CHAPTER XXXI. A MOONLIGHT RECOGNITION
I sat on my bed in the little chamber allotted me, and as the brightmoonlight streamed along the floor, and lit up the wide landscapewithout, I hesitated within myself whether I should await the morning,or at once set forth on my way to the coast. It was true the abbe hadnot arrived; and without him I knew nothing of the vessel, nor where shelay, much less by what means I should induce the crew to receive me asa passenger. But my heart was fixed on gaining the coast; once there,I felt that the sea alone rolled between me and my country, and I hadlittle doubt some means of escape would present itself.
The desire to return to Ireland, long stilled, was now become a passion.I thought some new career must there open for me, and in its activevicissitudes I should make amends for the wearisome languor of my latelife. What this novel path was to be, and where to lead, I cannotsay; nor am I able now, in looking back, to guess by what sophistry Ipersuaded myself into this belief. It was the last ray of hope withinme, however, and I cherished it only the more fondly for its veryuncertainty.
As I sat thus deliberating with myself what course to take, the door wascautiously opened, and the landlord entered.
"He is come," whispered he; "and, thank Heaven! not too late."
"The abbe?" inquired I.
"No, not the abbe; but the Comte de Chambord. The abbe will not venture;but it matters not, if you will. The letters are all ready; the sloop isoff the coast; the wind is fair--"
"And not a moment to be lost," added a deep, low voice, as the figure ofa tall man, wrapped in a travelling cloak, darkened the doorway. "Leaveus, Pierre; this is the gentleman, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir," said the landlord. "Should you need a light, I 'll bringone."
"Thank you, friend; we can dispense with any, save what the moon affordsus."
As the door closed on the retiring figure of the host, the stranger tookhis place beside me on the bed, and in a low voice thus began:--
"I only know, sir, that you have the full confidence of one of mystanchest and best friends, who tells me that you are willing to incurgreat risk, provided you gain the chance of reaching your native land.That chance--nay, I will call it that certainty--lies in my power; and,in return for the assistance, are you willing to do me a service?"
"I served the Emperor, sir; ask me not anything unworthy of one who worehis epaulette. Aught else, if it be but honorable and fair, I 'll do."
"I have no leisure for casuistry, nor is it my humor, sir," replied heangrily. "Neither do I seek any wondrous devotion at your hands. Theservice is an easy one: costs nothing at the present; involves nothingfor the future."
"The slight value you place upon it may detract but little from myobjection," said I.
"_Sacre ciel!_" exclaimed he, in a louder voice, as he sprang from thebed and clasped his hands before him. "Is it to be ever thus? Is everystep we take to be marred by some unlooked for casualty? Is the stampof fear and vacillation to be on every act of our lives? This abbe, thecreature we have made, the man whose fortune is our handiwork, couldrender but one service to our cause; and he fails us in our need. Andnow, you--"
"Beware, sir, how you speak to one who has never been accustomed tohear his name slightingly used nor his honor impugned. With your cause,whatever it be, I have no sympathy. Remember that; and remember, also,we are strangers to each other."
"No, _par Saint Denis!_ that we are not!" said he, seizing me by thearm, as he turned his head round, and stared me steadfastly in the face."It was but this instant I deemed my fortune at the worst; and now Ifind myself mistaken. Do you know me now?" said he, throwing off histravelling cap, and letting his cloak fall from his shoulders to theground.
"De Beauvais!" exclaimed I, thunderstruck at the sight.
"Yes, sir; the same De Beauvais whose fortunes you have blighted,whose honor you have tarnished--Interrupt me not. The mill at Holbrunwitnessed the latter, if even the former were an error; and now we meetonce more."
"Not as enemies, however; at least on my side. You may persist, if youwill, in attributing to me wrongs I never inflicted. I can better bearthe imputation, unjust though it be, than involve myself in any quarrelwith one I feel no anger towards. I was in hopes a few hours hence mighthave seen me on my way from France forever; but here, or elsewhere, Iwill not reply to your enmity."
De Beauvais made no reply as I concluded, but with his arms crossed, andhead bent down, seemed lost in thought.
"And so," said he, at length, in a slow, sad voice, "you have not foundthe service of the Usurper as full of promise as you hoped; you havefollowed his banner long enough to learn how mean a thing even ambitionmay be, and how miserably selfish is the highest aspiration of anadventurer!"
"The Emperor was my good master," said I, sternly; "it would ill becomeme to vent my disappointment on aught save my own demerits."
"I have seen as slight deservings bring a high reward, notwithstanding,"replied he; "ay, and win their meed of praise from lips whose eulogy washonor. There was a service, Burke--"
"Stay, no more of this!" said I. "You are unjust to your own cause andto me, if you deem that the hour of baffled hopes is that in which Icould see its justice. _You_ are true and faithful to one whose fortuneslook darkly. I respect the fidelity, while I will not follow itsdictates. I leave the path where fame and riches abound; I only ask youto believe that I do so with honor. Let us part, then."
"Where do you mean to go, hence?"
"I know not; a prospect of escape had led me hither. I must now bethinkme of some other course."
"Burke, I am your debtor for one kindness, at least," said De Beauvais,after a brief pause. "You saved my life at the risk of your own. Thenight at the Chateau d'Ancre should never be forgotten by me; nor hadit been, if I did not revenge my own disappointed hopes, in notseducing you to our cause, upon yourself. It may be that I wrong you ineverything as in this."
"Believe me, that you do, De Beauvais."
"Be it as it may, I am your debtor. I came here to-night to meet one whohad pledged himself to perform a service. He has failed in his promise;will you take his place? The same means of escape shall be yours. Allthe precautions for his safety and sure conduct shall be taken in yourbehalf. I ask no pledge for the honorable discharge of what I seek atyour hands, save your mere assent."
"What is it you require of me?"
"That you deliver these letters to their several addresses; that youdo so with your own hands; that when questioned, as you may be, on thestate of France, you will not answer as the partisan of the Usurper."
"I understand you. Enough: I refuse your offer. Your zeal for the causeyou serve must indeed be great when it blinds you to all considerationfor one placed as I am."
"It has made me forget more, sir, far more than that, as I might proveto you, were I to tell what my life has been for two years past. But forsuch forgetfulness there is an ample recompense, a glorious one,--thememory of our king." He paused at these words, and in his tremulousvoice and excited gesture I could read the passion that worked withinhim. "Come, then; there shall be no more question of a compact betweenus. I ask no conditions, I seek for no benefits: you shall escape.Take my horse; my servant, who is also mounted, will accompany you toBeudron, where you will find fresh horses in readiness. This passportwill prevent all interruption or delay; it is countersigned by Fouchehimself. At Lisieux, which you will reach by sunset, you can leave thecattle, and the boy of the cabaret will be your guide to the Falaisede Biville. The tide will ebb at eleven o'clock, and a rocket from thesloop will be your signal to embark."
"And for this I can render nothing in return?" said I, sadly.
"Yes. It may be that in your own country you will hear the followersof our king scoffed at and derided,--called fools or fanatics, perhapsworse. I would only ask of you to bear witness that they are at leastardent in the cause they have sworn to uphold, and firm to the faithto which they have pledged themselves. This is the only service you canrender us, but it is no mean one.
And now, farewell!"
"Farewell, De Beauvais! But ere we separate forever, let me hear fromyour lips that you bear me no enmity; that we are friends, as we used tobe."
"Here is my hand. I care not if you injured me once; we can be friendsnow, for we are little likely to meet again as enemies. Adieu!"
While De Beauvais left the room to order the horses to be in readiness,the landlord entered it, and seemed to busy himself most eagerly inpreparing my knapsack for the road.
"I trust you will be many a mile hence ere the day breaks," saidhe, with an anxiety I could ill comprehend, but which at the timeI attributed to his desire for the safety of one intrusted with animportant mission. "And now, here come the horses.'"
A moment more, and I was seated in the saddle. A brief word at partingwas all De Beauvais spoke, and turned away; and the minute after I washurrying onward towards Beudron.
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume II Page 31
