CHAPTER XXXV. A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE
Roland's first visit on arriving in Paris was to the First Consul. Hebrought him the twofold news of the pacification of the Vendee, and theincreasingly bitter insurrection in Brittany.
Bonaparte knew Roland; consequently the triple narrative of ThomasMilliere's murder, the execution of Bishop Audrein, and the fight atGrandchamp, produced a deep impression upon him. There was, moreover,in the young man's manner a sombre despair in which he could not bemistaken.
Roland was miserable over this lost opportunity to get himself killed.An unknown power seemed to watch over him, carrying him safe and soundthrough dangers which resulted fatally to others. Sir John had foundtwelve judges and a death-warrant, where he had seen but a phantom,invulnerable, it is true, but inoffensive.
He blamed himself bitterly for singling out Cadoudal in the fight, thusexposing himself to a pre-arranged plan of capture, instead of flinginghimself into the fray and killing or being killed.
The First Consul watched him anxiously as he talked; the longing fordeath still lingered in his mind, a longing he hoped to cure by thisreturn to his native land and the endearments of his family.
He praised and defended General Hatry, but, just and impartial as asoldier should be, he gave full credit to Cadoudal for the courage andgenerosity the royalist general had displayed.
Bonaparte listened gravely, almost sadly; ardent as he was for foreignwar with its glorious halo, his soul revolted at the internecine strifewhich drained the life-blood of the nation and rent its bowels. It wasa case in which, to his thinking, negotiation should be substituted forwar. But how negotiate with a man like Cadoudal?
Bonaparte was not unaware of his own personal seductions when he choseto exercise them. He resolved to see Cadoudal, and without sayinganything on the subject to Roland, he intended to make use of him forthe interview when the time came. In the meantime he wanted to see ifBrune, in whose talent he had great confidence, would be more successfulthan his predecessors.
He dismissed Roland, after telling him of his mother's arrival and herinstallation in the little house in the Rue de la Victoire.
Roland sprang into a coach and was driven there at once. He found Madamede Montrevel as happy and as proud as a woman and a mother could be.Edouard had gone, the day before, to the Prytanee Francais, and sheherself was preparing to return to Amelie, whose health continued togive her much anxiety.
As for Sir John, he was not only out of danger, but almost well again.He was in Paris, had called upon Madame de Montrevel, and, finding thatshe had gone with Edouard to the Prytanee, he had left his card. It borehis address, Hotel Mirabeau, Rue de Richelieu.
It was eleven o'clock, Sir John's breakfast hour, and Roland had everychance of finding him at that hour. He got back into his carriage, andordered the coachman to stop at the Hotel Mirabeau.
He found Sir John sitting before an English breakfast, a thing rarelyseen in those days, drinking large cups of tea and eating bloody chops.
As soon as the Englishman saw Roland he gave a cry of joy and ranto meet him. Roland himself had acquired a deep affection for thatexceptional nature, where the noblest qualities of the heart seemedstriving to hide themselves beneath national eccentricities.
Sir John was pale and thin, but in other respects he was well. His woundhad completely healed, and except for a slight oppression, which wasdiminishing daily and would soon disappear altogether, he had almostrecovered his former health. He now welcomed Roland with a tendernessscarcely to be expected from that reserved nature, declaring that thejoy he felt in seeing him again was all he wanted for his completerecovery.
He begged Roland to share the meal, telling him to order his ownbreakfast, a la Francaise. Roland accepted. Like all soldiers who hadfought the hard wars of the Revolution, when bread was often lacking,Roland cared little for what he ate; he had acquired the habit of eatingwhatever was put before him as a precaution against the days when theremight be nothing at all. Sir John's attention in asking him to make aFrench breakfast was scarcely noticed by him at all.
But what Roland did notice was Sir John's preoccupation of mind. It wasevident that Sir John had something on his lips which he hesitated toutter. Roland thought he had better help him.
So, when breakfast was nearly over, Roland, with his usual frankness,which almost bordered upon brutality at times, leaned his elbows on thetable, settled his chin in his hands, and said: "Well, my dear Sir John,you have something to say to your friend Roland that you don't dare putinto words."
Sir John started, and, from pale as he was, turned crimson.
"Confound it!" continued Roland, "it must be hard to get out; but, SirJohn, if you have many things to ask me, I know but few that I have theright to refuse you. So, go on; I am listening."
And Roland closed his eyes as if to concentrate all his attention onwhat Sir John was about to say. But the matter was evidently, from SirJohn's point of view, so extremely difficult to make known, that at theend of a dozen seconds, finding that Sir John was still silent, Rolandopened his eyes.
The Englishman was pale again; but this time he was paler than before.Roland held out his hand to him.
"Why," he said, "I see you want to make some compliment about the wayyou were treated at the Chateau des Noires-Fontaines."
"Precisely, my friend; for the happiness or misery of my life will datefrom my sojourn at the chateau."
Roland looked fixedly at Sir John. "The deuce!" he exclaimed, "can I beso fortunate--" Then he stopped, remembering that what he was about tosay was most unconventional from the social point of view.
"Oh!" exclaimed Sir John, "my dear Roland, finish what you were saying."
"You wish it?"
"I implore you."
"But if I am mistaken; if I should say something nonsensical."
"My friend, my friend, go on."
"Well, as I was saying, my lord, can I be so fortunate as to find yourlordship in love with my sister?"
Sir John gave a cry of joy, and with a rapid movement, of which sophlegmatic a man might have been thought incapable, he threw himself inRoland's arms.
"Your sister is an angel, my dear Roland," he exclaimed, "and I love herwith all my heart."
"Are you entirely free to do so, my lord?"
"Entirely. For the last twelve years, as I told you, I have had myfortune under my own control; it amounts to twenty-five thousand poundssterling a year."
"Too much, my dear fellow, for a woman who can only bring you fiftythousand francs."
"Oh!" said the Englishman, with that national accent that returned tohim occasionally in moments of strong excitement, "if I must get rid ofa part of it, I can do so."
"No," replied Roland, laughing, "that's not necessary. You're rich; it'sunfortunate, but what's to be done?--No, that's not the question. Do youlove my sister?"
"I adore her."
"And she," resumed Roland, "does she love you?"
"Of course you understand," returned Sir John, "that I have not askedher. I was bound, my dear Roland, to speak to you first, and if thematter were agreeable, to beg you to plead my cause with your mother.After I have obtained the consent of both, I shall make my offer. Orrather, you will make it for me, for I should never dare."
"Then I am the first to receive your confidence?"
"You are my best friend, and it ought to be so."
"Well, my dear friend, as far as I am concerned, your suit iswon--naturally."
"Your mother and sister remain."
"They will be one. You understand that my mother will leave Amelie freeto make her own choice; and I need not tell you that if it fallsupon you she will be delighted. But there is a person whom you haveforgotten."
"Who is that?" said Sir John, in the tone of a man who, having weighedall chances for and against, believes he knows them all, and is met byan obstacle he has never thought of.
"The First Consul," said Roland.
"God--" ejaculated the Englishman, swal
lowing the last words of thenational oath.
"He spoke to me just before I left for the Vendee of my sister'smarriage," continued Roland; "saying that it no longer concerned mymother and myself, for he would take charge of it."
"Then," said Sir John, "I am lost."
"Why so?"
"The First Consul does not like the English."
"Say rather that the English do not like the First Consul."
"But who will present my wishes to the First Consul?"
"I will."
"And will you speak of them as agreeable to yourself?"
"I'll turn you into a dove of peace between the two nations," saidRoland, rising.
"Oh! thank you," cried Sir john, seizing the young man's hand. Then headded, regretfully, "Must you leave me?"
"My friend, I have only a few hours' leave. I have given one to mymother, two to you, and I owe one to your friend Edouard. I want tokiss him and ask his masters to let him scuffle as he likes with hiscomrades. Then I must get back to the Luxembourg."
"Well, take him my compliments, and tell him I have ordered another pairof pistols for him, so that the next time he is attacked by bandits heneedn't use the conductor's."
Roland looked at Sir John.
"Now, what is it?" he asked.
"What! Don't you know?"
"No. What is it I don't know?"
"Something that nearly killed our poor Amelie?"
"What thing?"
"The attack on the diligence."
"But what diligence?"
"The one which your mother was in."
"The diligence my mother was in?"
"Yes."
"The diligence my mother was in was attacked?"
"You have seen Madame de Montrevel, and she didn't tell you?"
"Not a word about that, anyway."
"Well, my dear Edouard proved a hero; as no one else defended the coach,he did. He took the conductor's pistols and fired."
"Brave boy!" exclaimed Roland.
"Yes, but, unluckily or luckily the conductor had taken the precautionto remove the bullets. Edouard was praised and petted by the Companionsof Jehu as the bravest of the brave; but he neither killed nor woundedthem."
"Are you sure of what you are telling me?"
"I tell you your sister almost died of fright."
"Very good," said Roland.
"How very good?" exclaimed Sir John.
"I mean, all the more reason why I should see Edouard."
"What makes you say that."
"A plan."
"Tell me what it is."
"Faith! no. My plans don't turn out well for you."
"But you know, my dear Roland, that if there are any reprisals tomake--"
"I shall make them for both. You are in love, my dear fellow; live inyour love."
"You promise me your support?"
"That's understood! I am most anxious to call you brother."
"Are you tired of calling me friend?"
"Faith, yes; it is too little."
"Thanks."
They pressed each other's hands and parted.
A quarter of an hour later Roland reached the Prytanee Francais, whichstood then on the present site of the Lyceum of Louis-le-Grand--that isto say, at the head of the Rue Saint-Jacques, behind the Sorbonne. Atthe first words of the director, Roland saw that his young brother hadbeen especially recommended to the authorities. The boy was sent for.Edouard flung himself into the arms of his "big brother" with thatpassionate adoration he had for him.
After the first embraces were over, Roland inquired about the stoppageof the diligence. Madame de Montrevel had been chary of mentioning it;Sir John had been sober in statement, but not so Edouard. It washis Iliad, his very own. He related it with every detail--Jerome'sconnivance with the bandits, the pistols loaded with powder only, hismother's fainting-fit, the attention paid to her by those who had causedit, his own name known to the bandits, the fall of the mask from theface of the one who was restoring his mother, his certainty that shemust have seen the man's face.
Roland was above all struck with this last particular. Then the boyrelated their audience with the First Consul, and told how the latterhad kissed and petted him, and finally recommended him to the directorof the Prytanee Francais.
Roland learned from the child all that he wished to know, and as it tookbut five minutes to go from the Rue Saint Jacques to the Luxembourg, hewas at the palace in that time.