THE GODDESS REASON.
As Maurice had informed General Santerre the preceding evening, he was
seriously ill.
While he kept his chamber, Lorin in his daily visits had made use
of every argument to induce him to enter into some active pursuit
calculated to divert his mind from its trouble; but Maurice continued
obstinate. There are some maladies we do not desire to heal. On the 1st
of June, Lorin came about one o'clock.
"Is there anything particular going on to-day," asked Maurice, "that
you are so superb?"
Indeed, Lorin was splendidly attired. He wore the _bonnet-rouge_,
the _carmagnole_, and the tricolored girdle ornamented with two
instruments, then called the "cruets of the Abbé Maury," but which
before and since have been plumply and plainly termed pistols.
"In the first place," said Lorin, "it is generally the breaking up of
the ice of the Gironde which is in train, but by beat of drum. At this
moment, for example, they are heating the bullets red on the Place du
Carrousel; then, in particular, there is a grand solemnity to which I
invite you the day after to-morrow."
"But what is there to-day? You came for me, you say?"
"Yes; to-day we have the rehearsal."
"What rehearsal?"
"Why, the rehearsal of this great solemnity."
"My dear fellow," said Maurice, "you know that it is now eight days
since I last went out; consequently I am ignorant of everything, and
therefore the more require to be fully informed."
"What! Have I not told you?"
"You have told me nothing."
"First, you already know, we had suppressed God for some time past, and
have replaced him with the 'Supreme Being.'"
"Yes; I know all that."
"Well, it seems they have found out something; that the 'Supreme Being'
was a Moderate, a Rolandist, and, in short, a Girondin."
"No jesting on sacred subjects, Lorin; you know I do not like it."
"What would you have, my boy? we must keep up with the age. I too like
the ancient God well enough; first, because I was accustomed to him. As
for the 'Supreme Being,' it appears he really has faults, and since he
has been above yonder, everything has been playing at cross-purposes;
at all events, our legislators have decreed his downfall."
Maurice shrugged his shoulders.
"Shrug your shoulders as much as you please," said Lorin; "but now we
are going to worship the 'Goddess Reason.'"
"And are you engaged in all these masquerades?"
"Ah! _mon ami_, if you knew the Goddess Reason as I know her, you would
be one of her warmest partisans. Listen; I wish you to know her, and
will present you to her."
"A truce to all this folly. I am out of spirits, you well know."
"The very thing, then; she will enliven you; she is a nice girl. Ah!
but you know the austere goddess whom the Parisians wish to crown with
laurels, and drive about in a gilded paper-car! It is--guess."
"How can I guess?"
"It is Arthémise."
"Arthémise!" said Maurice, taxing his memory in vain to recollect the
name.
"Yes; a tall brunette, with whom I formed an acquaintance last year at
the Opera-ball; by the same token, you came to sup with us, and made
her tipsy."
"Ah! yes," said Maurice, "I remember now. It is she, is it?"
"She has the best chance. I presented her to the concourse. All the
Thermopyles have promised me their votes. In three days the general
election will take place. To-day we enjoy the preparatory dinner,
to-day we spill the wine of Champagne; perhaps after to-morrow we may
spill blood! But let them spill what they like, Arthémise shall be
goddess, or may the devil carry me away! Come, come, we will help her
on with her tunic."
"Thanks; but I have always entertained a repugnance for things of this
sort."
"To robe goddesses? _Peste!_ old fellow, you are difficult to please.
Let me see; if that does not suit you, I will put her tunic on, and you
shall take it off."
"Lorin, I am ill, and not only out of spirits, but the gayety of others
makes me miserable."
"Ah, that is it! You frighten me, Maurice; you no longer either laugh
or fight. You surely are not engaged in any plot?"
"I? Would to God--"
"You mean, Would to the Goddess Reason!"
"Leave me, Lorin; I cannot, and will not, go out. I am in bed, and here
let me rest in peace."
Lorin scratched his ear.
"Well," said he, "I see how it is."
"What do you see?"
"That you wait for the Goddess Reason."
"By Jove," cried Maurice, "witty friends are great bores. Go, or I
shall load both you and your goddess with curses."
"Charge! charge!"
Maurice raised his hand to curse him, when he was interrupted by his
official, who at this moment entered, bearing in his hand a letter for
his brother citizen.
"Citizen Agesilaus," said Lorin, "you enter at an unfortunate moment.
Your master was just going to be eloquent."
Maurice let fall his hand, which he listlessly extended for the letter;
but the instant he touched it he started, and eagerly examining both
the seal and hand-writing, grew very pale in the anticipation of bad
tidings, and broke the seal hastily.
"Oh, our interest is awakened at last," said Lorin, "it seems to me."
Maurice heard him not; his whole soul was merged in the four lines of
Geneviève. He read and re-read them three or four times over; and then
raising his head, gazed at Lorin like a man quite stupefied.
"The deuce!" said Lorin; "the intelligence must be wonderful indeed,
which that letter contains."
Maurice read the letter for the fifth time; a hue of vermilion suffused
his face, his eyes brightened, and a deep sigh relieved his breast;
then forgetting at once his illness and attendant weakness, he leaped
from his bed.
"My clothes!" cried he to the astonished official,--"my clothes, my
dear Agesilaus. Oh, my poor Lorin--my good Lorin, I expected this
every day, but in truth I did not hope for it. Here, my white trousers
and frilled shirt; please dress my hair and shave me immediately."
The official hastened to execute Maurice's orders, and dressed and
shaved him in a trice.
"Oh, I shall again behold her! I shall again behold her!" cried the
young man, "Lorin, I never till this moment knew what happiness meant!"
"My poor Maurice," said Lorin, "I think you require the visit I
recommended to you."
"Oh, my dear friend, pardon me; for truly reason has forsaken me."
"Then I offer you mine," said Lorin, laughing at his own execrable pun.
The most surprising thing was that Maurice laughed also. His present
happiness had made him so cheerful.
This was not all. "Wait," said he, cutting some orange blossom from a
tree in full bloom; "present this from me to the worthy Widow Mausole."
"_A la bonne heure!_" said Lorin; "in consideration of your gallantry,
I pardon you. Then it appears to me you are absolutely in love, and I
always feel profound respect for the unfortunate."
"Yes, I am in love," said Maurice, and his heart dilated with joy. "I
am in love; and now, since she loves me, I may declare it; for since
she has recalled me, must she not love me, Lorin?"
"Doubtless," complacently replied the adorer of the Goddess Reason;
"but take care, Maurice, for the fashion in which you take this makes
me fear for you."
"Often love is but a freak
Of the tyrant men call Cupid.
'Tis he bewitches when you speak
With any woman, howe'er stupid.
Come, then, with me,--love only Reason;
And so escape Dan Cupid's treason."
"Bravo, bravo!" cried Maurice, clapping his hands; then taking to his
heels, he descended the steps four at a time, and directed his steps
toward the well-known old Rue Saint Jacques.
"I believe he applauded me, Agesilaus, didn't he?" asked Lorin.
"He certainly did, Citizen; and no wonder, for those were very pretty
verses that you repeated."
"He is worse than I thought him," said Lorin, in his turn descending
the staircase in rather a calmer mood. Arthémise was not Geneviève.
Hardly had Lorin and his orange blossom arrived at the Rue Saint
Honoré, when a crowd of young citizens, to whom he had been accustomed
to administer either kicks or half-pence, according to his humor,
respectfully followed him,--mistaking him, no doubt, for one of those
virtuous individuals to whom Saint Just had proposed that people should
offer a white robe and a bunch of orange blossoms.
As the cortège every moment increased in numbers,--for even at this
epoch a virtuous man was a rare sight to behold,--there were several
thousand young citizens present when the bouquet was offered to
Arthémise, a homage which made several other "Reasons" who had joined
the ranks very ill with sick headache next day. It was on the same
evening that the famous distich was circulated through Paris,--
"Long life to Goddess Reason--
The pure, clear dawn of day."
And as it has come down to us without any knowledge of the author,--a
fact which has powerfully exercised the sagacity of revolutionary
archæologists,--we have almost the audacity to affirm that it was
composed for the fair Arthémise by our friend, Hyacinthe Lorin.