Early in the month of June, the month of roses, the wedding of Paul
and Lucie came off. The civil wedding occurred one day, but the great
event was the religious ceremony on the next day. It took place in the
garrison chapel, which was beautifully decorated for the occasion. It
was a very grand wedding, for the Bernards were great people, but it
was likewise a very happy wedding. A great many persons wondered why
a girl of Lucie Bernard's beauty, fortune and position should marry a
little sublieutenant of dragoons, but when they came to see and know
the little sublieutenant, and how much liked and respected he was by
everybody, it did not seem remarkable at all. Lucie's most valued
wedding present was a huge amethyst bracelet, bought by the voluntary
subscriptions of the men in Paul's own troop out of their small pay.
Lucie wore it at her wedding, her only other ornament being a modest
pearl brooch which was Paul's gift.
It was a glorious June day when Lucie Bernard became Lucie Verney. The
garrison chapel was packed, and Sergeant Duval commanded the guard
of honor. Toni, who had helped to dress Paul for the great occasion,
scampered off, with Powder under his arm, to the church, where he met
Denise and her aunt. He escorted them to seats of honor reserved for
them, a compliment to Toni which materially improved his standing with
Mademoiselle Duval. The church was filled with music from the great
organ, and outside the air was melodious with the song of birds and
the rustling of leaves and the swaying of blossoms. Among the happiest
faces in the church were those of Monsieur and Madame Verney, and
also two persons that Toni had not seen for a long time, Captain and
Madame Ravenel. Madame Ravenel was, for once, not in black, and her
pale beauty was set off by a white gown. Her usually sad face wore a
happy and tremulous smile. She felt herself the forgiven sinner and was
not, as most sinners are, proud of her sins and contemptuous of their
forgiveness. Lucie had demanded that Sophie and her husband be asked to
the wedding and even to stay as guests at the Château Bernard. Madame
Bernard, after having protested, vowed and declared for six months
that such should not be the case, promptly capitulated three weeks
before the wedding. This meant the complete rehabilitation of Captain
and Madame Ravenel and their return to that world from which their own
desperate act had hurled them for a time. They had humbled themselves
and had been punished, and had taken their punishment as proud and
honorable souls do, acknowledging its justice and making no outcry.
But now it was over, and forgiveness had been won for them by Lucie
Bernard's generous and determined little hand, which had never ceased
to labor for them since she was ten years old.
While the church full of people was awaiting the entrance of the bride
and bridegroom, Toni whispered to Denise that they would be married in
the same church and that he expected to be as happy as Monsieur Paul,
who was the happiest man he had ever seen. Paul's countenance, when he
stood before the altar with Lucie on his arm, fully sustained this.
Many bridegrooms wear a hunted and dejected appearance, but not so
Paul Verney, although he had been hunted and captured by the charming
creature at his side. Lucie, for once, was subdued, but her pallor
and the tears that trembled in her dark eyes did her as much honor
as Paul's happy countenance. She was asking herself all the time if
she were really worthy of a man like Paul. But she recovered all her
composure when they turned and marched out of the church together and
passed under the uplifted swords of the guard of honor, and she was
quite smiling and self-possessed, looking about her with the laughing,
playful, penetrating glance peculiarly her own, and holding up her arm
on which the big bracelet shone, to the delight of the honest hearts of
the soldiers.
There was a large wedding breakfast at the Château Bernard, which was
at its loveliest in June, with its broad, green terraces, its plashing
fountains and the riot of color in its prim flower beds. The guests
sat at many little tables on the broad terrace, where the bride and
groom and the wedding party had a very gorgeous one in the middle, just
by the fountain, which sparkled brilliantly in the sunshine. A little
way off, in a grove of elm trees, a table was set for the soldiers who
had acted as the guard of honor at the wedding ceremony. Their wives
and sweethearts were included, and here Toni was the great man, second
only to Sergeant Duval, who was the ranking non-commissioned officer
present. Toni was the bridegroom's humble friend and everybody knew the
closeness of the tie which had existed between them since boyhood.
Toni made a speech which was a marvel of elegance and correctness. It
had been written for him by Paul Verney two weeks before, and he had
spent the whole fortnight getting it by heart. But at the end Toni
suddenly burst into an impromptu speech of his own.
"The lieutenant," he said, "is the best lieutenant, he is the best man,
he is the best master, he is the best of everything--"
Here Toni, without the least expectation on his part, suddenly
found the tears rolling down his cheeks. He laughed and could not
imagine what he was crying for and then his fellows all applauded him
vociferously, and Toni sat down and was not able to say another word.
And then, when they were through with their breakfast, they saw the
bride and groom approaching, Lucie holding up her dainty white skirts,
her filmy veil floating about her and with nothing on her dark hair
except her wedding veil and wreath. Paul carried his helmet with its
horse-hair plume in his hand, and the sun shone on his happy sunburned
face as he led Lucie to where their humble friends were making merry.
Toni had hauled out, from under the table, a mysterious box filled with
ice and with long-necked bottles, and champagne was soon bubbling in
every glass. The sergeant made a speech quite out of his own head, and
much better than Toni's, in which he assured Paul Verney of what he
knew before--that his troop would die for him to a man. Paul returned
thanks and declared that he was conscious of commanding the finest
troop in the French army, and then Lucie said a few pretty words of
thanks and held up her arm with the great bracelet on it and showed
that she had worn no other ornament except that and the bridegroom's
gift. Then there were more cheers, more champagne, more of everything.
It was a very happy wedding because it made many persons happy.
The very happiest person at the wedding, next to Paul and Lucie, was
Madame Verney. That excellent woman was fully persuaded that by her
efforts alone and single-handed, she had brought about this match
between Paul and Lucie, which otherwise never would have taken place.
The relatives and friends of the Bernards were very grand people,
indeed, but Paul had no reason to be ashamed of his family contingent.
When the guests were all gone and only the family remained, Toni
requested Paul to let the party from Bienville, consisting of himself
and the Duvals, speak to the Bienville persons present--the Verneys
and the Ravenels,--and this Paul very gladly did. The Ravenels and
the Verneys were very kind, as was their nature, to their humbler
friends from their native town. Paul did Toni a very good service
by proclaiming before all the Bienville people, in Sergeant Duval's
presence, that Toni was the best fellow alive and the sergeant was
doing well to betroth his daughter to such an excellent fellow. This
was accepted by the Bienville people because on that glorious day
everything went well. They could not but observe, however, that Toni
was clean instead of being dirty, and Paul assured them that he had
become as industrious as he had before been idle.
When the carriage drove off, in the summer dusk, with the bride and
groom starting on their wedding journey, Toni was the last person with
whom they shook hands, as he arranged them comfortably, and then Toni
whispered to Denise:
"We will be just as happy as they some day."
The next morning Toni waked up with a feeling of happiness which had
been gradually growing on him ever since he had become a private
soldier under Paul Verney. This made him long to whistle and sing like
a blackbird had not the regulations forbidden soldiers to sing like
blackbirds while at their duties. But the first sight that greeted him,
as he marched on the parade ground, gave him an unpleasant shock. There
were Nicolas and Pierre in the ranks. Their term of imprisonment had
expired, and these two unworthy citizens were restored to their duties.
Toni avoided them all day long as much as he could, and in the evening,
being off duty, he went into the town to see Denise. After spending
half an hour with her, sitting on a bench in the public square while
Mademoiselle Duval read her inevitable religious newspaper, a drizzle
of rain coming on, he escorted his fiancée and his future aunt-in-law
to their lodging, then walked down into the town to spend the hour that
yet remained to him before he was obliged to turn in. The night had
grown dark and stormy and the rain had become a determined downpour.
The street lamps shone fitfully out of the gloom, but the windows of
the cheap cafés, where the soldiers congregated, were resplendent with
lights.
Toni was standing before one of these and debating whether he should
go in when he felt an arm on each side of him. He looked around and
Nicolas' red head was close to his ear, while Pierre's monkey face was
on the other side of him.
"Come," said Nicolas, "I know where we can get a good bottle of wine
and have a game of cards."
Toni could easily have wrenched himself free from them, but his old
cowardice returned to him with a rush. He went sullenly with them under
a moral compulsion which he could not have explained to save his life.
He hated and feared their company; nevertheless, he went with them.
They turned into a dark and narrow side street and then, diving into a
blind alley so dark and noisome that Toni's heart sank within him at
the thought of the crimes that could be committed there, they climbed
a rickety outside stair by the side of a tumble-down old house. Toni
found himself presently in a garret room, dimly lighted by a malodorous
oil lamp. It was evidently a place of entertainment for a low class
of persons. There were sounds of voices below them and next them,
but this room was unoccupied. There was a table in the middle of the
floor and wine and glasses on it. Toni sat down, much against his will,
and Pierre, pouring out some of the wine, which was vile, began to
expatiate on the delights of liberty.
"This is a million times better," he said, "than being locked up in
prison with the devil of a sentry keeping his eye on one perpetually
and three days on bread and water for sneezing."
Toni longed to say that that was what both of them richly deserved, but
dared not. Then Nicolas began:
"We should not have been imprisoned at all but for that scoundrel,
Lieutenant Verney. He has a spite against us and takes it out as only
an officer can on a private soldier."
"It's a lie," cried Toni. This aspersion on their honor was not in the
least resented by either Pierre or Nicolas, who knew, as only they and
God did, what liars they were.
"Well, Toni," Nicolas continued, "I understand that you are to marry
the sergeant's daughter. My faith, you look prosperous. Count Delorme's
money must have done you a lot of good."
"I never had any of Count Delorme's money!" burst out Toni.
"Who is lying now?" murmured Nicolas softly. "What about the
twenty-franc piece?"
"That was certainly a very neat job of yours, Toni," said Pierre. "I
have never seen a man done for quicker than you did for Count Delorme.
One blow like this--" He drew off and went through a pantomime of
giving Nicolas a blow on the side of the head. Nicolas, likewise
pretending, tumbled over in his chair as Count Delorme had fallen over
in the dark at the Château Bernard. It made Toni sick to see them.
They laughed, after they had gone through with this mimic tragedy, and
began to drink their wine. Then they again abused Paul Verney, and Toni
said nothing. He scorned to defend his friend from two such scoundrels
as those before him and he longed to get away, but that strange and
inscrutable fear of them nailed him to his chair. Presently Nicolas
said to him:
"Toni, we might as well tell you the truth. Lieutenant Verney is to
die."
To die! Paul, so full of life, so happy, only yesterday married! He saw
Paul's smiling face as he waved his hand back to Toni when he drove off
in the open carriage with Lucie, through the golden dusk of the June
evening. But he did not quite take in what Nicolas meant.
"Yes," said Pierre, "have you never heard, my man, of officers who
abused and ill-treated their men, who were found dead like Count
Delorme?--I won't say murdered--that's an ugly word to say. But it
isn't altogether safe for an officer to persecute a man, particularly a
couple of men--it's just as well to make an example of an officer like
that once in a while."
A cold horror came upon Toni. After a moment he spoke.
"So you mean to waylay Lieutenant Verney as you did Count Delorme?" he
asked.
"No indeed, my dear fellow," briskly responded Nicolas. "It will be
quite a different affair from that little one of yours. We mean to kill
him, however, but we will try our chances among the three of us. We
don't care to take the whole risk ourselves, and I think, considering
how quiet we have kept about that little affair of yours in the park
of the Château Bernard that you ought to help us out. So we will play
a game of cards and the loser is to finish up Lieutenant Verney or be
finished up himself. That is quite fair. Don't you agree to that,
Pierre?"
Pierre nodded and grinned. Toni sat looking at them stupidly by the
light of the oil lamp. He took in instantly what they meant--they
intended that he should kill Paul Verney or else be killed himself.
Nicolas took out of his pocket a greasy pack of cards and said:
"What shall it be--écarté?"
"As you please," responded Pierre.
Toni would have given his soul, almost, to have rushed out of the room,
but he was Toni still as boy and man. He had been cowed and enslaved
by certain strange fears which many persons exercised over him, and
these scoundrels in particular. He thought of himself as murdered by
these wretches, who, he knew, would do it with as little compunction
as they would wring the neck of a chicken. He thought of Denise, of
Paul Verney, and he was overwhelmed with sorrow for them and pity for
himself, for he understood that he must die.
The cards were dealt and Toni took his up. He was in a horrible dream,
but he retained enough of his faculties to know how the game was going.
Nicolas and Pierre were quite cheerful and they squabbled merrily
over the game and took all the tricks. When they had finished, Nicolas
slapped Toni on the back and said jovially:
"Well, my man, you have got the job."
Toni made no reply. He was too frightened to speak, and then Nicolas,
suddenly growing perfectly serious, said:
"You know we begin our practice marches in about a fortnight. Now,
on our first practice march you are to be ill and drop out of the
ranks--see?--when the lieutenant is riding by the side of the troop
where he can see you, and you must select a place where there is a
thicket in which a man's body can be hid from the observation of the
people passing by. Now, when the lieutenant comes back to see what
is the matter with you, it will be quite easy--he will be completely
off his guard--and then--you had better do it with a knife--a knife
makes no noise, you know, and if you don't know how to use a knife
on Lieutenant Verney--well, we'll use it on you--that's all--and on
Lieutenant Verney later."
Toni's arms dropped by his side and he uttered a low groan. What folly
ever had thrown him with these men--what madness was his not to have
come out and told the truth about Count Delorme! And now his life
must pay the penalty for it, and just as it was growing so sweet to
him. He staggered to his feet and groped his way to the door, Pierre
and Nicolas making no effort to stop him. They saw that they had fully
impressed him with what they meant to do.