La Vendee Part 7

"Through the barrack window!" repeated Peter, with an air intended to throw discredit on the whole story.

"And we heard," said Gather's confidential maid, "how he laid his hand upon the cannon and charmed it, so that it would not go off, though the fiery torch was absolutely laid upon the gunpowder."

"That the cannon wouldn't go off though the torch was laid upon the gunpowder!" said Peter.

"And we heard," said the cook, "how all the girls in the town came and crowned him with bay leaves; and how the priest blessed him."

"And how the young made him their captain and their general," said the housekeeper.

"And how they christened him the Saviour of St. Florent," said the laundress.

"And gave him all the money in the town, and the biggest sword they could find," said the page.

"You heard all this, did you?" said Peter Berrier.

"Indeed we did," said Jacques Chapeau, "and a great deal more from M. de Lescure's own man, who went back to Clisson only an hour since, and who had it all from one who came direct from St. Florent."

"And you heard not a word of Peter Berrier?"

"Not a word, not a word," said they all at once.

"Then, friends, let me tell you, you have not heard much of the truth, although M. de Lescure's own man did see the man who came direct from St. Florent; I think I may say, without boasting, and I believe Monsieur the postillion upstairs will not be inclined to contradict me, that without me, there would have been no revolt.

"No revolt without you? No revolt without Peter Berrier? No revolt without M. Debedin's ostler?" said they one after another.

"No--no revolt without M. Debedin's ostler, Madame." The last question had been asked by the cook. "M. Debedin's ostler is as good, I suppose, as M. Gaspardieu's postillion."

"What, as good as Cathelineau?" asked Momont.

"As good as our good postillion!" shouted Chapeau.

"As good as the holy man who charmed the cannon!" said the confidential maid in a tone of angry amazement.

"Would all the girls in St. Florent crown you with bay leaves!" jeered the cook.

"Will they ever make you a great captain!" screamed the housekeeper.

"Or call you the Saviour of St. Florent!" added the laundress.

"Or trust you with all the money, I'd like to know!" suggested the page.

Peter Berrier felt that he was ill-used after all that he had gone through for his King and his country; he sat apart for the rest of the evening, and meditated whether he would go over to the republicans, and bring an army down upon Durbelliere, or whether he would more n.o.bly revenge himself by turning out a more enterprising royalist than even the postillion himself.

CHAPTER V.

DE LESCURE.

De Lescure with his sister returned on the following morning to Clisson; for so was his chateau called. Clisson is about two leagues south of the town of Bra.s.siere, in the province of Poitou, and is situated in the southern part of the Bocage. M. de Lescure owned the chateau and a considerable territory around it. He was a man of large property in that country where the properties were all comparatively small, and was in other respects also by far the most influential person in the neighbourhood. He had married a lady with a large fortune, which gave him more means of a.s.sisting the poor than most of the gentlemen resident in the Bocage possessed. He took a deep interest in the welfare of those around him; he shared their joys, and sympathized with their grief, and he was consequently beloved, and almost adored.

He had now undertaken to join with his whole heart the insurgents against the Republic, and he was fully determined to do so; he had made up his mind that it was his duty to oppose measures which he thought destructive to the happiness of his countrymen, and to make an effort to re-establish the throne; but he did not bring to the work the sanguine hope of success, the absolute pleasure in the task which animated Larochejaquelin; nor yet the sacred enthusiastic chivalry of Cathelineau, who was firmly convinced of the truth of his cause, and believed that the justice of G.o.d would not allow the murderers of a King, and the blasphemers of his name to prevail against the arms of people who were both loyal and faithful.

De Lescure had studied and thought much; he was older than Larochejaquelin, much better educated than Cathelineau. He was as ardent in the cause as they were; why else had he undertaken it? but he understood better than they did the fearful chances which were against them: the odds against which they had to fight, the almost insuperable difficulties in their way. He knew that the peasantry around them would be brave and enthusiastic followers, but he also knew that it would be long before they were disciplined soldiers. He was sure that they would fight stoutly round their homes and their families; but he felt that it would be almost impossible to lead any body of them to a distance from their own fields. He foresaw also all the horrors into which they were about to plunge; horrors, of which an honourable death on the field of battle would be the least. The Republic had already shown the bitterness of their malice towards those who opposed them, and de Lescure knew what mercy it would shew to those of his party who fell into its power.

Besides, how could they hope for success against the arms of a whole nation supported by a despotic government. His friends talked sanguinely of aid from England, from Austria, and from Prussia; but he feared that that aid would come too late, after their houses were burnt, and their fields destroyed; after the best among them had fallen; after their children had been murdered; when the country should be depopulated, and nothing but the name of La Vendee left.

With all these fears around his heart, and yet with a firm determination to give himself entirely to the cause in which he was embarked, de Lescure rode home to tell his young wife, to whom he was but barely two years married, that he must not only leave her, and give up the life so congenial to both their tastes, which they had lately led; but that he was going to place himself in constant danger, and leave her and all he loved in danger also.

"You must be very good to Victoriana," he said to his sister; "you must be very good to each other, Marie, for you will both have much to bear."

"We will, we will," said Marie; "but you, Charles, you will be with us; at any rate not far from us."

"I may be near you, and yet not with you; or I may soon be placed beyond all human troubles. I would have you prepare yourself; of all the curses which can fall on a country, a civil war is the most cruel."

Madame de Lescure was the daughter of a n.o.bleman of high rank; she had been celebrated as a beauty, and known to possess a great fortune; she had been feted and caressed in the world, but she had not been spoiled; she was possessed of much quiet sense; and though she was a woman of strong pa.s.sions, she kept them under control. When her husband told her, therefore, that the quiet morning of their life was over, that they had now to wade through contest, bloodshed, and civil war, and that probably all their earthly bliss would be brought to a violent end before the country was again quiet, she neither screamed nor fainted; but she felt, what he intended that she should feel that she must, now, more entirely than ever, look for her happiness in some world beyond the present one.

"I know, Victorine," said he, when they were alone together in the evening, when not even his own dear sister Marie was there to mar the sacred sweetness of their conference, "I know that I am doing right, and that gives me strength to leave you, and our darling child. I know that I am about to do my duty; and you would not wish that I should remain here in safety, when my King and my country require my services."

"No, Charles; I would never wish that you should be disgraced in your own estimation. I could perfectly disregard what all others said of you, as long as you were satisfied with your own conduct; but I would not for any worldly happiness, that you should live a coward in your own esteem."

"My own, own Victorine," said he, "how right you are! What true happiness could we have ever had, if we attempted to enjoy it at the expense of our countrymen! Every man owes his life to his country; in happy, quiet times, that debt is best paid by the performance of homely quiet duties; but our great Father has not intended that lot for us."

"His will be done. He may yet turn away from us this misery. We may yet live, Charles, to look on these things as our dearest reminiscences."

"We may; but it is not the chance for which we should be best prepared.

We are not to expect that G.o.d will raise his arm especially to vindicate our injuries; it would be all but blasphemous to ask Him to do so. We are but a link in the chain of events which His wisdom has designed.

Should we wish that that chain should be broken for our purposes?"

"Surely not. I would not be so presumptuous as to name my own wishes in my prayers to the Creator."

"No; leave it to His wisdom to arrange our weal or woe in this world; satisfied with this, that He has promised us happiness in the world which is to come."

"I must leave you on Monday, dearest," continued he, after a pause, during which he sat with his wife's hand within his own.

"So soon, Charles!"

"Yes, dearest, on Monday. Henri, and Adolphe, and others, will be here on Sunday; and our different duties will commence immediately."

"And will yours keep you altogether away from Clisson?"

"Very nearly so; at any rate, I could not name the day or the week, when I might be with you. You and Marie will be all in all to each other now; do not let her droop and grow sad, Victorine."

"Nay, Charles, it is she should comfort me; she loves no dear husband.

Marie dotes on you; but she can never feel for a brother, as I must feel for you."

"She is younger than you, Victorine, and has not your strength of mind."