LEBRENN AND NEROWEG.
Night had fallen. Half an hour after his return from the Temple, John
Lebrenn was awaiting in silence the result of his sister's consideration
of the letter written him by advocate Desmarais the previous evening,
and also one from Charlotte received during the day.
Seated at her work table, which was lighted by a small lamp, Victoria
hung thoughtfully over the two letters.
"Sister," at last said John, "are you more keen-sighted than I in
solving the reason for the condition set by Desmarais upon my marriage?"
"Nay, I also am at a loss for an explanation," replied Victoria; "but I
suspect some cowardice in the mystery. You often see Billaud-Varenne, he
never told you, so far as I know, that he was in close connection with
Charlotte's father. And yet I read in Desmarais's letter that he begs
you to keep from Billaud-Varenne the secret of your love for his
daughter. Doubtless you could easily clear up the matter by seeing
Billaud-Varenne and asking him about his relations with Desmarais."
"Would that not be failing in the discretion which Charlotte's father
imposes upon me an a condition for my marriage?"
"Not at all. He asks you to keep from his colleague the secret of your
love for his daughter. Nothing more. On that subject, my dear brother,
you can still be as reserved in your talk with Billaud-Varenne as you
have been in the past."
"That is so. I shall go and see him this very evening; I am certain to
find him at home. At any rate, does not the condition, placed by
Charlotte's father upon our marriage, seem to you, as it does to her and
me, acceptable on the score of honor?"
"Surely, brother. And moreover, have you not always guarded with
delicacy this secret which Desmarais now asks you to keep? How will it
embarrass you to engage yourself upon your honor to continue holding it
a secret? In no wise. As to the motive for the condition, what matters
it? Go at once to Monsieur Desmarais's; Charlotte, poor child, is
counting the hours, the minutes till you come."
"Ah, Victoria," cried John, his breast heaving and his eyes filled with
tears, "I can hardly believe my good fortune! To marry Charlotte! To
live with her and my beloved sister!"
"Me! To live with you and your wife? It is impossible! Think of the
past."
"Victoria, I might once have hesitated to reveal to Charlotte the
mystery of your life; it is no longer so, dearest sister. The conduct of
my betrothed has proved to me the firmness of her character; I am as
sure of her as of myself. She shall know all that has contributed to
your sad life, and her dearest wish will be like mine, I am certain--to
have you pass the rest of your days with us."
"I admit that your sweetheart's spirit is sufficiently lofty to rise
above prejudice. But will it be the same with her family?"
"I answer to that, dearest sister, that there is nothing else for you to
do but what I have just indicated. Have you not lived with our parents
and with me since the day the Bastille was taken, when you came home to
us? Have I not many a time spoken of you to Billaud-Varenne? If he is on
intimate terms with Citizen Desmarais, is it not likely that he has
spoken to him? In fine, for a last reason, the gravest of all, is it not
known in the neighborhood that we live together? Charlotte's father, our
neighbor, must be aware of the circumstance. Shall I resign myself to a
falsehood, and say that you are not my sister? What would Charlotte and
her father think then? What would that young and beautiful woman who
shared my lodgings then be in their eyes?"
Victoria remained silent. She found, and, in fact, there was, no answer
to John's arguments. The latter, triumphing in his brotherly love, rose,
tenderly embraced his sister, and said:
"You see you are convinced of the necessity of my confidence to
Charlotte. Now tell me, darling sister, which do you prefer, to live
alone or with us?"
The young woman did not answer. Instead, her pale visage was bathed in
tears, always so rare in her. After a moment, she pressed her brother to
her heart, and murmured in a voice broken with sobs:
"Ah, do not fear that the sight of your good fortune will make my
chagrin more bitter. On the contrary, perhaps I shall forget it in
seeing you happy."
John tenderly embraced his sister, and set out for Billaud-Varenne's,
whom he wished to see before his interview with advocate Desmarais.
Upon being left alone, Victoria pondered long the recent conversation
with her brother. Then, lending an ear mechanically to the whistling of
the winter's wind without, she bent over the little stove that warmed
their humble quarters, and resumed her sewing. Suddenly the young woman
uttered a cry of surprise, and jumped to her feet. One of the panes of
the dormer window which looked out upon the roof fell with a crash, and
as the fragments of glass jangled to the floor, a hand passing through
the opening left by the broken pane forcibly shoved the lower sash of
the window up in the casing. A great gust of wind filled the room, blew
out the lamp, and out of the darkness a muffled, suppliant voice called
to Victoria:
"Have pity on me. I am an Emigrant; they are searching for me. I have a
hundred louis on me; they are yours if you save me!"
At the same time that the words were pronounced, Victoria heard on the
floor the foot-fall of the fugitive, who had introduced himself by the
window.
At the sound of the first words Victoria believed she recognized the
voice that came from out the shadows. The young woman was frozen with
astonishment.
"O, Providence! O, Justice the Avenger," she exclaimed. "It is _he_!"
Then, transported with fierce joy, she ran in the darkness to the door,
which she double locked, put the key in her pocket, and made sure that
she had by her the double-barreled pistol she always kept ready and
loaded since she became aware of the intentions of the Jesuit Morlet
and Lehiron. These precautions taken, Victoria groped about on the
bureau for a match, and held it to the stove-grate, while the fugitive,
surprised at the silence maintained by the occupant of the garret,
repeated again, believing it an irresistible argument to the mistress of
so poor a dwelling:
"I am an Emigrant. You have a hundred louis to win by saving me. You
have no interest in turning me over to my pursuers."
Victoria replied in a low voice, as she approached the lighted match to
a candle on the bureau, "Draw the curtain before the window, lest the
wind blow out my light."
The Emigrant hastened to execute the order. Victoria lighted the candle.
Its light flooded the garret; and when the Count of Plouernel--for it
was that self-same gentleman--turned around once more, he stood
petrified at the sight of the woman he beheld before him. In spite of
the poverty of her costume, he recognized--Marchioness Aldini! Her black
eyes flashed; hatred contributed to her face so fearsome an expression
that Plouernel shuddered as he gasped to himself:
"I am lost! Abbot Morlet told me that the Lebrenns dwelt near my refuge.
Let me flee!"
He dashed to the door, expecting to open it and reach the stairway, but
found it locked. In vain he tried to beat it down.
"Count," coldly said Victoria, in mocking accents, "know that this house
is occupied by good patriots. The noise you yourself are making will
give the alarm, and you will be arrested on the instant."
"Infamous creature!" shouted Plouernel, wild with rage, but ceasing to
shake the door. Then, rapidly approaching Victoria he unsheathed a
poniard which he carried concealed in his clothes; "You wish to deliver
me to the scaffold. But I shall avenge my death before it occurs! Your
life is in my hands."
"Be that as it may," replied the young woman, as she leveled her pistol
at the Count's breast. The latter recoiled in terror. Still keeping
Plouernel covered, Victoria went up to one of the partitions, struck it
with her hand, and called out aloud:
"Neighbor Jerome, are you there?"
"Aye, citizeness," responded Jerome from the other side of the wall, "we
are here, my son and I, at your service. We have just come in, and are
getting supper."
"My watch is stopped. Do you know what time it is, neighbor?"
"Ten has just sounded from the ex-parish of the Assumption. It is late,
neighbor. We wish you a good night."
Plouernel was fairly cornered. He could not think of escaping by the
window and the roof--one movement by Victoria would send him rolling to
the street below. To break down the door was no less perilous; the two
speakers in the garret, and soon all the inhabitants of the house, would
run to the young woman's call. And, finally, to attempt to kill her was
an expedient as fraught with danger as the other two. He would have to
brave two shots at close range and by a sure hand.
Victoria sat down in such a manner as to place her worktable between
herself and the Count, and keeping the pistol still in her hand, said:
"Count of Plouernel, you are the head of one of those families which
have the honor of tracing their origin back to the early times of
conquest. The further you go back in the centuries the more crimes you
take to your account, and the more terrible should be the punishment
reserved to you. The representatives of these families will pay, like
you, Neroweg, Count of Plouernel, the debt of blood."
Victoria was uttering these words in a voice of fierce exaltation when
her brother John, who had another key to the door, suddenly entered. His
sister's last words to Plouernel fell upon his ear. The Count, at the
unexpected apparition of the young artisan, fell back defiantly, and
involuntarily clapped his hand again to his dagger.
"John, lock the door," cried Victoria quickly. "This man's name is
Neroweg, Count of Plouernel!"
The Count put on a bold front, and said, in an attempt to brazen it out
with the young workman, who, he knew, shared the sentiments of his
sister with regard to the sons of Neroweg: "Go on, citizen, do your
business as purveyor of the scaffold."
Unmoved by the insult, John cast a cold look in the Emigrant's direction
and said to his sister:
"How comes the fellow here?"
"He was evidently fleeing from the men sent to arrest him. He climbed to
the roof of the next house, and forced his way in by breaking the
window."
"So," said John to the Count, "you are an Emigrant, and denounced? They
want you for judgment?"
"The marauder has the impudence to question me!" answered the Count with
a burst of sardonic laughter. "A switch for the rascal!"
"Count of Plouernel," returned John Lebrenn imperturbably, "I am of a
different opinion from my sister on the nature of the punishment to be
meted out to you. The Revolution, in abolishing royalty, nobility and
clergy, has already chastised the crimes of the enemies of the people:
The evil your race has done to ours is expiated. Count of Plouernel, the
conquered have taken their revenge upon the conquerors, the nation has
re-entered upon her sovereignty. The Republic is proclaimed; justice is
done!"
"Blood of God!" exclaimed Plouernel, "the beggar has the insolence to
grant me grace in the name of the people!"
"Count of Plouernel, your judges and not I will grant you grace, if you
merit it," answered John, controlling himself under the goading flings
of the Emigrant. "If it were for me to say, you would remain in France
unmolested, like so many other ex-nobles. I would leave you in peace, I
swear it before God! in spite of all the wrong your family has heaped
upon mine. I would have pardoned you, Count of Plouernel, and I shall
tell you why I would have shown myself thus clement: A century or more
ago, one of my forefathers, Nominoe, said to Bertha of Plouernel, who
loved him with a love as passionate as his own, 'I experience I know not
what emotions at once sad and tender, in loving in you a descendant of
that race which, from infancy, I have been taught to execrate. You are
in my eyes, Bertha, an angel of pardon and concord. In you, I absolve
your ancestors; instead of making you party to their iniquities, I
transfer to them your virtues. You ransom the evil ones of your race, as
Christ, they say, ransomed the world by his divine grace.'
"It is in memory of these words of my ancestor Nominoe," proceeded
Lebrenn, "that I would have pardoned you, Count of Plouernel, in making
you share, not in the crimes of your stock, but in the virtues of that
young girl and in the qualities of another of your blood, a Protestant
and republican in his time, Colonel Plouernel, the friend of the great
Coligny and of my ancestor Odelin, the armorer of La Rochelle."
"You lie," cried the Count of Plouernel, furiously. "Never did woman or
maid of the house of Plouernel dishonor herself with love for a vassal!
As to Colonel Plouernel, a turn-coat and a Protestant, he is the shame
of our family; as such, he may, indeed, have played the part of friend
to a base plebeian."
"Accordingly, I would have pardoned, Count, the evil done by your family
to mine," John Lebrenn continued unperturbed. "But though I have the
right to show myself generous to my personal enemy, my duty as a citizen
forbids me to furnish asylum to an enemy of the nation and the Republic,
to a monarchist conspirator."
"O, the hypocrite!" exclaimed the Count. "All the while pretending a
generosity which would be an insult to me, the clown wants to gratify
his hatred by sending me to the scaffold!"
"I have told you that duty prevents my affording asylum to an enemy of
the Republic; but I am not an informer, I would not deliver up even my
personal enemy when he has sought shelter under my roof. Leave this
place. Go down the stairs softly, and you may gain the street. The gate
is not locked. If you were not under the shadow of a capital accusation,
I would chastise you as you deserve for your insults. So, out of here!
my ex-gentleman."
"Ah, miserable vassal," replied Plouernel, pale with rage. "You dare to
threaten me!" And suddenly throwing himself upon Lebrenn, he dealt him a
blow that crimsoned the side of his face.
"The fellow now belongs to me," grimly muttered John. He went to the
corner where his tools lay, and arming himself with a bar of iron which
he found there, tossed to the Count a sword which hung on the wall,
saying, as he did so:
"Come, Count of Plouernel; take the weapon, and guard yourself!"
"John," shrieked Victoria in terror, "your bar is no match for his
saber. You shall not expose your life so!"
Plouernel drew the sword from its sheath and prepared to defend himself,
while Victoria, unable to intervene, shudderingly followed the duel.
"Son of the Nerowegs," cried John, brandishing his bar of iron, "my
avenging arm is about to fall upon you."
"I await it," coolly replied the Count, putting himself on his guard.
The robust iron-worker advanced upon his adversary, describing with his
weapon a figure-of-eight so lusty, so rapid, and to which the vigor of
his wrist lent such force that, encountering the sword at the moment
when the ex-colonel was about to lunge, the iron bar broke down the
latter's guard, and descended heavily upon his skull. Almost without
losing a drop of blood, and without a single cry, the Count dropped in
his tracks, and rolled upon the floor like an ox smitten with a sledge.
With a bound Victoria flung herself on her brother's neck, wrapped him
in a convulsive embrace, and, suffocated with emotion, broke into tears,
unable to utter a word. Partaking of his sister's emotion, John pressed
her tenderly to his breast; but their embrace ended in a start as they
heard a knock at their room door, and the voice of the porter calling:
"Citizen John, if you are abed, rise! They are looking for an Emigrant
in the house."
The porter had barely uttered these words when John and his sister heard
a low moan from the Count of Plouernel. At the same moment the porter
called still more loudly, once more knocking at the door.
"The wretch is not dead, and we can not give him up," said the workman
to his sister, looking at Plouernel.
"Citizen John, awake!" it was the porter's voice as he redoubled his
knocks. "Here is the commissioner of the Section."
"Who is knocking? Who's there?" answered the artisan, with a meaning
gesture to his sister, and saying to her, softly: "I'll feign to be
waking from a deep sleep. Help me carry the wounded man to your room;
for it would be an infamous deed to give up a suffering enemy. I shall
say that you are ill in bed, and they will not intrude upon you."
"It is I, James," replied the porter. "You sleep a sound sleep, Citizen
John. This is the third time I have pounded at your door."
"Ah, 'tis you, Father James. I slept so hard I did not hear you. What do
you wish?"
"The commissioner of the Section and his agents are after an Emigrant.
They have already visited three floors; they will doubtless come up to
your chamber, as a matter of form. They know well enough that you would
never harbor an Emigrant in your place."
"Alright, Father James. I'll slip on my trousers and open the door in an
instant."
While speaking, John had hustled off his cravat, his vest, and his cloak
of municipal officership. He kept on only his pantaloons, and feigning
to be but half dressed in his haste to get out of bed, opened the door
at the moment that the commissioner of the Section, the same who the
evening before had carried on the search at Desmarais's, appeared on the
landing, followed by his agents and several gendarmes. The magistrate, a
friend of Marat's, knew Lebrenn, and greeted him cordially:
"I regret, Citizen Lebrenn, that you have been awakened. You are one of
those in whose abodes there is no reason for searches and seizures."
"No matter, citizen; come in, do your duty. I ask you only not to go
into my sister's room. She is ill."
"I shall go neither into your sister's room nor yours, Citizen Lebrenn."
"Who is it you seek?"
"An ex-noble, the Count of Plouernel, formerly a colonel in the Guards.
He was installed in a house next to this, in the rooms of an old
huntsman of Louis Capet's; but warned, no doubt, of our approach, our
ex-noble took to his heels. I first thought he might have escaped by the
roofs; but after an inspection of them, I recognized that only a roofer,
and an intrepid one at that, would have dared to risk his life on such a
slope. To acquit my conscience I came, nevertheless, to inspect the
attic of this house. So, good night, Citizen Lebrenn."
The magistrate shook the hand of the young man, who watched the
commissioner proceed towards the attic, and then re-entered his own
rooms and locked the door.