Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume I Part 62

"'You are named in the conscription, Monsieur, said Lon, in a short, abrupt tone, as one morning he entered the dressing-room of his young master.

"'I! I named in the conscription!' replied the other, with a look of incredulity and anger. 'This is but a sorry jest, Master Lon; and not in too good taste, either.'

"'Good or bad,' answered the steward, 'the fact is as I say; here is the order from the munic.i.p.alite. You were fifteen yesterday, you know.'

"'True; and what then? Am I not Marquis de Neufchtel, Comte de Rochefort, in right of my mother?'

"'There are no more marquises, no more counts,' said the other, roughly; 'France has had enough of such cattle. The less you allude to them the safer for your head.'

"He spoke truly,--the reign of the aristocracy was ended. And while they were yet speaking, an emissary of the Convention, accompanied by a party of troops, arrived at the chteau to fetch away the newly-drawn conscript.

"I must not dwell on the scene which followed: the heartrending sorrow of those who had lived but for each other, now torn asunder for the first time, not knowing when, if ever, they were to meet again. His sister wished to follow him; but even had he permitted it, such would have been impossible: the dreadful career of a Revolutionary soldier was an obstacle insurmountable. The same evening the battalion of infantry to which he was attached began their march towards Savoy, and the lovely orphan of the chteau fell dangerously ill.

"Youth, however, triumphed over her malady, which, indeed, was brought on by grief; and after some weeks she was restored to health. During the interval, nothing could be more kind and attentive than Lon Guichard; his manner, of late years rough and uncivil, became softened and tender; the hundred little attentions which illness seeks for he paid with zeal and watchfulness; everything which could alleviate her sorrow or calm her afflicted mind was resorted to with a kind of instinctive delicacy, and she began to feel that in her long-cherished dislike of the intendant she had done him grievous wrong.

"This change of manner attracted the attention of many besides the inhabitants of the chteau. They remarked his altered looks and bearing, the more studied attention to his dress and appearance, and the singular difference in all his habits of life. No longer did he pa.s.s his time in the wild orgies of debauchery and excess, but in careful management of the estate, and rarely or never left the chteau after nightfall.

"A hundred different interpretations were given to this line of acting.

Some said that the more settled condition of political affairs had made him cautious and careful, for it was now the reign of the Directory, and the old excesses of '92 were no longer endured; others, that he was naturally of a kind and benevolent nature, and that his savage manner and reckless conduct were a.s.sumed merely in compliance with the horrible features of the time.

"None, however, suspected the real cause. Lon Guichard was in love!

Yes, the humble steward, the coa.r.s.e follower of the vices of that detestable period, was captivated by the beauty of the young girl, now springing into womanhood. The freshness of her artless nature, her guileless innocence, her soft voice, her character so balanced between gayety and thoughtfulness, her loveliness, so unlike all he had ever seen before, had seized upon his whole heart; and, as the sun darting from behind the blackest clouds will light up the surface of a bleak landscape, touching every barren rock and tipping every bell of purple heath with color and richness, so over his rugged nature the beauty of this fair girl shed a very halo of light, and a spirit awoke within him to seek for better things, to endeavor better things, to fly the coa.r.s.e, depraved habits of his former self, to conform to the tastes of her he worshipped. Day by day his stern nature became more softened. No longer those terrible bursts of pa.s.sion, to which he once gave way, escaped him; his voice, his very look, too, were changed in their expression, and a gentleness of manner almost amounting to timidity now characterized him who had once been the type of the most savage Jacobin.

"She to whom this wondrous change was owing knew nothing of the miracle she had worked; she would not, indeed, have believed, had one told her.

She scarcely remarked him when they met, and did not perceive that he was no longer like his former self; her whole soul wrapped up in her dear brother, s fate, she lived from week to week in the thought of his letters home. It is true, her life had many enjoyments which owed their source to the intendant's care; but she knew not of this, and felt more grateful to him when he came letter in hand from the little post of the village, than when the fair mossroses of spring filled the vases of the salon, or the earliest fruits of summer decked her table. At times something in his demeanor would strike her,--a tinge of sorrow it seemed rather than aught else; but as she attributed this, as every other grief, to her brother's absence, she paid no further attention to it, and merely thought good Leon had more feeling than they used to give him credit for.

"At last, the campaign of Arcole over, the young soldier obtained a short leave to see his sister. How altered were they both! She, from the child, had become the beautiful girl,--her eyes flashing with the brilliant sparkle of youth, her step elastic, her color changing with every pa.s.sing expression. He was already a man, bronzed and sunburnt, his dark eyes darker, and his voice deeper; but still his former self in all the warmth of his affection to his sister.

"The lieutenant--for so was he always called by the old soldier who accompanied him as his servant, and oftentimes by the rest of his household--had seen much of the world in the few years of his absence.

"The chances and changes of a camp had taught him many things which lie far beyond its own limits, and he had learned to scan men's minds and motives with a quick eye and ready wit. He was not long, therefore, in observing the alteration in Lon Guichard's manner; nor was he slow in tracing it to its real cause. At first the sudden impulse of his pa.s.sion would have driven him to any length,--the presumption of such a thought was too great to endure. But then the times he lived in taught him some strong lessons. He remembered the scenes of social disorder and anarchy of his childhood,--how every rank became subverted, and how men's minds were left to their own unbridled influences to choose their own position,--and he bethought him, that in such trials as these Leon had conducted himself with moderation; that to his skilful management it was owing if the property had not suffered confiscation like so many others; and that it was perhaps hard to condemn a man for being struck by charms which, however above him in the scale of rank, were still continually before his eyes.

"Reasoning thus, he determined, as the wisest course, to remove his sister to the house of a relative, where she could remain during his absence. This would at once put a stop to the steward's folly,--for so he could not help deeming it,--and, what was of equal consequence in the young soldier's eyes, prevent his sister being offended by ever suspecting the existence of such a feeling towards her. The plan, once resolved on, met no difficulty from his sister; his promise to return soon to see her was enough to compensate for any arrangement, and it was determined that they should set out towards the South by the first week in September.

"When the intimation of this change first reached Lon, which it did from the other servants, he could not believe it, and resolved to hasten to the lieutenant himself, and ask if it were true. On that day, however, the young soldier was absent shooting, and was not to return before night. Tortured with doubt and fear, trembling at the very thought of her departure whose presence had been the loadstar of his life, he rushed from the house and hurried into the wood. Every spot reminded him of her; and he shuddered to think that in a few hours his existence would have lost its spring; that ere the week was pa.s.sed he would be alone without the sight of her whom even to have seen const.i.tuted the happiness of the whole day. Revolving such sad thoughts, he strolled on, not knowing whither, and at last, on turning the angle of a path, found himself before the object of his musings. She was returning from a farewell visit to one of the cottagers, and was hastening to the chteau to dress for dinner.

"'Ah, Monsieur Lon,' said she, suddenly, 'I am glad to meet you here.

These poor people at the wooden bridge will miss me, I fear; you must look to them in my absence. And there is old Jeannette,--she fancies she can spin still; I pray you let her have her little pension regularly.

The children at Calotte, too,--they are too far from the school; mind that they have their books.'

"'And are you indeed going from hence, Mademoiselle?' said he, in a tone and accent so unlike his ordinary one as to make her start with surprise.

"'Yes, to be sure. We leave the day after to-morrow.'

"'And have you no regret, Mademoiselle, to leave the home of your childhood and those you have--known there?'

"'Sir!' replied she haughtily, as the tone of his voice a.s.sumed a meaning which could not be mistaken; 'you seem to have forgotten yourself somewhat, or you had not dared--'

"'Dared!' interrupted he, in a louder key,--'dared! I have dared more than that! Yes,' cried he, in a voice where pa.s.sion could be no longer held under, 'Lon Guichard, the steward, has dared to love his master's daughter! Start not so proudly back, Madame! Time was when such an avowal had been a presumption death could not repay. But these days are pa.s.sed; the haughty have been well humbled; they who deemed their blood a stream too pure to mingle with the current in plebeian veins, have poured it lavishly beneath the guillotine. Lon Guichard has no master now!'

"The fire flashed from his eyes as he spoke, and his color, pale at first, grew darker and darker, till his face became almost purple; while his nostrils, swelled to twice their natural size, dilated and contracted like those of a fiery charger. Terrified at the frightful paroxysm of pa.s.sion before her, the timid girl endeavored to allay his anger, and replied,--

"'You know well, Lon, that my brother has ever treated you as a friend--'

"'He a friend!' cried he, stamping on the ground, while a look of demoniac malice lit up his features. 'He, who talks to me as though I were a va.s.sal, a slave; he, who deems his merest word of approval a recompense for all my labor, all my toil; he, whose very glance shoots into my heart like a dagger! Think you I forgive him the contemptuous treatment of nineteen years, or that I can pardon insults because they have grown into habits? Hear me!'--he grasped her wrist rigidly as he spoke, and continued, 'I have sworn an oath to be revenged on him, from the hour when, a boy scarce eight years old, he struck me in the face, and called me canaille. I vowed his ruin. I toiled for it, I strove for it, and I succeeded,--ay, succeeded. I obtained from the Convention the confiscation of your lands,--all, everything you possessed. I held the t.i.tles in my possession, for I was the owner of this broad chteau,--ay, Lon Guichard! even so; you were but my guest here. I kept it by me many a day, and when your brother was drawn in the conscription I resolved to a.s.sert my right before the world.'

"He paused for a moment, while a tremendous convulsion shook his frame, and made him tremble liker one in an ague; then suddenly rallying, he pa.s.sed his hand across his brow, and in a lower voice, resumed, 'I would have done so, but for you.'

"'For me! What mean you?' said she, almost sinking with terror.

"'I loved you,--loved you as only he can love who can surrender all his cherished hopes, his dream of ambition, his vengeance even, to his love.

I thought, too, that you were not cold to my advances; and fearing lest any hazard should apprise you of my success, and thus run counter to my wishes, I lived on here as your servant, still hoping for the hour when I might call you mine, and avow myself the lord of this chteau. How long I might have continued thus I know not. To see you, to look on you, to live beneath the same roof with you, seemed happiness enough; but when I heard that you were to leave this, to go away, never to return perhaps, or if so, not as her I loved and worshipped, then--But why look you thus? Is it because you doubt these things? Look here; see this. Is that in form? Are these signatures authentic? Is this the seal of the National Convention? What say you now? It is not the steward Lon that sues, but the Citizen Guichard, proprietaire de Rochefort. Now, methinks, that makes some difference in the proposition.'

"'None, sir,' replied she, with a voice whose steady utterance made each word sink into his heart, 'save that it adds to my contempt for him who has dared to seek my affection in the ruin of my family. I did not despise you before--'

"'Beware!' said he, in a voice of menace, but in which no violence of pa.s.sion entered; 'you are in my power. I ask you again, will you consent to be my wife? Will you save your brother from the scaffold, and yourself from beggary and ruin? I can accomplish both.'

"A look of ineffable scorn was all her reply; when he sprang forward and threw his arm round her waist.

"'Or would you drive me to the worst--'

"A terrific shriek broke from her as she felt his hand around her, when the brushwood crashed behind her, and her brother's dogs sprang from the thicket. With a loud cry she called upon his name. He answered from the wood, and dashed towards her just as she sank fainting to the ground.

Lon was gone.

"As soon as returning strength permitted, she told her brother the fearful story of the steward; but bound him by every entreaty not to bring himself in contact with a monster so depraved. When they reached the chteau, they learned that Guichard had been there and left it again. And from that hour they saw him no more.

"I must now conclude in a few words; and, to do so, may mention, that in the year '99 I became the purchaser of Haut Rochefort at a sale of forfeited estates, it having been bought by Government on some previous occasion, but from whom and how, I never heard. The story I have told I learned from the notaire of Hubane, the village in the neighborhood, who was conversant with all its details, and knew well the several actors in it, as well as their future fortunes.

"The brother became a distinguished officer, and rose to some rank in the service; but embarking in the expedition to Ireland, was reported to Bonaparte as having betrayed the French cause. The result was, he was struck off the list of the army, and p.r.o.nounced degraded. He died in some unknown place.

"The sister became attached to her cousin, but the brother opposing the union, she was taken away to Paris. The lover returned to Bretagne, where, having heard a false report of her marriage at Court, he a.s.sumed holy orders; and being subsequently charged--but it is now believed falsely--of corresponding with the Bourbons, was shot in his own garden by a platoon of infantry. But how is this? Are you ill? Has my story so affected you?"

"That brother was my friend,--my dearest, my only friend, Charles de Meudon!"

"What! and did you know poor Charles?"

But I could not speak; the tears ran fast down my cheeks as I thought of all his sorrows,--sorrows far greater than ever he had told me.

"Poor Marie!" said the general, as he wiped a tear from his eye; "few have met such an enemy as she did. Every misfortune of her life has sprung from one hand: her brother's, her lover's death, were both his acts."

"Lon Guichard! And who is he? or how could he have done these things?"

"Methinks you might yourself reply to your own question."

"I! How could that be? I know him not."

"Yes, but you do. Lon Guichard is Mehe de la Touche!"