La Vendée

  CHAPTER IX.

  SANTERRE.

  Santerre and Adolphe Denot left the main army at Thouars, and made theirway to Argenton with about four thousand men. From thence, Durbellierewas distant about four leagues; and Santerre lost no time in making hispreparations for destroying that chateau, as Westerman was at the samemoment doing at Clisson. Generally speaking, the people of the towns,even in La Vendee sided with the republicans; but the people of Argentonwere supposed to be royalists, and Santerre therefore gave positiveorders that every house in it should be destroyed. He did not, however,himself want to see the horrid work done, but hurried on to Durbelliere,that he might, if possible, surprise the Vendean chiefs, whom hebelieved to be staying there. About one hundred and fifty men followedhim, and the remainder of the army was to march on to Bressuire, as soonas Argenton was in ashes.

  Santerre, since he had left the company of the other Generals atThouars, had become more familiar and confidential with Denot, and rodeside by side with him from Argenton, talking freely about the mannersof the country, and the hopes of the royalists, till he succeeded ingetting the traitor into good humour, and obtaining from him somethinglike a correct idea of the state of the country.

  "And this is the parish of St. Aubin?" said Santerre, as they drew nearto Durbelliere.

  "Yes," said Denot, "this is the parish of St. Aubin; and the estate ofthe Larochejaquelins."

  "And they are popular with the people?" said Santerre. "They must havebeen well loved, or they would not have been so truly followed."

  Denot blushed at the heavy accusation against himself which these wordsconveyed; but he made no answer.

  "And this old man, my friend?" said Santerre, "this ancient cripple thatyou tell me of? he is too old, too infirm, I suppose, to care much aboutthis revolt?"

  "Not at all," said Denot; "no one in the country is more anxious forsuccess than the old Marquis."

  "There you are again, friend," said Santerre, "I know you'll get yourneck into danger. Have I not told you that the Republic knows nothingof Marquises?"

  "I only called him by the name he goes by, as you'd call a man Peter,if his name were Peter. I didn't mean to say he was a Marquis," saidDenot, excusing himself.

  "But you mustn't say so at all, unless you speak of him as a criminal,as you would speak of a perjurer, or a parricide. But as to this foolishold man; is he not doting? If I thought that, I might perhaps be excusedin sparing him."

  "Doting!" said Denot; "not at all; he has all his faculties as much asyou or I."

  Santerre gave a look of disgust at the wretch, who would not even followhis hint by giving such an account as might spare the life of the oldman, who had been his host, his guardian, and his friend. He saidnothing further, however, but trotted on quickly, till the cherry grovesof Durbelliere were in sight, and then he halted to give his finalorders to his men, and make arrangements that the house should besurrounded.

  "You remember our bargain, citizen General?" said Denot.

  "What bargain?" asked the brewer.

  "Why, about the young lady; the girl, you know," replied the other. "Noone is to interfere between me and Agatha Larochejaquelin. She is to bemy prize and my reward."

  "I will be as good as my word," said Santerre, "as long as you are trueto yours; but I own I pity the young lady the treatment she is likelyto receive from her lover," and as he spoke, he rode up to the frontdoor of the house, accompanied by Denot and a company of men onhorseback.

  The immediate arrival of republican soldiers in the neighbourhood ofDurbelliere was neither expected, or even feared by the inhabitants ofthe chateau, or it would not have been left by Henri, as it had been,perfectly undefended. The truth was this: the royalists had hithertobeen so very generally successful against the republicans; and that,when every odds of number, arms, and position had been in favour oftheir enemies, that they had learnt to look with contempt upon theblues, as they called them. Hitherto the royalists had always been theattacking party; the republicans had contented themselves withendeavouring to keep their position within the towns; and when drivenfrom thence, had retreated altogether out of the revolted district.Except lately at Nantes, the Vendeans had as yet incurred no greatreverse; they had not, therefore, learnt to fear that their houses wouldbe attacked and burnt; their corn and cattle destroyed; and even theirwives and children massacred. The troops which had now been dispatchedby the Convention for the subjection of the country, were of a verydifferent character from those with whom the Vendeans had as yetcontended, and the royalists were not long before they experienced allthe horrors of a civil war, in which quarter was refused them by theirenemies, and mercy even to children was considered as a crime.

  When Santerre rode up to the door of the chateau, ten men might havetaken possession of Durbelliere. It was a fine July evening, about seveno'clock. The old Marquis had been wheeled in his easy chair out of thehouse, to the top of the broad steps which led from the back of thechateau into the garden. Agatha was sitting at his feet on the top step,reading to him, and the little Chevalier Mondyon, who retained nosemblance of the soldier about his person, except the red scarf roundhis waist, was seated straddle-legged atop of one of the huge whitelions which guarded the entrance.

  "Agatha, I hear horsemen," said the boy, jumping off his seat."There--there--quite plain!"

  "It is Henri and Charles coming from Clisson," said Agatha.

  "If it be, they have a troop of cavalry with them," said the Chevalier."Perhaps it's the Prince de Talmont, for I think they have not so manyhorsemen with them in the south," and the little Chevalier ran out togreet, as he thought, his gallant friends.

  "Whoever they be, Agatha," said the old Marquis, "give them a warmwelcome if they come in the King's name. They will know that I cannotrise to meet them, but make them welcome to everything in and about thechateau."

  Agatha had closed her book, and was rising to execute her father'swishes, when Momont, the grey-haired butler, hurrying round from thekitchen-door as fast his old legs would carry him, screamed out: "Theblues! the blues!"

  Agatha, who was in the act of entering the house as she heard thefearful cry, turned instantly back to her father's side. She was deadlypale, but she spoke not a word. She grasped her father's hand, and fixedherself close to his chair, determined in that position to await theworst that her enemies could do her.

  "Run, Agatha, run," said the Marquis, "into the garden, my dear love.The gate will be open at the back. Run, Agatha, for your life!" Agatha,however, did not stir.

  "Do you hear me, Agatha?" continued the old man, wildly supplicating herto go from him. "Do you hear me, my daughter? If you would have myblessing before I die, do as I bid you now. What are my grey hairs toyour young life, that you should sacrifice yourself for me?"

  It was of no avail, for the daughter stood fast by her disabled father'sside, grasping his right hand so that nothing should tear her from him,and turning her beautiful face towards the house, watching for theapproach of her enemies. Nor had she to watch long; before the Chevalierhad been gone five minutes, Santerre, with his sword drawn, trampedheavily through the house, followed by Denot, and a score of his men.The door from the salon to the garden steps was open, and withoutwaiting a moment in the house, he marched through and confronted Agathaand her father.

  "Here is your damsel safe, at any rate, friend Denot," said Santerre,"and a pretty girl she is too, but a bitter royalist, no doubt, by theproud turn of her white neck."

  Denot did not immediately follow Santerre on to the steps. He had firmlyresolved to thrust himself upon Agatha as a conqueror; to rush upon heras an eagle upon its prey, and to carry her off with a strong hand,disregarding her cries, as the eagle disregards the bleating of thelamb; but the first glance he had got of his victim somehow startled hisresolve, and scared the blood from his cheek, and almost from his heart.When Santerre, however, called to him, he was obliged to follow; andthen, making fearful grimaces with his lips, and scowling with his eyes,he stalked out before
the astonished father and daughter.

  "Yes, Agatha," he said, looking full upon her, but not daring to turnan eye upon the countenance of her much more indignant father, "yes,Agatha, I have come, as I told you I would come--I have come to claimyou, and no power shall now gainsay me. I have come to seize you as myown; to take you with a strong hand, and an out-stretched arm. Myprayers were of no avail; you shall find that my sword is more powerful.When last I sought you, it was as a suppliant, I now come for you as aconqueror. Come, Agatha, you are now mine. All the powers of earth shallnot rescue you from my arms."

  "You appear to me, Sir, to come as a traitor," said Agatha.

  "A good republican, my dear," said Santerre: "he comes as a goodrepublican."

  Agatha did not deign to make any further reply, but as Santerre and themen had now left the steps and gone into the house, Denot put his handon her arm to lead her away from her father's side.

  "Leave her alone," shouted the old man, now speaking for the first timesince his eyes had rested on the republican soldiers. "Leave her alone,thou false wretch, thou basest of all miscreants. Touch her not,or--or--," and the poor Marquis strove in vain to rise from his chairto his daughter's help. "Momont, Chapeau, Arthur--Arthur," he halloed."My daughter--my daughter, oh! my daughter!"

  No one, however, came to his aid, and Agatha, finding resistance to bein vain, suffered Denot to lead her into the house, without utteringanother word.

  Not the slightest resistance was made to Santerre and his men; he tookpossession of the chateau without a word even being said to stop him.The servant girls hid themselves in the garrets, but were soon broughtdown again, and bade to set quiet in the hall, till their fate shouldhave been decided on. Momont attempted to conceal himself in the garden,but he was soon found and brought back again, and stationed among thewomen. Chapeau was not seen at all, and even the little Chevalier wasmissing for a time, though he returned of his own accord before Santerrehad been long in possession of the place.

  Santerre seated himself with two of his officers in the largest of thesalons, and ordered that the old Marquis should be brought before him.He was rather perplexed as to what he should next do; his orders wereto destroy everything--houses, property, and life; to spare neither age,sex, nor imbecility; and Santerre, undertaking the commission, hadthought, in his republican zeal, that he would find no weakness inhimself to militate against the execution of such orders. He wasmistaken in himself, however. He had led the fierce mobs of Paris toacts of bloodshed and violence, but in doing so he had only assistedwith an eager hand in the overthrow of those who he thought weretyrannizing over the people. He had stood by at the execution of a King,and ordered the drums to beat to drown the last words of the dyingmonarch; but the King had been condemned by those whom Santerre lookedon as the wisest and best of the nation; and in acting as he had done,he had been carried on as well by ideas of duty as excitement. He foundhis present a much more difficult task. Indeed, after sitting still forsome few minutes in that easy chair, meditating what he would do next,he found that the work which he had undertaken was one which heliterally could not go through with.

  "Is the old gentleman there?" said he; and as he asked, the Marquis,with his eyes closed, and his hands crossed on his breast, was wheeledinto the room. Agatha was seated, or rather was crouching, on a sofa inthe corner, for Adolphe Denot was standing over her uttering threats andwords of love alternately, the latter of which, however, sounded by farthe most horrible in poor Agatha's ears.

  "Give me a pen and paper," said Santerre, and having got them, hecontinued writing for a minute or two. "Now, my old friend," said he,addressing the Marquis, "I am given to understand that you yourself,personally, have never lent a hand to this iniquitous revolt. Is it so?"

  "I am too old and too infirm to carry a sword," said the Marquis, "butwhat little I could do for my King, I--."

  "Exactly--exactly," said Santerre, interrupting him, "you are a crippleI see. There is no evidence wanting to show that you haven't taken uparms. It is this pestilent son of yours has brought you into trouble."

  "He would have been no son of mine had he not acted as he has done,"said the old man indignantly.

  "Will you hold your silly tongue, my friend," said Santerre. "He isdoting, quite doting, I see," and he turned round to his brotherofficers, as though appealing to them to corroborate his opinion.

  "Either that, or else he must be very fond of Mademoiselle Guillotine,"said one of them.

  "Well, now, old gentleman, answer me this question," said Santerre, "doyou want to die this evening?"

  "If I could but think that my daughter was safe, and out of the powerof that viper, whom I have warmed in my bosom, death would not beunwelcome to me."

  "Viper!" said Denot, curling his lips, and speaking through his closedteeth. "Warmed in your bosom! I have yet to learn, old man, that I oweyou ought; but if it be a comfort to you to know it, know that no worseevil awaits your daughter than to become the wife of a true Frenchman."

  "True!" said the Marquis. "Yes, as true as the Prince of Darkness."

  "Come, old man," said Santerre, "we know nothing about Princes, nor yetabout Marquises. You must be content now to call the devil by his plainname, though I rather believe it has already been decided in Paris, thatthe gentleman is nothing but a foul fiction of the aristocrats. Come,if you wish to save your neck, put your signature to this littledocument."

  "I will sign nothing that is put before me in such a manner," said theMarquis.

  "Why you have not even read it. Take the pen in your hand, I tell you;it is only a proclamation of the truth, that you have not taken up armsagainst the republic."

  Agatha understood the object of the republican General, though herfather did not. She sprang from the corner in which Denot had placedher, and coming close to her father, whispered to him.

  "The gentleman means well to you, father, though his words are rough.He wishes to save us. He will save both of us, father, if he can. Readthe paper, and if there be nothing absolutely untrue in it, put yourname to it."

  "Read it yourself, Agatha," said he, "and if you then tell me to signit, I will do so."

  Agatha took up the paper which Santerre had written, and read, but notaloud, the following words:

  "I hereby proclaim myself a true son of the Republic, and a citizenbrother of all free Frenchmen. I declare that I have never carried armsagainst the Convention myself, and demand that I may not be accountedresponsible for any misguided members of my family, who may have doneso."

  Twice Agatha read the words, and as she did so, her father's eyes restedanxiously on her face. "Well, my child," said he, "your father's honouris in your hands; tell me what I am to do," and he mechanically held thepen within his fingers, which Santerre had thrust into his hand.

  "We will die, father," said she, "if these men please it," and she putdown the document on the table on which it had been written. "I cannotask you to denounce our dear, our gallant Henri. I cannot bid you todeny your King. Death at any rate will not dishonour us. We will onlybeg of this gentleman that in his mercy he will not separate us," andputting her arm round her father's neck, she fastened her hand upon thefolds of his coat, as though determined that nothing should againseparate her from his side.

  "Denounce Henri!" said the old man; "denounce my own dear, gallant son,the most loyal of those who love their King--the bravest of the brave!No, Sir! I give you no thanks for your mercy, if you intended any. I,and my daughter, Sir, cannot bear arms for our King; she by reason ofher sex, and I from my infirmities; but, Sir, we can die for him; we candie for him as readily as the bravest who falls in the first ranks ofthe battle. Had I still so much power in my own house as to command acup of wine, I would drink my last pledge to my royal master--but itmatters not; the heart and the will are still the same," and taking offthe tasselled velvet cap which he wore, he waved it above his head,exclaiming, "Vive le Roi! vive le Roi!"

  "The accursed, pestilent old fanatic!" said Santerre, spurning the
tableas he rose in his passion, and upsetting it into the middle of the room;and then he walked up and down the salon with rapid strides, trying toinduce himself to give orders for the immediate execution of the staunchold royalist.

  "What is to be done next, General?" said one of his officers, who didnot quite admire the evident clemency of the brewer.

  "The accursed, pestilent old fanatic!" he repeated between his teeth;and then he said, after drawing a long breath: "they must go to Paris,and let Fouquier Tinville deal with them. There may be secrets that Iknow not of. I think it better that they should go to Paris." And hefelt relieved of a heavy load in having devised a scheme by which hecould avoid having himself to give the order for the execution. "Let himbe locked up, and well treated, mind you. He shall go to Saumur in hisown carriage, and Barrere may send him to Paris how he pleases, or tothe devil if he chooses."

  "And the servants, General?"

  "Oh! ah, yes, the servants!" said Santerre, walking out into the hallto inspect them; "women, an't they? What, five, six, seven, nine women,one old man, and a boy; well, I suppose we must have them out in a row,and shoot them."

  Down on their knees went the nine women and the boy, imploring thattheir innocent lives might be spared to them. Momont, like his master,had still some spirit in his bosom, and kept his seat, saying tohimself, but out loud, "I told him so--I told him so. I told him thatwe who remained here needed as much courage as those who went to thewars; but now, he that talked so much, he's the only one to run away."The poor butler alluded to Chapeau, who had certainly been in the housea few minutes before the arrival of the republicans, and who ascertainly had not been seen since.

  "I suppose we must have them out before the house, and fire upon them?"

  And he turned to the officer who was next to him, as though asking hisadvice.

  "If you ask my advice, General, I would make no difference between thelot; ten minutes should see the last of the whole set of them--the oldman, his daughter, and the rest. If we are to send every master of afamily with his children up to Paris, or even to Saumur, the tribunalscan never do their work, nor can the guillotines fall half fast enoughfor them."

  "When I ask your advice on one subject, Captain, I do not expect you togive it me on another," said Santerre. "Sergeant, take those women out,and the old man, and the boy, stand them in a line upon the gravel plotthere, and bring a file of musketeers." And the republican General againbegan pacing up and down the room, as though he did not at all like theposition in which his patriotic zeal had placed him.

  The poor women were dragged by their limbs out before the door,screeching as they went, and filling the air with their loud, agonizingcries. Momont walked after them, with his head hanging down, his kneesshaking, and his back bent double; but still he was walking himself; hewas still able to save himself the disgrace of being dragged out likethe women. When he got to the front door, he attempted to totter back,but a republican soldier stopped him.

  "My master! my dear master!" said Momont, "let me but kiss his hand, andI will come back."

  The soldier let him pass in, and the old man in a moment was at hismaster's feet. "God bless you, Monseigneur!" said he, "God bless you!Say one word of kindness to your servant, before he is shot for lovinghis master and his King."

  The Marquis put his hand on the grey hairs of the old butler, and movedhis lips, but he said nothing: the power of speech for the time failedhim; the energy he had displayed, and the excitement he had felt, hadbeen too much for him, and he was unable to reply aloud to the blessingof his faithful servant.

  "God bless you, Momont," said Agatha, calmly, as she stood close to herfather, still holding to his coat, and supporting his head against herbody. "Let your last thoughts be of the Saviour who died for you, andso shall your death be only the end of all your troubles."

  He was not allowed to remain longer on his knees, but was hurried backto the spot where the women were awaiting their doom. The soldiers couldnot get them to stand; they were crouching down on the ground in allpositions, one or two with their heads almost buried in the earth, oneor two kneeling, and still screaming for mercy. The old housekeeper hadfallen on her haunches, and was looking up to heaven, while she wildlystruck the ground with her hands; the poor page had made a last, butfutile effort to escape with the aid of his heels, but he had been atonce caught, and was now bound by his waist to a tree, which grew closeto the road on which the wretched party were huddled; the poor boy hadquite forgotten his attempt at manhood and mingled his loud screams withthose of the women.

  "General," said the sergeant, stepping up to him, "the men are ready;will you give the word to fire?"

  Two salons, one looking to the front of the house, and the other to theback, communicated with each other by folding-doors, which were now wideopen. Santerre, the Marquis, Denot, Agatha, and the other republicanofficer, were in the back room; the unfortunate wretches doomed to diewere collected on the gravel before the windows of the front room; thecarabineers who were to fire on them stood in a double file on the broadarea before the front door, and above the steps. Santerre, on beingaddressed by the sergeant, stalked into the front room to give theorder; his altered face plainly shewed the strong passion which was atwork within his heart. As he passed from one room to the other, he threwhis cap upon the ground, and trampled on it; then clenched his fist, andbit his lip till the blood ran. The fatal word "Fire" was on his tongue;but, without intending it, he looked through the window, and his eyesfell on the wretched creatures who were expecting death, and he wasunable to give the command. He sank back upon a chair, and hiding hisface in both his hands, he said to the sergeant, in a low voice:

  "They must get some one else for this work, I am not the man I thoughtI was." He then rose and said, in a voice he vainly attempted shouldappear calm and dignified, "Sergeant, keep the prisoners in custody thisnight: I have changed my mind. Be ready to march at four tomorrowmorning. We will have a bonfire to light us on our journey: see thatthere are plenty of faggots ready before you let the men sleep."

  The poor women were unable to raise themselves and walk away, when theywere made to understand that they were not to die that night. Someprayed, others screamed almost louder than before: one or two of themfainted, and continued fainting the greater part of the night: they wereall of them taken into the house, and kept together in the kitchensurrounded by a guard.

  "Citizen General!" said Denot to Santerre, stepping up to him after thisscene was over; "I have performed my part of my engagement I believe."

  "Well, man, supposing you have; what do you want? Are you going togrumble because I have not slaughtered the wretches you have betrayedto me?"

  "Not at all, General; you know your own duty, doubtless. I am going toreturn to Saumur, to which place I desire an escort for myself and thisyoung lady."

  "By heaven I pity her!" said Santerre. "I don't know what has come tome tonight, that I should trouble myself with the cares of a swarm ofaristocrats." And then he said, addressing Agatha, "Are you ready andwilling, young woman, for a midnight ride with this hot young lover, whoseems so fond of you?"

  "She must be ready, General Santerre," said Denot, taking hold ofAgatha's hand: "it is now my turn to command her: she must be ready,whether she be willing or no."

  "You will not force me to leave my father?" said Agatha, appealing toSanterre. "You will not deliver a poor unprotected girl into the handsof such a maniac as that."

  "Maniac!" said Denot. "But I care not; your words are to me like theempty wind: the time had gone by for words between you and me, when yourefused to listen to those I addressed to you upon my knees. Come,Agatha, come; my heart's treasure--for still you are so; come, my love,my captive, and my bride!" And Denot essayed to go, as though heexpected Agatha to follow him through the world like a tame dog.

  "Oh, Sir, protect me from him!" said Agatha, still appealing toSanterre. "He is mad--you see and hear he is mad! I have not asked youfor my life, nor do I so now; but I pray you, I beseech you
, by theremembrance of the females who are dear to yourself save me from thepower of that frantic man. Had he not been mad, had he not utterly losthis senses, he would have been the last to have brought you hither."

  "I have thought something like that myself pretty one," said Santerre."Come, Denot, you shall talk to the lady tomorrow; we will leave herwith her father tonight." "Your word, General!" said Denot, assuming hisfurious look, "your plighted word and honour. Was she not to be myprize, my captive, my reward. You dare not go back from the promise youhave made me."

  "Nonsense, man alive," said Santerre. "You can't carry her off tonight.I believe in my heart she's right, and that you're as mad a man as everroared in a hospital. Let go her arm, I tell you; you shall not drag herabout in that way."

  The Marquis, during this scene, was endeavouring to throw his arms roundhis daughter, so as to protect her; but his efforts were but of littleavail. Agatha herself still held to her father by one hand, but theother she was unable to extricate from her persecutor's grasp. She didnot scream or cry, for there was something within her--a memory ofCathelineau's last moments, of her brother's gallantry, and her father'sloyalty, which strongly urged her to repress her tears before arepublican; but her strength was almost gone, her nerves were all butover strung, when she heard a sudden noise behind her of some onerushing into the room, and Adolphe Denot quickly dropped her hand, andgave a yell of pain. He had received a sharp blow of a cherry switchacross his face, and the blood was running from both his cheeks.

  Santerre, and the other republican officers in the room, put their handsto their pistols, and prepared to defend themselves, but the only personwho appeared was a young boy: to be sure he had the dreadful red scarfround his waist; but he had no weapon but his cherry stick, after havinggiven Denot the blow across his face, he made no farther use of that.It was the little Chevalier who had arrived so opportunely; he tookAgatha's hand in his, and pressed it closely, and took his place besideher without speaking a word.

  "And who the deuce is this young bantam cock?" said Santerre.

  "I am the little Chevalier Mondyon," said Arthur; "a true royalist, andsworn knight to Agatha Larochejaquelin. And that man there is a traitorand a false knave; he is not fit to be punished with a sword like agentleman."

  "Well crowed, my bantam," said Santerre; "and be good enough to tell mewhere you come from. No, friend Denot, no, we'll have no dagger workjust at present." And putting his huge hand on the other's shoulder, hedragged him back as he was about to plunge his knife into the littleChevalier.

  "I came from the cherry wood there," said Arthur. "Maybe you think Iought not to have run away, and deserted my lady love. Maybe I'm ratherashamed of my own self, but at any rate when you speak of it, say thatI came back of my own accord. I'm not a bit afraid to die now," and ashe spoke he squeezed Agatha's hand. His heart was full of apprehension,lest she should suspect for a moment that he had really fled from herthrough fear, but Agatha understood well his ready wit, and appreciatedhis more than boyish courage.

  Santerre now made his arrangements for the night. All the inhabitantsof the chateau were kept under strict surveillance. The Marquis, hisdaughter, and the Chevalier were allowed to remain together, and Denotwas prevented from annoying them. At day-break the following morningDurbelliere was to be burnt, and Santerre, with his prisoners, wouldthen proceed to join Westerman at Bressuire.

  "Let him slaughter them, if he likes," said he to himself, "I don't carewhat he says of me. I am at any rate too well known to be suspected. Idon't know what came over me today, but had the Republic depended on it,I could not have done it," and he flung himself down on one of Agatha'ssofas, and slept not the less soundly for having began his career ofextermination in so vacillating a manner.