Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PALAIS DE JUSTICE

  "It will go hard with Moreau to-day," said the elder of the twoprisoners, a large, swarthy-looking Breton, in the dress of a sailor;"the Consul hates him."

  "Whom does he not hate," said the younger, a slight and handsomeyouth--"whom does he not hate that ever rivalled him in glory? What lovedid he bear to Kleber or Desaix?"

  "It is false," said I, fiercely. "Bonaparte's greatness stands fartoo high to feel such rivalry as theirs. The conqueror of Italy and ofEgypt--"

  "Is a Corsican," interrupted the elder.

  "And a tyrant," rejoined the other, in the same breath.

  "These words become you well," said I, bitterly. "Would that no stainlay on my honor, and I could make you eat them."

  "And who are you that dare to speak thus?" said the younger; "or howcame one like you mixed up with men whose hearts were in a great cause,and who came to sell their lives upon it?"

  "I tell you, boy," broke in the elder, in a slow and measured tone,"I have made more stalwart limbs than thine bend, and stronger jointscrack, for less than thou hast ventured to tell us; but sorrow andsuffering are hard masters, and I can bear more now than I was wont todo. Let us have no more words."

  As he spoke, he leaned his head upon his hand, and turned towards thewall; the other, too, sat down in a comer of the cell, and was silent.And thus we remained for hours long.

  The dreary stillness, made more depressing by the presence of thetwo prisoners, whose deep-drawn breathings were the only sounds theyuttered, had something unspeakably sad and melancholy in it, and morethan once I felt sorry for the few words I had spoken, which separatedthose whose misfortunes should have made them brothers.

  A confused and distant hum, swelling and falling at intervals, nowfilled the air, and gradually I could distinguish the shouts of peopleat a distance. This increased as it came nearer; and then I heard thetramping noise of many feet, and of a great multitude of people passingin the street below, and suddenly a wild cheer broke forth, "Vive leConsul!" "Vive Bonaparte!" followed the next instant by the clankingsound of a cavalry escort, while the cry grew louder and louder, and thevivas drowned all other sounds.

  "You hear them, Guillaume, you hear them," said the sailor to the otherprisoner; "That shout is our death-cry. Bonaparte comes not here to-daybut to see his judges do his bidding."

  "What care I?" said the other, fiercely. "The guillotine or the sabre,the axe or the bayonet,--it is all one. We knew what must come of it."

  The door opened as he spoke, and a greffier of the tribunal appearedwith four gendarmes.

  "Come, Messieurs," said he, "the court is waiting for you."

  "And how go matters without, sir?" said the elder, in an easy tone.

  "Badly for the prisoners," said the greffier, shaking his head."Monsieur Moreau, the general's brother, has done much injury; he hasinsulted the Consul."

  "Bravely done!" cried the younger man, with enthusiasm. "It is well heshould hear truth one day, though the tongue that uttered it should becold the next."

  "Move on, sir!" said the greffier, sternly. "Not you," added he, as Ipressed forward after the rest; "your time has not come."

  "Would that it had!" said I, as the door closed upon me, and I was leftin total solitude.

  The day was over, and the evening already late, when a turnkey appeared,and desired me to follow him. A moody indifference to everything hadsettled on me, and I never spoke as I walked behind him down corridorafter corridor; and across a court, into a large, massive-lookingbuilding, whose grated windows and strongly-barred doors reminded me ofthe Temple.

  "Here is your cell," said he, roughly, as he unlocked a low door nearthe entrance.

  "It is gloomy enough," said I, with a sad smile.

  "And yet many have shed tears to leave it before now," rejoined he, witha savage twinkle of his small eyes.

  I was glad when the hoarse crash of the closed door told me I was alone;and I threw myself upon my bed and buried my face in my hands.

  There is a state which is not sleep, and yet is akin to it, into whichgrief can bring us,--a half-dreary stupor, where only sorrows are felt;and even they come dulled and blunted, as if time and years had softeneddown their sting. But no ray of hope shines there,--a dreary waste,without a star. The cold, dark sea, boundless and bleak, is not moresaddening than life then seems before us; there is neither path tofollow nor goal to reach, and an apathy worse than death creeps over allour faculties. And yet, when we awake we wish for this again. Into thisstate I sank, and when morning came felt sorry that the light shouldshine into my narrow cell, and rouse me from my stupor. When the turnkeyentered to bring me breakfast, I turned towards the wall, and trembledlest he should speak to me; and it was with a strange thrill I heard thedoor close as he went out. The abandonment of one's sorrow--that daily,hourly indulgence in grief which the uncheered solitude of a prisonbegets--soon brings the mind to the narrow range of one or two topics.With the death of hope, all fancy and imagination perish, the springs ofall speculation are dried up, and every faculty bent towards one point;the reason, like a limb unexercised, wastes and pines, and becomesparalyzed.

  Now and then the thought would flash across me, "What if this weremadness?"--and I shuddered not at the thought. Such had my prison mademe.

  Four days and nights passed over thus,--a long, monotonous dream, inwhich I counted not the time,--and I lay upon my straw bed watching theexpiring light of the candle with that strange interest one attachesto everything within the limits of a prison-cell. The flame waned andflickered: now lighting up for a second the cold gray walls, scratchedwith many a prisoner's name; now subsiding, it threw strange and fitfulshapes upon them,--figures that seemed to move and to beckon to oneanother,--goblin outlines, wild and fanciful. Then came a bright flashas the wick fell, and all was dark.

  "If the dead do but sleep!" was the first thought that crossed mymind as the gloom of total night wrapped every object about me, and astillness most appalling prevailed. Suddenly I heard the sounds of aheavy bolt withdrawn and a door opening; then a low, rushing noise, likewind blowing through a narrow corridor; and at last the marching soundsof feet, and the accents of men speaking together: nearer and nearerthey came, and at length halted at the door of my cell. A cold, faintfeeling, the sickness of the heart, crept over me; the hour, the sounds,reminded me of what so often I had heard men speak of in the Temple, andthe dread of assassination made me tremble from head to foot. The lightstreamed from beneath the door, and reached to my bed; and I calculatedthe number of steps it would take before they approached me. The keygrated in the lock and the door opened slowly, and three men stoodat the entrance. I sprang up wildly to my feet; a sudden impulse ofself-defence seized me; and with a wild shout for them to come on, Irushed forward. My foot, however, caught the angle of the iron bedstead,and I fell headlong and senseless to the ground.

  Some interval elapsed; and when next I felt consciousness, I was lyingfull length on my bed, the cell lit up by two candles on the table,beside which sat two men, their heads bent eagerly over a mass of papersbefore them. One was an old and venerable-looking man, his white hairand long queue so bespeaking him; he wore a loose cloth cloak thatcovered his entire figure, but I could see that a brass scabbard of asword projected beneath it; on the chair beside him, too, there lay aforaging-cap. The other, much younger, though still not in youth, was athin, pale, careworn man; his forehead was high and strongly marked;and there was an intensity and determination in his brow and about theangles of his mouth most striking; he was dressed in black, with deepruffles at his wrist.

  "It is quite clear. General," said he, in a low and measured voice,where each word fell with perfect distinctness--"it is quite clear thatthey can press a conviction here if they will. The allegations are socontrived as rather to indicate complicity than actually establish it.The defence in such cases has to combat shadows, not overturn facts;and, believe me, a procureur-general, aided by a police, is a dexterousenemy."
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  "I have no doubt of it," said the general, rapidly; "but what are theweak points? where is he most assailable?"

  "Everywhere," said the other. "To begin: the secret information of theoutbreak between Lord Whitworth and the Consul; the frequent meetingswith the Marquis de Beauvais; the false report to the Chef de Police;the concealment of this abbe--By the bye, I am not quite clear aboutthat part of the case; why have not the prosecution brought this Abbe,forward? It is plain they have his evidence, and can produce him ifthey will; and I see no other name in the act of accusation than our oldacquaintance, Mehee de la Touche--"

  "The villain!" cried the general, with a stamp of indignation, while aconvulsive spasm seemed to shake every fibre of his frame.

  "Mehee de la Touche!" said I to myself; "I have heard that name before."And like a lightning flash it crossed my mind that such was the name ofthe man Marie de Meudon charged me with knowing.

  "But still," said the general, "what can they make of all these? That ofindiscretion, folly, breach of discipline, if you will; but--"

  "Wait a little," said the other, quietly. "Then comes the night of thechateau, in which he is found among the _Chouan_ party in their veryden, taking part in the defence."

  "No, no! Lamoriciere, who commanded the cuirassiers, can establishthe fact beyond question, that Burke took no part in the affray, anddelivered his sword at once when called on."

  "At least they found him there, and on his person the brevet of colonel,signed by Monsieur himself."

  "Of that I can give no explanation," replied the general; "but I am inpossession of such information as can account for his presence at thechateau, and establish his innocence on that point."

  "Indeed!" cried the advocate, for such he was; "with that much may bedone."

  "Unhappily, however," rejoined the general, "if such a disclosure isnot necessary to save his life, I cannot venture to give it; the ruin ofanother must follow the explanation."

  "Without it he is lost," said the advocate, solemnly.

  "And would not accept of life with it," said I, boldly, as I started upin my bed, and looked fixedly at them.

  The general sprang back, astonished and speechless; but the advocate,with more command over his emotions, cast his eyes upon the paper beforehim, and quickly asked,--

  "And the commission; how do you account for that?"

  "It was offered to and refused by me. He who made the proposal forgot iton my table, and I was about to restore it when I was made prisoner."

  "What condition was attached to your acceptance of it?"

  "Some vague, indistinct proposals were made to me to join a conspiracyof which I was neither told the object nor intentions. Indeed, I stoppedany disclosure by rejecting the bribe."

  "Who made these same proposals?"

  "I shall not tell his name."

  "No matter," said the advocate, carelessly; "it was the Marquis deBeauvais;" And then, as if affecting to write, I saw his sharp eyesglance over towards me, while a smile of gratified cunning twitched hislip. "You will have no objection to say how first you became acquaintedwith him?"

  The dexterity of this query, by replying to which I at once establishedhis preceding assumption, completely escaped me, and I gave an accountof my first meeting with De Beauvais, without ever dreaming of theinferences it led to.

  "An unhappy rencontre," said the advocate, as if musing; "better havefinished the intimacy, as you first intended, at the Bois de Boulogne."

  "It may be as you say, sir," said I, irritated by the flippancy of hisremark; "but perhaps I may ask the name of the gentleman who takes suchinterest in my affairs, and by what right he meddles in them?"

  The general started back in his chair, and was about to speak, whenthe advocate laid his hand gently on his arm to restrain him, and, in avoice of the most unruffled smoothness, replied,--

  "As to my name, sir, it is Laurence Baillot; my rank is simple avocat tothe Cours et Tribunaux; and the 'right' by which I interfere in matterspersonal to you is the consideration of fifty louis which accompaniedthis brief."

  "And my name, young man, is Lieutenant-General d'Auvergne," said the oldman, proudly, as he stared me steadfastly in the face.

  I arose at once, and saluted the general with a deep and respectfulobeisance. It was the same officer who reviewed us at the Polytechniquethe day of my promotion.

  "You are now, I hope, satisfied with the reasons of our presence, andthat nothing but considerations of your interest can have influenced ourvisit," said the avocat, with calmness. "Such being the case, sitdown here, and relate all you can of your life since your leaving thePolytechnique. Be brief, too, for it is now three o'clock; the courtopens at ten, your case will be called the second, and I must at leasthave three hours of sleep."

  The general pointed to a seat beside him; I sat down, and withoutany delay proceeded to give a rapid account of all my adventures andproceedings to the hour we were then assembled, only omitting allmention of Mademoiselle de Meudon's name, and such allusions to DeBeauvais as might lead to his crimination.

  The advocate wrote down, as rapidly as I spoke them, the principaldetails of my history, and when I had concluded, perused the notes hehad taken with a quick eye.

  "This will never do," said he, with more impatience in his manner thanI had yet witnessed. "Here are a mass of circumstances all unexplained,and all suspicious. It is now entirely a question of the feeling ofthe court. The charges, if pressed, must lead to a conviction.Your innocence, sir, may satisfy--indeed, it has satisfied--Generald'Auvergne, who else had not been here this night; but the proofs arenot before us."

  He paused for a moment, and then continued in a lower tone, addressinghimself directly to the general: "We must entreat a delay; a day--twodays, certainly--will establish the proofs against George and hisaccomplices; they will be condemned and executed at once. It is mostlikely that the court will not recur to capital punishment again. Theexample being made, any further demonstration will be needless. I seeyou put little faith in this manoeuvre; but, trust me, I know the temperof the tribunal. Besides, the political stroke has already succeeded.Bonaparte has conquered all his enemies; his next step will be to profitby the victory." These words were riddles to me at the time, though theday soon came when their meaning was palpable. "Yes, two days will doit," said he, confidently raising his voice as he spoke; "and then,whether there be a hussar the more or one the less in France, willlittle trouble the current of events."

  "Then how to obtain the time,--that is the question," said the general.

  "Oh, we shall try something. There can always be a witness to be called;some evidence all-essential not forthcoming; some necessary proof notquite unravelled. What if we summoned this same Abbe? The court willmake proclamation for him. D'Ervan is the name?"

  "Yes; but if by so doing he may be involved--"

  "Fear nothing on that score; he'll never turn up, believe me. We canaffect to show that his evidence is all-important. Yes, we'll make theAbbe, d'Ervan our first witness. Where shall we say he resides? Rouen,I suppose, will do; yes, Rouen." And so, without waiting for a reply,he continued to write. "By this, you perceive," he remarked, "we shalldisconcert their plans. They are evidently keeping this abbe up for somegreater occasion; they have a case against himself, perhaps, in whichthe proofs are not yet sufficient for conviction. We 'll trouble theirgame, and they may be glad to compromise with us."

  The general looked as much confounded as myself at these schemes of thelawyer, but we both were silent.

  A few questions more followed, to which he wrote down my answers as Igave them, and then starting up, he said,--

  "And now, General, I must hasten home to bed. Be ready, at all events,for appearing before the tribunal, Mr. Burke; at ten you will be called.And so, good-night." He bowed formally to me, as he opened the door topermit the general to pass out first.

  "I'll follow you in a moment," said the general, while he closed thedoor after him, and remained behind with me in the cell. "It
was onlythis evening, sir," said he, in a low voice, "at the return of MadameBonaparte from Boulogne, that Mademoiselle de Meudon learned you werenot at liberty. She has made me acquainted with the circumstances bywhich your present risk has been incurred, and has put me in possessionof wherewithal to establish your innocence as regards the adventureat the chateau d'Ancre. This disclosure, if it exculpates you, will ofcourse criminate her, and among those, too, where she has been receivedand admitted on terms of the closest friendship. The natural desire tosave her cousin's life will not cover the act by which so horrible aconspiracy might have escaped punishment. Bonaparte never forgives! Now,I am in possession of this proof; and if you demand it, it shall bein your keeping. I have no hesitation in saying that the other chargesagainst you can easily be got over, this one being refuted. What do yousay?"

  "Nothing could make me accept of such an exculpation," said I,resolutely; "and were it offered in spite of me, I 'll plead guilty tothe whole act, and suffer with the rest."

  The old man's eyes glistened with 'pleasure, and I thought I saw a tearfall on his cheek.

  "Now," cried he, as he grasped my hand in both his--"now I feel thatyou are innocent, my brave boy, and, come what will, I 'll stand byyou."

  With that he hurried from the cell, and followed the advocate, who wasalready calling with some impatience to have the doors unlocked.

  I was again alone. No, not alone, for in my narrow cell hope was with menow.