THE SUPPER.
When Maurice entered with Dixmer and Geneviève into the dining-room,
situated in the part of the house where they had first conducted him,
the supper was ready but the room vacant. He saw all the guests enter
successively. They were six in number, men of agreeable exterior, for
the most part young and fashionably dressed; two or three even wore the
blouse and red bonnet.
Dixmer introduced Maurice, naming his titles and qualifications. Then,
turning toward Maurice,--
"You see," said he, "Citizen Lindey, all those who assist me in
my trade. Thanks to the times in which we live, thanks to the
revolutionary principles which have effaced all distinction, we all
live upon the same footing of sacred equality. Every day we assemble
twice at the same table, and I am happy you have been induced to
partake of our family repast. Come! to table--citizens, to table."
"And--Monsieur Morand," said Geneviève, timidly, "do we not wait for
him?"
"Ah, true!" said Dixmer. "This citizen of whom I have already spoken,
Citizen Lindey, is my partner. He conducts, if I may so express myself,
the moral part of the establishment. He attends to the writing, keeps
the cash, superintends the factories, pays and receives the money,
and, in short, works harder than any of us. The result is that he is
sometimes rather late. I will go and tell him we are waiting."
At this moment the door opened, and the Citizen Morand entered.
He was a short man, dark, with bushy eyebrows, and wore green
spectacles--like a man whose eyes are fatigued from excess of
work--concealing his black eyes, but not effectually obstructing their
scintillating gleams. At the first words he uttered, Maurice recognized
that mild, yet commanding voice engaged in his behalf when endeavoring
to save him from becoming a victim to that terrible discussion. He was
habited in a brown coat, with large buttons, a white waistcoat; and his
fine cambric shirt-frill was often during dinner smoothed by a hand
which Maurice, no doubt from its being that of a tradesman, admired
much for its beauty and delicacy of appearance.
They all took their seats. Morand was placed on Geneviève's right
hand, Maurice on her left. Dixmer sat opposite his wife. The rest of
the guests seated themselves promiscuously round an oblong table.
The supper was excellent. Dixmer had a capital appetite, and did the
honors of the table with much politeness. The workmen, or those who
pretended to be such, under this example became excellent companions.
The Citizen Morand spoke little, and ate still less; drank scarcely
anything, and rarely smiled. Maurice, perhaps from the reminiscences
his voice awakened, felt for him immediately a lively sympathy, only he
was in doubt as to his age; and this rather annoyed him, as sometimes
he imagined him to be a man of forty or forty-five years, and sometimes
to be quite young.
Dixmer, on placing himself at table, felt obliged to offer some
explanation to his guests for the admission of a stranger into
their little circle. He acquitted himself like an artless man, one
unaccustomed to deceit; but the guests, as it seemed, were not hard to
manage on this point; for, notwithstanding the awkwardness displayed
by the manufacturer of hides in the introduction of the young man, they
all appeared perfectly satisfied.
Maurice regarded him with astonishment.
"Upon my honor," said he to himself, "I shall really soon think that
I myself am deceived. Is that the same man who, with flaming eyes and
threatening voice, pursued me, gun in hand, and absolutely wished to
kill me three quarters of an hour since? Then I should have taken him
for either a hero or an assassin. Goodness! how the love of hides does
transform a man."
While making these observations Maurice experienced a strange feeling
of joy and grief, and felt unable to analyze his own emotions. He
at length found himself near his beautiful unknown, whom he had so
ardently sought. As he had dreamed, she bore a charming name; he was
intoxicated with the happiness of finding himself at her side; he drank
in her every word; and at each sound of her voice the most secret
chords of his heart vibrated; but he was deeply wounded by all he saw.
Geneviève was exactly what he had pictured her; the dream of a stormy
night, reality had not destroyed. Here was an elegant woman, of sad
demeanor but refined mind, affording another instance of what had so
frequently occurred during the latter years preceding this present
celebrated year '93. Here was a young woman of distinction compelled,
from the ruin into which the nobility was ever falling, deeper and
deeper, to ally herself to a commoner engaged in commerce. Dixmer
appeared a trusty man. He was incontestably rich, and his manners to
Geneviève were those of a man making every endeavor to render a woman
happy. But could kindness, riches, or excellent intentions compensate
her for what she had sacrificed, or remove the immense distance
existing between husband and wife, between a refined, distinguished,
charming girl, and a vulgar-looking tradesman? With what could
Geneviève fill up this abyss? Alas! Maurice now guessed too well. With
love! And he therefore returned to that opinion of the young woman
he had formed on the evening of their first meeting,--that she was
returning from some love affair.
The idea of Geneviève loving any one was torture to Maurice. He
sighed, and deeply regretted having exposed himself to the temptation
of imbibing a still larger dose of that poison termed love. At other
moments, while listening to that ductile voice, so soft and harmonious,
examining that pure and open countenance which evinced no fear that he
should read every secret of her soul, he arrived at the conclusion that
it was utterly impossible that this matchless creature could descend to
deceit; and then he found a bitter pleasure in remembering that this
lovely woman belonged solely to this good citizen, with his honest
smile and vulgar pleasantries, and would never be to him more than a
passing acquaintance.
They conversed of course on politics. How could it be otherwise at an
epoch when politics were mixed up with everything. Political subjects
were even painted on the plates, political designs covered the walls,
and politics were daily proclaimed in the streets. All at once, one of
the guests who had hitherto preserved silence inquired concerning the
prisoners of the Temple.
Maurice started, in spite of himself, at the ring of that voice. He
recognized the voice of the man who, a strenuous advocate for extreme
measures, had first struck him with his dagger, and then advocated
his death. Nevertheless, this man, an honest tanner, and head of the
manufactory, at least so Dixmer represented him, soon incited the
good humor of Maurice by the expression of ideas the most patriotic,
and principles the most revolutionary. The young man, under certain
circumstances, was not inimical to these extreme measures, so much in
fashion at this period, of which Danton was the apostle and hero. In
this man's place, from the effect of whose voice and weapon he felt
himself still smarting, he would not have attempted to assassinate
the man he believed to be a spy, but would rather have locked him in
the garden, and there, equally armed, sword to sword, have fought
him without mercy, without pity. This is what Maurice would have
done; but he comprehended soon that this was too much to expect of a
journeyman-tanner.
This man of extreme measures, who appeared to possess in his political
ideas the same violent system as in his private conduct, then spoke of
the Temple, and expressed surprise that the prisoners were confided to
the guardianship of a permanent council liable to be corrupted, and to
municipals whose fidelity had already been more than once tempted.
"Yes," said the Citizen Morand; "but it must be remembered that on
every occasion, up to the present time, the municipals have fully
justified the confidence reposed in them by the nation, and history
will record that the Citizen Robespierre alone has merited the title of
'Incorruptible.'"
"Without doubt, without doubt," replied the interlocutor; "but because
a thing has not yet happened, it would be absurd to suppose it never
can happen. As for the National Guard," continued the foreman of the
manufactory, "well, the companies of the different sections are placed,
each in their turn, on duty at the Temple, and that indifferently.
Will you not admit that there might be, in a company of twenty or
five-and-twenty men, a band of seven or eight determined characters,
who some fine night might slaughter the sentinels and carry off the
prisoners?"
"Bah!" said Maurice; "you see, Citizen, this would be a foolish
expedient. In fact the thing was tried three weeks or a month ago, and
did not succeed."
"Yes," replied Morand; "because one of those aristocrats who composed
the patrol had the imprudence in speaking to let fall the word
'Monsieur,' I do not know to whom."
"And then," said Maurice, who wished to prove that the police of the
Republic did their duty, "because the entrance of the Chevalier de
Maison-Rouge into Paris was already known--"
"Bah!" cried Dixmer.
"They knew that Maison-Rouge had entered Paris?" coldly demanded
Morand; "and did they know by what means he entered?"
"Perfectly."
"Indeed!" said Morand, leaning forward to look at Maurice, "I should
be curious to know that, as up to the present moment no one can speak
positively. But you, Citizen, you, secretary of one of the principal
sections in Paris, ought to be better informed."
"Doubtless; therefore, what I am about to tell you is the true
statement of facts."
All the guests and even Geneviève appeared prepared to pay the greatest
attention to this recital.
"Well," said Maurice, "the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge came from Vendée,
it appears; he had traversed all France with his usual good fortune.
Arrived during the day at the Barrière du Roule, he waited till nine
o'clock at night. At that hour a woman, disguised as a woman of the
people, went out through the barrier, carrying to the chevalier a
costume of chasseur of the National Guard. Ten minutes afterward she
re-entered with him; but the sentinel, who had seen her go out alone,
felt rather suspicious when he saw her return with a companion. He gave
the alarm to the post; the post turned out, when the two culprits,
knowing they were pursued, flung themselves into a hôtel where a second
door opened into the Champs Elysées.
"It seems that a patrol devoted to the tyrants waited for the chevalier
at the corner of the Rue Bar-du-Bec. You are acquainted with the rest."
"Ah, ah!" said Morand; "this is very strange."
"But positively true," said Maurice.
"Yes, it has an air of truth; but the female, do you know what became
of her?"
"No; she has disappeared, and they are quite ignorant who she is, or
what she is."
The partner of Citizen Dixmer, and Citizen Dixmer himself, appeared to
breathe more freely.
Geneviève had listened to the whole of this recital, pale, silent, and
immovable.
"But," said Morand, with his usual coolness, "who can say that the
Chevalier de Maison-Rouge made one of the patrol who gave the alarm at
the Temple?"
"A municipal, one of my friends, that day on duty at the Temple. He
recognized him."
"He knew him from description?"
"He had seen him before."
"And what sort of man, personally, is this Chevalier de Maison-Rouge?"
"A man of five or six and twenty, short, fair, and of a pleasing
countenance, with magnificent eyes and superb teeth."
There was a profound silence.
"Well," said Morand, "if your friend the municipal recognized this
pretended Chevalier de Maison-Rouge, why did he not arrest him?"
"In the first place, not knowing of his arrival at Paris, he feared
being the dupe of a resemblance; and then my friend, being rather
lukewarm, acted as the lukewarm generally act,--gave him the benefit of
his doubt, and let him alone."
"You would not have acted thus, Citizen?" said Dixmer, laughing
boisterously.
"No," said Maurice; "I confess it, I would rather find myself deceived
than allow so dangerous a man as the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge to
escape."
"And what would you have done, then, Monsieur?" timidly inquired
Geneviève.
"What would I have done, Citizeness?" said Maurice. "Oh, by Jove! I
would have made short work of it. I would have had every door in the
Temple shut. I would have walked straight up to the patrol, have placed
my hand on his collar, and said to him, 'Chevalier de Maison-Rouge,
I arrest you as a traitor to the nation;' and my hand once upon his
collar, I would not soon release him, I can tell you."
"And what would have happened then?" asked Geneviève.
"It would have happened that he and his accomplices would have been
arrested, and that very hour would have been guillotined; that is all."
Geneviève shuddered, and darted on her neighbor a look of affright.
But the Citizen Morand did not appear to notice this glance, and
phlegmatically emptied his glass.
"The Citizen Lindey is right," said he; "there was nothing else to do;
but, unfortunately, it was not done."
"And," demanded Geneviève, "do you know what has become of the
Chevalier de Maison-Rouge?"
"Bah!" said Dixmer, "in all probability he did not wish to remain
longer, and finding his attempt abortive, quitted Paris immediately."
"And perhaps even France," added Morand.
"Not at all, not at all," said Maurice.
"What! has he had the imprudence to remain in Paris?" asked Geneviève.
"He has not stirred."
A movement of general astonishment followed this assertion which
Maurice had stated with so much confidence.
"This is only a supposition, Citizen, on your part," said
Morand,--"merely a supposition, that is all."
"No; I affirm it as a positive fact."
"Ah!" said Geneviève; "I acknowledge, for my part, I cannot believe it
is as you say; it would be such an unpardonable imprudence."
"You are a woman, Citizen; and can comprehend, then, what would
outweigh, with a man of such a character as the Chevalier de
Maison-Rouge, all considerations of personal security?"
"And what can outweigh the dread of losing one's life in a manner so
dreadful?"
"Ah, Citizeness!" answered Maurice, "love."
"Love!" repeated Geneviève.
"Certainly. Do you not know, then, that the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge
is enamored of Marie Antoinette?"
Two or three incredulous laughs were faintly heard. Dixmer looked at
Maurice as if he sought to penetrate the very depths of his soul.
Geneviève felt the tears suffuse her eyes, and a shuddering she could
not conceal from Maurice ran through her frame. The Citizen Morand
spilled some wine from his glass, which he was then in the act of
putting to his lips. His paleness would have alarmed Maurice, had not
all the young man's attention been at the time centred on Geneviève.
"You are moved, Citizeness," murmured Maurice.
"Did you not say I should understand this because I was a woman? Well,
we women feel for such devotion even if opposed to our principles."
"And that of the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge is the height of devotion,
as it is said he has never even spoken to the queen."
"Ah! there now, Citizen Lindey," said the man of extreme measures; "it
seems to me, permit me to observe, that you are very indulgent to the
Chevalier--"
"Monsieur," said Maurice, perhaps intentionally making use of a word
which had ceased to be in vogue, "I love all brave and courageous
natures, which does not prevent my fighting them when I meet them in
the ranks of my enemies. I do not despair of one day encountering the
Chevalier de Maison-Rouge."
"And--" said Geneviève.
"If I meet him--well, I shall fight him."
The supper was finished. Geneviève set the example of retiring, by
herself rising from table. At this moment the clock struck.
"Midnight!" said Morand, coolly.
"Midnight," exclaimed Maurice,--"midnight already?"
"That exclamation affords me much pleasure," said Dixmer; "it proves
you are not wearied, and induces me to hope we may see you again. It is
the door of a true patriot which opens to receive you; and, I trust,
ere long, you will find it that of a sincere friend."
Maurice bowed, and turning toward Geneviève,--
"Will the Citizeness also permit me to repeat my visit?" demanded he.
"I do more than permit, I request you to do so. Adieu, Citizen," and
Geneviève retired.
Maurice took leave of all the guests, particularly saluting Morand,
with whom he was much pleased; pressed Dixmer's hand, and went away
bewildered, but on the whole more joyful than sad, from the various and
unexpected events of the evening.
"Unfortunate encounter, unfortunate encounter!" said the young woman,
after Maurice's departure, and then burst into tears in the presence of
her husband, who had conducted her to her room.
"Bah!" said Dixmer, "the Citizen Lindey, a known patriot, secretary
to a section, admired, worshipped, and highly popular, is, on the
contrary, a great acquisition to a poor tanner who has contraband
merchandise on his premises."
"Do you think so, _mon ami_?" asked Geneviève, timidly.
"I think it is a warrant of patriotism, a seal of absolution, placed
upon our house; and I think, after this evening, that the Chevalier de
Maison-Rouge himself would be safe at our house."
And Dixmer kissed his wife with an affection more paternal than
conjugal, and left her in the little pavilion set apart for her special
benefit, passing himself into another part of the building, which he
inhabited with the guests we have seen assembled round his table.