CHAPTER VII. THE SPADASSINICIDES
After an absence of rather more than a week, M. le Marquis de La Tourd'Azyr was back in his place on the Cote Droit of the National Assembly.Properly speaking, we should already at this date allude to him as theci-devant Marquis de La Tour d'Azyr, for the time was September of 1790,two months after the passing--on the motion of that downright Bretonleveller, Le Chapelier--of the decree that nobility should no more behereditary than infamy; that just as the brand of the gallows must notdefile the possibly worthy descendants of one who had been convictedof evil, neither should the blazon advertising achievement glorify thepossibly unworthy descendants of one who had proved himself good. And sothe decree had been passed abolishing hereditary nobility and consigningfamily escutcheons to the rubbish-heap of things no longer to betolerated by an enlightened generation of philosophers. M. le Comte deLafayette, who had supported the motion, left the Assembly as plain M.Motier, the great tribune Count Mirabeau became plain M. Riquetti, andM. le Marquis de La Tour d'Azyr just simple M. Lesarques. The thing wasdone in one of those exaltations produced by the approach of the greatNational Festival of the Champ de Mars, and no doubt it was thoroughlyrepented on the morrow by those who had lent themselves to it. Thus,although law by now, it was a law that no one troubled just yet toenforce.
That, however, is by the way. The time, as I have said, was September,the day dull and showery, and some of the damp and gloom of it seemed tohave penetrated the long Hall of the Manege, where on their eight rowsof green benches elliptically arranged in ascending tiers aboutthe space known as La Piste, sat some eight or nine hundred of therepresentatives of the three orders that composed the nation.
The matter under debate by the constitution-builders was whether thedeliberating body to succeed the Constituent Assembly should work inconjunction with the King, whether it should be periodic or permanent,whether it should govern by two chambers or by one.
The Abbe Maury, son of a cobbler, and therefore in these days ofantitheses orator-in-chief of the party of the Right--the Blacks, asthose who fought Privilege's losing battles were known--was in thetribune. He appeared to be urging the adoption of a two-chambers systemframed on the English model. He was, if anything, more long-winded andprosy even than his habit; his arguments assumed more and more the formof a sermon the tribune of the National Assembly became more andmore like a pulpit; but the members, conversely, less and less likea congregation. They grew restive under that steady flow of pompousverbiage, and it was in vain that the four ushers in black satinbreeches and carefully powdered heads, chain of office on their breasts,gilded sword at their sides, circulated in the Piste, clapping theirhands, and hissing,
"Silence! En place!"
Equally vain was the intermittent ringing of the bell by the presidentat his green-covered table facing the tribune. The Abbe Maury hadtalked too long, and for some time had failed to interest the members.Realizing it at last, he ceased, whereupon the hum of conversationbecame general. And then it fell abruptly. There was a silence ofexpectancy, and a turning of heads, a craning of necks. Even the groupof secretaries at the round table below the president's dais rousedthemselves from their usual apathy to consider this young man who wasmounting the tribune of the Assembly for the first time.
"M. Andre-Louis Moreau, deputy suppleant, vice Emmanuel Lagron,deceased, for Ancenis in the Department of the Loire."
M. de La Tour d'Azyr shook himself out of the gloomy abstraction inwhich he had sat. The successor of the deputy he had slain must, inany event, be an object of grim interest to him. You conceive how thatinterest was heightened when he heard him named, when, looking across,he recognized indeed in this Andre-Louis Moreau the young scoundrel whowas continually crossing his path, continually exerting against him adeep-moving, sinister influence to make him regret that he should havespared his life that day at Gavrillac two years ago. That he should thushave stepped into the shoes of Lagron seemed to M. de La Tour d'Azyr tooapt for mere coincidence, a direct challenge in itself.
He looked at the young man in wonder rather than in anger, and lookingat him he was filled by a vague, almost a premonitory, uneasiness.
At the very outset, the presence which in itself he conceived to be achallenge was to demonstrate itself for this in no equivocal terms.
"I come before you," Andre-Louis began, "as a deputy-suppleant to fillthe place of one who was murdered some three weeks ago."
It was a challenging opening that instantly provoked an indignant outcryfrom the Blacks. Andre-Louis paused, and looked at them, smiling alittle, a singularly self-confident young man.
"The gentlemen of the Right, M. le President, do not appear to likemy words. But that is not surprising. The gentlemen of the Rightnotoriously do not like the truth."
This time there was uproar. The members of the Left roared withlaughter, those of the Right thundered menacingly. The ushers circulatedat a pace beyond their usual, agitated themselves, clapped their hands,and called in vain for silence.
The President rang his bell.
Above the general din came the voice of La Tour d'Azyr, who hadhalf-risen from his seat: "Mountebank! This is not the theatre!"
"No, monsieur, it is becoming a hunting-ground for bully-swordsmen," wasthe answer, and the uproar grew.
The deputy-suppleant looked round and waited. Near at hand he met theencouraging grin of Le Chapelier, and the quiet, approving smile ofKersain, another Breton deputy of his acquaintance. A little farther offhe saw the great head of Mirabeau thrown back, the great eyes regardinghim from under a frown in a sort of wonder, and yonder, among allthat moving sea of faces, the sallow countenance of the Arras' lawyerRobespierre--or de Robespierre, as the little snob now called himself,having assumed the aristocratic particle as the prerogative of a man ofhis distinction in the councils of his country. With his tip-tilted nosein the air, his carefully curled head on one side, the deputy for Arraswas observing Andre-Louis attentively. The horn-rimmed spectacles heused for reading were thrust up on to his pale forehead, and it wasthrough a levelled spy-glass that he considered the speaker, histhin-lipped mouth stretched a little in that tiger-cat smile that wasafterwards to become so famous and so feared.
Gradually the uproar wore itself out, and diminished so that at lastthe President could make himself heard. Leaning forward, he gravelyaddressed the young man in the tribune:
"Monsieur, if you wish to be heard, let me beg of you not to beprovocative in your language." And then to the others: "Messieurs, ifwe are to proceed, I beg that you will restrain your feelings until thedeputy-suppleant has concluded his discourse."
"I shall endeavour to obey, M. le President, leaving provocation to thegentlemen of the Right. If the few words I have used so far have beenprovocative, I regret it. But it was necessary that I should refer tothe distinguished deputy whose place I come so unworthily to fill, andit was unavoidable that I should refer to the event which has procuredus this sad necessity. The deputy Lagron was a man of singular nobilityof mind, a selfless, dutiful, zealous man, inflamed by the high purposeof doing his duty by his electors and by this Assembly. He possessedwhat his opponents would call a dangerous gift of eloquence."
La Tour d'Azyr writhed at the well-known phrase--his own phrase--thephrase that he had used to explain his action in the matter of Philippede Vilmorin, the phrase that from time to time had been cast in histeeth with such vindictive menace.
And then the crisp voice of the witty Canales, that very rapier of thePrivileged party, cut sharply into the speaker's momentary pause.
"M. le President," he asked with great solemnity, "has thedeputy-suppleant mounted the tribune for the purpose of taking part inthe debate on the constitution of the legislative assemblies, or forthe purpose of pronouncing a funeral oration upon the departed deputyLagron?"
This time it was the Blacks who gave way to mirth, until checked by thedeputy-suppleant.
"That laughter is obscene!" In this truly Gallic fashion he flung hisglove into the face
of Privilege, determined, you see, upon no halfmeasures; and the rippling laughter perished on the instant quenched inspeechless fury.
Solemnly he proceeded.
"You all know how Lagron died. To refer to his death at all requirescourage, to laugh in referring to it requires something that I will notattempt to qualify. If I have alluded to his decease, it is because myown appearance among you seemed to render some such allusion necessary.It is mine to take up the burden which he set down. I do not pretendthat I have the strength, the courage, or the wisdom of Lagron but withevery ounce of such strength and courage and wisdom as I possess thatburden will I bear. And I trust, for the sake of those who might attemptit, that the means taken to impose silence upon that eloquent voice willnot be taken to impose silence upon mine."
There was a faint murmur of applause from the Left, splutter ofcontemptuous laughter from the Right.
"Rhodomont!" a voice called to him.
He looked in the direction of that voice, proceeding from the group ofspadassins amid the Blacks across the Piste, and he smiled. Inaudiblyhis lips answered:
"No, my friend--Scaramouche; Scaramouche, the subtle, dangerous fellowwho goes tortuously to his ends." Aloud, he resumed: "M. le President,there are those who will not understand that the purpose for whichwe are assembled here is the making of laws by which France may beequitably governed, by which France may be lifted out of the morass ofbankruptcy into which she is in danger of sinking. For there are somewho want, it seems, not laws, but blood; I solemnly warn them that thisblood will end by choking them, if they do not learn in time to discardforce and allow reason to prevail."
Again in that phrase there was something that stirred a memory inLa Tour d'Azyr. He turned in the fresh uproar to speak to his cousinChabrillane who sat beside him.
"A daring rogue, this bastard of Gavrillac's," said he.
Chabrillane looked at him with gleaming eyes, his face white with anger.
"Let him talk himself out. I don't think he will be heard again afterto-day. Leave this to me."
Hardly could La Tour have told you why, but he sank back in his seatwith a sense of relief. He had been telling himself that here was matterdemanding action, a challenge that he must take up. But despite his ragehe felt a singular unwillingness. This fellow had a trick of remindinghim, he supposed, too unpleasantly of that young abbe done to death inthe garden behind the Breton arme at Gavrillac. Not that the death ofPhilippe de Vilmorin lay heavily upon M. de La Tour d'Azyr's conscience.He had accounted himself fully justified of his action. It was that thewhole thing as his memory revived it for him made an unpleasant picture:that distraught boy kneeling over the bleeding body of the friend hehad loved, and almost begging to be slain with him, dubbing the Marquismurderer and coward to incite him.
Meanwhile, leaving now the subject of the death of Lagron, thedeputy-suppleant had at last brought himself into order, and wasspeaking upon the question under debate. He contributed nothing of valueto it; he urged nothing definite. His speech on the subject was verybrief--that being the pretext and not the purpose for which he hadascended the tribune.
When later he was leaving the hall at the end of the sitting, with LeChapelier at his side, he found himself densely surrounded by deputiesas by a body-guard. Most of them were Bretons, who aimed at screeninghim from the provocations which his own provocative words in theAssembly could not fail to bring down upon his head. For a moment themassive form of Mirabeau brought up alongside of him.
"Felicitations, M. Moreau," said the great man. "You acquitted yourselfvery well. They will want your blood, no doubt. But be discreet,monsieur, if I may presume to advise you, and do not allow yourself tobe misled by any false sense of quixotry. Ignore their challenges. I doso myself. I place each challenger upon my list. There are some fiftythere already, and there they will remain. Refuse them what they arepleased to call satisfaction, and all will be well." Andre-Louis smiledand sighed.
"It requires courage," said the hypocrite.
"Of course it does. But you would appear to have plenty."
"Hardly enough, perhaps. But I shall do my best."
They had come through the vestibule, and although this was linedwith eager Blacks waiting for the young man who had insulted them soflagrantly from the rostrum, Andre-Louis' body-guard had prevented anyof them from reaching him.
Emerging now into the open, under the great awning at the head of theCarriere, erected to enable carriages to reach the door under cover,those in front of him dispersed a little, and there was a moment as hereached the limit of the awning when his front was entirely uncovered.Outside the rain was falling heavily, churning the ground into thickmud, and for a moment Andre-Louis, with Le Chapelier ever at his side,stood hesitating to step out into the deluge.
The watchful Chabrillane had seen his chance, and by a detour thattook him momentarily out into the rain, he came face to face with thetoo-daring young Breton. Rudely, violently, he thrust Andre-Louis back,as if to make room for himself under the shelter.
Not for a second was Andre-Louis under any delusion as to the man'sdeliberate purpose, nor were those who stood near him, who made abelated and ineffectual attempt to close about him. He was grievouslydisappointed. It was not Chabrillane he had been expecting. Hisdisappointment was reflected on his countenance, to be mistaken forsomething very different by the arrogant Chevalier.
But if Chabrillane was the man appointed to deal with him, he would makethe best of it.
"I think you are pushing against me, monsieur," he said, very civilly,and with elbow and shoulder he thrust M. de Chabrillane back into therain.
"I desire to take shelter, monsieur," the Chevalier hectored.
"You may do so without standing on my feet. I have a prejudice againstany one standing on my feet. My feet are very tender. Perhaps you didnot know it, monsieur. Please say no more."
"Why, I wasn't speaking, you lout!" exclaimed the Chevalier, slightlydiscomposed.
"Were you not? I thought perhaps you were about to apologize."
"Apologize?" Chabrillane laughed. "To you! Do you know that you areamusing?" He stepped under the awning for the second time, and again inview of all thrust Andre-Louis rudely back.
"Ah!" cried Andre-Louis, with a grimace. "You hurt me, monsieur. I havetold you not to push against me." He raised his voice that all mighthear him, and once more impelled M. de Chabrillane back into the rain.
Now, for all his slenderness, his assiduous daily sword-practice hadgiven Andre-Louis an arm of iron. Also he threw his weight into thethrust. His assailant reeled backwards a few steps, and then hisheel struck a baulk of timber left on the ground by some workmen thatmorning, and he sat down suddenly in the mud.
A roar of laughter rose from all who witnessed the fine gentleman'sdownfall. He rose, mud-bespattered, in a fury, and in that fury sprangat Andre-Louis.
Andre-Louis had made him ridiculous, which was altogether unforgivable.
"You shall meet me for this!" he spluttered. "I shall kill you for it."
His inflamed face was within a foot of Andre-Louis'. Andre-Louislaughed. In the silence everybody heard the laugh and the words thatfollowed.
"Oh, is that what you wanted? But why didn't you say so before? Youwould have spared me the trouble of knocking you down. I thoughtgentlemen of your profession invariably conducted these affairs withdecency, decorum, and a certain grace. Had you done so, you might havesaved your breeches."
"How soon shall we settle this?" snapped Chabrillane, livid with veryreal fury.
"Whenever you please, monsieur. It is for you to say when it willsuit your convenience to kill me. I think that was the intention youannounced, was it not?" Andre-Louis was suavity itself.
"To-morrow morning, in the Bois. Perhaps you will bring a friend."
"Certainly, monsieur. To-morrow morning, then. I hope we shall have fineweather. I detest the rain."
Chabrillane looked at him almost with amazement. Andre-Louis smiledpleasantly.
"Do
n't let me detain you now, monsieur. We quite understand each other.I shall be in the Bois at nine o'clock to-morrow morning."
"That is too late for me, monsieur."
"Any other hour would be too early for me. I do not like to have myhabits disturbed. Nine o'clock or not at all, as you please."
"But I must be at the Assembly at nine, for the morning session."
"I am afraid, monsieur, you will have to kill me first, and I have aprejudice against being killed before nine o'clock."
Now this was too complete a subversion of the usual procedure for M.de Chabrillane's stomach. Here was a rustic deputy assuming with himprecisely the tone of sinister mockery which his class usually dealt outto their victims of the Third Estate. And to heighten the irritation,Andre-Louis--the actor, Scaramouche always--produced his snuffbox, andproffered it with a steady hand to Le Chapelier before helping himself.
Chabrillane, it seemed, after all that he had suffered, was not even tobe allowed to make a good exit.
"Very well, monsieur," he said. "Nine o'clock, then; and we'll see ifyou'll talk as pertly afterwards."
On that he flung away, before the jeers of the provincial deputies. Nordid it soothe his rage to be laughed at by urchins all the way down theRue Dauphine because of the mud and filth that dripped from his satinbreeches and the tails of his elegant, striped coat.
But though the members of the Third had jeered on the surface, theytrembled underneath with fear and indignation. It was too much. Lagronkilled by one of these bullies, and now his successor challenged, andabout to be killed by another of them on the very first day of hisappearance to take the dead man's place. Several came now to imploreAndre-Louis not to go to the Bois, to ignore the challenge and the wholeaffair, which was but a deliberate attempt to put him out of the way.He listened seriously, shook his head gloomily, and promised at last tothink it over.
He was in his seat again for the afternoon session as if nothingdisturbed him.
But in the morning, when the Assembly met, his place was vacant, and sowas M. de Chabrillane's. Gloom and resentment sat upon the membersof the Third, and brought a more than usually acrid note into theirdebates. They disapproved of the rashness of the new recruit to theirbody. Some openly condemned his lack of circumspection. Very few--andthose only the little group in Le Chapelier's confidence--ever expectedto see him again.
It was, therefore, as much in amazement as in relief that at a fewminutes after ten they saw him enter, calm, composed, and bland, andthread his way to his seat. The speaker occupying the rostrum at thatmoment--a member of the Privileged--stopped short to stare in incredulousdismay. Here was something that he could not understand at all. Thenfrom somewhere, to satisfy the amazement on both sides of the assembly,a voice explained the phenomenon contemptuously.
"They haven't met. He has shirked it at the last moment."
It must be so, thought all; the mystification ceased, and men weresettling back into their seats. But now, having reached his place,having heard the voice that explained the matter to the universalsatisfaction, Andre-Louis paused before taking his seat. He felt itincumbent upon him to reveal the true fact.
"M. le President, my excuses for my late arrival." There was nonecessity for this. It was a mere piece of theatricality, such as itwas not in Scaramouche's nature to forgo. "I have been detained by anengagement of a pressing nature. I bring you also the excuses of M. deChabrillane. He, unfortunately, will be permanently absent from thisAssembly in future."
The silence was complete. Andre-Louis sat down.
Scaramouche: A Romance of the French Revolution Page 27
