The Honor of the Name Part 45

"All this is scarcely plausible," he remarked, "especially after the a.s.surance of your complicity, which I have received."

"Ah!" said he; "and from whom? From your spy-in-chief, no doubt--that rascal Chupin. It surprises me to see that you can hesitate for a moment between the word of your son and the stories of such a wretch."

"Do not speak ill of Chupin, Marquis; he is a very useful man. Had it not been for him, we should have been taken unawares. It was through him that I learned of this vast conspiracy organized by Lacheneur----"

"What! is it Lacheneur--"

"Who is at the head of the movement? yes, Marquis. Ah! your usual discernment has failed you in this instance. What, you have been a constant visitor at this house, and you have suspected nothing? And you contemplate a diplomatic career! But this is not all. You know now for what purpose the money which you so lavishly bestowed upon them has been employed. They have used it to purchase guns, powder, and ammunition."

The duke had become satisfied of the injustice of his suspicions; but he was now endeavoring to irritate his son.

It was a fruitless effort. Martial knew very well that he had been duped, but he did not think of resenting it.

"If Lacheneur has been captured," he thought; "if he should be condemned to death and if I should save him, Marie-Anne would refuse me nothing."

CHAPTER XXIV

Having penetrated the mystery that enveloped his son's frequent absence, the Baron d'Escorval had concealed his fears and his chagrin from his wife.

It was the first time that he had ever had a secret from the faithful and courageous companion of his existence.

Without warning her, he went to beg Abbe Midon to follow him to the Reche, to the house of M. Lacheneur.

The silence, on his part, explains Mme. d'Escorval's astonishment when, on the arrival of the dinner-hour, neither her son nor her husband appeared.

Maurice was sometimes late; but the baron, like all great workers, was punctuality itself. What extraordinary thing could have happened?

Her surprise became uneasiness when she learned that her husband had departed in company with Abbe Midon. They had harnessed the horse themselves, and instead of driving through the court-yard as usual, they had driven through the stable-yard into a lane leading to the public road.

What did all this mean? Why these strange precautions?

Mme. d'Escorval waited, oppressed by vague forebodings.

The servants shared her anxiety. The baron was so equable in temper, so kind and just to his inferiors, that his servants adored him, and would have gone through a fiery furnace for him.

So, about ten o'clock, they hastened to lead to their mistress a peasant who was returning from Sairmeuse.

This man, who was slightly intoxicated, told the strangest and most incredible stories.

He said that all the peasantry for ten leagues around were under arms, and that the Baron d'Escorval was the leader of the revolt.

He did not doubt the final success of the movement, declaring that Napoleon II., Marie-Louise, and all the marshals of the Empire were concealed in Montaignac.

Alas! it must be confessed that Lacheneur had not hesitated to utter the grossest falsehoods in his anxiety to gain followers.

Mme. d'Escorval could not be deceived by these ridiculous stories, but she could believe, and she did believe that the baron was the prime mover in this insurrection.

And this belief, which would have carried consternation to the hearts of so many women, rea.s.sured her.

She had entire, absolute, and unlimited faith in her husband. She believed him superior to all other men--infallible, in short. The moment he said: "This is so!" she believed it implicitly.

Hence, if her husband had organized a movement that movement was right. If he had attempted it, it was because he expected to succeed.

Therefore, it was sure to succeed.

Impatient, however, to know the result, she sent the gardener to Sairmeuse with orders to obtain information without awakening suspicion, if possible, and to hasten back as soon as he could learn anything of a positive nature.

He returned in about two hours, pale, frightened, and in tears.

The disaster had already become known, and had been related to him with the most terrible exaggerations. He had been told that hundreds of men had been killed, and that a whole army was scouring the country, ma.s.sacring defenceless peasants and their families.

While he was telling his story, Mme. d'Escorval felt that she was going mad.

She saw--yes, positively, she saw her son and her husband, dead--or still worse, mortally wounded upon the public highway--they were lying with their arms crossed upon their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, livid, b.l.o.o.d.y, their eyes staring wildly--they were begging for water--a drop of water.

"I will find them!" she exclaimed, in frenzied accents. "I will go to the field of battle, I will seek for them among the dead, until I find them. Light some torches, my friends, and come with me, for you will aid me, will you not? You loved them; they were so good! You would not leave their dead bodies unburied! oh! the wretches! the wretches who have killed them!"

The servants were hastening to obey when the furious gallop of a horse and the sound of carriage-wheels were heard upon the drive.

"Here they are!" exclaimed the gardener; "here they are!"

Mme. d'Escorval, followed by the servants, rushed to the door just in time to see a cabriolet enter the court-yard, and the horse, panting, exhausted, and flecked with foam, miss his footing, and fall.

Abbe Midon and Maurice had already leaped to the ground and were lifting out an apparently lifeless body.

Even Marie-Anne's great energy had not been able to resist so many successive shocks; the last trial had overwhelmed her. Once in the carriage, all immediate danger having disappeared, the excitement which had sustained her fled. She became unconscious, and all the efforts of Maurice and of the priest had failed to restore her.

But Mme. d'Escorval did not recognize Mlle. Lacheneur in the masculine habiliments in which she was clothed.

She only saw that it was not her husband whom they had brought with them; and a convulsive shudder shook her from head to foot.

"Your father, Maurice!" she exclaimed, in a stifled voice; "and your father!"

The effect was terrible. Until that moment, Maurice and the cure had comforted themselves with the hope that M. d'Escorval would reach home before them.

Maurice tottered, and almost dropped his precious burden. The abbe perceived it, and at a sign from him, two servants gently lifted Marie-Anne, and bore her to the house.

Then the cure approached Mme. d'Escorval.

"Monsieur will soon be here, Madame," said he, at hazard; "he fled first----"

"Baron d'Escorval could not have fled," she interrupted. "A general does not desert when face to face with the enemy. If a panic seizes his soldiers, he rushes to the front, and either leads them back to combat, or takes his own life."

"Mother!" faltered Maurice; "mother!"

"Oh! do not try to deceive me. My husband was the organizer of this conspiracy--his confederates beaten and dispersed must have proved themselves cowards. G.o.d have mercy upon me; my husband is dead!"

In spite of the abbe's quickness of perception, he could not understand such a.s.sertions on the part of the baroness; he thought that sorrow and terror must have destroyed her reason.