A POOR ADVOCATE
The Prince, as Colonel of the company, came specially to Troyes by the
desire of Collinot, though the trouble bored him, for he liked Germain,
and would never have raised the question concerning his birth had it
merely come to his knowledge without the scandal of formal charges. To
keep the company in as aristocratic shape as possible as part of his
establishment was a thing in which his princely _éclat_ was concerned.
He came bringing with him his wife's father, the Duke of Beauveau,
Marshal of France. The Marshal, whose white hair, stately form, and
liberal ideas were universally blessed throughout the kingdom, was a man
of singular firmness and kindness in what he considered to be right. He
it was who, as Viceroy of Languedoc, had released the fourteen Huguenot
women who, on account of their religion, had languished in the dungeons
of the Tower of Constance till their heads became blanched with age, and
who had fallen at his feet when the Tower was opened for his inspection.
The frantic demands of bigotry and the repeated orders of the Minister
on that occasion produced no effect upon his pitying heart.
"For justice and humanity," he answered, "plead in favour of these poor
creatures, and I refuse to return them under any less than the direct
order of the King." The King, to his credit--it was Louis XV.--stood
firm also. Beauveau it was, likewise, who refused support to Maupéou's
infamous scheme to stifle the whole magistracy and rule the country
without a court of justice.
The garrison of Troyes and the company considered the advent of the
Marshal their opportunity for a grand review, and an invitation had been
sent to the company de Villeroy, who came over from Châlons. Nominally
the Lecour affair did not enter into the consideration of the
authorities, but there was no doubt that it was the grand topic of
excitement among both corps of the Bodyguard.
At ten of the clock--the appointed hour--the Marshal, accompanied by the
Prince, entered the hall where Germain stood ready for the
investigation. The breast of the old Commandant was covered with stars
and well-earned distinctions, and the glittering Order of the Holy
Ghost, with its crust of great diamonds, scintillated upon it. Before
him, on the table was Germain's document-box open. Collinot sat beside
it, examining the papers, one after another. Nobody else was present.
The Marshal was given the great chair of honour, and the Prince another
beside him. The latter sat furtive and uncomfortable. Lecour experienced
a sensation of his own immense inferiority to the grand soldier who was
sitting as his judge, and he felt helpless and uncertain in such hands.
"Adjutant," began the Marshal, "where are the parties? Is this gentleman
Monsieur de Lincy?"
Collinot assented. Germain bowed and turned ghostly white.
"Have you examined his credentials, and how do you find them?"
"They appear correct, my Lord Duke."
"Are the accusers not here?"
"Perhaps they are delayed, my Lord."
"It is a grave thing to keep a man in suspense over an accusation."
All waited silently several minutes. Every second seemed to pull with
the tug of a cable on Germain's beating heart.
The door opened. In hurried the Chevalier de Villerai, heated, rubicund,
confused, and his uniform partly in disorder, saluting the Marshal as if
bereft of his senses.
"Your Excellency--your Grace, I mean--I--I--most humbly--your
Excellency--ah--pardon me, your Grace."
"Entirely, Quartermaster. You represent Monsieur de Léry, I presume?"
"Yes, but--but--but----" Villerai stammered, and stopped, his face
growing redder.
"Proceed quite tranquilly, Monsieur de Villerai," the Marshal remarked.
"What accusation do you bring against Monsieur de Lincy?"
Villerai cast an uncomfortable glance at Germain, then he blurted out
"That he is--an--some say an im----. I confess I know nothing against
the gentleman myself--he seems to be a very nice young man, but Monsieur
de Léry says he is something of that sort."
"And that his proper title is not de Lincy, but that he is the son of a
merchant in Canada who is no noble?" Collinot added.
"You know nothing against him yourself?" Beauveau asked of Villerai.
"Nothing myself, very true."
"You bring evidence, then?"
"My Lord--Marshal we have no evidence. I throw myself on your
goodness--I had some papers with the contents of which I am
unacquainted--but where they are I--I--pardon me your Excellency--this
is a very unfortunate affair."
"I think so, Monsieur de Villerai. Your friends have brought to trial a
perfectly innocent man--they have allowed him, for several months, to
remain under the intolerable vexations of the ban of society, and to
stand deprived of his birthright as a gentleman--have destroyed him at
Court--have almost blighted his career--have forced him to expose his
life to the ocean, to take far-off and highly perilous journeys to
collect his defences--and have compelled him more than once to brave
mortal combat. They have done all this, as it appears, while his claims
were perfectly regular, and while they themselves fail to produce the
slightest atom of evidence against him beyond the unsupported assertions
of their own family. What am I, as patron of this regiment, and a
military man of sixty years' experience, to say to this state of
things?"
"Excuse my--my Lord," de Villerai cried in desperation. "I said our
proofs are lost."
"It was your duty to have properly kept them. The opportunity for trial
has been given. The accused has responded and cleared himself. You may
depart, sir."
"Monsieur de Lincy," continued he, addressing the latter, with an
alteration from his severe tone to the kindest of voices, "it almost
moves me to tears to think of the indignities to which you have been
subjected. Your honour is absolved, and Major Collinot is requested to
make entry of this fact on the registers of the company, to avail you in
case these charges should ever be repeated. You are reinstalled with
your full rank and record, and moreover, in order that your
reinstallment may be unequivocal in the eyes of the public, I appoint
you my special _aide-de-camp_ for the review of this morning. Horse
yourself and report at my apartments."
Lecour had stood throughout the interview perfectly motionless--almost
statuesque, except a slight clinching of the hands at times. His
feelings, however, were at the highest possible tension, and his eyes
observant of the slightest changes on the faces of those concerned, and
when he found de Villerai--who was a stranger to him--so helpless, a
feeling of triumph unexpectedly possessed him. He knew, of course, about
the Record--- divined that de Villerai had been entrusted with it--in
fact, through the mysterious means related, it was safe above their
heads locked in his own sleeping chamber. But what he had been uncertain
of was what sort of a man the Quartermaster would turn out to be as a
representative of de Léry--what kind of a case he would make without the
writings--how much of them he would recite--how that recital would be
received by the tribunal--and whether the tribunal would have any regard
whatever to the evidence or condemn him by some instinct of caste
prejudice. While turning these thoughts over like lightning in his mind,
they were brought to a standstill by the pronouncement of Marshal de
Beauveau and the sudden relief and violent sense of gratitude produced
by the old soldier's sympathetic address to himself.
He felt he had won Cyrène.
He mounted the staircase to his apartment as if his feet were winged.
The quarters were deserted. The company had already mustered and marched
to the review ground, a levelled field adjoining the boulevarded
rampart, surrounded with willow trees and known as the Champ-de-Mars.
Germain, as he approached it, riding with the Marshal and the Prince,
felt as he had not since he had first put on the uniform of the
Bodyguard. His spirit seemed to prance with joy like the horse beneath
him. He had now that security, the want of which had caused him such an
ocean of misery; he felt that his enemies were now conquered, and that
Cyrène was at last his.
Thus they rode to the Champ, where he could see the various regiments,
drawn up at the "attention," in a long, brilliant line, their arms
shining in the sun, the two companies of the Bodyguard mounted, in their
centre, with their magnificent standards and gorgeously arrayed bands.
It was a thrilling and beautiful sight.
When they came to the edge of the Champ, the horses of the Marshal and
his staff quickened pace, and soon, galloping down the field, they
passed in front of the whole division, every eye both of soldiers and
spectators levelled towards them. Lecour was the object of intense
interest. At this conspicuous moment the Marshal called him to his side
and entrusted him with a general order to pass to the commanders of the
regiments.
Germain galloped first to the company of Noailles and passed the order
with a grave salute to the Prince, who had taken his position in front
of it as Colonel. As he did so, the enthusiasm of his companions got the
better of their discipline, and they broke into a loud, prolonged cry of
"Vive de Lincy!" The members of the company of Villeroy had, as a body,
always felt more or less contrary in the affair to their companion de
Léry, and there was a party who had strongly favoured Germain. The
proof, now so clear, that Louis' accusations had been rejected, suddenly
converted the rest to Lecour's side and an enthusiasm similar to that of
his own company broke out in their ranks too, resulting in a
continuation of the cry, "Vive de Lincy!" This extraordinary scene
excited the other troops. The whole line broke out again and again into
the repeated cry of, "Vive de Lincy!" while Germain rode rapidly along.
The crowd of spectators took it up, and added tremendous shouts of
approbation. Nor did the cry end with the parade. He heard it
everywhere; at mess-table it was the greeting as he entered, the
response to numerous toasts to his health, and the last sound he heard
as he sank to sleep at night.
The feelings of de Léry were very different. The shout was to him his
social doom. He stood his ground and executed his duty without an
external sign, but his heart withered when his comrades there and then
commenced to shun him and drive him into Coventry. No protestations, no
statements that he could make, would, he knew, have been of any avail;
so he spared himself the trouble. Withdrawing entirely into a proud
reserve, he was soon banished from the regiment and from society, and
driven to find a refuge over the ocean in Canada, where, hidden from the
eyes of European criticism, he entered upon a new career.
The Marquis de Lotbinière heard of the loss of the documents first by a
letter from de Villerai. On the same day he received the following from
the Count de Vaudreuil--
"AT VERSAILLES, the 13th February, 1788.
"I should always be well disposed, sir, to oblige persons who, like
Monsieur de Léry, might have aroused my interest; but _it is
impossible for me to become the accuser of anybody whatsoever_.
_Such a maxim is absolutely opposed to all my principles_ and to
the invariable law which I have made for myself and from which I
cannot depart. It is the place of the Prince de Poix to examine the
candidates who present themselves for admission to the Bodyguard;
that duty is entirely foreign to me. Be convinced of all the regret
I feel in being unable, in this case, to do what would be agreeable
to you, and accept fresh assurances of the sincere attachment with
which I have the honour to be, sir,
"Your very humble and obedient servant,
"THE COUNT DE VAUDREUIL."
A worse blow followed, in a brief newspaper account conveying word of
the total defeat of the accusations.
Great movements, he heard, had been aroused among the highest circles of
Court, in Lecour's favour; the Prince de Poix had proved a broken reed,
while the Bodyguards of both companies had clamoured for their de Lincy.
The Marquis vented his rage upon de Villerai behind his back, but after
a few days concluded it advantageous to make no further references to
the son of the cantineer.
Germain's first action was to rush to Versailles and clasp in his arms
the love of his life. She, her eyes brimming with the happiness, faith,
and trustfulness of a pure young girl, rejoiced in the vindication of
her insulted knight.
News of another addition to his possessions arrived, while it brought a
grief. Events had been too much for the Chevalier de Bailleul. He died
in the latter part of the month of February, and a letter from the
intendant of his estates informed Germain both of the sad event and at
the same time that the veteran had bequeathed him Eaux Tranquilles and
his fortune. The intendant, a local attorney named Populus, quoted the
clauses of the will, and asked instructions from his new master.