CHAPTER XXIV.
AT LAST THEY ARE HAPPY!
It is easy for us who know the state of Andrea's heart to imagine whatshe suffered from the time of Isidore's leaving. She trembled for thegrand plot failing or succeeding. If succeeding, she knew the count'sdevotion to his masters too well not to be sure that he would never quitthem in exile. If failure, she knew his courage too well not to be surethat he would struggle till the last moment, so long as hope remained,and beyond that.
So she had her eye open to every light and her ear to every sound.
On the following day, she learnt with the rest of the population thatthe King had fled from the capital in the night, without any mischance.
She had suspected the flight, and as Charny would participate, she waslosing him by his going far from her.
Sighing deeply, she knelt in prayer for the journey to be happy.
For two days, Paris was dumb, without news; then the rumor broke forththat the King had been stopped at Varennes. No details, just the word.
Andrea hunted up on the map the little obscure point on which attentionwas centred. There she lived on hopes, fears and thought.
Gradually came the details precious to her, particularly when news camethat a Charny, one of the royal bodyguard, had been killed: Isidoreor George? for two days, while this was undecided, Andrea's heartoscillated in anguish indescribable.
Finally the return of the august prisoners were heralded. They slept atMeaux.
At eleven in the morning, veiled and dressed most plainly she went andwaited till three o'clock at the east end, for it was supposed that theparty would enter by St. Martin's suburb. At that hour the mob began tomove away, hearing that the King was going round to enter through theChamps Elysees. It was half the city to cross afoot as no vehicles couldmove in the throng, unexampled since the Taking of the Bastile.
Andrea did not hesitate and was one of the first on the spot where shehad still three mortal hours to wait.
At last the procession appeared, we know in what order.
She hailed the royal coach with a cry of joy for she saw Charny on thebox. A scream which seemed an echo of her own, though different in tone,arose, and she saw a girl in convulsions in the crowd. She would havegone to her help, though three or four kind persons flew to her side,but she heard the men around her pour imprecations on the three on thebox seat. On them would fall the popular rage as the scapegoats of theroyal treachery; when the coach stopped they would be torn to pieces.
And Charny was one!
She resolved to do her utmost to get within the Tuileries gardens; thisshe managed by going round about but the crush was so dense that shecould not get into the front. She retired to the waterside terrace whereshe saw and heard badly, but that was better than not seeing at all.
She saw Charny, indeed, on the same level, little suspecting that theheart beating for him alone was so near; probably he had no thought forher--solely for the Queen, forgetting his own safety to watch over hers.
Oh, had she known that he was pressing her letter on his heart andoffering her the last sigh which he thought he must soon yield! Atlast the coach stopped amid the howling, groaning and clamor. Almostinstantly around it rose an immense turbulence, weapons swaying like asteel wheat-field shaken by the breeze.
Precipitated from the box, the three Lifeguards disappeared as ifdropped into a gulf. Then there was such a back-wave of the crowd thatthe retiring rear ranks broke against the terrace front.
Andrea was shrouded in anguish; she could hear and see nothing;breathless and with outstretched arms, she screamed inarticulate soundsinto the midst of the dreadful concert of maledictions, blasphemy anddeath cries.
She could no longer understand what went on: the earth turned, the skygrew red, and a roar as of the sea rang in her ears.
She fell, half dead, knowing only that she lived from her feelingsuffering.
A sensation of coolness brought her round: a woman was putting toher forehead a handkerchief dipped in river water. She rememberedher as having fainted when the royal coach came into sight, withoutguessing what sympathy attached her to this mistress of her husband'sbrother--for this was Catherine Billet.
"Are they dead?" was her first question.
Compassion is intelligent: they around her understood that she askedafter the three Lifeguardsmen.
"No, all three are saved."
"The Lord be praised! Where are they?"
"I believe in the palace."
Rising and shaking her head, seeing where she was in a distracted way,she went around to the Princes' Court and sprang into the janitor'sroom. This man knew the countess as having been in attendance when thecourt first came back from Versailles. He had also seen her go away,with Sebastian in her carriage.
He related that the Guardsmen were safe; Count Charny had gone out for alittle while, when he returned dressed in naval uniform to appear in theQueen's rooms, where he probably was at that period.
Andrea thanked the good fellow and hastened home, now that George wassafe. She knelt on her praying stand, to thank heaven, with all her soulgoing up to her Maker.
She was plunged in ecstasy when she heard the door open, and shewondered what this earthly sound could be, disturbing her in her deepestreverie.
The shadow in the doorway was dim but her instinct told her who it waswithout the girl announcing:
"My lord the Count of Charny."
Andrea tried to rise but her strength failed her: half turning, she sliddown the slope of the stand, leaning her arm on the guard.
"The count," she murmured, disbelieving her eyes.
The servant closed the door on her master and mistress.
"I was told you had recently returned home? Am I rude in following youindoors so closely?" he asked.
"No, you are welcome, my lord," she tremblingly replied. "I was souneasy that I left the house to learn what had happened."
"Were you long out?"
"Since morning; I was first out to St. Martin's Bars, and then wentto the Champs Elysees; there I saw--" she hesitated--"I saw the RoyalFamily--you, and momentarily I was set at ease, though I feared for youwhen the carriage should set you down. Then I went into the TuileriesGardens, where I thought I should have died."
"Yes, the crowd was great; you were crushed, and I understand----"
"No," said Andrea, shaking her head, "that was not it. I inquired andlearned that you were unhurt, so that I hastened home to thank God on myknees."
"Since you are so, praying, say a word for my poor brother."
"Isidore--poor youth! was it he, then?" exclaimed Andrea.
She let her head sink on her hands. Charny stepped forward a few stepsto regard the chaste creature at her devotions. In his look was immensecommiseration, together with a longing restrained.
Had not the Queen said--or rather revealed that Andrea loved him?
"And he is no more?" queried the lady, turning round after finishing herprayer.
"He died, madam, like Valence, and for the same cause, fulfilling thesame duty."
"And in the great grief which you must have felt, you still thought ofme?" asked Andrea in so weak a voice that her words were barely audible.
Luckily Charny was listening with the heart as well as ear.
"Did you not charge my brother with a message for me?" he inquired. "Aletter to my address?"
She rose on one knee and looked with anxiety upon him.
"After poor Isidore's death, his papers were handed to me and among themwas this letter."
"And you have read it--ah!" she cried, hiding her face in her hands.
"I ought to know the contents only if I were mortally wounded and yousee I have returned safe. Consequently, as you see, it is intact, as yougave it to Isidore."
"Oh, what you have done is very lofty--or very unkind," muttered thecountess, taking the letter.
Charny stretched out his hand and caught her hand in spite of an effortto retain it. As Charny persisted, uttering a repro
achful "Oh!" shesighed almost with fright; but she gave way, leaving it quivering in hisclasp. Embarrassed, not knowing where to turn her eyes, to avoid hisglance, which she felt to be fastened on her, and unable to retreat asher back was against the wall, she said:
"I understand--you came to restore the letter."
"For that, and another matter. I have to beg your pardon heartily,Andrea."
She shuddered to the bottom of her soul for this was the first time hehad addressed her so informally. The whole sentence had been spoken withindescribable softness.
"Pardon of me, my lord? on what grounds?"
"For my behavior towards you these six years."
"Have I ever complained?" she asked, eyeing him in profoundastonishment.
"No, because you are an angel."
Despite herself her eyes were veiled and tears welled out.
"You weep, Andrea," exclaimed Charny.
"Excuse me, my lord," she sobbed, "but I am not used to being thusspoken to. Oh, heavens!" She sank on an easy chair, hiding her face inher hands for a space but then withdrawing them, she said:
"Really, I must be going mad."
She stopped--while she had her eyes hid, Charny had fallen on his kneesto her.
"Oh, you, on your knees to me?" she said.
"Did I not say I must ask your forgiveness?"
"What can this mean?" she muttered.
"Andrea, it means that I love you," he answered in his sweetest voice.
Laying her hand on her heart, she uttered a cry. Springing upright asthough impelled by a spring under her feet, she pressed her templesbetween her hands and cried:
"He loves me? this cannot be."
"Say that it is impossible you should love me, but not that I shouldlove you."
She lowered her gaze on the speaker to see if he spoke truly and hiseyes said more than his tongue: though she might doubt the words shecould not the glance.
"Oh, God, in all the world is there a being more unfortunate than me?"she cried.
"Andrea, tell me that you love me," continued Charny, "or at least thatyou do not hate me?"
"I, hate you?" she said, with a double flash from the calm eyes usuallyso limpid and serene. "Oh, my lord, it would be very wrong to take forhate the feeling you inspire."
"But if not hate or love, what is it?"
"It is not love because I am not allowed to love you; but did you nothear me call myself the unhappiest of God's creatures?"
"Why are you not allowed to love me when I love you with all thestrength of my soul?"
"Oh, that I cannot, dare not, must not tell you," replied she, wringingher hands.
"But if another should tell me what you cannot, dare not, must nottell?" he demanded.
"Heaven!" she gasped, leaning her hands on his shoulder.
"Suppose I know? and that, considering you the more worthy because ofthe noble way you have borne that woe, it was that terrible secret whichdetermined me upon telling you that I loved you?"
"If you did this, you would be the noblest and most generous of men."
"Andrea, I love you," cried he, three times.
"Oh, God, I knew not that there could be such bliss in this world," shesaid, lifting her arms heavenward.
"Now, in your turn, tell me that you love me."
"Oh, no, that I dare not, but you may read that letter," said Andrea.
While she covered her face with her hands, he sharply broke the letterseal, and exclaimed when he had read the first lines; parting her handsand with the same movement drawing her upon his heart, he said: "Howshall I love you enough, saintly creature, to make you forget what youhave undergone in these six years!"
"Oh, God, if this be a dream, let me never awake, or die on awakening,"prayed Andrea, bending like a reed beneath the weight of so muchhappiness.
And now, let us forget these who are happy to return to those who hate,suffer or are struggling, and perhaps their evil fate will forget them,too.