CHAPTER XXXIX. THE GROTTO OF CEYZERIAT
The two young men plunged into the shadow of the trees. Morgan guidedhis companion, less familiar than he with the windings of the park,until they reached the exact spot where he was in the habit of scalingthe wall. It took but an instant for both of them to accomplish thatfeat. The next moment they were on the banks of the Reissouse.
A boat was fastened to the foot of a willow; they jumped into it, andthree strokes of the oar brought them to the other side. There a pathled along the bank of the river to a little wood which extends fromCeyzeriat to Etrez, a distance of about nine miles, and thus forms, onthe other side of the river, a pendant to the forest of Seillon.
On reaching the edge of the wood they stopped. Until then they had beenwalking as rapidly as it was possible to do without running, and neitherof them had uttered a word. The whole way was deserted; it was probable,in fact certain, that no one had seen them. They could breathe freely.
"Where are the Companions?" asked Morgan.
"In the grotto," replied Montbar.
"Why don't we go there at once?"
"Because we shall find one of them at the foot of that beech, who willtell us if we can go further without danger."
"Which one?"
"D'Assas."
A shadow came from behind the tree.
"Here I am," it said.
"Ah! there you are," exclaimed the two young men.
"Anything new?" inquired Montbar.
"Nothing; they are waiting for you to come to a decision."
"In that case, let us hurry."
The three young men continued on their way. After going about threehundred yards, Montbar stopped again, and said softly: "Armand!"
The dry leaves rustled at the call, and a fourth shadow stepped frombehind a clump of trees, and approached his companions.
"Anything new?" asked Montbar.
"Yes; a messenger from Cadoudal."
"The same one who came before?"
"Yes."
"Where is he?"
"With the brothers, in the grotto."
"Come."
Montbar rushed on ahead; the path had grown so narrow that the fouryoung men could only walk in single file. It rose for about five hundredpaces with an easy but winding slope. Coming to an opening, Montbarstopped and gave, three times, the same owl's cry with which he hadcalled Morgan. A single hoot answered him; then a man slid down from thebranches of a bushy oak. It was the sentinel who guarded the entranceto the grotto, which was not more than thirty feet from the oak. Theposition of the trees surrounding it made it almost impossible ofdetection.
The sentinel exchanged a few whispered words with Montbar, who seemed,by fulfilling the duties of leader, desirous of leaving Morgan entirelyto his thoughts. Then, as his watch was probably not over, the banditclimbed the oak again, and was soon so completely blended with the bodyof the tree that those he had left might have looked for him in vain inthat aerial bastion.
The glade became narrower as they neared the entrance to the grotto.Montbar reached it first, and from a hiding-place known to him he took aflint, a steel, some tinder, matches, and a torch. The sparks flew, thetinder caught fire, the match cast a quivering bluish flame, to whichsucceeded the crackling, resinous flames of the torch.
Three or four paths were then visible. Montbar took one withouthesitation. The path sank, winding into the earth, and turned back uponitself, as if the young men were retracing their steps underground,along the path that had brought them. It was evident that they werefollowing the windings of an ancient quarry, probably the one from whichwere built, nineteen hundred years earlier, the three Roman towns whichare now mere villages, and Caesar's camp which overlooked them.
At intervals this subterraneous path was cut entirely across by a deepditch, impassable except with the aid of a plank, that could, witha kick, be precipitated into the hollow beneath. Also, from place toplace, breastworks could still be seen, behind which men could intrenchthemselves and fire without exposing their persons to the sight orfire of the enemy. Finally, at five hundred yards from the entrance, abarricade of the height of a man presented a final obstacle to those whosought to enter a circular space in which ten or a dozen men were nowseated or lying around, some reading, others playing cards.
Neither the readers nor the players moved at the noise made by thenew-comers, or at the gleam of their light playing upon the walls ofthe quarry, so certain were they that none but friends could reach thisspot, guarded as it was.
For the rest, the scene of this encampment was extremely picturesque;wax candles were burning in profusion (the Companions of Jehu were tooaristocratic to make use of any other light) and cast their reflectionupon stands of arms of all kinds, among which double-barrelled musketsand pistols held first place. Foils and masks were hanging here andthere upon the walls; several musical instruments were lying about,and a few mirrors in gilt frames proclaimed the fact that dress was apastime by no means unappreciated by the strange inhabitants of thatsubterranean dwelling.
They all seemed as tranquil as though the news which had drawn Morganfrom Amelie's arms was unknown to them, or considered of no importance.
Nevertheless, when the little group from outside approached, and thewords: "The captain! the captain!" were heard, all rose, not with theservility of soldiers toward their approaching chief, but with theaffectionate deference of strong and intelligent men for one strongerand more intelligent than they.
Then Morgan shook his head, raised his eyes, and, passing beforeMontbar, advanced to the centre of the circle which had formed at hisappearance, and said:
"Well, friends, it seems you have had some news."
"Yes, captain," answered a voice; "the police of the First Consul doesus the honor to be interested in us."
"Where is the messenger?" asked Morgan.
"Here," replied a young man, wearing the livery of a cabinet courier,who was still covered with mud and dust.
"Have you any despatches?"
"Written, no, verbal, yes."
"Where do they come from?"
"The private office of the minister of police."
"Can they be trusted?"
"I'll answer for them; they are positively official."
("It's a good thing to have friends everywhere," observed Montbar,parenthetically.)
"Especially near M. Fouche," resumed Morgan; "let us hear the news."
"Am I to tell it aloud, or to you privately?"
"I presume we are all interested, so tell it aloud."
"Well, the First Consul sent for citizen Fouche at the Louvre, andlectured him on our account."
"Capital! what next?"
"Citizen Fouche replied that we were clever scamps, very difficult tofind, and still more difficult to capture when we had been found, inshort, he praised us highly."
"Very amiable of him. What next?"
"Next, the First Consul replied that that did not concern him, that wewere brigands, and that it was our brigandage which maintained the warin Vendee, and that the day we ceased sending money to Brittany therewould be no more Brittany."
"Excellent reasoning, it seems to me."
"He said the West must be fought in the East and the Midi."
"Like England in India."
"Consequently he gave citizen Fouche full powers, and, even if it cost amillion and he had to kill five hundred men, he must have our heads."
"Well, he knows his man when he makes his demand; remains to be seen ifwe let him have them."
"So citizen Fouche went home furious, and vowed that before eight dayspassed there should not be a single Companion of Jehu left in France."
"The time is short."
"That same day couriers started for Lyons, Macon, Sons-le-Saulnier,Besancon and Geneva, with orders to the garrison commanders to dopersonally all they could for our destruction; but above all to obeyunquestioningly M. Roland de Montrevel, aide-de-camp to the FirstConsul, and to put at his disposal as many troops as h
e thoughtneedful."
"And I can add," said Morgan, "that M. Roland de Montrevel is already inthe field. He had a conference with the captain of the gendarmerie, inthe prison at Bourg, yesterday."
"Does any one know why?" asked a voice.
"The deuce!" said another, "to engage our cells."
"Do you still mean to protect him?" asked d'Assas.
"More than ever."
"Ah! that's too much!" muttered a voice.
"Why so," retorted Morgan imperiously, "isn't it my right as aCompanion?"
"Certainly," said two other voices.
"Then I use it; both as a Companion and as your leader."
"But suppose in the middle of the fray a stray ball should take him?"said a voice.
"Then, it is not a right I claim, nor an order that I give, but anentreaty I make. My friends, promise me, on your honor, that the life ofRoland de Montrevel will be sacred to you."
With unanimous voice, all stretching out their hands, they replied: "Weswear on our honor!"
"Now," resumed Morgan, "let us look at our position under its trueaspect, without deluding ourselves in any way. Once an intelligentpolice force starts out to pursue us, and makes actual war against us,it will be impossible for us to resist. We may trick them like a fox, ordouble like a boar, but our resistance will be merely a matter of time,that's all. At least that is my opinion."
Morgan questioned his companions with his eyes, and their acquiescencewas unanimous, though it was with a smile on their lips that theyrecognized their doom. But that was the way in those strange days. Menwent to their death without fear, and they dealt it to others withoutemotion.
"And now," asked Montbar, "have you anything further to say?"
"Yes," replied Morgan, "I have to add that nothing is easier than toprocure horses, or even to escape on foot; we are all hunters and moreor less mountaineers. It will take us six hours on horse back to getout of France, or twelve on foot. Once in Switzerland we can snap ourfingers at citizen Fouche and his police. That's all I have to say."
"It would be very amusing to laugh at citizen Fouche," said Montbar,"but very dull to leave France."
"For that reason, I shall not put this extreme measure to a vote untilafter we have talked with Cadoudal's messenger."
"Ah, true," exclaimed two or three voices; "the Breton! where is theBreton?"
"He was asleep when I left," said Montbar.
"And he is still sleeping," said Adler, pointing to a man lying on aheap of straw in a recess of the grotto.
They wakened the Breton, who rose to his knees, rubbing his eyes withone hand and feeling for his carbine with the other.
"You are with friends," said a voice; "don't be afraid."
"Afraid!" said the Breton; "who are you, over there, who thinks I amafraid?"
"Some one who probably does not know what fear is, my dearBranche-d'Or," said Morgan, who recognized in Cadoudal's messenger thesame man whom they had received at the Chartreuse the night he himselfarrived from Avignon. "I ask pardon on his behalf."
Branche-d'Or looked at the young men before him with an air that leftno doubt of his repugnance for a certain sort of pleasantry; but asthe group had evidently no offensive intention, their gayety having noinsolence about it, he said, with a tolerably gracious air: "Which ofyou gentlemen is captain? I have a letter for him from my captain."
Morgan advanced a step and said: "I am."
"Your name?"
"I have two."
"Your fighting name?"
"Morgan."
"Yes, that's the one the general told me; besides, I recognize you.You gave me a bag containing sixty thousand francs the night I saw themonks. The letter is for you then."
"Give it to me."
The peasant took off his hat, pulled out the lining, and from betweenit and the felt he took a piece of paper which resembled another lining,and seemed at first sight to be blank. Then, with a military salute, heoffered the paper to Morgan, who turned it over and over and could seeno writing; at least none was apparent.
"A candle," he said.
They brought a wax light; Morgan held the paper to the flame. Littleby little, as the paper warmed, the writing appeared. The experienceappeared familiar to the young men; the Breton alone seemed surprised.To his naive mind the operation probably seemed like witchcraft; but solong as the devil was aiding the royalist cause the Chouan was willingto deal with him.
"Gentlemen," said Morgan, "do you want to know what the master says?"
All bowed and listened, while the young man read:
MY DEAR MORGAN--If you hear that I have abandoned the cause, and am in treaty with the government of the First Consul and the Vendean leaders, do not believe it. I am a Breton of Brittany, and consequently as stubborn as a true Breton. The First Consul sent one of his aides-de-camp to offer me an amnesty for all my men, and the rank of colonel for myself. I have not even consulted my men, I refused for them and for me.
Now, all depends on us; as we receive from the princes neither money nor encouragement, you are our only treasurer; close your coffers, or rather cease to open those of the government for us, and the royalist opposition, the heart of which beats only in Brittany, will subside little by little, and end before long.
I need not tell you that my life will have ended first.
Our mission is dangerous; probably it will cost us our heads; but what can be more glorious than to hear posterity say of us, if one can hear beyond the grave: "All others despaired; but they, never!"
One of us will survive the other, but only to succumb later. Let that survivor say as he dies: _Etiamsi omnes, ego non._
Count on me as I count on you. CADOUDAL.
P.S.--You know that you can safely give Branche-d'Or all the money you have for the Cause. He has promised me not to let himself be taken, and I trust his word.
A murmur of enthusiasm ran through the group, as Morgan finished thelast words of the letter.
"You have heard it, gentlemen?" he said.
"Yes, yes, yes," repeated every voice.
"In the first place, how much money have we to give to Branche-d'Or?"
"Thirteen thousand francs from the Lake of Silans, twenty-two thousandfrom Les Carronnieres, fourteen thousand from Meximieux, forty-ninethousand in all," said one of the group.
"You hear, Branche-d'Or?" said Morgan; "it is not much--only half whatwe gave you last time, but you know the proverb: 'The handsomest girl inthe world can only give what she has.'"
"The general knows what you risk to obtain this money, and he says that,no matter how little you send, he will receive it gratefully."
"All the more, that the next will be better," said a young man who hadjust joined the group, unperceived, so absorbed were all presentin Cadoudal's letter. "More especially if we say two words to themail-coach from Chambery next Saturday."
"Ah! is that you, Valensolle?" said Morgan.
"No real names, if you please, baron; let us be shot, guillotined, drawnand quartered, but save our family honor. My name is Adler; I answer tono other."
"Pardon me, I did wrong--you were saying?"
"That the mail-coach from Paris to Chambery will pass throughChapelle-de-Guinchay and Belleville next Saturday, carrying fiftythousand francs of government money to the monks of Saint-Bernard; towhich I may add that there is between those two places a spot called theMaison-Blanche, which seems to me admirably adapted for an ambuscade."
"What do you say, gentlemen?" asked Morgan, "Shall we do citizen Fouchethe honor to worry about his police? Shall we leave France? Or shall westill remain faithful Companions of Jehu?"
There was but one reply--"We stay."
"Right!" said Morgan. "Brothers, I recognize you there. Cadoudal pointsout our duty in that admirable letter we have just received. Let usadopt his heroic motto: _Etiamsi omnes, ego non._" Then addressing thepeasant, he said, "Branche-d'Or, the forty-nine thousand francs are atyour disposal; you can start when you like
. Promise something betternext time, in our name, and tell the general for me that, wherever hegoes, even though it be to the scaffold, I shall deem it an honor tofollow, or to precede him. Au revoir, Branche-d'Or." Then, turning tothe young man who seemed so anxious to preserve his incognito, "My dearAdler," he said, like a man who has recovered his gayety, lost for aninstant, "I undertake to feed and lodge you this night, if you willdeign to accept me as a host."
"Gratefully, friend Morgan," replied the new-comer. "Only let me tellyou that I could do without a bed, for I am dropping with fatigue, butnot without supper, for I am dying of hunger."
"You shall have a good bed and an excellent supper."
"Where must I go for them."
"Follow me."
"I'm ready."
"Then come on. Good-night, gentlemen! Are you on watch, Montbar?"
"Yes."
"Then we can sleep in peace."
So saying, Morgan passed his arm through that of his friend, took atorch in his other hand, and passed into the depths of the grotto,where we will follow him if our readers are not too weary of this longsession.
It was the first time that Valensolle, who came, as we have said,from the neighborhood of Aix, had had occasion to visit the grotto ofCeyzeriat, recently adopted as the meeting-place of the Companions ofJehu. At the preceding meetings he had occasion to explore only thewindings and intricacies of the Chartreuse of Seillon, which he now knewso well that in the farce played before Roland the part of ghost wasintrusted to him. Everything was, therefore, curious and unknown to himin this new domicile, where he now expected to take his first sleep,and which seemed likely to be, for some days at least, Morgan'sheadquarters.
As is always the case in abandoned quarries--which, at the first glance,partake somewhat of the character of subterranean cities--the differentgalleries excavated by the removal of the stone end in a cul de sac;that is to say, at a point in the mine where the work stops. One ofthese streets seemed to prolong itself indefinitely. Nevertheless, therecame a point where the mine would naturally have ended, but there, inthe angle of the tunnelled way, was cut (For what purpose? The thingremains a mystery to this day among the people of the neigbborhood) anopening two-thirds the width of the gallery, wide enough, or nearly so,to give passage to two men abreast.
The two friends passed through this opening. The air there becameso rarefied that their torch threatened to go out at every step.Vallensolle felt drops of ice-cold water falling on his hands and face.
"Bless me," said he, "does it rain down here?"
"No," replied Morgan, laughing; "only we are passing under theReissouse."
"Then we are going to Bourg?"
"That's about it."
"All right; you are leading me; you have promised me supper and a bed,so I have nothing to worry about--unless that light goes out," added theyoung man, looking at the paling flame of the torch.
"That wouldn't matter; we can always find ourselves here."
"In the end!" said Valensolle. "And when one reflects that we arewandering through a grotto under rivers at three o'clock in the morning,sleeping the Lord knows where, with the prospect of being taken, tried,and guillotined some fine morning, and all for princes who don't evenknow our names, and who if they did know them one day would forget themthe next--I tell you, Morgan, it's stupid!"
"My dear fellow," said Morgan, "what we call stupid, what ordinaryminds never do understand in such a case, has many a chance to becomesublime."
"Well, well," said Valensolle, "I see that you will lose more than I doin this business; I put devotion into it, but you put enthusiasm."
Morgan sighed.
"Here we are," said he, letting the conversation drop, like a burden tooheavy to be carried longer. In fact, his foot had just struck againstthe first step of a stairway.
Preceding Valensolle, for whom he lighted the way, Morgan went up tensteps and reached the gate. Taking a key from his pocket, he opened it.They found themselves in the burial vault. On each side of the vaultstood coffins on iron tripods: ducal crowns and escutcheons, blazonedazure, with the cross argent, indicated that these coffins belonged tothe family of Savoy before it came to bear the royal crown. A flight ofstairs at the further end of the cavern led to an upper floor.
Valensolle cast a curious glance around him, and by the vacillatinglight of the torch, he recognized the funereal place he was in.
"The devil!" said he, "we are just the reverse of the Spartans, itseems."
"Inasmuch as they were Republicans and we are royalists?" asked Morgan.
"No; because they had skeletons at the end of their suppers, and we haveours at the beginning."
"Are you sure it was the Spartans who proved their philosophy in thatway?" asked Morgan, closing the door.
"They or others--what matter?" said Vallensolle. "Faith! My citation ismade, and like the Abbe Vertot, who wouldn't rewrite his siege, I'll notchange it."
"Well, another time you had better say the Egyptians."
"Well," said Valensolle, with an indifference that was not withouta certain sadness, "I'll probably be a skeleton myself before I haveanother chance to display my erudition. But what the devil are youdoing? Why did you put out the torch? You're not going to make me eatand sleep here I hope?"
Morgan had in fact extinguished the torch at the foot of the stepsleading to the upper floor.
"Give me your hand," said the young man.
Valensolle seized his friend's band with an eagerness that showed howvery slight a desire he had to make a longer stay in the gloomy vaultsof the dukes of Savoy, no matter what honor there might be in suchillustrious companionship.
Morgan went up the steps. Then, by the tightening of his hand,Valensolle knew he was making an effort. Presently a stone was raised,and through the opening a trembling gleam of twilight met the eyes ofthe young men, and a fragrant aromatic odor came to comfort their senseof smell after the mephitic atmosphere of the vaults.
"Ah!" cried Valensolle, "we are in a barn; I prefer that."
Morgan did not answer; he helped his companion to climb out of thevault, and then let the stone drop back in its place.
Valensolle looked about him. He was in the midst of a vast buildingfilled with hay, into which the light filtered through windows of suchexquisite form that they certainly could not be those of a barn.
"Why!" said Valensolle, "we are not in a barn!"
"Climb up the hay and sit down near that window," replied Morgan.
Valensolle obeyed and scrambled up the hay like a schoolboy in hisholidays; then he sat down, as Morgan had told him, before a window. Thenext moment Morgan placed between his friend's legs a napkin containinga pate, bread, a bottle of wine, two glasses, two knives and two forks.
"The deuce!" cried Valensolle, "'Lucullus sups with Lucullus.'"
Then gazing through the panes at a building with numberless windows,which seemed to be a wing of the one they were in, and before which asentry was pacing, he exclaimed: "Positively, I can't eat my supper tillI know where we are. What is this building? And why that sentry at thedoor?"
"Well," said Morgan, "since you absolutely must know, I will tellyou. We are in the church of Brou, which was converted into a fodderstorehouse by a decree of the Municipal Council. That adjoining buildingis now the barracks of the gendarmerie, and that sentry is posted toprevent any one from disturbing our supper or surprising us while wesleep."
"Brave fellows," said Valensolle, filling his glass; "their health,Morgan!"
"And ours!" said the young man, laughing; "the devil take me if any onecould dream of finding us here."
Morgan had hardly drained his glass, when, as if the devil had acceptedthe challenge, the sentinel's harsh, strident voice cried: "_Qui vive!_"
"Hey!" exclaimed the two young men, "what does this mean?"
A body of thirty men came from the direction of Pont d'Ain, and, aftergiving the countersign to the sentry, at once dispersed; the largernumber, led by two men, who seemed to be off
icers, entered the barracks;the others continued on their way.
"Attention!" said Morgan.
And both young men, on their knees, their ears alert, their eyes at thewindow, waited.
Let us now explain to the reader the cause of this interruption of arepast which, though taken at three o'clock in the morning, was not, aswe have seen, over-tranquil.