Sir Jasper Carew Part 38

"Master Joseph," said he, half sarcastically, "the world has been pleased to outlive these follies; they have come to the wise resolve that, when languages are dead, they ought to be buried; and they have little sympathy with those who wish to resuscitate and disinter them."

"It is but an abuse of terms to call them dead, Count," replied Joseph.

"Truth, in whatever tongue it be syllabled, does not die. Fidelity to nature in our age will be acknowledged as correct in centuries after."

"Our own time gives us as good models, and with less trouble to look for them," said the Count, flippantly. "Your dreamy bookworm is too p.r.o.ne to delve in the earth, and not to coin the ore that he has discovered. Take Jasper there: you have taught him diligently and patiently; I 'll be sworn you have neglected him in nothing, so far as your own knowledge went; and yet, before he shall have been three months in Paris, he will look upon you, his master, as an infant. The interval between you will be wide as the broad Atlantic; and the obstacles and crosses, to overcome which will be with him the work of a second, would be to you difficulties insurmountable."

"To Paris! Jasper go to Paris!" exclaimed my mother, as she grew deadly pale.

"Jasper leave us!" cried Raper, in a tone of terror.

"And why not?" replied the Count. "Is it here you would have him waste the best years of youth? Is it in the wild barbarism of this dreary valley that he will catch glimpses of the prizes for which men struggle and contend? The boy himself has higher and n.o.bler instincts; he feels that this is but the sluggish existence of a mere peasant, and that yonder is the tournament where knights are jousting."

"And you wish to leave us, Jasper?" cried my mother, with a quivering lip, and a terrible expression of anxiety in her features.

"To forsake your home!" muttered Raper.

"Ask himself; let him be as frank with you as he was half-an-hour ago with me, and you will know the truth."

"Oh, Jasper, speak!--leave me not in this dreadful suspense!" cried my mother; "for in all my troubles I never pictured to my mind this calamity."

"No, no!" said Raper; "the boy 's nature has no duplicity,--he never thought of this!"

"Ask him, I say," cried the Count; "ask him if he wish not to accompany me to Paris."

I could bear no longer the power of the gaze that I felt was fixed upon me, but, falling at her feet, I hid my face in her lap, and cried bitterly. My heart was actually bursting with the fulness of sorrow, and I sobbed myself to sleep, still weeping through my dreams, and shedding hot tears as I slumbered.

My dream is more graven on my memory than the events which followed my awaking. I could recount the strange and incoherent fancies which chased each other through my brain on that night, and yet not tell the actual occurrences of the following day.

I do remember something of sitting beside my mother, with my hand locked in hers, and feeling the wet cheek that from time to time was pressed against my own; of the soft hand as it parted the hair upon my forehead, and the burning kiss that seemed to sear it. Pa.s.sages of intense emotion--how caused I know not--are graven in my mind; memories of a grief that seemed to wrench the heart with present suffering, and cast shadows of darkest meaning on the future. Oh, no, no!--the sorrows--if they be indeed sorrows--of childhood are not short-lived; they mould the affections, and dispose them in a fashion that endures for many a year to come.

While I recall to mind these afflictions, of the actual events of my last hours at Reichenau I can relate but the very slightest traits. I do remember poor Raper storing my little portmanteau with some of the last few volumes that remained to him of his little store of books; of my mother showing me a secret pocket of the trunk, not to be opened save when some emergency or difficulty had presented itself; of my astonishment at the number of things provided for my use, and the appliances of comfort and convenience which were placed at my disposal; and then, more forcibly than all else, of the contemptuous scorn with which the Count surveyed the preparation, and asked "if my ward robe contained nothing better than these rags?"

Of the last sad moment of parting,--the agony of my mother's grief as she clasped me in her arms, till I was torn away by force, and with my swimming faculties I thought to have seen her fall fainting to the ground,--of these I will not speak, for I dare not, even now!

CHAPTER XXVI. PARIS IN '95

Our journey was a dreary and wearisome one. The diligence travelled slowly, and as the weather was dull and rainy, the road presented nothing of interest, at least of interest sufficient to combat the grief that still oppressed me. We were upwards of a week travelling before we reached Paris, which I own presented a very different aspect from what my ardent imagination had depicted. The narrow streets were scarcely lighted,--it was night,--the houses seemed poor and mean and dilapidated, the inhabitants rude-looking and ill-dressed. The women especially were ill-favored, and with an air of savage daring and effrontery I had never seen before. Gangs of both s.e.xes patrolled the streets, shouting in wild chorus some popular chant of the time; and as the diligence did not venture to pierce these crowds, we were frequently delayed in our progress to the "bureau," which was held in the Rue Didier of the Battignolles; for it was in that unfashionable quarter in which my first impressions of the capital were conceived.

"Remember, boy, I am no longer a Count here," said my companion, as we got out of the conveyance, "I am the citizen Gabriac; and be careful that you never forget it. Take that portmanteau on your shoulder, and follow me!"

We treaded a vast number of streets and alleys, all alike wretched and gloomy, till we entered a little "Place" which formed a "cul de sac" at the end of a narrow lane, and was lighted by a single lantern, suspended from a pole in the centre. This was called the Place de Trieze, in memory, as I afterwards learned, of thirteen a.s.sa.s.sins who had once lived there, and been for years the terror of the capital. It was now but scantily tenanted, none of the rooms on the ground-floor being inhabited at all; and in some instances an entire house having but one or two occupants. The superst.i.tious terrors that were rife about it (and there were abundance of ghost stories in vogue) could scarcely account for this desertion, for a.s.suredly the fears of a spiritual world could not have proved formidable to the cla.s.s who frequented it; but an impression had got abroad that it was a favorite resort of the spies of the police, who often tracked the victims to this quarter, or at least here obtained information of their whereabouts. Plague itself would have been a preferable reputation to such a report, and accordingly few but the very poorest and most dest.i.tute would accept the shelter of this ill-omened spot.

A single light, twinkling like a faint star, showed through the gloom as we entered, where some watcher yet sat; but all the rest of the "Place"

was in darkness. Gabriac threw some light gravel at the window, which was immediately opened, and a head enveloped in a kerchief, by way of nightcap, appeared.

"It is I, Pierre," cried he; "come down and unbar the door!"

"Ma foi," said the other, "that is unnecessary. The commissaire broke it down yesterday, searching for 'Torchon,' and the last fragment cooked my dinner to-day."

"And Torchon, did they catch him?"

"No, he escaped, but only to reach the Pont Neuf, where he threw himself over the bal.u.s.trade into the river."

"And was drowned?"

"Doubtless, he was."

"I scarcely regret him," said Gabriac.

"And I not at all," replied the other. "Good night;" and with this he closed the window, leaving us to find our way as best we could.

I followed Gabriac as he slowly groped his way up the stairs and reached a door on the third story, of which he produced the key. He struck a light as he pa.s.sed in, and lighted a small lamp, by which I was enabled to see the details of a chamber poorer and more miserable than anything I had ever conceived. A board laid upon two chairs served for a table, and some wood-shavings, partially covered by a blanket, formed a bed; a couple of earthenware pipkins comprised the cooking utensils, and a leaden basin supplied the provisions for the toilet.

"Lie down there and take a sleep, Jasper, for I have no supper for you,"

said Gabriac; but his voice had a touch of compa.s.sionate gentleness in it which I heard for the first time.

"And you, sir," said I, "have you no bed?"

"I have no need of one. I have occupation that will not admit of sleep,"

said he. "And now, boy, once for all, never question me, nor ask the reasons of what may seem strange or odd to you. Your own faculties must explain whatever requires explaining--or else you must remain in ignorance;" and with these words he pa.s.sed into an inner chamber, from which he speedily issued forth to descend the stairs into the street, leaving me alone to my slumbers. And they were heavy and dreamless ones, for I was thoroughly wearied and worn out by the road.

I was still asleep, and so soundly that I resisted all efforts to awake me till a strong shake effectually succeeded, and, on looking up, I saw Gabriac standing by my side.

"Get up, boy, and dress. These are your clothes," said he, pointing to a uniform of dark green and black, with a sword-belt of black leather, from which hung a short, broad-bladed weapon. The dress was without any richness, still a becoming one, and I put it on without reluctance.

"Am I to be a soldier, then?" asked I, in half shame at disobeying his injunction of the night before.

"All Paris, all France, is arrayed at one side or the other just now, Jasper," said he, as he busied himself in the preparation of our coffee.

"The men who have ruled the nation by the guillotine have exhausted its patience at last. A spirit, if not of resistance, of at least self-defence, has arisen, and the little that remains of birth and blood amongst us has a.s.sociated with the remnant of property to crush the h.e.l.l-hounds that live by carnage. One of these bands is called the battalion of 'La Jeunesse Doree,' and into this I have obtained your admission. Meanwhile, you will be attached to the staff of General Danitan, who will employ you in the 'secretariat' of his command.

Remember, boy, your tale is, you are the son of parents that have died on the scaffold. You are the nephew of Emile de Gabriac, brother of Jules Louis de Gabriac, your father, whom you cannot remember. Your life in Switzerland you can speak of with safety. You will not talk of these matters save to the General, and to him only if questioned about them."

"But is this disguise necessary, sir? May I not a.s.sume the name I have a right to, and accept the fate that would follow it?"

"The guillotine," added he, sarcastically. "Are you so ignorant, child, as not to know that England and France are at war, and that your nationality would be your condemnation? Follow my guidance or your own,"

said he, sternly, "but do not seek to weld the counsels together."

"But may I not know in what service I am enrolled?"

"Later on, when you can understand it," was the cold reply.

"I am not so ignorant," said I, taking courage, "as not to be aware of what has happened of late years in France. I know that the king has been executed."

"Murdered!--martyred!" broke in Gabriac.

"And monarchy abolished."