CHAPTER XX.
THE CONSPIRACY.
D'Harmental, after having placed his hat and cloak on a chair, afterhaving placed his pistols on his table, and his sword under his pillow,threw himself dressed on to his bed, and, more happy than Damocles, heslept, though, like Damocles, a sword hung over his head by a thread.
When he awoke it was broad daylight, and as the evening before he hadforgotten to close his shutters, the first thing he saw was a ray ofsunshine playing joyously across his room. D'Harmental thought that hehad been dreaming, when he found himself again calm and tranquil in hislittle room, so neat and clean, while he might have been at that hour insome gloomy and somber prison. For a moment he doubted of its reality,remembering all that had passed the evening before; but all wasthere--the red ribbon, the hat and cloak on the chair, the pistols onthe table, and the sword under the pillow; and, as a last proof, hehimself in the costume of the day before, which he had not taken off,for fear of being surprised by some nocturnal visit.
D'Harmental jumped from his bed. His first look was for his neighbor'swindow: it was already open, and he saw Bathilde passing and repassingin her room; the second was for his glass, which told him thatconspiracies suited him--indeed, his face was paler than usual, andtherefore more interesting; his eyes were rather feverish, and thereforemore expressive: so that it was evident that, when he had smoothed hishair and arranged his collar and cravat, he would be a most interestingperson to Bathilde. D'Harmental did not say this, even to himself; butthe bad instinct which always impels our poor souls to evil whisperedthese thoughts to him, so that when he went to his toilet he suited hisdress to the expression of his face--that is to say, that he dressedentirely in black, that his hair was arranged with a charmingnegligence, and that he left his waistcoat more than usually open, togive place to his shirt-frill, which fell with an ease full of coquetry.All this was done in the most preoccupied and careless manner in theworld; for D'Harmental, brave as he was, could not help remembering thatat any minute he might be arrested; but it was by instinct that, whenthe chevalier gave the last look in the glass, before leaving his littledressing-room, he smiled at himself with a melancholy which doubled thecharm of his countenance. There was no mistake as to the meaning of thissmile, for he went directly to the window.
Perhaps Bathilde had also her projects for the moment when her neighborshould reappear, perhaps she had arranged a defense which should consistin not looking toward him, or in closing her window after a simplerecognition; but at the noise her neighbor's window made in opening, allwas forgotten, and she ran to the window, crying out:
"Ah! there you are. Mon Dieu! monsieur, how anxious you have made me!"
This exclamation was ten times more than D'Harmental had hoped for. Ifhe, on his part, had prepared some well-turned and eloquent phrases,they were all forgotten, and clasping his hands:
"Bathilde! Bathilde!" he cried, "you are, then, as good as you arebeautiful!"
"Why good?" asked Bathilde. "Did you not tell me that if I was anorphan, you also were without parents? Did you not say that I was yoursister, and you were my brother?"
"Then, Bathilde, you prayed for me?"
"All night," replied the young girl blushing.
"And I thanked chance for having saved me, when I owed all to an angel'sprayers!"
"The danger is then past?" cried Bathilde.
"The night was dark and gloomy," replied D'Harmental. "This morning,however, I was awakened by a ray of sunshine which a cloud may againconceal: so it is with the danger I have run; it has passed to giveplace to a great happiness--that of knowing you have thought of me, yetit may return. But stay," continued he, hearing steps on the staircase,"there it is, perhaps, approaching my door."
As he spoke, some one knocked three times at the chevalier's door.
"Who is there?" asked D'Harmental from the window, in a voice which, inspite of all his firmness, betrayed some emotion.
"A friend," answered a voice.
"Well?" asked Bathilde, with anxiety.
"Thanks to you, God still continues to protect me: it is a friend whoknocks. Once again, thanks, Bathilde." And the chevalier closed hiswindow, sending the young girl a last salute which was very like a kiss;then he opened to the Abbe Brigaud, who, beginning to be impatient, hadknocked a second time.
"Well," said the abbe, on whose face it was impossible to see thesmallest change, "what has happened, then, my dear pupil, that you areshut in thus by bolts and bars? Is it as a foretaste of the Bastille?"
"Holla! abbe," said D'Harmental, in a cheerful voice, "no such jokes, Ibeg; they might bring misfortune."
"But look! look!" said Brigaud, throwing his eyes round him, "would notany one suppose they were visiting a conspirator? Pistols on the table,a sword on the pillow, and a hat and cloak on the chair. Ah! my dearpupil, you are discomposed, it appears to me! Come, put all this inorder, that I may not be able to perceive, when I pay my paternal visit,what passes during my absence."
D'Harmental obeyed, admiring, in this man of the Church, the sang-froidwhich he himself found it difficult to attain.
"Very good," said Brigaud, watching him, "and this shoulder-knot whichyou have forgotten, and which was never made for you (for it dates fromthe time when you were in jackets), put it away too; who knows?--you maywant it."
"And what for, abbe?" asked D'Harmental, laughing; "to attend theregent's levee in?"
"Oh, no, but for a signal to some good fellow who is passing; come, putit away."
"My dear abbe," said D'Harmental, "if you are not the devil in person,you are at least one of his most intimate acquaintances."
"Oh, no! I am a poor fellow who goes his own quiet way, and who, as hegoes, looks high and low, right and left, that is all. Look, there is aray of spring, the first, which knocks humbly at your window, and you donot open it: one would suppose you were afraid of being seen. Ah,pardon! I did not know that, when your window opened, another mustclose."
"My dear abbe, you are full of wit," replied D'Harmental, "but terriblyindiscreet; so much so, that, if you were a musketeer instead of anabbe, I should quarrel with you."
"And why? Because I wish to open you a path to glory, fortune, and,perhaps, love? It would be monstrous ingratitude."
"Well, let us be friends, abbe," said D'Harmental, offering his hand,"and I shall not be sorry to have some news."
"Of what?"
"How do I know? Of the Rue des Bons Enfants, where there has been agreat deal going on, I believe; of the Arsenal, where, I believe, Madamede Maine has given a soiree; and even of the regent, who, if I maybelieve a dream I had, came back to the Palais Royal very late andrather agitated."
"All has gone well. The noise of the Rue des Bons Enfants, if there wereany, is quite calm this morning; Madame de Maine has as much gratitudefor those whom important affairs kept away from the Arsenal as she hascontempt for those who were there; finally, the regent, dreaming lastnight, as usual, that he was king of France, has already forgotten thathe was nearly the prisoner of the king of Spain. Now we must beginagain."
"Ah, pardon, abbe," said D'Harmental; "but, with your permission, it isthe turn of the others. I shall not be sorry to rest a little, myself."
"Ah, that goes badly with the news I bring you."
"What news?"
"It was decided last night that you should leave for Brittany thismorning."
"For Brittany!--and what to do there?"
"You will know when you are there."
"And if I do not wish to go?"
"You will reflect, and go just the same."
"And on what shall I reflect?"
"That it would be the act of a madman to interrupt an enterprise nearits end for a love only at its beginning. To abandon the interests of aprincess of the blood to gain the good graces of a grisette."
"Abbe!" said D'Harmental.
"Oh, we must not get angry, my dear chevalier; we must reason! Youengaged voluntarily in the affair we have in hand, and you promised t
oaid us in it. Would it be loyal to abandon us now for a repulse? No, no,my dear pupil; you must have a little more connection in your ideas ifyou mix in a conspiracy."
"It is just because I have connection in my ideas," replied D'Harmental,"that this time, as at first, before undertaking anything new, I wish toknow what it is. I offered myself to be the arm, it is true; but, beforestriking, the arm must know what the head has decided. I risk myliberty. I risk my life. I risk something perhaps dearer to me still. Iwill risk all this in my own manner, with my eyes open, and not closed.Tell me first what I am to do in Brittany, and then perhaps I will gothere."
"Your orders are that you should go to Rennes. There you will unsealthis letter, and find your instructions."
"My orders! my instructions!"
"Are not these the terms which a general uses to his officers? And arethey in the habit of disputing the commands they receive?"
"Not when they are in the service; but you know I am in it no longer."
"It is true. I forgot to tell you that you had re-entered it."----"I!"
"Yes, you. I have your brevet in my pocket." And Brigaud drew from hispocket a parchment, which he presented to D'Harmental, who unfolded itslowly, questioning Brigaud with his looks.
"A brevet!" cried the chevalier; "a brevet as colonel in one of the fourregiments of carabineers! Whence comes this brevet?"
"Look at the signature."
"Louis-Auguste, Duc de Maine!"
"Well, what is there astonishing in that? As grand master of artillery,he has the nomination of twelve regiments. He gives you one to replacethat which was taken from you, and, as your general, he sends you on amission. Is it customary for soldiers in such a case to refuse the honortheir chief does them in thinking of them? I am a churchman, and do notknow."
"No, no, my dear abbe. It is, on the contrary, the duty of every officerof the king to obey his chief."
"Besides which," replied Brigaud, negligently, "in case the conspiracyfailed, you would only have obeyed orders, and might throw the wholeresponsibility of your actions on another."
"Abbe!" cried D'Harmental, a second time.
"Well, if you do not go, I shall make you feel the spur."
"Yes, I am going. Excuse me, but there are some moments when I am halfmad. I am now at the orders of Monsieur de Maine, or, rather, at thoseof Madame. May I not see her before I go, to fall at her feet, and tellher that I am ready to sacrifice my life at a word from her?"
"There, now, you are going into the opposite extreme; but no, you mustnot die; you must live--live to triumph over our enemies, and wear abeautiful uniform, with which you will turn all the women's heads."
"Oh, my dear Brigaud, there is but one I wish to please."
"Well, you shall please her first, and the others afterward."
"When must I go?"
"This instant."
"You will give me half an hour?"
"Not a second."
"But I have not breakfasted."
"You shall come and breakfast with me."
"I have only two or three thousand francs here, and that is not enough."
"You will find a year's pay in your carriage."
"And clothes?"
"Your trunks are full. Had I not your measure? You will not bediscontented with my tailor."
"But at least, abbe, tell me when I may return."
"In six weeks to a day, the Duchesse de Maine will expect you atSceaux."
"But at least you will permit me to write a couple of lines."
"Well, I will not be too exacting."
The chevalier sat down and wrote:
"DEAR BATHILDE--To-day it is more than a danger which threatens me; it is a misfortune which overtakes me. I am forced to leave this instant, without seeing you, without bidding you adieu. I shall be six weeks absent. In the name of Heaven, Bathilde, do not forget him who will not pass an hour without thinking of you.
RAOUL."
This letter written, folded, and sealed, the chevalier rose and went tothe window; but as we have said, that of his neighbor was closed whenBrigaud appeared. There was then no means of sending to Bathilde thedispatch destined for her. D'Harmental made an impatient gesture. Atthis moment they heard a scratching at the door. The abbe opened it, andMirza appeared, guided by her instinct, and her greediness, to thegiver of the bon-bons, and making lively demonstrations of joy.
"Well," said Brigaud, "who shall say God is not good to lovers? Youwanted a messenger, and here is one."
"Abbe, abbe," said D'Harmental, shaking his head, "do not enter into mysecrets before I wish it."
"Oh," replied Brigaud, "a confessor, you know, is an abyss."
"Then not a word will pass your lips?"
"On my honor, chevalier."
D'Harmental tied the letter to Mirza's neck, gave her a piece of sugaras a reward for the commission she was about to accomplish; and, halfsad at having lost his beautiful neighbor for six weeks, half glad athaving regained forever his beautiful uniform, he took his money, puthis pistols into his pockets, fastened on his sword, took his hat andcloak, and followed the Abbe Brigaud.