The False Chevalier

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE REGISTER OF ST. GERMAIN-DES-PRES

  A hazy hope concerning his descent had haunted Lecour for some monthspast. That the Chevalier de Lincy was really in some manner his relativebecame his belief. He argued that his own fitness for aristocraticsociety must have a hereditary explanation and that, were he able totrace his lineage a short distance backward he would discover somehigher status fallen from by his family through misfortune. On the dayof de Grancey's departure, he began to place together the straws ofinformation which might guide him. He had once heard his father speak ofhaving left France at the age of twelve years. Was he a kidnapped anddeported heir? Was he a cadet of some reduced family?

  Again, on one of the rare occasions when Lecour senior referred to thepast--a winter's evening chat by the fire-side with the cure of theparish--he had described his boyish recollection of the interior of theParis church of St. Germain-des-Pres, then the family church of hisfamily. Was his own name taken from its patron saint? Would itsregisters contain records of the Lecours?

  He knew at least his father's age--born in 1736, it would make him--yes,and also his birth month, June. Here were straws to start by.

  He lost no time in crossing the Seine and seeking the church. As hepassed the middle of the Pont Neuf--near the equestrian statue of HenryIV., a small man, meanly dressed, glided out of the shadow of a vehicle,and moved stealthily after him, his motions wary as a cat's. This manwas Jude.

  Germain arrived at the edifice, which adjoined the great abbey of thesame name, and scanned its ancient spire and dilapidated facade for somemoments before he entered, full of thought--"for here," said he "is thetemple of my forefathers--the visible link that binds my origin toFrance." He passed in, regarding every pillar and ornament of itsquaint, dark, Norman interior with the same fascination, and traversingits length, came to the sacristy behind the high altar. A young priestwas standing there overlooking the operations of some workmen, andmuttering his breviary.

  "Messire, I am seeking information for which I wish to examine yourparish registers," said Germain.

  "It is an honour, sir," replied the priest. "What is the year?"

  "1736."

  "The books are here, sir," opening a cupboard in which various largevolumes leaned against each other on the shelves. "This is 1736. May Iassist you in finding the entry?"

  "I am not sure what I need."

  "I fear Monsieur will not find some of the entries easy reading."

  "Time is not important to me, father," answered Germain cheerfully. "MayI take the register to this table near the light?"

  "With pleasure; but should the handwriting be difficult, speak to me. Iam the archivist of the abbey." And thus saying he turned back to hisworkmen.

  Lecour examined the volume with beating heart. He nervously fingered theleaves at first without receiving any distinct impression of thecontents, his brain was so full of other thoughts. At last he noticedthat the entries were regular and consecutive, and though written indifferent hands, were clear to follow. He reached the month of June,read its entries slowly, one after another--a birth, a marriage, adeath, then another death, then a birth again, and so on, with the namesof the parties and their parents, some high, some low, until he came tonearly the end, when suddenly one seemed to stare at him out of thepage.

  "The 27th,--Took place the baptism of Francois Xavier, tenth son of_Pierre Lecour, master-butcher, of this Parish_, and of his wife, MarieLeCoq. He had for godfather, Jean LeCoq, tinker, and for godmother,Therese, wife of Louis Bossu, Charcoal vendor."

  From the moment he read the word "master-butcher," his head swam, hisheart sank, he felt a blow as if it were the stunning thud of a heavyweight upon it, and an unconscious groan escaped him.

  "Monsieur is sick," exclaimed the priest to his men. "Bring wine."

  "No, father," returned Germain, slowly rising, and steadying himself,"it is nothing," and he walked forward and left the sacristy.

  The room had two doors leading inward to the high altar, one on eachside. Just as Lecour passed out by the left one, Jude glided in by thaton the right, and crossing boldly to the open book, pounced upon theentry of baptism.