the denser for the contrast. The flames crackled be- low, and a thick reek of smoke swept up past the coping ; but the noise alike of fire and riot was deadened here. The night wind cooled our brows, and I had a minute in which to think, to breathe, to look round. " Is there any other way to the roof ?" I asked, anxiously. " One other, monsieur." ' Where ? Or do you stay here and guard this door," I said, pressing my gun on the man who had answered. " And let the boy come and show me. Mademoiselle, stay there, if you please." The boy ran before me to the farther end of the roof, and in a lead walk between two slopes showed me a large trap-door. It had no fastening on the outside, and for a moment I stood nonplussed ; then I saw, a few feet away, a neat pile of bricks, left there, I learned afterwards, in the course of some repairs. I began to remove them as fast as I could to the trap-door, and the boy saw and followed my example ; in two minutes we had stacked a hundred and more on the door. Telling him to add another hundred to the number, I left him at the task and flew back to the women. They might burn the house under us; that always, and for certain, and it meant a dreadful death. Yet I breathed more freely here. In the white-and-gold room below, among madame's mirrors and Cupids and silken cushions and painted Venuscs, my heart had failed me. The place with its heavy perfumes had stifled me. I had pictured the brutish peasants bursting in on us there on the screaming women, crouching vainly be- hind chairs and couches; and the horror of the thought over- came me. Here, in the open, under the sky, we could at least die fighting. The depth yawned beyond the coping ; the weak- est had here no more to fear than death. Besides, we had a respite, for the house was large, and the fire could not lick it up in a moment. And help might come. I shaded my eyes from the light be- low, and looked into the darkness in the direction of the vil- lage and the Cahors road. In an hour at furthest help might come. The glare in the sky must be visible for miles ; it would GARGODF 129 spur on the avengers. Father Benoit, too, if he could get help he might be here at any time. We were not without hope. Suddenly, while we stood together, the women sobbing and whimpering, the old man-servant spoke. " Where is M. Gargouf ?" he muttered, under his breath. " Ah !" I exclaimed ; " I had forgotten him." "He came up," the man continued, peering about him. " This door was open, M. le Vicomte, when we came to it." "Ah! Then where is he?" I looked round, too. All the roof, I have said, was dark, and not all of it was on the same level ; and here and there chim- neys broke the view. In the obscurity the steward might be lurking close to us without our knowledge, or he might have thrown himself down in despair. While I looked the boy whom I had left by the bricks came flying to us. "There is some one there !" he said. And he clung to the old man in terror. " It must be Gargouf !" I answered. " Wait here !" And disregarding the women's prayers that I would stay with them, I went quickly along the leads to the other trap-door, and peered about me through the gloom. For a moment I could see no one, though the light shining on the trees made it easy to dis- cern figures standing nearer the coping. Presently, however, I caught the sound of some one moving some one who was far- ther away still, at the very edge of the roof. I went on cau- tiously, expecting I do not know what; and close to a stack of chimneys I found Gargouf. He was crouching on the coping in the darkest part, where the end wall of the east wing overlooked the garden by which I had entered. This end wall had no windows, and the greater part of the garden below it lay in darkness, the angle of the house standing between it and the burning buildings. I sup- posed that the steward had sneaked hither, therefore, to hide, 'and set it down to the darkness that he did not know me ; but as I approached he rose on his knees on the ledge, and turned on me, snarling like a dog. " Stand back !" he said, in a voice that was scarcely human. "Stand back, or I will" 130 THE RED COCKADE "Steady, man," I answered, quietly, beginning to think that fear had unhinged him. "It is I, M. de Saux." Stand back!" was his only answer; and though he cowered so low that I could not get his figure against the shining trees, I sa\y a pistol-barrel gleam as he levelled it. " Stand bark ! Give me a minute! a minute only" and his voice quavered "and I will cheat the devils yet! Come nearer, or give the alarm, and I will not die alone ! I will not die alone ! Stand back !" " Are you mad ?" I said. " Back, or I shoot !" he growled. " I will not die alone." He was kneeling on the very edge, with his left hand against the chimney. To rush upon him in that posture was to court death ; and I had nothing to gain by it. I stepped back a pace. As I did so at the moment I did so he slid over the edge and was gone ! I drew a deep breath and listened, flinching and drawing back involuntarily. But I heard no sound of a fall ; and in a mo- ment, with a new idea in my mind, I stepped forward to the edge and looked over. The steward hung in mid-air a dozen feet below me. He was descending descending foot by foot, slowly and by jerks ; a dim figure, growing dimmer. Instinctively I felt about me, and in a second laid my hand on the rope by which he hung. It was secured round the chimney. Then I understood. lie bad conceived this way of escape, perhaps had stored the rope for it beforehand, and, like the villain he was, had kept the thought to himself, that his chanee might be the better, and that he might not have to give the first place to mademoiselle and the women. In the first heat of the discovery I almost found it in my heart to cut the rope and let him fall ; then I remembered that if he escaped the way would lie open for oth- er- ; and then, even as I thought this, into the garden below me there shone a sudden flare of light, and a stream of a dozen p. Mired round the corner and made for the door by whieh I haf the party come?" Vr I THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM 155 had gone to sleep, expecting to be called up to receive them within the hour. " No, M. le Vicomte," the old man answered, " except ex- cept one gentlemen who was with them, and who is now walk- ing with M. le Cure in the garden. And for him " "Well?" I said, sharply, for Andre, who had got on his most gloomy and dogmatic air, stopped with a sniff of contempt. " He does not seem to be a man for whom M. le Vicomte should be roused," he answered, obstinately. " But M. le Cure would have it ; and in these days, I suppose, we must tramp for a smith, let alone an officer of excise." " Baton is here, then ?" " Yes, monsieur ; and walking on the terrace, as if of the family. I do not know what things are coming to," Andre continued, grumbling, and raising his voice as I started to go out, " or what they would be at. But when M. le Vicomte took away the carcan I knew what was likely to happen. Oh yes," he went on, still more loudly, while he stood holding the tray, and looking after me with a sour face, " I knew what would happen ! I knew what would happen !" And certainly, if I had not been shaken completely out of the common rut of thought, I should have found something odd myself in the combination of the three men whom I found on the terrace. They were walking up and down, Father Benoit, with downcast eyes and his hands behind him, in the middle. On one side of him moved Buton, coarse, heavy- shouldered, and clumsy, in his stained blouse ; on the other side paced the stranger of last night a neat, middle-sized man, very plainly dressed, with riding-boots and a sword. Remem- bering that he had formed one of Louis's party, I was surprised to see that he wore the tricolor ; but I forgot this in my anxiety to know what had become of the others. Without standing on ceremony, I asked him. "They attacked the rioters, lost one man, and were beaten off," he answered, with dry precision. " And M. le Comte ?" " Was not hurt. He returned to Cahors, to raise more men. I, as my advice seemed to be taken in ill part, came here." 156 THE RED COCKADE He spoke in a blunt, straightforward way, as to an equal; and at once seemed to be, and not to be, a gentleman. The cure, seeing that he puzzled me, hastened to introduce him. " This, M. le Vicomte," he said, " is M. le Capital ne Ilugues, late of the American army. He has placed his services at the disposal of the Committee." " For the purpose," the captain went on, before I had made up my mind how to take it, " of drilling and commanding a body of men to be raised in Quercy to keep the peace. Call them militia ; call them what you like." I was a good deal taken aback. The man, alert, active, practical, with the butt of a pistol peeping from his pocket, was something new to me. " You have served His Majesty ?" I said at last, to gain time to think. " No," he answered. " There are no careers in that army, unless you have so many quarterings. I served under General Washington*" "But I saw yon last night with M. de St. Alais?" " Why not, M. le Vicomte ?" he answered, looking at me, plainly. " I heard that a house was being burned. I had just arrived, and I placed myself at M. le Comte's disposal. But they had no method, and would take no advice." " Well," I said, " these seem to me to be rather extreme steps. You know " " M. dc Marignac's house was burned last night," the cur6 said, softly. "Oh!"" " And I fear that we shall hear of others. I think that we must look matters in the face, M. le Vicomte." "It is not a question of thinking or looking, but of doing!" tin- captain said, interrupting him, harshly. " \Ve have a long summer's day before us, but if by to-night we have not done something, there will be a sorry dawning in Quercy to-morrow." " There are the King's troops," I said. "They refuse to obey orders. Therefore they are worse than use!' "Their officei THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM' 157 " They are stanch ; but the people .hate them. A knight of St. Louis is to the mob what a red rag is to a bull. I can answer for it that they have enough to do to keep their men in barracks and guard their own heads." I resented his familiarity and the impatience with which he spoke ; but, resent it as I might, I could not return to the tone I had used yesterday. Then it had seemed an outrageous thing that Buton should stand by and listen. To-day the same thing had an ordinary air. And this, moreover, was a different man from Doury ; arguments that had crushed the one would have no weight with the other. I saw that, and, rather help- lessly, I asked Father Benoit what he would have. He did not answer. It was the captain who replied. " We want you to join the Committee," he said, briskly. " I discussed that yesterday," I answered, with some stiff- ness. " I cannot do so. Father Benoit will tell you so." " It is not Father Benoit' s answer I want," the captain re- plied. " It is yours, M. le Vicomte." " I answered yesterday," I said, haughtily " and refused." " Yesterday is not to-day," he retorted. " M. de St. Alais's house stood yesterday; it is a smoking ruin to-day. M. de Marignac's likewise. Yesterday much was conjecture. To-day facts speak for themselves. A few hours' hesitation, and the province will be in a blaze from one end to the other." I could not gainsay this ; at the same time there was one other thing I could not do, and that was change my views again. Having solemnly put on the white cockade in Madame St. Alais's drawing-room, I had not the courage to execute another volte-face. I could not recant again. " It is impossible impossible in my case," I stammered, at last, peevishly, and in a disjointed way. " Why do you come again to me ? Why do you not go to some one else ? There are two hundred others whose names " " Would be of no use to us," M. le Capitaine answered, brusquely ; " whereas yours would reassure the fearful, attach some moderate men to the cause, and not disgust the masses. Let me be frank with you, M. le Vicomte," he continued, in a different tone. " I want your co-operation. I am here to 158 THE RED COCKADE take risks, hut none that arc unnecessary ; and I prefer that my commission should issue from above as well as from below. Add your name to the Committee and I accept their commis- sion. Without doubt I could police Quercy in the name of the Third Estate, but I would rather hang, draw, and quarter in the name of all three." " Still, there are others" " You forget that I have got to rule the canaille in Cahors," he answered, impatiently, "as well as these mad clowns, who think that the end of the world is here. And those others you speak of " "Are not acceptable," Father Ben&it said, gently, looking at me with yearning in his kind eyes. The light morning air caught the skirts of his cassock as he spoke, and lifted them from his lean figure. He held his shovel hat in his hand between his face and the sun. I knew that there was a con- flict in his mind as in mine, and that he would have me and would have me not; and the knowledge strengthened me to -t his words. " It is impossible," I said. " Why ?" I was spared the necessity of answering. I had my face to the door of the house, and as the last word was spoken saw Andre issue from it with M. dc St. Alais. The manner in which the old servant cried, " M. le Marquis de St. Alais to see M. le Vicomte !" gave us a little shock, it was so full of sly triumph ; but nothing on M. de St Alais's part, as he ap- proached, betrayed that he noticed this. He advanced with an air perfectly gay, and saluted me with good-humor. F->r a moment I fancied that he did not know what had happened in the night; his first words, however, dispelled the idea. " M. le Vicomte," he said, addressing me with both case and grace, " we are forever grateful to you. I was abroad on business last night, and could do nothing; and my brother must, I am told, have come too late, even if, with so small a force, he could effect anything. I saw mademoiaelb as I passed through the house, and she gave me some parti'-ulars." " She has left her room ?" I cried, in surprise. The other THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM 159 three had drawn back a little, so that we enjoyed a kind of privacy. " Yes," he answered, smiling slightly at my tone. " And I can assure you, M. le Vicomte, has spoken as highly of you as a maiden dare. For the rest, my mother will convey the thanks of the family to you more fitly than I can. Still, I may hope that you are none the worse." I muttered that I was not; but I hardly knew what I said. St. Alais's demeanor was so different from that which I had anticipated, his easy calmness and gayety were so unlike the rage and heat which seemed natural in one who had just heard of the destruction of his "house and the murder of his steward, that I was completely nonplussed. He appeared to be dressed with his usual care and distinction, though I was bound to sup- pose that he had been up all night ; and, though the outrages at St. Alais and Marignac's had given the lie to his most con- fident predictions, he betrayed no sign of vexation. All this dazzled and confused me ; yet I must say some- thing. I muttered a hope that mademoiselle was not greatly shaken by her experiences. " I think not," be said. " We St. Alais's are not made of sugar. And after a night's rest but I fear that I am inter- rupting you ?" And for the first time he let his eyes rest on my companions. " It is to Father Bonoit and to Buton here that your thanks are really due, M. le Marquis," I said. " For without their aid" " This is so, is it 2" he said, coldly. " I had heard it." " But not all ?" I exclaimed. " I think so," he said. Then, continuing to look at them, though he spoke to me, he continued : " Let me tell you an apologue, M. le Vicomte. Once upon a time there was a man who had a grudge against a neighbor because the good man's crops were better than his. He went, therefore, secretly and by night, and, not all at once not all at once, messieurs but little by little, he let on to his neighbor's land the stream of a river that flowed by both their farms. He succeeded so well that presently the flood had not only covered the crops, but threat- 160 T1IK HKD COCKADE encd to drown his neighbor, and after that his own crops and himself ! Apprised too late of his folly But how do you like tlu- apologue, M. le Cure?" "It does not touch me," Father Bonoit answered, with a wan smile. 44 I am no man's servant, as the slave boasted," St. Alais an- swered, with a polite sneer. 44 For shame! for shame, M. le Marquis!" I cried, losing pa- tience. " I have told you that but for M. le Cure and the smith here mademoiselle and I " "And I have told you," he answered, interrupting me with grim good-humor, " what I think of it, M. le Vicomte ! That is all." 44 But you do not know what happened," I persisted, stung to wrath by his injustice. "You are not, you cannot be, aware that when Father Bcnoit and his companions arrived, Mademoiselle de St. Alais and I were in the most desperate plight, that they saved us only at great risk to themselves, and that for our safety at last you have to thank rather the tricolor, which those wretches respected, than any display of force which we were able to make." 44 That, too, is so, is it?" he said, his face grown dark. " I shall have something to say to it presently. But first, may 1 ask you a question, M. le Vicomte? Am I right in supposing that these gentlemen are waiting on you from pardon me if I do not get the title correctly the Honorable the Committee of Public Safety?" I nodded. " And I presume that I may congratulate them on your an- swer?" 44 No, you may not!" I replied, with satisfaction. "Tins gentleman " and I pointed to the Capitaine Hugucs " has laid before me certain proposals and certain arguments in favor of them." 44 But he has not laid before you the most potent of all ar- guments," the captain said, interposing, with a dry bow. 1 find it, and you, M. le Vicomte, will find it, too, in M. K- Mar- quis de St. Alais !" "SHE MOVED HER FOOT FOKWAKD AND TOUCHED THE RIBBON THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM 163 The marquis stared at him coldly. " I am obliged to you," he said, contemptuously. "By-and-by, perhaps, I shall have more to say to you. For the present, however, I am speaking to M. le Vicomte." And he turned, and addressed me again. " These gentlemen have waited on you. Do I understand that you have declined their proposals ?" " Absolutely !" I answered. " But," I continued, warmly, " it does not follow that I am without gratitude or natural feeling." " Ah !" he said. Then, turning with an easy air, " I see your servant there," he said. " May I summon him one moment?" " Certainly." He raised his hand, and Andre, who was watching us from the doorway, flew to take his orders. He turned to me again. " Have I your permission ?" I bowed, wondering. " Go, my friend, to Mademoiselle de St. Alais," he said. " She is in the hall. Beg her to be so good as to honor us with her presence." Andre went, with his most pompous air ; and we remained, wondering. No one spoke. I longed to consult Father Benoit by a look, but I dared not do so, lest the marquis, who kept his eyes on my face, his own wearing an enigmatical smile, should take it for a sign of weakness. So we stood until made- moiselle appeared in the doorway, and, after a momentary pause, came timidly along the terrace towards us. She wore a frock which I believe had been my mother's, and was too long for her; but it seemed to my eyes to suit her admirably. A kerchief covered her shoulders, and she had another laid lightly on her unpowdered hair, which, knotted up loosely, strayed in tiny ringlets over her neck and ears. To this charming disarray her blushes, as she came towards us, shading her eyes from the sun, added the last piquancy. I had not seen her since the women lifted her from my saddle ; and, seeing her now, coming along the terrace in the fresh morning light, I thought her divine ! I wondered how I could have let her go. An insane desire to defy her brother and whirl her off, out of this horrid imbroglio of parties and politics, seized upon me. 104 THi: RED COCKADE But she did not look towards me, and ray heart sank. She had eyes only for M. le Marquis, approaching him as if he had ;i magnet which drew her to him. " Mademoiselle," he said, gravely, " I am told that your escape last night was due to your adoption of an emblem, which I see that you are still wearing. It is one that no stil>- ject of His Majesty can wear with honor. Will you oblige me by removing it?" Pale and red by turns she shot a piteous glance at us. " Monsieur?" she muttered, as if she did not understand. " I think I have spoken plainly," he said. " Be good enough to remove it." Wincing under the rebuke, she hesitated, looking for a mo- ment as if she would burst into tears. Then, with her lip trembling and with trembling fingers, she complied, and be- gan to unfasten the tricolor, which the servants without her knowledge, it may be had removed from the robe she had worn to that which she now wore. It took her a long time to remove it, under our eyes, and I grew hot with indignation. But I dared not interfere, and the others looked on gravely. "Thank you," M. do Alais said, when at last she had suc- ceeded in unpinning it. " I know, mademoiselle, that you are a true St. Alais, and would die rather than owe your life to dis- loyalty. Be good enough to throw that down, and tread upon it." She started violently at the words. I think we all did. I know that I took a step forward, and, but for M. le Marquis's raised hand, 7nust have intervened. But I had no right. We were spectators ; it was for her to act. She stood a moment with all our eyes upon her, stood staring breathless and motion- less at her brother; then, still looking at him, with a shivering siirh, she slowly and mechanically lifted her hand and dropped the ribbon. It fluttered down. " Tread upon it !" the marquis said, ruthlessly. Sin- trembled, her face, her child's face, growing quite white. But she did not move. " Tread upon it !" he said, again. And then, without looking down, she moved her foot forward and touched the ribbon. CHAPTER XI THE TWO CAMPS " THANK you, mademoiselle ; now you can go," he said. But he need not have spoken, for the moment his sister had done his bidding she turned from us ; before two words had passed his lips she was hurrying back to the house in a passion of grief, her face covered, and her slight figure shaken by sobs that came back to us on the summer air. The sight stung me to rage ; yet for a moment, and by a tremendous effort, I restrained myself. I would hear him out. But he either did not or would not see the effect he had produced. " There, messieurs," he said, his face somewhat pale. " I am obliged for your patience. Now yon know what I think of your tricolor and your services. It shall shelter neither me nor mine ! I hold no parley with assassins." I sprang forward ; I could contain myself no longer. " And I !" I cried " I, M. le Marquis, have something to say too ! I have something to declare ! A moment ago I refused that tri- color ! I rejected the overtures of those who brought it to me. I was resolved to stand by you and by my brethren against my better judgment. I was of your party, though I did not be- lieve in it ; and you might have tied me to it. But this gen- tleman is right, you are yourself the strongest argument against yourself. And I do this ! I do this !" I repeated, passionate- ly. " See, M. le Marquis, and know that it is your doing !" With the word I snatched up the ribbon on which mademoi- selle had trodden, and with fingers that trembled scarcely less than hers had trembled when she unfastened it, I pinned it on my breast. He bowed, with a sardonic smile. " A cockade is easily 106 THE RED COCKADE changed," he said. But I could see that. he was livid with rage ; that he could have slain me for the rebuke. " You mean," I said, hotly, " that I am easily turned." " You put on the cap, M. le Vicomte," he retorted. The other three had withdrawn a little not without open signs of disgust and left us face to face on the spot on which we had stood three weeks before on the eve of his moth- er's reception. Still raging with anger on mademoiselle's ac- count, and minded to wound him, I recalled that to him, and the prophecies he had then uttered prophecies which had been so ill fulfilled. lie took me up at the second word. " 111 fulfilled ?" he said, grimly. "Yes, M. le Vicomte; but why? Because those who should support me, those who from one end of France to the other should support the King, are like you waverers who do not know their own minds ! Because the gentlemen of France are proving themselves churls and cravens, unworthy of the names they bear! Yes, ill fulfilled," he continued, bitterly, " because you, M. de Saux, and men like you, are for this to-day and for that to-morrow, and cry one hour ' Reform,' and the next ' Order !' " The denial stuck in my throat, and, my passion dying down, I could only glower at him. He saw this, and taking advantage of my momentary embarrassment, " But enough," he continued, in ;i tone of dignity very galling to me, since it was he who had l.i haved ill, not I. " Enough of this. While it was possible, I courted your aid, M. de Saux ; and I acknowledge, I still ac- knowledge, and shall be the last to disclaim, the obligation under which you last night placed us. But there can never be true fellowship between those who wear that" and he pointed to the tricolor I had assumed "and those who serve the Kinir, as we serve him. You will pardon me, therefore, if I take my leave, and without delay withdraw my sister from a house in which her presence may be misunderstood, as mine, after what has passed, must be unwelcome." lie bowed again with that, and led the way into the house; while I followed, tongue-tied, and with a sudden chill at my heart. There was no one in the hall, except Andre, who was THE TWO CAMPS 1G7 hovering about the farther door ; but in the avenue beyond were three or four mounted servants, waiting for M. de St. Alais, and half-way down the avenue a party of three were riding towards the gates. It needed but a glance to show me that the foremost of these was mademoiselle ; and that she rode low in the saddle, as if she still wept. And I turned in a hot fit to M. de St. Alais. But I found his eye fixed on me in such a fashion that the words died on my lips. He coughed dryly. " Ah !" he said. " So mademoiselle has herself felt the propriety of leaving. You will permit me, then, to make her acknowledgments, M. de Saux, and to take leave for her." He saluted me with the words, and turned. He already had his foot raised to the stirrup, when I muttered his name. He looked round. " Pardon 1" he said. " Is there any- thing" I beckoned to the servants to stand back. I was in misery, between rage and shame, the hot fit gone. " Monsieur," I said, " there is one more thing to be said. This does not end all between mademoiselle and me. For mademoiselle " " We will not speak of her !" he exclaimed. But I was not to be put down. " For mademoiselle, I do not know her sentiments," I continued, doggedly disregarding his interruption, " nor whether I am agreeable to her. But for my- self, M. de St. Alais, I tell you frankly that I love her, nor shall I change because I wear one tricolor or another. Therefore " " I have only one thing to say," he cried, raising his hand to stay me. I gave way, breathing hard. " What is it ?" I said. " That you make love like a bourgeois !" he answered, laugh- ing insolently, " Or a mad Englishman ! And as Mademoi- selle de St. Alais is not a baker's daughter, to be wooed after that fashion, I find it offensive. Is that enough, or shall I say more, M. le Vicomte ?" "That will not be enough to turn me from my path !" I an- swered. " You forget that I carried mademoiselle hither in my arms last night. But I do not forget it, and she will not forget it. We cannot be henceforth as we were, M. le Marquis." 168 THE RED COCKADE "You saved her life and base a claim upon it!" he said, scornfully. "That is generous and like a gentleman !'' Xo, I do not !" I answered, passionately. " But I have held mademoiselle in my arms, and she has laid her head on my breast, and you can undo neither the one nor the other. Henceforth I have a right to woo her, and I shall win her." While I live you never shall!" he answered, fiercely. "I swear that, as she trod on that ribbon at my word, at my word, monsieur! so she shall tread on your love. From this day seek a wife among your friends; Mademoiselle de St. Alais is not for you." I trembled with rage. " You know, monsieur, that 1 cannot fight you !" I said. " Nor I you," he answered. " I know it. Therefore," In- continued, pausing an instant and reverting with marvellous to his former politeness, " I will fly from you. Farewell, mnsicur I do not say, until we meet again; for I do not think that we shall meet much in future." I found nothing wherewith to answer that, and he turned and moved away down the avenue. Mademoiselle and her es- cort had long disappeared ; his servants, obeying my gesture, were almost at the gates. I watched his figure as he rode un- d'T the boughs of the walnuts, that meeting low over his head let the sun fall on him through spare rifts; and, sore and mis- eral'le at heart myself, I marvelled at the gallant air he main- tained, and the careless grace of his bearing. < ' rtainly he had force. He had the force his fellows lacked, and he had it so abundantly that as I gazed after him tin- words I had used to him seemed weak and foolish, the resolu- tion I had flung in his teeth childish. After all, he was right ; this, to which my feelings had impelled me on the spur of an- ger and love and the moment, was no French or proper way of wooing, nor one which I should have relished in my sister's t "NVliy, then, had I degraded mademoiselle by it, and exposed my- self ? Men wooed mistresses that way, not wives ! So that I felt very wretched as I turned to go into the house. But there my eye alighted on the pistols which still lay on the table in the hall, and with a sudden revulsion of feeling I re- THE TWO CAMPS 169 membered that others' affairs were^nit of order too ; that the chateaux of St. Alais and Marignac lay in ashes, that last night I had saved mademoiselle from death, that beyond the walnut avenue, with its cool, long shade and dappled floor, beyond the quiet of this summer day, lay the seething, brawling world of Quercy and of France the world of maddened peasants and frightened townsfolk, and soldiers who would not fight, and nobles who dared not. Then, vive le tricolor! the die was cast. I went through the house to find Father Ben6it and his companions, meaning to throw in my lot and return with them. But the terrace was empty ; they were nowhere to be seen. Even of the servants I could only find Andre, who came pottering to me with his lips pursed up to grumble. I asked him where the cure was. " Gone, M. le Vicomte." " And Buton ?" " He too with half the servants, for the matter of that." " Gone ?" I exclaimed. " Whither ?" " To the village to gossip," he answered, churlishly. " There is not a turnspit now but must hear the news, and take his own leave and time to gather it. The world is turned upsidedown, I think. It is time His Majesty the King did something." "Did not M. le Cure leave a message?" The old servant hesitated. " Well, he did," he said, grudg- ingly. " He said that if M. le Vicomte would stay at home un- til the afternoon he should hear from him." " But he was going to Cahors !" I said. " He is not returning to-day ?" " He went by the little alley to the village," Andre answered, obstinately. " I do not know anything about Cahors." " Then go to the village now," I said, " and learn whether he took the Cahors road." The old man went grumbling, and I remained alone on the terrace. An abnormal quietness, as of the afternoon, lay on the house this summer morning. I sat down on a stone seat against the wall, and began to go over the events of the night, recalling with the utmost vividness things to which at the time I had scarcely given a glance, and shuddering at horrors that in 170 THE KED COCKADE the happening had barely moved me. Gradually my thoughts passed from these things which made my pulses beat, and I began to busy myself with mademoiselle. I saw her again sit- ting low in the saddle and weeping as she went. The bees hummed in the warm air, the pigeons cooed softly in the dove- cot, the trees on the lawn below me shaped themselves into an avenue over her head, and, thinking of her, I fell asleep. After such a night as I had spent it was not unnatural. But when I awoke and saw that it was high noon I was wild with vexation. I sprang up, and, darting suspicious glances round me, caught Andre skulking away under the house wall. I called him back, and asked him why he had let me sleep. " I thought that you were tired, monsieur," he muttered, blinking in the sun. " M. le Vicomtc is not a peasant that he may not sleep when he pleases." " And M. le Cure ? lias he not returned ?" Xo, monsieur." " And he went which way ?" He named a village half a league from us, and then said that my dinner waited. I was hungry, and for the moment asked no more, but went in and sat down to the meal. When I rose it was nearly two o'clock. Expecting Father Benoit every moment, I bade them sant as I approached each group a subtle shade of expectation, of shyness and suspicion, M cm. .1 to flit across faces the most familiar to me. At the moment I did not understand it, and even apprehended it but dimly. N<>w, after the event, now that THE TWO CAMPS 171 it is too late, I know that it was the first symptom of the social poison doing its sure and deadly work. With all this I could hear nothing of M. le Cure ; one say- ing that he was here, another there, a third that he had gone to Cahors ; and, in the end, I returned to the chateau in a state of discomfort and unrest hard to describe. I would not again leave the front of the house, lest I should miss him ; and for hours I paced the avenue, now listening at the gates or looking up the road, now walking quickly to and fro under the walnuts. In time evening fell, and night ; and still I was here awaiting the cure's coming, chained to the silent house, while my mind tortured me with pictures of what was going forward outside. The restless demon of the time had hold of me ; the thought that I lay here idle while the world heaved made me miserable, filled me with shame. When Andre came at last to summon me to supper, I swore at him ; and the moment I had done I went up to the roof of the chateau and watched the night, ex- pecting to see again a light in the sky and the far-off glare of burning houses. I saw nothing, however, and the cure did not come ; and, after a wakeful night, seven in the morning saw me in the sad- dle and on the road to Cahors. Andre complained of illness, and I took Gil only. The country around St. Alais seemed to be deserted ; but half a league farther on, over the hill, I came on a score of peasants trudging sturdily forward. I asked them whither they were going, and why they were not in the fields. " We are going to Cahors, monseigneur, for arms," they said. " For arms ! Whom are you going to fight ?" " The brigands, monseigneur. They are burning and mur- dering on every side. By the mercy of God they have not yet visited us. And to-night we shall be armed." " Brigands !" I said. " What brigands ?" But they could not answer that; and I left them in wonder at their simplicity, and rode on. I had not yet done with these brigands, however. Half a league short of Cahors I passed through a hamlet where the same idea prevailed. Here they had raised a rough barricade at the end of the street towards the country, and I saw a man on the church-tower keeping watch. 17-' TUK KKIi C'OCKAUK Meanwhile every one in the place who could walk had gone to Cahors. " Why ?" I asked. " For what ?" " To hear the news." Then I began to see that my imagination had not led me astray. All the world was heaving, all the world was astir. Every one was hurrying to hear and to learn and to tell ; to take arms if he had never used arms before, to advise if all his life he had obeyed orders, to do anything and everything but his daily work. After this, that I should find Cahors humming like a hive of bees about to swarm, and the Valandr6 bridge so crowded that I could scarcely force my way through its three gates, and the queue of people waiting for rations longer and rations shorter than ever before after this, I say, all these things seemed only natural. Nor was I much surprised to find that as I rode through the streets, wearing the tricolor, I was hailed here and there with cheers. On the other hand, I noticed that wearers of white cockades were not lacking. They kept the wall in twos and threes, and walked with raised chins and hands on sword-knots, and were watched askance by the commonalty. A few of thriu were known to me, more were strangers; and while I blushed under the scornful looks of the former, knowing that I must seem to them a renegade, I wondered who the latter were. Finally, I was glad to escape from both by alighting at Doury's, over whose door a huge tricolor flag hung limp in the sunshine. M. le Cure de Saux ? Yes, he was even then sitting with the Committee up-stairs. Would M. le Vicomte walk uj> .' I did so, through a press of noisy people, who thronged the stairs and passages and lobbies, and talked and gesticulated, and seemed t<> l>e settled there for the day. I worked my way through these at last, the door was opened, a fresh gust of \\- came out t'i meet me, and I entered the room. In it, seated round a long table, I found a score of men, of whom some rose to meet, me, while more kept their seats; three or four \\ speaking at once, ami did not stop mi my entrance. I recog- nized at the farther end Father Henoit and Hilton. \\h.. came to meet me ; and C'apitaine lliigues, \\ho pise, but continued to THE TWO CAMPS 173 speak. Besides these there were two of the smaller noblesse, who left their chairs and came to me in an ecstasy, and Doury, who rose and sat down half a dozen times ; and one or two cures and others of that rank, known to me by sight. The up- roar was great, the confusion equal to it. Still, somehow, and after a moment of tumult, I found myself received and wel- comed, and placed in a chair at the end of the table, with M. le-Capitaine on one side of me, and a notary of Cahors on the other. Then, under cover of the noise, I stole a few words with Father Benoit, who lingered a moment beside me. " You could not join us yesterday ?" he muttered, with a pa- thetic look that only I understood. " But you left a message bidding me wait for you," I an- swered. " I did ?" he said. " No ; I left a message asking you to fol- low us, if it pleased you." " Then I never got it," I replied. " Andre told me " " Ah ! Andre," he answered, softly. And he shook his head. " The rascal !" I said ; " then he lied to me. And" But some one called the cure to his place, and we had to part. At the same instant most of the talkers ceased ; a moment, and only two were left speaking, who, without paying the least re- gard to one another, continued to hold forth to their neighbors, haranguing, one on the social contract, the other on the brig- ands the brigands who were everywhere burning the corn and killing the people ! At last M. le Capitaine, after long waiting to speak, attacked the former speaker. " Tut, monsieur !" he said. " This is not the time for theory. A halfpenny wortli of fact " " Is worth a pound of theory !" the man of the brigands he was a grocer, I believe cried, eagerly ; and he brought his fist down on the table. "But now is the time, the God -sent time, to frame the facts to the theory !" the other combatant screamed. " To form a perfect system ! To regenerate the world, I say ! To " "To regenerate the fiddlestick!" his opponent answered, with equal heat. " AVhen brigands are at our very doors ! 174 TIIK KKK CUCKAIH: when our crops are being burned, and our houses plundered ! when" " Monsieur," the captain said, harshly, commanding silence by the gravity of his tone, " if you please !" - Yes." " Then, to be plain, I do not believe any more in your brig- amis than in M. 1'Avoue's theories." Tliis time it was the grocer's turn to scream. " What .'" la- med. " When they have been seen at Figeac, and Cajarc, and Rodez, and " " By whom?" the soldier asked, sharply interrupting him. "By hundreds." " Name one." " But it is notorious !" Yes, monsieur it is a notorious lie !" M. le Capitaine an- swered, bluntly. " Believe me, the brigands with whom we have- to deal are nearer home. Allow us to arrange with them first, and do not deafen M. le Vicomte with your chattering." " Hear ! hear !" the lawyer cried. But this insult proved too much for the man of the brigands. He began again, and others joined in, for him and against him ; to my despair, it seemed as if the quarrel were only beginning as if peace would have to be made afresh. H"\v all this noise, tumult, and disputation, this absence of the politeness to which I had been accustomed all my life, this vulgar jostling and brawling, depressed me I need not say. I sat deafened, lost in the scramble ; of no more account, for the moment, than Buton. Nay, of less; for while I gazed about me and listened, sunk in wonder at my position at a table with peo- ple of a class with whom I had never sat down before save at the chance table of an inn, where my presence kept all within bounds it was Buton who, by coming to the officer's aid, finally gained silence. Now you have had your say. perhaps you will let me have mine," the captain said, with acerbity, taking advantage of the hearing thus gained fr him. " It is very well for you, M. 1'Avoue, and you, monsieur I have forgotten your name you not fighting- men, and my diH'n-ulty does not affect you. " ' YES,' I SAID, STIFFLY, FOR I FOUND ALL LOOKING AT UK ' THE TWO CAMPS 177 But there are half a dozen at this table who are placed as I am, and they understand. You may organize ; but if your officers are carried off every morning, you will not go far." "How carried off?" the lawyer cried, puffing out his thin cheeks. " Members of the Committee of " " How ?" M. le Capitaine rejoined, cutting him short without ceremony. " By the prick of a small sword ! You do not un- derstand ; but, for some of us, we cannot go three paces from this door without risk of an insult and a challenge." " That is true !" the two gentlemen at the foot of the table cried with one voice. " It is true, and more," the captain continued, warming as he spoke. " It is no chance work, but a plan. It is their plan for curbing us. I have seen three men in the streets to-day who I can swear are fencing-masters in fine clothes." " Assassins !" the lawyer cried, pompously. " That is all very well," Hugues said, more soberly ; " you may call them what you please. But what is to be done ? If we cannot move abroad without a challenge and a duel we are helpless. You will have all your leaders picked off." " The people will avenge you !" the lawyer said, with a grand air. M. le Capitaine shrugged his shoulders. " Thank you for nothing," he said. Father Benoit interposed. "At present," he said, anxiously, "I think that there is only one thing to be done. You have said, M. le Capitaine, that some of the Committee are not fight- ing-men. "Why, I would ask, should any fight, and play into our opponents' hands ?" " Par Dieu ! I think that you are right !" Hugues answered, frankly. And he looked round as if to collect opinions. "Why should we ? I am sure that I do not wish to fight. I have given my proofs." There was a short pause, during which we looked at one an- other doubtfully. "Well, why not?" the captain said, at last. " This is not play, but business. We are no longer gentlemen at large, but soldiers under discipline." " Yes," I said, stiffly, for I found all looking at me. ." But it 1 7^ THK UKI) ciH'K U)E is difficult, M. lo Oapitaine, for men of lionor to divest them- selves of certain ideas. If we are n>t t<> protect ourselves from insult, we sink to the level of be.i Have no fear, M. le Vicointe !" Buton cried, abruptly. " The people will not suffer it !" " No, no ; the people will not suffer it !" one or two echoed ; and for a moment the room rang with cries of indignation. "Well, at any rate," the captain said, at last, "all are now warned. And if, after this, they fight lightly, they do it with full knowledge that they are playing their adversaries' game. I hope all understand that. For my part," he continued, shrug- ging his shoulders, with a dry laugh, "they may cane me; I shall not fight them. I am no fool!" CHAPTER XII THE DUEL I HAVE said already how all this weighed me down ; with what misgivings I looked along the table, from the pale, pinched features of the lawyer to the smug grin of the grocer, or Buton's coarse face ; with what sinkings of heart I found myself on a sudden the equal of these men, addressed now with rude ab- ruptness and now with servility ; last, but not least, with what despondency I listened to the wrangling which followed, and which it needed all the exertions of the captain to control. Fortunately, the sitting did not last long. After half an hour of debate and conversation, during which I did what I could to aid the few who knew anything of business, the meeting broke up; and while some went out on various missions, others re- mained to deal with such affairs as arose. I was one of those appointed to stay, and I drew Father Benoit into a corner, and, hiding for a moment the feeling of despair which possessed me, I asked him if any further outbreaks had occurred in the coun- try round. " No," he answered, secretly pressing my hand. " We have done so much good, I think." Then, in a different tone, which showed how clearly he read my mind, he continued, under his breath, " Ah ! M. le Vicomte, let us only keep the peace ! Let us do what lies to our hands. Let us protect the innocent, and then no matter what happens. Alas! I foresee more than I predicted. More than I dreamed of is in peril. Let us only cling to " He stopped and turned, startled by the noisy entrance of the captain, who came in so abruptly that those who remained at the table sprang to their feet. M. Hugues's face was flushed, 180 TI1F. UKI> CoCKAIiK his eyes were gleaming with anger. The lawyer, who stood nearest to the door, turned a shade paler and stammered out a question. But the captain passed by him with a glance of con- tempt and came straight to me. " M. le Yicomte," he said, out l"iid, blurting out his words in haste, "yon are a gentleman. You will understand me. I want your help." I stared at him. " Willingly," I said. " But what is the matter ?" " I have been insulted !" he answered, his mustaches curling. How ?" " In the street ! And by one of those puppies ! But I will teach him manners ! I am a soldier, sir, and I "But stay, M. le Capitaine," I said, really taken aback; "I understood that there was to be no fighting. And that you in particular " "Tut! tut!" " would be caned before you would go out." " Sucre Nom /" he cried, " what of that ? Do you think that I am not a gentleman because I have served in America instead of in France ?" \"'," I said, scarcely able to restrain a smile. "But it is playing into their hands. So you said yourself a minute ago, and" " Will you help me, or will you not, sir?" he retorted, angrily. And then, as the lawyer tried to intervene, " Be silent, you !" lie continued, turning on him so violently that the scrivener jumped back a pace. " What do you know of these things ? You mis- erable pettifogger! you " "Softly, softly, M. le Capitaine," I said, startkd by this out- break, and by the prospect of further brawling which it dis- closed. " M. TAvoue is doing merely his duty in remonstrating. !! is in the right, and " " I have nothing to do with him ! And for you you will not assist me .'" " I did not say that." "Then, if you will, I crave your services at once! At once," he said, more calmly ; but he still kept his shoulder to the lawyer. "I have appointed a meeting behind the cathe- THE DUEL 181 dral. If you will honor me, I must ask you to do so imme- diately." I saw that it was useless to say more ; that he had made up his mind ; and for answer I took up rny hat. In a moment we were moving towards the door. The lawyer, the grocer, half a dozen cried out on us, and would have stopped us. But Father Benoit remained silent, and I went on down the stairs and out of the house. Outside it was easy to see that the quarrel and insult had had spectators ; a gloomy crowd not compact, but made up of watching groups filled all the sunny open part of the square. The pavement, on the other hand, along which we had to pass to go to the cathedral, had for its only occupants a score or more of gentlemen, who, wearing white cockades, walked up and down in threes and fours. The crowd eyed them si- lently ; they affected to see nothing of the crowd. Instead, they talked and smiled carelessly, and with half-opened eyes ; swung their canes and saluted one another, and now and then stopped to exchange a word or a pinch of snuff. They wore an air of insolence, ill -hidden, which the silent, almost cowed looks of the multitude, as it watched them askance, seemed to justify. We had to run the gantlet of these, and my face burned with shame as we passed. Many of the men whom I met now I had met two days before at Madame St. Alais's, where they had seen me put on the white cockade ; they saw me now in the opposite camp; they knew nothing of my reasons, and I read in their averted eyes and curling lips what they thought of the change. Others and they looked at me insolently, and scarce- ly gave me room to pass were strangers, wearing military swords and the cross of St. Louis. Fortunately the passage was as short as it was painful. We passed under the north wall of the cathedral, and through a lit- tle door into a garden, where lime-trees tempered the glare of the sun, and the town, with its crowd and noise, seemed to be in a moment left behind. On the right rose the walls of the apse and the heavy eastern domes of the cathedral ; in front rose the ramparts ; on the left an old, half- ruined tower of the fourteenth century lifted a frowning, ivy-covered head. In the 1 -I' THE RED COCKADE shadow at its foot, on a piece of smooth sward, a group of four persons were standing waiting for us. One was M. de. St. Alais, one was Louis; the others were strangers. A sudden thought filled me with horror. " Whom are you going to fight ?" I muttered. " M. de St. Alais," the captain answered, in the same tone. And then, being within ear-shot of the others, I could say no in- -re. They stepped forward, and saluted us. M. le Vicomte ?" Louis said, lie was grave and stern. I scarcely knew him. I assented mechanically, and we stepped aside from the others. "This is not a case that admits of intervention, I believe?" he said, bowing. " I suppose not," I answered, huskily. In truth, I could scarcely speak for horror. I was waking slowly to the consciousness of the dilemma in which I had placed myself. Were St. Alais to fall by the captain's sword, what would his sister say to me, what would she think of me, how would she ever touch my hand ? And yet could I wish ill to my own principal ? Could I do so in honor, even if something sturdy and practical, something of plain gallantry, in the man, whom I was here to second, had not already and insensibly won my heart? Yet one of the two must fall. The great clock above my head, slowly telling out the hour of noon, beat the truth into my brain. For a moment I grew dizzy ; the sun dazx.ied me, the trees reeled before me, the garden swam. The murmur of the crowd outside^ filled my ears. Then out of the mist Louis's voice, unnaturally steady, gripped my attention, and my brain grew clear again. Have you any objection to this spot?" he said. "The s is dry and not slippery. They will fight in shadow, and the light is good." "It will do," I muttered. " Perhaps you will examine it? There is, I think, no trip or fault." I affected to do BO. " I find none," I said, hoarsely. " Then we had better place our men ?" THE DUEL 183 " I think so." I had no knowledge of the skill of either combatant, but as I turned to join Hugues I was startled by the contrast which the two presented as they stood a little apart, their upper clothes removed. The captain was the shorter by a head, and stiff and sturdy, with a clear eye and keen visage. M. le Marquis, on the other hand, was tall and lithe, and long in the arm, with a reach which threatened danger, and a smile almost as deadly. I thought that if his skill and coolness were on a par with his natural gifts, M. Hugues but then again my head reeled. What did I wish ? " We are ready," M. Louis said, impatiently ; and I noticed that he glanced past me towards the gate of the garden. " Will you measure the swords, M. le Vicomte ?" I complied, and was about to place my man when M. le Capitaine indicated by a sign that he wished to speak to me, and, disregarding the frowns of the other side, I led him apart. His face had lost the glow of passion which had animated it a few minutes before, and was pale and stern. " This is a fool's trick," he said, curtly, and under his breath. " It will serve me right if that puppy goes through me. You will do me a favor, M. le Vicomte ?" I muttered that I would do him any in my power. "I borrowed a thousand francs to fit myself out for this service," he continued, avoiding my eye, " from a man in Paris whose name you will find in my valise at the inn. Should anything happen to me, I should be glad if you will send him what is left. That is all." " He shall be paid in full," I said. " I will see to it." He wrung my hand and went to his station ; and Louis and I placed ourselves on either side of the two, ready, with our swords drawn, to interfere should need arise. The signal was given, the principals saluted, and fell on guard; and in a mo- ment the grinding and clicking of the blades began, while the pigeons of the cathedral flew in eddies above us, and in the middle of the garden a little fountain tinkled softly in the sun- shine. They had not made three passes before the great diversity 184 THE RED COCKADE of their styles became apparent. While Hugues played vL ously with his body, stooping and moving, and stepping aside, but keeping his arm stiff, and usini; his \\rist much, M. le Marquis held his body erect and still, but moved his arm, and, fencing with a school correctness, as if he held a foil, dis- dained all artifices save those of the weapon. It was clear that he was the better fencer, and that of the two the captain must tire first, since he was never still, and the wrist is more quickly fatigued than the arm ; but, in addition to this, I soon perceived that the marquis was not putting forth his full strength, but, depending on his defence, was waiting to tire out his opponent. My eyes grew hot, my throat dry, as I watched breathlessly, waiting for the stroke that must finish all waiting and flinching. And then, on a sudden, something happened. The captain seemed to slip, yet did not slip, but in a moment, stooping almost prone, his left hand on the ground, was under the other's guard. His point was at the marquis's breast, when the latter sprang back sprang back, and just saved himself. Before the captain could recover his footing, Louis dashed his sword aside. "Foul play!" he cried, passionately. "Foul play! A stroke dessous ! It is not en regie." The captain stood breathing quickly, his point to the ground. "But why not, monsieur?" he said. Then he looked to me. " I scarcely understand, M. de St. Alais," I said, stiffly. " The stroke" " Is not allowed." " In the schools," I said. " But this is a duel." " I have never seen it used in a duel," he said. No matter," I answered, warmly. "To interfere on such is absurd." "Is absurd!"! repeated, firmly. "After su.-h treatment I have no resource but to withdraw M. le Capitainc from the Bdd." iVrhaps you will take his place," some one behind me said with a sneer. I turned sharply. One of the two persons whom we had . . . '"FOUL PLAY!' HE CRIED, PASSIONATELY. 'A STROKE THE DUEL 187 found with St. Alais was the speaker. I saluted him. " The surgeon ?" I said. "No," he answered, angrily. "I am M. du Marc, and very much at your service." " But not a second," I rejoined. " And therefore you have no right to be standing where you are, nor to be here. I must request you to withdraw." " I have at least as much right as those," he answered, point- ing to the roof of the cathedral, over the battlements of which a number of heads could be seen peering down at us. I stared. " Our friends have at least as much right as yours," he con- tinued, taunting me. " But they do not interfere," I answered, firmly. " Nor shall you. I request you to withdraw." He still refused, and even tried to bluster ; but this proved too much for Louis's stomach ; he intervened sharply, and at a word from him the bully shrugged his shoulders and moved away. Then we four looked at one another. " We had better proceed," the captain said, bluntly. " If the stroke was irregular, this gentleman was right to interfere. If not" " I am willing," M. de St. Alais said. And in a moment the two fell on guard, and to it again ; but more fiercely now, and with less caution, the captain more than once using a rough, sweeping parry, in greater favor with practical fighters than in the fencing-school. This, though it left him exposed to a riposte, seemed to disconcert M. le Mar- quis, who fenced, I thought, less skilfully than before, and more than once seemed to be flurried by the captain's at- tack. I began to feel doubtful of the result; my heart began to beat more quickly; the glitter of the blades as they slid up and down one another confused my sight. I looked for one moment across at Louis and in that moment the end came. M. le Capitaine used again his sweeping parry, but this time the circle was too wide ; St. Alais's blade darted serpent-like under his. The captain staggered back. His sword dropped from his hand. 188 THK RED COCKAUK Before he could fall I caught him in my arms, but blood was gushing already from a wound in the side of his neck. Hi- just turned his eyes to my face, and tried once to speak. I caught the words " You will ," and then blood choked his voice, and his eyes slowly closed. He was dead, or as good as dead, before the surgeon could reach him, before I could lay him <>n the I knelt a moment beside him, perfectly stunned by the sud- denness of the catastrophe, watching in a kind of fascination the surgeon feeling pulse and heart, and striving with Ins thumb to stop the bleeding. For a moment or two mv world was re- duced to the sinking gray face, the quivering eyelids before me, and I saw nothing, heeded nothing, thought of nothing else. I could not believe that the valiant spirit had fled already ; that the stout man who had so quickly, yet insensibly, won my liking was in this moment dead dead and growing livid, while the pigeons still circled overhead, and the sparrows chirped, and the fountain tinkled in the sunshine. I cried out in my agony. "Not dead?" I said. "Not dead so soon '." " Yes, M. le Vicomtc, it was bad luck," the surgeon answered, letting the passive head fall on the stained grass. " With such a wound nothing can be done." lie rose as he spoke ; but I remained on my knees, wrapt and absorbed, staring at the glaxing eyes that a few minutes be- fore had been full of life and keenness. Then, with a shudder, I turned my look on myself. His Mood covered me; it was on mv breast, my arm, mv hands, soaking into my coat. From it my thoughts turned to St. Alais ; and at the moment, as I looked instinctively round to sec where lie was, or if he had gone, I started. The deep boom of a heavy hell, tolled once, shook the air: while its solemn burden still hung mournfully on the ear, quick footsteps ran towards me, and I heard a har>h cry at my elbow: " lint, limn 1H, a! This is murder! They are murder- ing u^ '." \ looked behind me. The speaker was Du Marc, the bully who had vainly tried to pro\oke me. The. t\\o St. Alaises and the surgeon were with him, and all four came from the direction THE DUEL 189 of the door by which we had entered. They passed me with averted eyes, and hurried towards a little postern which flanked the old tower and opened on the ramparts. As they went out of sight behind a buttress that intervened the bell boomed out again above my head, its dull note full of menace. Then I awoke and understood understood that the noise which filled my ears was not the burden of the bell carried on from one deep stroke to another, but the roar of angry voices in the square, the babel of an approaching crowd crying " A la lan- terne ! A la lanterne !" From the battlements of the cathedral, from the louvres, of the domes, from every window of the great gloomy structure that frowned above me, men were making signs, and pointing with their hands, and brandishing their fists at me, I thought at first, or at the body at my feet. But then I heard footsteps again, and I turned and found the other four behind me, close to me ; the two St. Alaises, pale and stern, with bright eyes ; the bully pale, too, but with a look which shot fur- tively here and there, and white lips. "Curse them, they are at that door, too!" he cried, shrilly. " We are beset. We shall be murdered. By God, we shall be murdered, and by these canaille ! By these I call all here to witness that it was a fair fight'. I call "you to witness, M. le Vi- comte, that " "It will help us much," St. Alais said, with a sneer, "if he does. If I were once at home " " Aye, but how are we to get there ?" Du Marc cried. He could not hide his terror. " Do you understand," he continued, queru- lously, addressing me, " that we shall be murdered ? Is there no other door ? Speak, some one. Speak !'' His fears appealed to me in vain. I would scarcely have stirred a finger to save him. But the sight of the two St. Alaises standing there pale and irresolute, while that roar of voices grew each moment louder and nearer, moved me. A moment, and the mob would break in ; perhaps, finding us by Hugues's side, it might in its fury sacrifice all indifferently. It might ; and then I heard, to give point to the thought, the crash of one of the doors of the garden as it gave way ; and I cried out almost in- voluntarily that there was another door another door, if it were 10 190 THE RED COCKADE open. I did not look to sec if they followed, but, leaving the dead, I took the lead, and ran across the sward towards the wall of the cathedral. The crowd were already pouring into the garden, but a clump of shrubs hid us from them as we fled, and we gained unseen a little door, a low-browed postern in the wall of the apse, that led, I knew for not long before I had conducted an English visitor over the cathedral to a sacristy connected with the crypt. My hope of finding the door open was slight; if I had stayed to wei sunken eyes, and I set my own face like a stone and turned away. CHAPTER XIII A LA I.ANTERNE V FOR of all the things that had happened since I left the Committee - room the captain's death remained the one most real and most deeply bitten into my mind. He had shared with me the walk from the inn to the garden, and the petty annoyances that had then filled my thoughts. He had faced them with me, and bravely ; and this late association, and the picture of him as he walked beside me, full of life and coarse wrath, rose up now and cried out against his death cried out that it was impossible ; so that it seemed horrible to me and I shook with fear, and loathed the man whose hand had done it. Nor was that all. I had known Htigues barely forty- eight hours; my liking for him was only an hour born ; but I had his story. I could follow him going about to borrow the small sum of money he had named ; I could trace the hopes he had built on it; I could see him coming here full of honest courage, believing that he had found an opening; a man strong, confi- dent, looking forward, full of plans. And then, of all, this was the end ! He had hoped, he had purposed ; and on the other side of the cathedral he lay stark stark and dead on the grass. It seemed so sad and pitiful^ I had the man so vividly in my mind, that I scarcely gare a thought to the St. Alaises' danger and escape ; that, and our hasty flight, had passed like a dream. I was content to listen a moment beside the church door ; then, satisfied that the murmur of the crowd was dying in the dis- tance and that the city was quiet, I thanked the vicar again, and warmly, and, taking leave of him, in my turn walked up the passage. I'.M TIIK KKI) COCKAUK It was so still that it echoed ray footsteps ; and presently I began to think the silence' odd. I began to wonder why the mob, which a few minutes before had shown itself so vindic- tivo, had not found its way round; why the neighborhood had become on a sudden so quiet. A few paces would show, however. I hastened on, and in a moment stood in the market- place. To my astonishment it lay sunny, tranquil, utterly deserted ; a dog ran here and there with tail high, nosing among the u ir- bage; a few old women were at the stalls on the farther side; about as many people were busy putting up shutters and clos- ing shops. But the crowd which had filled the place so short a time before, the queue about the corn measures, the white cockades, all were gone. I stood astonished. For a moment only, however. Then, in place of the si- lence which had prevailed between the high walls of the pas- sage, a dull sound, distant and heavy, began to speak to me; a sullen roar, as of breakers falling on the beach. I started and listened. A moment more and I was across the square and at the inn. I darted into the passage and up the stairs, my heart beating fast. Here, too, I had left a crowd, in the passages and on the stairs. Not a man remained. The house seemed to be dead, at noonday, with the sun shining outside. I saw no one, heard no one, until I reached the door of the room in which I had left the Committee and entered. Here at last I found life, but the same silence. llmind the table were seated some dozen of the members of the Committee. On seeing me they started, like men detected in an act of which they were ashamed, some continuing to sit. sullen and scowling, with their elbows on the table, others stooping to their neighbors' ears to whisper or listen. I noticed that many were pale, and all gloomy ; and though the room was light, and hot noon poured in through three windows, a something grim in the silence and the air of expectation which prevailed struck a chill to my heart. Father Benuit was not of them, but IJuton was, and the lawyer, and the grocer, and the two gentlemen, and one of the A LA LANTERNE 195 cures, and Doury the last named pale and cringing, with fear sitting heavily on him. I might have thought, at a first glance round, that nothing which had happened outside was known to them ; that they were ignorant alike of the duel and the riot; but a second glance assured me that they knew all, and more than I did ; so many of them, when they had once met my eyes, looked away. " What has happened ?" I asked, standing half-way between the door and the long table. "Don't you know, monsieur?" " No," I muttered, staring at them. Even here that distant murmur filled the air. "But you were at the duel, M. le Vicomte?" The speaker was Buton. " Yes," I said, nervously. " But what of that? I saw M. le Marquis safe on his way home, and I thought that the crowd had separated. Now " and I paused, listening. " You fancy that you still hear them ?" he said, eying me closely and smiling. " Yes ; I fear that they are at mischief." " We are afraid of that, too," the smith answered, dryly, setting his elbows on the table and looking at me anew. " It is not impossible." Then I understood. I caught Doury's eye which would fain have escaped mine and read it there. The hooting of the distant crowd rose more loudly on the summer stillness; as it did so, faces round the table grew graver, lips grew longer, some trembled and looked down ; and I understood. " My God !" I cried, in excitement, trembling myself, " is no one going to do anything, then? Are you going to sit here while these demons work their will ? While houses are sacked, and women and children " " Why not?" Buton said, curtly. " Why not?" I cried. "Aye, why not?" he answered, sternly and I began to sco that lie dominated the others ; that he would not and they dared not. " We went about to keep the peace and see that others kept it. But your white cockades, your 190 THE RED COCKADE bullies, your soldierless officers, M. le Vicomte I speak with- out offence would not have it. They undertook to bully us, ami unless they learn a lesson now they will bully us again. No, monsieur," he continued, looking round with a hard smile already power had changed him \\ondroiisly "let the peo- ple have their way for half an hour, and " " The people ?" I cried. " Are the rascals and sweepings of the streets, the jail-birds, the beggars, and for fats of the town are they the people ?" No matter," he said, frowning. " But this is murder!" Two or three shivered, and some looked sullenly from me ; but the blacksmith only shrugged his shoulders. Still I did not despair ; I was going to say more to try threats, even prayers ; but before I could speak the man nearest to the windows raised his hands for silence, and we heard the distant riot sink, and in the momentary quiet which followed the sharp report of a gun ring out, succeeded by another and another. Then a roar of rage distinct, articulate, full of menace. "Oh, mon Dieuf" I cried, looking round, while I trembled with indignation, "I cannot stand this! AVill no one act? "Will no one do anything? There must be some authority. There must be some one to curb this canaille; or presently I warn you, I warn you all, that they will cut your throats also yours, M. 1'Avoue, and yours, Doury !" "There was some one, and he is dead," Buton answered. The rest of the Committee fidgeted gloomily. And was he the only one?" "They've killed him," the smith said, bluntly. "They must take the consequences." "They?" 1 cried, in a passion of wrath ami pity. " Aye, and you ! And you ! I tell you that you arc using this scum of the people to crush your enemies ! But presently they will crush yon, too!" Still no one spoke, no one answered me; no eyes met mine; then I saw how it was: that nothing I could say would move them ; and 1 turned without another word and ran down- stairs. I knew already, or could guess, whither the ero\\d had A LA LANTERNE 197 gone, and whence came the shouting and the shots; and the moment I reached the square I turned in the direction of the St. Alais house, and ran through the streets through quiet streets, under windows from which women looked down white and curious, past neat green blinds of modern houses, past a few staring groups; ran on, with all about me smiling, but always with that murmur in my ears, and at my heart grim fear. They were sacking the St. Alais house ! And mademoiselle ! And madame ! The thought of them came to me late; but having come it was not to be displaced. It gripped my heart and seemed to stop it. Had I saved mademoiselle only for this ? Had I risked all to save her from the frenzied peasants, only that she might fall into the more cruel hands of these maddened wretch- es, these sweepings of the city? It was a dreadful thought ; for I loved her, and knew, as I ran, that I loved her. Had I not known it I must have known it now by the very measure of agony which the thought of that horror caused me. The distance from the Trois Rois to the house was barely four hundred yards, but it seemed infinite to me. It seemed an age before I stopped, breathless and panting, on the verge of the crowd, and strove to see, across the plain of heads, what was happening in front. A moment, and I made out enough to relieve me, and I breathed more freely. The crowd had not yet won its will. It filled the street on either side of the St. Alais house from wall to wall ; but in front of the house itself a space was still kept clear by the fire of those within. Now and again a man or a knot of men would spring out of the ranks of the mob, and, darting across this open space to the door, would strive to beat it in with axes and bars, and even with naked hands ; but al- ways there came a puff of smoke from the shuttered and loop- holed windows, and a second and a third, and the men fell back, or sank down on the stones, and lay bleeding in the sunshine. It was a terrible sight. The wild-beast rage of the mob as they watched their leaders fall, yet dared not make the rush en masse which must carry the place, was enough of itself to ap- pall the stoutest. But when to this and their fiendish cries were 198 THE RED COCKADE no\,- my head, and another, and a splinter flew from one of tin- green shutters opposite. Then a voice from the crowd cried out to cease firing, and for a moment all was still. I stood in the midst of a hot, breathless hush, my hand raised. It was my opportunity I had got it by a miracle ; but for a moment I was silent, I could find no words. At last, as a low murmur began to make itself heard, I spoke. 'Men of Cahors !" I cried. "In the name of the trirolor, stand !" And trembling with agitation, acting on the impulse of the instant, I walked slowly across the street to the door of the !<- _ed house, and, under the eyes of all, I took the tricolor fr. .HI niv bosom, and hung it on the knocker of the door. Then I turned. " I take possession," I cried, hoarsely, at the top of niv voice, that all might hear " I take possession of this house and all that are in it in the name of the Tricolor and the Nation and the Committee of Cahors. Those within shall be tried and justice done upon them. But for you, I call upon you to !- part and go to your homes in peace, and the Committee " I got no further. With the word a shot whizzed by m\ ear and struck the plaster from the wall ; and then, as if the sound " ' I TAKE POSSESSION !' I CRIED, HOARSELY " A LA LAXTEKXE 203 released all the passions of the people, a roar of indignation shook the air. They hissed and swore at me, yelled "A la lanterne !" and " A bas le traitre !" and in an instant burst their bounds. As if invisible floodgates gave way, the mob on either side rushed suddenly forward, and, rolling towards the door in a solid mass, were in an instant upon me. I expected that I should be torn to pieces, but instead I was only buffeted and flung aside and forgotten, and in a moment was lost in the struggling, writhing mass of men, who flung themselves pell-mell upon the door, and fell over one another, and wounded one another in the fury with which they attacked it. Men, injured earlier, were trodden under foot now ; but no one stayed for their cries. Twice a gun was fired from the house, and each shot took effect ; but the press was so great, and the fury of the assailants as they swarmed about the door so blind, that those who were hit sank down unobserved, and perished under their comrades' feet. Thrust against the iron railings that flanked the door, I clung to them, and, protected from the pressure by a pillar of the porch, managed with some difficulty to keep my place. I could not move, however ; I had to stand where I was while the crowd swayed round me, and I waited in dizzy, sickening horror for the crisis. It came at last. The panels of the door, riven and shattered, gave way ; the foremost assailants sprang at the gap. Yet still the frame, held by one hinge, stood, and kept them out. As that yielded at length under their blows, and the door fell inward with a crash, I flung myself into the stream, and was carried into the house among the foremost, fortunately for several fell on my feet. I had the thought that I might outpace the others, and, getting first to the rooms up-stairs, might at least fight for mademoiselle if I could not save her. For I had caught the in- fection of the mob ; my blood was on fire. There was no one in all the crowd more set to kill than I was. I raced in, there- fore, with the rest ; but when I reached the foot of the stairs I saw, and they saw, that which stopped us all. It was M. de Gontaut, lifted in that moment of extreme danger above himself. He stood alone on the stairs, looking _'"1 THE RED COCKADE down on the invaders and smiling smiling, with everything ility and frivolity gone from his face, and only the cour- age of iiis caste left. He saw his world tottering, the scum and raliblo overwhelming it, everything which he had loved and in which he had lived passing. lie saw death waiting for him seven steps below, and he smiled. With his slender sword hanging at his wrist, he tapped his snuffbox and looked down : no longer garrulous, feeble, almost with his stories of stale intrigues and his pagan creed contemptible, but steady ami proud, with eyes that gleamed with defiance. " Well, dogs," he said, "will you earn the gallows?" Fora second no one moved. For a second the old noble's pres- ence and fearlessness imposed on the vilest ; and they stared at him, cowed by his eye. Then he stirred. With a quiet nrc. as of a man saluting before a duel, he caught up the hilt of his sword and presented the lowered point. "Well," he said, with bitter scorn in his tone, "you have come to do it. Which of you will go to hell for the rest? For I shall take one." That broke the spell. With a howl a dozen ruffians sprang up the stairs. I saw the bright steel flash once, twice ; and one reeled back, and rolled down under his fellows' feet. Then a !>ar swept up and fell on the smiling face, and the old noble dropped without a cry or a groan under a storm of blows that in a moment beat the life out of his body. It was over in a moment, and before I could interfere. The i score of men leaped over the corpse and up the stairs with horrid cries I after them. To the right and left were locked doors, with panels Wattcau-painted ; they dashed these in with brutal shouts, and in a twinkling Hooded the splendid rooms, sweeping away and breaking, and Hinging down in wan- ton mischief, everything that came to hand vases, statues, glass- es, miniatures. With shrieks of triumph they filled the salon that had known for generations only the graces and beauty of life, and clattered over the shininir parquets that had been swept so Ion;; by the skirts of fair women. Kvervthing they could not understand was snatched up and dashed down ; in a moment the m-eat Venetian mirrors were shattered, the pictures pierced and torn, the books flunu' through the. windows into the it " ' WHICH OF YOU WILL GO TO HELL FOR TUK RKST ?' " A LA LANTERNE 207 I had a glimpse of the scene as I paused on the landing. But a glance sufficed to convince me that the fugitives were not in these rooms, and 1 sprang on and up the next flight. Here, short as had been my delay, I found others before me. As I turned the corner of the stairs I came on three men listening at a door; before I could reach them one rose. "Here they are !" he cried. " That is a woman's voice ! Stand back !" And he lifted a crowbar to beat in the door. " Hold !" I cried, in a voice that shook him and made him lower his weapon. " Hold ! In the name of the Committee I command you to leave that door ! The rest of the house is yours. Go and plunder it." The men glared at me. " Sacre venire f" one of them hissed. " Who are you ?" " The Committee !" I answered. He cursed me, and raised his hand. "Stand back !" I cried, furiously, "or you shall hang!' ; " Ho ! ho ! An aristocrat !" he retorted, and he raised his voice. " This way, friends, this way ! An aristocrat ! An aristocrat !" he cried. At the word a score of his fellows came swarming up the stairs. I saw myself in an instant surrounded by grimy, pocked faces and scowling eyes by haggard creatures sprung from the sewers of the town. Another second and they would have laid hands on me; but, desperate and full of rage, I rushed instead on the man with the bar, and, snatching it from him before he guessed my intention, in a twinkling laid him at my feet. In the act, however, I lost my balance and stumbled. Before I could recover myself one of his comrades struck me on the head with his wooden shoe. The blow partially stunned me ; still, I got to my feet again and hit out wildly, and drove them back, and for a moment cleared the landing round me. But I was dizzy ; I saw all now through a red haze ; the figures danced before me ; I could no longer think or aim, but only hear taunts and jeers on every side. Some one plucked my coat. I turned blindly. In a moment another struck me a crushing blow hcrw or with what I never knew and I fell senseless and as good as dead. CHAPTER XIV IT GOES ILL IT was August, and the leaves of the chestnuts were still green, when they sacked the St. Alais house at Cahors and I fell senseless on the stairs. The ash-trees were bare and the oaks clad only in russet when I hegan to know things again, and, looking sidcwavs from my pillow into the gray autumnal world, took up afresh the task of living. Even then many days had to elapse before I ceased to be merely an animal con- tent to eat and drink and sleep, and take Father Benoit kneel- ing by my bed for one of the permanent facts of life. But the time did come at last, in late November, when the mind awoke, as those who watched by mo had never thought to see it awake ; and, meeting the curb's eyes with my eyes, I saw him turn away and break into joyful weeping. A week from that time I knew all the story, public and pri- vate, of that wonderful autumn during which I had lain like a log in my bed. At first, avoiding topics that touched me too nearly, Father Benoit told me of Paris of the ten weeks of suspicion and suspense which followed the Bastille riots, \\ during which the faubourgs, scantly checked by Lafayette and his National Guards, kept jealous watch on Versailles, win-re the Assembly sat in attendance on the King; of the scarcity which prevailed through this trying time, and the constant rumors of an attack by the court ; of the Queen's unfortunate banquet, which proved to be the spark that tired the mine ; last of all, of the great march of the women to Versailles on the oth of October, which, by forcing the King and the Assembly to Paris and making the King a prisoner in his own palace, put an end to this period of uncertainty. IT GOES ILL 209 " And since then ?" I said, in feeble amazement. " This is the 20th of November, you tell me ?" " Nothing has happened," he answered, " except signs and symptoms."' " And those ?" He shook his head gravely. " Every one is enrolled in the National Guards that, for one. Here, in Quercy, the corps, which M. Hugnes took it in hand to form, numbers some thou- sands. Every one is armed, therefore. Then, the game laws being abolished, every one is a sportsman. And so many no- bles have emigrated that either there are no nobles or all are nobles." "But who governs?" " The municipalities. Or, where there are none, Committees." I could not help smiling. " And your Committee, M. le Cure ?" I said. " I do not attend it," he answered, wincing visibly. " To be plain, they go too fast for me. But I have worse yet to tell you !" " What ?" " On the 4th of August the Assembly abolished the tithes of the Church ; early in this month they proposed to confiscate the estates of the Church ! By this time it is probably done." " What ! And the clergy are to starve ?" I cried, in indigna- tion. " Not quite," he answered, smiling sadly. " They are to be paid by the state as long as they please the state !" He went soon after he had told me that ; and I lay in amaze- ment, looking through the window, and striving to picture the changed world that existed round me. Presently Andre came in with my broth. I thought it weak, and said so ; the strong gust of outside life which the news had brought into my cham- ber had roused my appetite, and given me a distaste for tisanes and slops. But the old fellow took the complaint very ill. " Well," he grumbled, " and what else is to be expected, monsieur 2 With little rent paid, and half the pigeons in the cot slaughtered, and scarcely a hare left in the countryside ? W T ith all the world 210 THE HED COCKADE shooting and snaring, and smiths and tailors cocked up on horses aye, and with swords l>y their sides and the ^entrv gone, or hiding their heads in bed, it is a small tiling if the broth is weak! If M. le Vicomte liked strong broth, lie should have been wise enough to keep the cow himself, and not " Tut, tut, man !" I said, wincing in my turn. " What of Baton r " Monsieur means M. le Capitaine Buton ?" the old man an- swered, with a sneer. " He is at Cahors." "And was any one punished for for the affair at St. Alais f No one is punished nowadays," Andre replied, tartly. " Except sometimes a miller, who is hung because corn is dear." " Then even Petit Jean" " Petit Jean went to Paris. Doubtless he is now a major or a colonel." With this shot the old man left me left me writhing. For through all I had not dared to ask the one thing I wished to know ; the one thing that, as my strength increased, had grown with it, from a vague apprehension of evil, which the mind, when bidden to do its duty, failed to grasp, to a dreadful anxiety only too well understood and defined a brooding fear that weighed upon me like an evil dream, and, in spite of youth, sapped my life and retarded my recovery. I have read that a fever sometimes burns out love, and that a man rises cured not only of his illness, but of the | which consumed him when he succumbed to it. But this was not my fate; from the moment when that dull anxiety about I knew not what took shape and form, and I saw on the ^ivi'i: curtains of my bed a pale child's face a face that now \ve]>t and now gazed at me in sad appeal from that moment made- moiselle was never out of my waking mind for an hour. God knows if any thought of me on her part, if any silent, cry of her heart to me in her troubles, had to do with this ; but it \\as the case. However, on the next day the fear and the weight were re- moved. I suppose that Father Benoit had made up his mind to broach the subject, which hitherto he had shunned with care ; for his first question, after he had learned how I did, "ANDRE CAME IN WITH MY BROTH" IT GOES ILL 213 brought it up. " You have never asked what happened after you were injured, M. le Vicomte ?" he said, with a little hesita- tion. " Do you remember ?" " I remember all," I said, with a groan. lie drew a breath of relief. I think he had feared that there was still something amiss with the brain. " And yet you have never asked ?" he said. " Man ! Cannot you understand why why I have not asked ?" I cried, hoarsely, rising, and sinking back in my seat in uncon- trollable agitation. " Cannot you understand that until I asked I had hope? But now torture me no longer! Tell me, tell me all, man, and then " " There is nothing but good to tell," he answered, cheer- fully, endeavoring to dispel my fears at the first word. " You know the worst. Poor M. do Gontaut was killed on the stairs. He was too infirm to flee. The rest, to the meanest servant, got away over the roofs of the neighboring houses." " And escaped ?" " Yes. The town was in an uproar for many hours, but they were well hidden. I believe that they have left the country." " You do not know where they are, then ?" " No," he answered; " I never saw any of them after the out- break. But I heard of them being in this or that chateau at the Ilarincourts', and elsewhere. Then the Harincourts left about the middle of October and 1 think that M. de St. Alais and his family went with them." I lay for a while too full of thankfulness to speak. Then, " And you know nothing more ?" " Nothing," the cure answered. But that was enough for me. When he came again I was able to walk with him on the terrace, and after that I gained strength rapidly. I remarked, however, that as my spirits rose, with air and exercise, the good priest's declined. His kind, sensitive face grew day by day more sombre, his fits of silence longer. When I asked him the reason, " It goes ill, it goes ill," he said. " And, God forgive me, I had to do with it !" " Who had not ?" I said, soberly. 214 f THE RED COCKADE "But I should have foreseen!" he answered, wrin^in^ his liands openly. "I should have known that (Jod's first gift to man was Order, Order, and to-day in Cahors there is no tri- bunal, or none that acts ; the old magistrates are afraid, and the old laws are spurned, and no man can ever recover a debt ! Order, and the worst thing a criminal thrown into prison has now to fear is that he may be forgotten. Order, and I see arms everywhere, and men who cannot read teaching those who can, and men who pay no taxes disposing of the money of those who do ! I see famine in the town, and the farmers and the peasants killing game or folding their hands; for who will work when the future is uncertain ? I see the houses of the rich empty, and their servants starving ; I see all trade, all commerce, all buying and selling, except of the barest neces- saries, at an end ! I see all these things, M. le Vicomte, and shall I not say, ' Mea culpa, mea culpa'?" " But liberty," I said, feebly. " You once said yourself that a certain price must " " Is liberty license to do wrong ?" he answered, with passion seldom had I seen him so moved. " Is liberty license to rob and blaspheme, and move your neighbor's landmark? Does tyranny cease to be tyranny when the tyrants are no longer one, but a thousand ? M. le Vicomte, I know not what to do I know not what to do," he continued. " For a little I would go out into the world, and at all costs unsay what I have said, undo what I have done ! I would ! I would indeed !" " Something more has happened ?" I said, startled by this outbreak. " Something I have not heard ?" " The Assembly took away our tithes and our estates !" he answered, bitterly. "That you know. They denied our exist- ence as a Church. That you know. They have now decreed tlic suppression of all religious houses. Presently tlu-y will close also our churches and cathedrals. And we shall be pagans !" Impossible !" I said. " But it is true." "The suppression, yes. But for the churches and cathe- drals" IT GOES ILL 215 " Why not ?" he answered, despondently. " God knows there is little faith abroad. I fear it will come. I see it coining. The greater need that we who believe should testify." I did not quite understand at the time what he meant, or would be at, or what he had in his mind ; but I saw that his scrupulous nature was tormented by the thought that he had hastened the catastrophe ; and I felt uneasy when he did not appear next day at his usual time for visiting me. On the following day he came ; but was downcast and taciturn, tak- ing leave of me when he went with a sad kindness that almost made me call him back. The next day again he did not appear ; nor the day after that. Then I sent for him, but too late ; I sent, only to learn from his old .^use - keeper that he had left home suddenly, after arranging with a neighboring cure to have his duties performed for a month. I was able by this time to go abroad a little, and I walked down to his cottage ; I could learn no more there, however, than that a Capuchin monk had been his guest for two nights, and that M. le Cure had left for Cahors a few hours after the monk. That was all; I returned depressed and dissatisfied. Such villagers as I met by the way greeted me with respect, and even with sympathy it was the first time I had gone into the hamlet ; but the shadow of suspicion which I had detected on their faces some months before had grown deeper and darker with time. They no longer knew with certainty their places or mine, their rights or mine ; and, shy of me and doubtful of themselves, were glad to part from me. Near the gates of the avenue I met a man whom I knew a wine-dealer from Aulnay. I stayed to ask him if the family were at home. He looked at me in surprise. "M. le Vicomte," he said, "they left the country some weeks ago after the King was persuaded to go to Paris." " And M. le Baron ?" "He too." " For Paris ?" The man, a respectable bourgeois, grinned at me. " No, monsieur, I fancy not," he said. " You know best, M. le 216 THE RED COCKADE Vicomte ; but if I said Turirt, I doubt I should be little out." " I have been ill," I said, " and have heard nothing." " You should go into Cabors," he answered, with rough good- nature. " Most of the gentry are there if they have not gone farther. It is safer than the country in these days. Ah, if my father had lived to see " He did not finish the sentence in words, but raised his eye- brows and shoulders, saluted me, and rode away. In spite of his surprise, it was easy to see that the change pleased him, though he veiled his satisfaction out of civility. I walked home, feeling lonely and depressed. The tall stone house, the seigneurial tower and turret and dove-cot, stripped of the veil of foliage that in summer softened their outlines, stood up bare and gaunt at the end of the avenue, and seemed in some strange way to share my loneliness, and to speak to me of evil days on which we had alike fallen. In losing Father Benoit I had lost my only chance of society just when, with returning strength, the desire for companionship and a more active life was awakening. I thought of this gloomily ; and then was delighted to see, as I approached the door, a horse tethered to the ring beside it. There were holsters on the saddle, and the girths were splashed. Andre was in the hall, but, to my surprise, instead of inform- ing me that there was a visitor, he went on dusting a table, with his back to me. - Who is here ?" I said, sharply. " No one," he answered. " No one ? Then whose is that horse ?" "Tin- smith's, monsieur." "What? Buton's?" Aye, Buton's! It is a new thing hanging it at the front door," he added, with a sneer. " But what is he doing ? Where is he ?" " He is where he ought to be, and that is at the stables," the old fellow answered, doggedly. " I'll be bound that it is the first piece of honest work he has done for many a dav." "Is he shying!" IT GOES ILL 217 "Why not? Does monsieur want him to dine with him?" was the ill-tempered retort. I took no notice of this, but went to the stables. I could hear the bellows heaving, and turning the corner of the build- ing I came on Buton at work in the forge with two of his men. The smith was stripped to his shirt, and, with his great leathern apron round him and his bare, blackened arms, looked like the Buton of six months ago. But outside the forge lay a little heap of clothes neatly folded a blue coat with red facings, a long, blue waistcoat, and a hat with a huge tricolor ; and as he released the horse's hoof on which he was at work, and straightened himself to salute me, he looked at me with a new look that was something between appeal and defiance. " Tut, tut !" I said, fleering at him. " This is too great an honor, M. le Capitainel To be shod by a member of the Com- mittee !" "Has M. le Vicornte anything of which to complain?" he said, reddening under the deep tan of his face. "I? No, indeed. I am only overwhelmed by the honor you do me." " I have been here to shoe once a month," he persisted, stubbornly. " Does monsieur complain that the horses have suffered ?" " No. But" " Has M. le Vicomte's house suffered ? Has so much as a stack of his corn been burned, or a colt taken from the fields, or an egg from the nest ?" " No,' 1 I said. Buton nodded gloomily. " Then if monsieur has no fault to find," he replied, " perhaps he will let me finish my work. Afterwards I will deliver a message I have for him. But it is for his ear, and the forge " " Is not the place for secrets, though the smith is the man !" I answered, with a parting gibe fired over my shoulder. " Well, come to me on the terrace when you have finished." He came an hour later, looking hugely clumsy in his fine clothes, and with a sword Heaven save us! a sword by his side. Presently the murder came out : he was the bearer of a 218 THE RED COCKADK commission appointing me Lieutenant-Colonel in the National Guard of the Province. "It was given at my request," he said, with awkward pride. "There were some, M. le Vicomte, who thought that you had not behaved altogether well in the matter of the riot, but I rattled their heads together. Bc-i ! B, I >aid, 'No lieutenant-colonel, no captain !' and they cannot do without me. I keep this side quiet." What a position it was ! Oh, what a position it was ! And how for a moment the absurdity of it warred in my mind with the humiliation ! Six months before I should have torn up the paper in a fury, and flung it in his face, and beaten him out of my presence with my cane. But mucli had happened since then ; even the temptation to break into laughter, into peal upon peal of gloomy merriment, was not now invincible. I overcame it by an effort, partly out of prudence, partly from a better motive a sense of the man's rough fidelity amid cir- cumstances and in face of anomalies the most trying. I thanked him instead, therefore, though I almost clicked, and I said I would write to the Committee. Still he lingered, rubbing one great foot against another ; and I waited witli mock politeness to hear his business. At length, "There is another thing I wished to say, M. le Yi- comte," he growled. " M. le Cur6 has left Saux ?" "Yes?" " Well, he is a good man ; or he was a good man," he con- tinued, grudgingly. " But he is running into trouble, and yti wmild do well to let him know that." " Why ?" I said. " Do you know where he is ?" " I can guess," he answered. "And where others are, too ; and where there will presently be trouble. These Capuchin monks are not about the country for nothing. When the crows fly ln>inc there will be trouble. And I do not want him to be in it." " I have not the least idea where he is," I said, coldly, "nor what you mean." The smith's tone had changed, and grown savage and ehurlish. Me has gone to Nimes," he answered. " To Nimes !" I cried, in astonishment. " How do you know ? It is more than I know." " ' GO !' 1 SAID. ' I HAVE HEARD ENOUGH. BEGONE !' " IT GOES ILL 221 " I do know," he answered, " and what is brewing there. And so do a great many more. But this time the St. Alaises and their bullies, M. le Vicomte aye, they are all there will not escape us. We will break their necks. Yes, M. le Vicomte, make no mistake," he continued, glaring at me, his eyes red with suspicion and anger. " Mix yourself up with none of this. We are the people ! The people ! Woe to the man or thing that stands in our way !" " Go !" I said. " I have heard enough. Begone !" He looked at me a moment as if he would answer me. But old habits overcame him, and with a sullen word of farewell he turned and went round the house. A minute later I heard his horse trot down the avenue. I had cut him short ; nevertheless, the instant he was gone I wished him back, that I might ask him more. The St. Alaises at Nimes ? Father Benoit at Nimes? Was a plot brewing there in which all had a hand ? In a moment the news opened a window, as it were, into a wider world, through which I looked, and no longer felt myself shut in by the lonely country round me and the lack of society. I looked, and saw the great white, dusty city of the south, and trouble rising in it, and in the mid- dle of the trouble, looking at me wistfully, Denise de St. Alais. Father Benoit had gone thither. Why might not I ? I walked up and down in a flutter of spirits, and the longer I considered it the more I liked it ; the longer I thought of the dull inaction in which I must spend my time at home, unless I consented to rub shoulders with Buton and his like, the more taken I was with the idea of leaving. And, after all, why not 2 Why should I not go ? I had my commission in ray pocket, wherein I was not only appointed to the National Guard, but described as ci-devant " President of the Council of Public Safety in the Province of Quercy ;" and this, taking the place of papers or passport, would render travelling easy. My long illness would serve as an excuse for a change of air, and explain my absence from home ; I had in the house as much money as I needed. In a word, I could see no difficulty and nothing to hinder me if I chose to go. I had only to please myself. 222 THE RED COCKADE So the choice was soon made. The following day I mounted a horse for the first time, and rode two-thirds of a league on the road, and home again, very tired. Next morning I rode to St. Alais, and viewed the ruins of the house, and returned ; this time I was less fatigued. Then, on the following day, Sunday, I rested; on the Mon- day I rode half-way to Cahors and back again. That evening I leaned my pistols and overlooked Gil while he packed my sad- dle-bags, choosing two plain suits, one to pack and one to wear, and a hat with a small tricolor rosette. On the following morn- ing, the 6th of March, I took the road ; and parting from Andr6 on the outskirts of the village, turned my horse's head towards Figeac, with a sense of freedom, of escape from difficulties and embarrassments, of hope and anticipation, that made that first hour delicious, and that still supported me when the March day began to give place to the chill darkness of evening evening that in an unknown, untried place is always sombre and melan- choly. CHAPTER XV AT MILHATT I MET with many strange things on that journey. I found it strange to see, as I went, armed peasants in the fields ; to light in each village on men drilling ; to enter inns and find half a dozen rustics seated round a table with glasses and wine, and perhaps an inkpot before them, and to learn that they called themselves a Committee. But towards evening of the third day I saw a stranger thing than any of these. I was begin- ning to mount the valley of the Tarn, which runs up into the Cevennes at Milhau ; a north wind was blowing, the sky was overcast, the landscape gray and bare ; a league before me masses of mountain stood up gloomily blue. On a sudden, as I walked wearily beside my horse, I heard voices singing in chorus, and looked about me. The sound, clear and sweet as fairy's music, seemed to rise from the earth at my feet. A few yards farther, and the mystery explained itself. I found myself on the verge of a little dip in the ground, and saw below me the roofs of a hamlet, and on the hither side of it a crowd of a hundred or more men and women. They were dan- cing and singing round a great tree, leafless, but decked with flags ; a few old people sat about the roots inside the circle, and but for the cold weather and the bleak outlook I might have thought that I had come on a May-day festival. My appearance checked the singing for a moment ; then two elderly peasants made their way through the ring and came to meet me, walking hand in hand. " Welcome to Vlais and Gi- ron !" cried one. " Welcome to Girou and Vlais !" cried the other. And then, before I could answer, " You come on a hap- py day !" cried both together. 224 THE KEU COCKV1JK I could not help smiling. " I am glad of that," I said. " Mav I ask what is the reason of your meeting " "The communes of Giron and Vlais, of Vlais ami <;ir," I said, smiling. " I have neither. I am quite- alone." "At least with a home," he persisted, "means, friends, em- ployment, or the chance of employment?" " Yes," I said, " that is so." "Whereas I I," he answered, growing guttural in h. citement, " have none of these things. I cannot enter the- armv I am a Protestant ! I am shut off from the service of the state 1 am a Protestant! I cannot be a lawyer or a judge I am a Protestant ! The King's schools are closed to me I am a Protestant ! I cannot appear at court I am a Protestant ! I in the eyes of the law I do not exist! I I, monsieur," he continued, more slowly, and with an air not devoid of dignity, " whose ancestors stood before kings, and whose grandfather's great-grandfather saved the fourth Henry's life at Coutras I do not exist !" " But now ?" I said, startled by his tone of passion. " Aye, now," he answered, grimly, " it is going to be different. Now it is going to be otherwise, unless these black crows of priests put the clock back again. That is why I am on the road." " You arc going to Milhau ?" "I live near Milhau," he answered. "And I have been from home. But I am not going home now. I am going farther to Nimcs." "To Nimes?" I said, in surprise. " Yes," he said. And he looked at me askance, and a trifle grimly, and did not say any more. By this time it was growing dark ; the valley of the Tarn, along which our road lay, though fertile and pleasant to the eye in summer, wore at this season, and in the half-light, a savage and rugged aspect. Mountains towered on either side; and sometimes, where the road drew near the river, the rushing of the water as it swirled and eddied among the rocks below us added its note of melancholy to the scene. I shivered. The uncertainty of my quest, the uncer- tainty of everything, the gloom of my companion, pressed upon me. I was glad when he roused himself from his brooding, '"WHERKAS I 1,' HE ANSWERED, GROWING GUTTURAL IN HIS EXCITEMENT, ' HAVE NONE OF THESE THINGS ' " AT MILHAU 229 and pointed to the lights of Milhau glimmering here and there on a little plain, where the mountains recede from the river. "You are doubtless going to the inn?" he said, as we entered the outskirts. I assented. " Then we part here," he continued. " To-morrow, if you are going to Nimes but you may prefer to travel alone." " Far from it," I said. " Well, I shall be leaving the east gate about eight o'clock," he answered, grudgingly. " Good-night, monsieur." I bade him good-night, and, leaving him there, rode into the town, passing through narrow, mean streets, and under dark archways and hanging lanterns, that swung and creaked in the wind, and did everything but light the squalid obscurity. Though night had fallen, people were moving briskly to and fro, or standing at their doors ; the place, after the solitude through which I had ridden, had the air of a city ; and present- ly I became aware that a little crowd was following my horse. Before I reached the inn, which stood in a dimly lit square, the crowd had grown into a great one, and was beginning to press upon me ; some who marched nearest to me staring up inquisi- tively into my face, while others, farther off, called to their neighbors, or to dim forms seen at basement windows, that it was he ! I found this somewhat alarming. Still, they did not molest me ; but when I halted they halted too, and I was forced to dis- mount almost in their arms. " Is this the inn ?" I said to those nearest to me, striving to appear at my ease. " Yes ! yes !" they cried, with one voice, " that is the inn !" " My horse" " We will take the horse ! Enter ! Enter !" I had little choice, they flocked so closely round me ; and, affecting carelessness, I complied, thinking that they would not follow, and that inside I should learn the meaning of their con- duct. But the moment my back was turned they pressed in af- ter me and beside me, and, almost sweeping me off my feet, urged me along the narrow passage of the house, whether I would or not. I tried to turn and remonstrate ; but the foremost drowned my words in loud cries for " M. Flandre ! M. Flandre !" 230 THE RED COCKADE Fortunately the person addressed was not far off. A door towards which I was being urged opened, ami IK- appeared. Il< proved to be an immensely stout man, with a face to match his body; and he gazed at us for a moment, astounded by the in- vasion. Then he asked angrily what was the matter. " Venire de Cielf he cried. " Is this my house or yours, rascals? Who is this?" " The Capuchin ! The Capuchin !" cried a dozen voices. " Ho ! ho !" he answered, before I could speak. " Bring a light." Two or three bare-armed women whom the noise had brought to the door of the kitchen fetched candles, and raising them above their heads gazed at me curiously. " Ho ! ho !" he said again. "The Capuchin, is it? So you have got him." "Do I look like one?" I cried, angrily, thrusting back those who pressed on me most closely. " Nom de Dieu / Is this the %\ay you receive guests, monsieur? Or is the town gone mad ?" "You are not the Capuchin monk?" he said, somewhat taken aback, I could see, by my boldness. " Have I not said that I am not? Do monks in your country travel in boots and spurs ?" I retorted. "Then your papers!" he answered, curtly. "Your papers ! I would have you to know," he continued, puffing out his cheeks, "that I am mayor here as well as host, and I keep the jail as well as the inn. Your papers, monsieur, if you prefer the one to the other." " Before your friends here ?" I said, contemptuously. " They are good citizens," he answered. I had some fear, now I had come to the pinch, that the com- mission I carried might fail to produce all the effects with which I had credited it. But I had no choice, and ultimately noth- ing to dread; and after a momentary hesitation I produced it. Fortunately it was drawn in complimentary terms, and gave the mayor, I know not how, the idea that I was actually bound at the moment on an errand of state. When he had read it,th fore, he broke into a hundred apologies, craved leave to salute me, and announced to the listening crowd that they had made a mistake. AT MILHAU 231 It struck me at the time as strange that they, the crowd, were not at all embarrassed by their error. On the contrary, they hastened to congratulate me on my acquittal, and even patted me on the shoulder in their good-humor ; some went to see that my horse was brought in, or to give orders on my behalf, and the rest presently dispersed, leaving me fain to be- lieve that they would have x hung me to the nearest lanterne^ with the same stolid complaisance. When only two or three remained I asked the mayor for whom they had taken me. " A disguised monk, M. le Vicomte," he said. " A very dan- gerous fellow, who is known to be travelling with two ladies all to Nimes ; and orders have been sent from a high quarter to arrest him." " But I am alone I" I protested. " I have no ladies with me." He shrugged his shoulders. "Just so, M. le Vicomte," he answered. " But we have got the two ladies. They were ar- rested this morning while attempting to pass through the town in a carriage. We know, therefore, that he is now alone." " Oh !" I said. " So now you only want him ? And what is the charge against him?" 1 continued, -remembering with a lan- guid stirring of the pulses that a Capuchin monk had visited Father Ben&it before his departure. It seemed to be strange that I should come upon the traces of another here. " He is charged," M. Flandre answered, pompously, " with high-treason against the nation, monsieur. He has been seen here, there, and everywhere, at Montpellier, and Cette, and Albi, and as far away as Auch; and always preaching war and super- stition, and corrupting the people." " And the ladies ?" I said, smiling. " Have they too been cor- rupting " " No, M. le Vicomte. But it is believed that wishing to re- turn to Nimes, and learning that the roads were watched, hedis- guised himself and joined himself to them. Doubtless they are devotes" " Poor things !" I said, with a qualm of compassion ; every one seemed to be so good-tempered, and yet so hard. ' What will you do with them ?" 12 232 THE RED COCKADE " I shall send for orders," he answered. " In his case," he continued, airily, " I should not need them. But here is your supper. Pardon UK-, M. le Vicoirite, if I do not attend on you myself. As mayor I have to take care that I do not compro- mise but you understand ?" I said, civilly, that I did ; and supper being laid, as was then the custom in the smaller inns, in my bedroom, I asked him to take a glass of wine with me, and over the meal learned much of the state of the country, and the fermentation that \\ work along the southern seaboard, the priests stirring up the people with processions and sermons. He waxed especially elo- quent about the excitement at Nimes, where the masses were bigoted Romanists, while the Protestants had a following, too, with the hardy peasants of the mountains behind them. "There will be trouble, M. le Vicomte, there will be trouble there," he said, with meaning. "Things are going too well for the people la has. They will stop them if they can." - And this man?" "Is one of their missionaries." I thought of Father Ben&it, and sighed. " By-the-way," the mayor said, abruptly, gazing at me in moony thouglitfulness, "that is curious, now !" - What ?" I said. " You come from Cahors, M. le Vicomte ?" - \\YII r Ki So do these women ; or they say they do. The prisoners." " From Cahors ?" Yes. It is ocld now," he continued, rubbing his chin, "but \s hen I read your commission I did not think of that." I shrilled my shoulders impatiently. " It does not follow that I am in the plot," I said. " For goodness' sake, M. le Maire, do not let us open the case again. You have seen my papers, and " "Tut! tut!" he said. "That is not my meaning. But you may know these persons" "Oh," I said ; and then I sat a moment, staring at him be- tween the candles, my hand raised, a morsel on my furk. A wild, extravagant thought flashed into my mind. Two ladies AT MILHAU 233 from Cahors ! From Cahors, of all places ! " How do they call themselves ?" I asked. " Corvas," he answered. " Ob, Corvas," I said, falling to eating again, and putting the morsel into my mouth. And I went on with my supper. " Yes. A merchant's wife, she says she is. But you shall see her." " I don't remember the name," I answered. " Still you may know them," he rejoined, with the dull per- sistence of a man of few ideas. " It is just possible that we have made a mistake, for we found no papers in the carriage, and only one thing that seemed suspicious." " What was that ?" " A red cockade." " A red cockade ?" " Yes," he answered. " The badge of the old Leaguers, you know." " But," I said, " I have not heard of any party adopting that." He rubbed his bald head a little doubtfully. " No," he said, " that is true. Still it is a color we don't like here. And two ladies travelling alone alone, monsieur ! Then their driver, a half-witted fellow, who said that they had engaged him at Ro- dez, though he denied stoutly that he had seen the Capuchin, told two or three tales. However, if you will eat no more, M. le Vicomte, I will take you to see them. You may be able to speak for or against them." " If you do not think that it is too late," I said, shrinking somewhat from the interview. " Prisoners must not be choosers," he answered, with an un- pleasant chuckle. And he called from the door for a lantern and his cloak. " The ladies are not here, then ?" I said. " No," he answered, with a wink. " Safe bind, safe find ! But they have nothing to cry about. There are one or two rough fellows in the clink, so Babet, the jailer, has given them room in his house." At this moment the lantern came, and the mayor, having wrapped his portly person in a cloak, we passed out of the 234 THE RED COCKADE house. The square outside was utterly y stone wall, from which, set deep in the stone-work, a low, iron- studded door frowned on us. About the middle of the door hung a huge knocker, and above it was a small grille. "Safe bind, safe find!" the mayor said again, with a fat chuckle; but instead of raising the knocker he drew his stick sharply across the bars of the grille. The summons was understood and quickly answered. A face peered a moment through the grating ; then the door opened to us. The mayor took the lead, and we passed in, out of the night, into a close, warm air, reeking of onions and foul tobac- co, and a hundred like odors. The jailer silently locked the door behind us, and, taking the mayor's lantern from him, led the way down a grimy, low-roofed passage, barely wide enough for one man. He halted at the first door on the left of the pas- sage, and threw it open. M. Flandre entered first, and, standing while he removed his hat, for an instant filled the doorway. I had time to hear and note a burst of obscene singing, which came from a room far- ther down the passage, and the frequent baying of a prison- dog that, hearing us, flung itself against its chain somewhere in the same direction. I noted, too, that the walls of the pas- sage in which I stood were dingy and trickling with moisture ; and then a voice, speaking in answer to M. Flandre's salutation, caught my ear and held me motionless. The voice was madame's Madame de St. Alais's ! It was fortunate that I had entertained, though but a second, the wild, extravagant thought that had occurred to me at sup- per, for in a measure it had prepared me. And I had little time for other preparation, for thought, or decision. Luckily " ' SAFE BIND, SAFE FIND,' AND HE DREW HIS STICK SHARPLY ACROSS THE BARS OF THE GRILLE" AT MILHAU 237 the room was thick with vile tobacco smoke and the steam from linen drying by the fire ; and I took advantage of a fit of coughing, partly assumed, to linger an instant on the threshold after M. Flandre had gone in. Then I followed him. There were four people in the room besides the mayor, but I had no eyes for the frowzy man and woman who sat playing with a filthy pack of cards at a table in the middle of the floor. I had eyes only for madame and mademoiselle, and them I de- voured. They sat on two stools on the farther side of the hearth, the girl with her head laid wearily back against the wall and her eyes half closed, the mother, erect and watchful, meeting the mayor's look with a smile of contempt. Neither the prison-house nor danger nor the companionship of this squalid hole had had power to reduce her fine spirit ; but as her eyes passed from the mayor and encountered mine, she started to her feet with a gasping cry, and stood staring at me. It was not wonderful that for a second, peering through the reek, she doubted. But one there was who did not doubt. Mademoiselle had sprung up in alarm at the sound of her moth- er's cry, and for the briefest moment we looked at one another. Then she sank back on her stool, and I heard her break into violent crying. " Hallo !" said the mayor, " what is this ?" " A mistake, I fear," I said, hoarsely, in words I had already composed. " I am thankful, madame," I continued, bowing to her with distant ceremony, and as much indifference as I could assume, " that I am so fortunate as to be here." She muttered something and leaned^ against the wall. She had not yet recovered herself. " You know the ladies ?" the mayor said, turning to me and speaking roughly, even with a tinge of suspicion in his voice. And he looked from one to the other of us sharply. " Perfectly," I said. " They are from Cahors ?" " From that neighborhood." " But," he said, " I told you their names, and you said that you did not know them, M. le Vicomte ?" For a moment I held my breath ; gazing into madame's face 238 THE RED COCKADE and reading there anxiety, and something more a sudden ter- ror. I took the leap ; I could do nothing else. " You told me Corvas that the lady's name was Corvas," I muttered. " Yes," he said. " But madamc's name is Correas." " Correas ?" he repeated, his jaw falling. "Yes, Correas. I dare say that the ladies," I continued, with assumed politeness, " did not in their fright speak very clearly." " And their name is Correas ?" " I told you that it was," madame answered, speaking for the first time, "and also that I knew nothing of your Capuchin monk. And this last," she continued, earnestly, her eyes fixed on mine in passionate appeal in appeal that this time could not be mistaken " I say again, on my honor!" I knew that she meant this for me, and I responded to the cry. " Yes, M. le Maire," I said, " I am afraid that you have made a mistake. I can answer for madame as for myself." The mayor rubbed his head. CHAPTER XVI THREE IN A CARRIAGE "Or course, if madarae if madarae knows nothing of the monk," he said, looking vacantly about the dirty room, " it is clear that it seems clear that there has been a mistake." " And only one thing remains to be done," I suggested. " But but," he continued, with a resumption of his former importance, " there is still one point unexplained that of the red cockade, monsieur ? What of that, M. le Vicomte ?" " The red cockade ?" I said. " Aye, what of that ?" he asked, briskly. I had not expected this, and I looked desperately at madame. Surely her woman's wit would find a way, whatever the cockade meant. " Have you asked Madame Correas ?" I said at last, fee- bly shifting the burden. " Have you asked her to explain it ?" " No," he answered. "Then I would ask her," I said. " Nay, do not ask me ; ask M. le Vicomte," she answered, lightly. " Ask him of what color are the facings of the National Guards of Quercy ?" " Red !" I cried, in a burst of relief. " Red !" I knew, for had I not seen Buton's coat lying by the forge ? But how Madame de St. Alais knew I have no idea. " Ah !" M. Flandre said, with the air of one still a little doubt- ful. " And madame wears the cockade for that reason ?" " No, M. le Maire," she answered, with a roguish smile I saw that it was her plan to humor him " I do not ; my daughter does. If you wish to ask further, or the reason, you must ask her." M. Flandre had the curiosity of the true bourgeois, and the 240 IIIK RED COCKADE love of the sex. He simpered. " If mademoiselle would be so good," he said. Denise had remained up to this point hidden behind her mother ; at the word she crept out, and reluctantly and like a prisoner brought to the bar, stood before us. It was only when she spoke, however, nay, it was not until she had spoken some words, that I understood the full change that I saw in her ; or why, instead of the picture of pallid weariness which she had presented a few minutes before, she now showed, as she stood forward, a face covered with blushes, and eyes shining and suf- fused. " It is simple, monsieur," she said, in a low voice. " My fianc6, M. le Maire, is in that regiment." " And you wear it for that reason ?" the mayor cried, delighted. *! love him," she said, softly. And for a moment for a moment her eyes met mine. Then I know not which was the redder, she or I, or which found that vile and filthy room more like a palace, its tobacco- laden air more sweet! I had not dreamed what she was going to say, least of all had I dreamed what her eyes said, as for that instant they met mine and turned my blood to fire ! I lost the mayor's blunt answer and his chuckling laugh ; and only re- turned to a sense of the present when mademoiselle slipped back to hide her burning face behind her mother, and I saw in her place madame facing me with her finger to her lip and a glance of warning in her eyes. It was a warning not superfluous, 'for in the flush of my first enthusiasm I might have said anything. And the mayor was in better hands than mine. The little touch of romance and sen- timent which mademoiselle's avowal had imported into the mat- ter had removed his last suspicion and won his heart. He ogled madame, he beamed on the girl with fatherly gallantry. He made a jest of the monk. A mistake, and yet one I cannot deplore, madame," he prc- 1, with clumsy civility. " For it has given me the pleasure of seeing you." "Oh, M. le Maire !" madame simpered. " But the state of the country is really such," he continued, THREE IN A CARRIAGE 241 " that for the beautiful sex to be travelling alone is not safe. It exposes them " " To worse rencontres than this, I fear," madame said, dart- ing a look from her fine eyes. " If this were the worst we poor women had to fear !" And she looked at him aojain. O " Ah, madame !" he said, delighted. "But, alas ! we have no escort." The fat mayor sighed. I think that he was going to offer himself. Then a thought struck him. " Perhaps this gentle- man " and he turned to me. " You go to Nimes, M. le Vi- comte ?" " Yes," I said. " And, of course, if Madame Correas " " Oh, it would be troubling M. le Vicomte," madame said ; and she went a step farther from me and a step nearer to M. Flandre, as if he must understand her hesitation. " I am sure it could be no trouble to any one !" he answered, stoutly. " But for the matter of that, if M. le Vicomte perceives any difficulty," and he laid his hand on his heart, " I will find some one " " Some one ?" madame said, archly. " Myself," the mayor answered. " Ah !" she cried, " if you" But I thought that now I might safely step in. " No, no," I said. " M. le Maire is taking all against me. I can assure you, madame, I shall be glad to be of service to you. And our roads lie together. If, therefore " " I shall be grateful," madame answered, with a delightful lit- tle courtesy ; " that is, if M. le Maire will let out his poor pris- oners, who, as he now knows, have done nothing worse than sympathize with National Guards." " I will take it on myself, madame," M. Flandre said, with vast importance. He had been brought to the desired point. " The case is quite clear. But " he paused and coughed slightly " to avoid complications, you had better leave early. When you are gone I shall know what explanations to give. And if you would not object to spending the night here," he continued, looking round him with a touch of sheepishness, " I think that" 242 THE KED COCKADE \Ve shall mind it less than before," in:i