THE REQUEST.
In the mean time Morand did not a little excite the curiosity of
Maurice. The most refined of fops could not discover a fault in the tie
of his cravat, the folds of his boots, or the texture of his linen;
but it must be allowed his hair and spectacles were always the same.
It then appeared to Maurice, so much was he reassured by the oath
of Geneviève, that he now for the first time viewed these locks and
spectacles in a proper light.
"The devil!" said Maurice to himself as he went to meet him,--"the
devil take me if I am now ever again jealous of this worthy Citizen
Morand. Put on every day, if you choose, your full-dress coat, or even
make yourself one of cloth of gold, since from this time I promise to
see nothing but your hair and spectacles, and above all, never again to
accuse you of loving Geneviève."
We can easily understand that the shake of the hand bestowed upon the
Citizen Morand at the conclusion of this soliloquy was more frank and
cordial than usual. Contrary to custom, the party was small, covers
being placed for only three on a narrow table.
Geneviève was seated nearly opposite Maurice, between himself and the
light, which reflected on her luxuriant black curls, tingeing them with
the blue hue of the raven's wing, and enhancing the brilliancy of her
eyes and complexion.
Beyond his pigeon-colored suit, Morand appeared to have dismissed
all recollection of the day from his mind,--that brilliant wit which
Maurice had sometimes heard burst fresh from the lips of this singular
man, which would no doubt have been accompanied by flashes from his
eyes, had they not been totally obscured by the green spectacles.
He uttered a thousand witticisms, but never himself smiled; indeed,
what added piquancy to his witticisms and a strange charm to his
sallies was his own imperturbable gravity. This merchant, who had made
numerous voyages and visited various countries, trading in every sort
of skin, from the skin of the panther to that of the rabbit; this
chemist, with arms dyed with his own chemical preparations,--was as
conversant with Egypt as Herodotus, Africa as Lavaillant, and the Opera
and the boudoir as any fop.
"But the devil take me, Monsieur Morand," said Maurice, "you are not
only a clever man, but a scholar also."
"Ah! I have both seen and read much," said Morand; "and then it is
necessary I should prepare myself in some degree for the life of
pleasure I intend to lead when I retire on my fortune. It is time,
Citizen Maurice, it is time."
"Bah!" said Maurice; "you talk like an old man. What age then are you?"
Morand turned round, startled by this question, natural as it certainly
was.
"I am thirty-eight," said he. "Ah! see what it is to be a scholar, as
you term it. It makes one old."
Geneviève began to laugh, and Maurice joined in; but Morand merely
smiled.
"You have, then, made several voyages?" demanded Maurice, pressing
Geneviève's foot between his own.
"Part of my youth," replied Morand, "was passed in a foreign land."
"And you have seen much?--pardon me, I ought to say, have observed
much; for a man like yourself cannot see without observing," replied
Maurice.
"_Ma foi!_ yes; seen much?" replied Morand, "I have seen almost
everything."
"Everything, Citizen," replied Maurice, laughing; "that is saying a
great deal. If you were to search--"
"Ah, yes! you are right; there are two things I have never seen. It is
true, in our days, these two things are becoming more and more rare."
"What are they, then?" demanded Maurice.
"The first," said Morand, gravely, "is a god."
"Ah!" said Maurice, "but in lieu of a god I shall be able to show you a
goddess, Citizen Morand."
"How so?" interrupted Geneviève.
"Yes; a goddess of quite modern creation,--the Goddess Reason. I have a
friend, of whom you have sometimes heard me speak,--my dear and brave
Lorin,--with a heart of gold, whose only fault is that of making verses
and vile puns."
"Well?"
"Well, he selected for Paris a Goddess Reason, in good condition, and
in whom they can discover nothing at all objectionable. It is the
Citizeness Arthémise, ex-dancer at the Opera, and at present dealer in
perfumes, Rue Martin. As soon as she is definitely received as goddess,
I will show her to you."
Morand bowed his head in token of thanks, and continued,--
"The other," said he gravely, "is a king."
"Ah! that is more difficult," said Geneviève; "there are no more of
them," she added, forcing a smile.
"You should have seen the last," said Maurice; "it would have been
prudent to do so."
"The result is," said Morand, "I have not the least idea of a crowned
head; it must be very sad?"
"Very sad, indeed," said Maurice; "I will answer for it,--I who see one
nearly every month."
"A crowned head?" demanded Geneviève.
"At least," said Maurice, "one that has borne the weight and miserable
burden of a crown."
"Ah, yes! the queen," said Morand; "truly, Monsieur Maurice, it must be
a melancholy sight--"
"Is she as proud and beautiful as they say?" demanded Geneviève.
"Have you never seen her then, Madame?" demanded Maurice, surprised in
his turn.
"I? never!" replied the young woman.
"Indeed!" said Maurice, "that is strange."
"And why strange?" said Geneviève. "We lived in the country till '91;
since '91 we have resided in the old Rue Saint Jacques, which much
resembles the country, only here they have neither light nor air, and
still less flowers. You are acquainted with my life, Citizen Maurice?
It has always been the same. How do you suppose I could have seen the
queen, when I have had no opportunity whatever of so doing?"
"And I do not think you will avail yourself of that which
unfortunately, perhaps, may present itself," said Maurice.
"What do you mean?" demanded Geneviève.
"The Citizen Maurice," replied Morand, "alludes to a thing no longer a
secret."
"To what?" demanded Geneviève.
"To the probable condemnation of Marie Antoinette, and to her death
upon the same scaffold where her husband died. The citizen said, in
short, that you would not avail yourself of the opportunity offered you
of seeing her the day when she will quit the Temple for the Place de la
Révolution."
"Oh, certainly not!" cried Geneviève, as Morand pronounced these words
with the utmost sang-froid.
"Then you can only lament," said the impassible chemist; "for the
Austrian is well guarded, and the Republic a fairy that renders
invisible whatever she pleases."
"I acknowledge, however," said Geneviève, "I have been very desirous to
see this poor woman."
"Let us see," said Maurice, anxious to gratify all the wishes of
Geneviève; "have you really such an inclination? Then only say the
word. I agree with the Citizen Morand that the Republic is a fairy; but
I, in quality of municipal, am somewhat of a wizard."
"Could you procure me a sight of the queen, you, Monsieur?" cried
Geneviève.
"Certainly, I can."
"And how?" demanded Morand, exchanging a rapid glance with Geneviève,
which escaped the notice of the young man.
"Nothing more simple," said Maurice. "There are certainly some
municipals of whom they are distrustful; but as for me, I have given
sufficient evidence of my devotion to the cause of liberty to render
me above all suspicion. Besides, admittance to the Temple depends
conjointly on the municipals and the chiefs of the post. Now, the chief
of the post is, just at this moment, my friend Lorin, who appears to
me to be called indubitably to replace General Santerre, seeing that
in three months he has risen from the rank of corporal to that of
adjutant-major. Well, come and see me at the Temple the day I shall be
on guard,--that is to say, next Thursday."
"Well," said Morand, "I hope now your wishes will be gratified. There
is the whole matter arranged."
"Oh! no, no," said Geneviève; "indeed, I would not have it thus."
"And wherefore not?" said Maurice, who only anticipated in this visit
to the Temple an opportunity of seeing Geneviève on a day when he had
expected to be deprived of this happiness.
"Because," answered Geneviève, "it might perhaps, dear Maurice, expose
you to some unpleasant dispute; and if anything were to happen to you
through gratifying a whim of mine, I should never, while I lived,
forgive myself."
"You have spoken wisely, Geneviève," said Morand. "Suspicion is at
present very rife; the best patriots even are now suspected. Renounce
this project, which, as you say, is after all a mere caprice of
curiosity."
"They will say that you are envious, Morand, and that not having
yourself seen either king or queen, you do not wish others to do so.
Come, to end all discussion, join the party."
"I! good faith! No."
"It is then no longer the Citizen Dixmer who wishes to visit the
Temple; it is I who entreat both her and you to come there, to divert
a poor prisoner. For the great door once closed upon me, I remain for
twenty-four hours as much a prisoner as the king would be, or a prince
of the blood." And pressing between his own feet the foot of Geneviève,
"Come then," said he, "I entreat you!"
"What do you say, Morand," said Geneviève, "will you come with me?"
"It will be losing a day," said Morand, "and will retard by just so
long the time when I expect to retire from business."
"Then I shall not go," said Geneviève.
"But why?" demanded Morand.
"Because I cannot depend upon my husband to escort me; and if you
will not accompany me--you, a respectable man, thirty-eight years of
age--I have not the hardihood to encounter alone all the chasseurs,
artillery-men, and grenadiers, requesting to speak to one of the
municipals only three or four years older than myself."
"Then," said Morand, "since you deem my presence indispensable,
Citizeness--"
"Come! come! learned Citizen, be as gallant as if you were simply an
ordinary man, and sacrifice half a day to the wife of your friend,"
said Maurice.
"Well, let it be so," said Morand.
"Now," said Maurice, "I only require one thing from you,--that is,
discretion. Visiting the Temple is considered a suspicious proceeding,
and should any accident occur in consequence, we should all be
guillotined. The Jacobins do not jest. _Peste!_ you see how they have
treated the Girondins."
"The devil!" said Morand, "this observation of the Citizen Maurice
requires consideration. This would be a sort of retiring from business
that would not suit me at all."
"Did you not hear," said Geneviève, smiling, "that the Citizen Maurice
said _all_?"
"Well, what of that? All?"
"All together."
"Yes, without doubt," said Morand, "company is very agreeable; but I
much prefer, fair sentimentalist, to live in your society than to die
in it."
"What the devil was I thinking of," said Maurice to himself, "when I
imagined this man loved Geneviève?"
"Then it is all settled," said Geneviève. "I address myself to
you, Morand, thoughtful, absent man that you are,--remember it is
on Thursday next; so do not on the Wednesday evening commence some
chemical experiment that will occupy your time and attention for the
next twenty-four hours, as very frequently happens."
"You may be perfectly easy on that point," said Morand. "Besides, you
can remind me."
Geneviève then rose from table, and Maurice followed her example.
Morand was about to leave also, and perhaps to follow them, when one
of the workmen brought the chemist a small vial containing some liquid
which instantly engrossed all his attention.
"Let us make haste," said Maurice, drawing away Geneviève.
"Oh, be assured," said she, "he will remain there for an hour at the
very least."
And the young woman allowed him to take her hand, which he tenderly
pressed between his own. She felt remorse for her treachery, and tried
to compensate for it by her kindness.
"Do you see," said she to Maurice, crossing the garden and showing him
the carnations, which had been removed into the air with the hope of
reviving them,--"do you see my flowers are all dead?"
"What killed them?" said Maurice; "your neglect? Poor carnations!"
"It was not my neglect, but your desertion, kind sir."
"They required, my little Geneviève, some water, that was all; besides,
my absence should have left you plenty of time."
"Ah!" said Geneviève, "if flowers were watered with tears, the poor
carnations, as you call them, would not have died."
Maurice threw his arms round Geneviève, and drawing her to him, before
she had time to prevent him, pressed his lips upon the half-smiling,
half-languishing eye, now fixed upon the drooping, dying flowers.
Geneviève felt so much self-reproach it made her lenient to others.
Dixmer returned home late, and on his return found Morand, Maurice, and
Geneviève talking botany in the garden.