HOW THE BREAKFAST COOKED FOR THOSE WAS EATEN BY THESE
The Prefect and the General enjoyed their breakfast thoroughly. They sat
over it long; so long that Angelot, his hunger satisfied, began to
suffer in his young limbs from a terrible restlessness. It was as much
as he could do to sit still, listening first to the Prefect's political
and society talk, then to stories of the General's campaigns. Under the
influence of the despised wine of Anjou, Monsieur de Mauves, whose
temper needed no sweetening, became a little sleepy, prosy, and
long-winded. General Ratoneau on his side was mightily cheered, and
showed quite a new animation: long before the meal ended, he was talking
more than the other three put together. It was he who had been the hero
of Eylau, of Friedland, of Wagram; the Emperor and the Marshals were
nowhere. All the great movements were in consequence of his advice. And
then his personal courage! The men he had killed with his own hand! As
to the adventures which had fallen to his lot in storming and plundering
towns, burning villages, quartering his men on country houses, these
often belonged so much to the very seamiest side of war that Monsieur
Joseph, soldier as he was, listened with a frown, and the Prefect
coughed and glanced more than once at Angelot. For some of these stories
were hardly suited to young and innocent ears, and Angelot looked, and
indeed was, younger than his age.
He was listening, not curiously, but with a kind of unwilling
impatience. The man seemed to impress him in spite of himself, in spite
of disgust at the stories and dislike of the teller. Once or twice he
laughed, and then General Ratoneau gave him a stare, as if just reminded
of his existence, and went on to some further piece of coarse bragging.
Monsieur Joseph became paler and graver, Angelot more restless, the
Prefect sleepier, as the rough voice talked on. Angelot thought
breakfast would never be over, and that this brute would never have done
boasting of his fine deeds, such as hanging up six brothers in a row
outside their own house, and threatening the mother and sisters with the
same fate unless they showed him the way to the cellar, where he knew
they had hidden plate and jewellery, as well as a quantity of good wine.
"You would not have done it, monsieur?" said Angelot, quickly.
The General assured him with oaths that he certainly would.
"And they knew it, and did as they were told," he said. "We did not hurt
them, as it happened. We stripped the house, and left them to bury their
men, if they chose. What had they to expect? Fortune of war, my boy!"
Angelot shrugged his shoulders.
"You should send that nephew of yours to learn a few things in the
army," the General said to Monsieur Joseph, when they at last rose and
left the dining-room. "He will grow up nothing but an ignorant, womanish
baby, if you keep him down here among your woods much longer."
"I am not his father," Monsieur Joseph answered with some dryness. "He
is a friend of the Prefect's; you can easily remonstrate with him,
Monsieur le Général. But you are mistaken about young Ange. He is
neither a girl nor a baby, but a very gallant young fellow, still humane
and innocent, of course--but your stories might pierce a thicker skin, I
fancy."
The General laughed aloud, as they strolled out at the back of the house
into the afternoon sunshine.
"Well, well, a soldier has the right to talk," he said. "I need not tell
a man who knows the world, like you, that I should never have hanged
those women--poor country rubbish though they were, and ugly too, I
remember. But the men had tried to resist, and martial law must be
obeyed."
Some reassurance of the same kind was given to Angelot by the Prefect,
who lingered behind with him.
"And our conscripts go for this, monsieur!" Angelot said.
"My dear boy," said Monsieur de Mauves, lazily, "you must take these
tales _cum grano_. For instance, if I know the Emperor, he would have
shot the man who hanged those women. And our friend Ratoneau knew it."
Les Chouettes seemed stiller than ever, the sun hotter, the atmosphere
more sleepy and peaceful. The dogs were lying in various directions at
full length on the sand. The sleeping forms of the Prefect's gendarmes
were also to be seen, stretched on the grass under the southern belt of
fir trees. One moving figure came slowly into sight on the edge of the
opposite wood, and strolled into the sunshine, stooping as she came to
pick the pale purple crocuses of which the grass was full--little
Henriette, a basket on her arm, her face shaded by a broad straw bonnet.
The General shaded his eyes with his hand, and stared at her.
"Who is that young girl, monsieur?" he asked.
The question itself seemed impertinent enough, but the insolence of the
tone and the manner sent a quiver through Monsieur Joseph's nerves. His
face twitched and his eyes flashed dangerously. At that moment he would
have forgiven any rashness on the part of his Chouan friends; he would
have liked to see Monsieur d'Ombré's pistol within a few inches of the
General's head, and if it had gone off, so much the better. He wondered
why he had not encouraged César d'Ombré's idea of making these men
prisoners. Perhaps he was right, after all; the boldest policy might
have been the best. Perhaps it was a splendid opportunity lost. Anyhow,
the imperial officials would have been none the worse for cooling their
heels and starving a little, the fate of the Royalists now. As to the
consequences, Monsieur Joseph in his present mood might have made short
work of them, had it not been for that young girl in the meadow.
"It is my daughter, Monsieur le Général."
A person with finer instincts could not have failed to notice the angry
shortness of the reply. But the General was in high good humour, for
him, and he coolly went on adding to his offences.
"Your daughter, is it! I did not know you were married. I understood
from Monsieur le Préfet that you were a lonely hermit. Is there a Madame
de la Marinière hidden away somewhere? and possibly a few more children?
This house is a kind of beehive, I dare say--" he walked on to the
grass, and turned to stare at the windows. "Was madame afraid to
entertain us? My stories would have been too strong for her, perhaps?
but I assure you, monsieur, I know how to behave to women!" and he
laughed.
"I hope so, monsieur, especially as you are not now in Germany," said
Monsieur Joseph, thinking very earnestly of his own sword and pistols,
ready for use in his own room.
He need only step in at that window, a few yards off. A fierce word, a
blow, would be a suitable beginning--and then--if only Riette were out
of sight, and the Prefect would not interfere--there could not be a
better ground than the sand here by the house. Must one wait for all the
formalities of a duel, with the Prefect and Angelot to see fair play?
However, he tried hard to restrain himself, at least for the moment.
"My wife is dead, monsieur, and I have but that one child," he said,
forcing the words out with difficulty: it was a triumph of the wise and
gentle Joseph over the fiery and passionate Joseph.
He thought of Urbain, when he wanted to conquer that side of himself;
Urbain, who by counsel and influence had made it safe for him to live
under the Empire, and who now, hating vulgarity and insolence as much as
he did himself, would have pointed out that General Ratoneau's military
brutality was not worth resenting; that there were greater things at
stake than a momentary annoyance; that the man's tongue had been
loosened, his lumbering spirit quickened, by draughts of sparkling wine
of Anjou, and that his horrible curiosity carried no intentional insult
with it. Indeed, as Monsieur Joseph perceived immediately, with a kind
of wonder, the man fancied that he was making himself agreeable to his
host.
"Ah, sapristi, I am sorry for you, monsieur, and for the young lady
too," he said. "I am not married myself--but the loss of wife and mother
must be a dreadful thing. Excuse a soldier's tongue, monsieur."
Monsieur Joseph accepted the apology with a quick movement of head and
hand, being as placable as he was passionate. The General continued to
stare at Henriette, who moved slowly, seeming to think of nothing, to
see nothing, but the wild flowers and the crowd of flitting butterflies
in the meadow.
During this little interlude, one of the gendarmes, who had seemed
asleep, got up and moved towards the Prefect, who turned to speak to
him, and after the first word walked with him a few yards, so as to be
out of hearing of the others. Angelot, who had been standing beside the
Prefect, glanced after them with a touch of anxiety. He did not like the
looks of that gendarme, though he had not, like Marie Gigot, recognised
him as specially dangerous. He walked forward a few steps and stood
beside his uncle. Suppose the meeting of that morning, risky if not
unlawful, were to come to the Prefect's knowledge; suppose his uncle's
dangerous friends were ferreted out of their hiding-place in the wood;
what then was he, his father's son, to do? His mother's son, though far
enough from sharing her enthusiasms, had an answer ready: whatever it
might cost, he must stand by the little uncle and Riette.
"Your daughter is still young,"--it was the General's hoarse voice--"too
young yet to be reported to the Emperor. Monsieur le Préfet must wait
three or four years. Then, when she is tall and pretty--"
Angelot's brow darkened. What was the creature saying?
"You were pleased to mean--" Monsieur Joseph was asking, with extreme
civility.
"Ah, bah, have you heard nothing of the new order? Well, as I say, it
will not affect you at present. But ask Monsieur le Préfet. He will
explain. It is rather a sore subject with him, I believe, he has the
prejudices of his class--of your class, I mean."
"You are talking in riddles, indeed, monsieur," said Monsieur Joseph.
They looked round at the Prefect. He had now finished his short talk
with the gendarme, and as he turned towards the other group, Angelot's
young eyes perceived a shadow on his kind face, a grave look of awakened
interest. Angelot was also aware that he beckoned to him. As soon as he
came up with him, the Prefect said, "That is mademoiselle your cousin,
is it not, gathering flowers in the meadow? I should like to pay her my
compliments, if she is coming this way."
"I will go and tell her so, Monsieur le Préfet," said Angelot.
"Do, my friend."
His eyes, anxious and thoughtful, followed the young man as he walked
across towards the distant edge of the wood, whose dark shadows opened
behind Riette and the crocuses. She looked up, startled, as her cousin
came near, and for a moment seemed to think of disappearing into the
wood; but a sign from him reassured her, and she came with a dancing
step to meet him.
"I have been rousing curiosity, Monsieur le Préfet," said the General,
smiling grimly, as the Prefect rejoined the other men. "I have been
telling Monsieur de la Marinière that one of these days you will report
his daughter to the Emperor."
The Prefect looked angry and annoyed. His handsome face flushed. With an
involuntary movement he laid his hand on Monsieur Joseph's shoulder;
their eyes met, and both men smiled.
"I sometimes think," said Monsieur de Mauves, "that His Majesty does not
yet quite know France. His ideas have great spirit and originality, but
they are not always very practical."
"They are generally put into practice," growled the General.
"Yes--but I do not think this one will go far. Certainly, it will have
died out long before Mademoiselle de la Marinière is grown up."
"But explain, my dear friend!" cried Monsieur Joseph. "Is the Emperor
going to raise a regiment of Amazons, to fight Russia? I am dying with
curiosity."
"Some people would find your idea less disagreeable than the fact," said
the Prefect, smiling, while the General shook with laughter.
"Amazons! ha! ha! capital! I should like to lead them."
It seemed that the Prefect, for once, was ashamed of his great master.
He went on to explain, in a hurried fashion, how he and his brother
Prefects had received this very singular command from the Emperor--that
they were to send him, not a mere list, but a _catalogue raisonné_, of
all the well-born girls in their several departments; their personal
appearance, their disposition, their dowries, their prospects in the
future; in short, every particular regarding them. And with what object?
to arrange marriages between these young women of the best blood in
France and his most favoured officers. It was one way, an original way,
of making society loyal to the Empire; but the plan savoured too much of
the treatment of a conquered country to please men like the Baron de
Mauves. He might speak of it with a certain outward respect, as coming
from the Emperor; and the presence of General Ratoneau was also a check
upon his real sentiments; but he was not surprised at Monsieur Joseph's
evident disgust, and not out of sympathy with it.
The reign of the soldier! They were heroes, perhaps, many of these men
whom Napoleon delighted to honour. It was not unnatural that he should
heap dukedoms and pensions and orders upon them. But it seemed a
dangerous step forward, to force such men as this Ratoneau, for
instance, into the best families of France. No doubt he, in spite of his
Napoleonic looks, was a bad specimen; but Monsieur Joseph might be
excused if he looked at him as he said: "My dear Baron, it is tyranny. I
speak frankly, gentlemen; it is a step on the road to ruin. Our old
families will not bear it. What have you done?"
"Nothing," said Monsieur de Mauves. "I think most of the Prefects agree
with me; it is an order which will have to be repeated."
On which the General turned round with a grin, and quoted to him his own
words--"Monsieur le Préfet--if you accept the new régime, you should
accept it loyally."
"Pardon--nothing of this before the children, I beg," exclaimed Monsieur
Joseph in haste, for Angelot and Henriette were coming across the
meadow.
The Prefect's delicate brows went up; he shrugged his shoulders, and
moved off with a somewhat absent air to meet the young people.
The sunshine, the flowery meadow, the motionless woods all about in the
still afternoon: no background could be more peaceful. Nor could any
unwelcome visitor with official power be more gentle and courteous than
the Prefect as he took off his hat and bowed low to the slim child in
her old clinging frock, who curtseyed with her hands full of crocuses
and a covered basket on her arm. But little Riette and her cousin
Angelot watched the amiable Prefect with anxious, suspicious eyes, and
she took his kind words and compliments with an ease of reply which was
not quite natural. She was a responsible person in her father's house at
all times; but the fates of men had never, perhaps, been hung round her
neck before. Why, the very fact of their concealment would be enough to
condemn the four in government eyes looking out for conspiracies. And
Monsieur des Barres, always lively, had said to Riette ten minutes ago:
"Now, mademoiselle, you have sheltered us, you have fed us; we depend on
you to keep all inconvenient persons out of the wood."
"Stay where you are till they are gone, and have no fear," the child
answered, and went back to meet the enemy.
And presently the Prefect said, "You have gathered some very pretty
flowers, mademoiselle."
"Pray take some, monsieur," said Riette.
The Prefect took two crocuses in his fingers, and cleverly slipped them
into a buttonhole, for which they were not very well suited. Then he
went on talking about flowers for a minute or two, but the subject was
soon exhausted, for his knowledge lay among garden flowers, and Riette
knew none but those that grew among her own woods and fields. Then
suddenly and without warning, those pointed fingers of his had lifted
the cover of the basket. It was done with a smile, as one might do it, a
little mischievously, to a child trying to hide something, and with the
words--"More flowers, mademoiselle?" At the bottom of the basket lay two
corks and a small roll of bread. St. Elizabeth's miracle was not
repeated for Henriette.
Angelot smiled and bit his lip; then looked at the faces of his two
companions. In the Prefect's there was plainly a question. Riette
flushed crimson; for a moment her dark eyes were cast down; then there
was something both roguish and pathetic in them, as she looked up at the
man on whom so much depended.
"Monsieur," said the sweet, childish voice, "I often eat my breakfast
out-of-doors--I did to-day."
The Prefect smiled, but gravely. Angelot hardly thought that he was
deceived.
"It is an agreeable thing to do, when one is young," the Prefect said.
"Young, and with a clear conscience. But most people, if they had the
choice, would prefer your father's hospitable dining-room."
He turned with a wave of his hand and walked towards the house.
"What have you done, child?" said Angelot, half laughing, half solemn.
"I did not tell a lie," said Riette. "Marie gave me something for myself
too: she and papa both said I must not have breakfast with you. Oh, they
were hungry, Angelot! They devoured what I took, especially the Baron
d'Ombré. I am sorry there was a bit of bread left, and I don't know how
the corks got there. But, my dear, he knows nothing!"
"Hush. I am not so sure. Now keep out of the way till they are gone."
This was a counsel of perfection, which Henriette did her best to
follow; but it was difficult, for the time was long. All the household
at Les Chouettes became very restless and impatient as the afternoon
wore on, but none of them dared show it. Poor Monsieur Joseph summoned
up all his powers of general conversation, which were a little rusty, to
entertain the Prefect, who went on talking politics and society as if
life, for him, had no more immediate and present interest. Angelot
marched about with an uneasy sense of keeping guard; knowing, too, that
his father was expecting him to help to receive the distinguished
cousins at Lancilly. He did not mind that much; the idea of the Sainfoy
family was not very attractive to him: he thought they might interfere
with the old freedom of the country-side; and even to please his father
he could not desert his little uncle in a difficulty. He poured out some
of his irritation on the Prefect's pet gendarme, whom he caught stealing
round by the wood where, hidden behind a pile of logs in an old stone
hovel, the four Royalist gentlemen were finding this official visit
considerably more than a joke.
"What are you doing on my uncle's land?" Angelot said sharply to the
man.
"Nothing, monsieur. Is it not allowed to take a little exercise?" said
Simon, the Chouan-catcher.
There was such a keen look in the man's eyes, such a veiled insolence in
his tone, that Angelot suddenly felt he must say no more. He muttered
something about disturbing the game, and passed on. Simon grinned as he
looked after him.
All this time the General was fast asleep, stretched on a sofa in the
salon. Angelot looked in upon him as he lay snoring. With his eyes shut,
he was more like the Emperor than ever; and as with Napoleon, there was
a sort of fascination in the brow, the chin, the shape of the head,
though here there was coarseness instead of refinement, the power of
will without the genius.
"He is a handsome beast, but I hate him!" the young man thought as he
looked through the window. "Now if our excellent Chouans were here, what
would they do? Probably nothing. And what can anybody do? Nothing. Fate
has brought the Empire, as my father says, and he does not agree with
Uncle Joseph that it does much more harm than good. For my part, I would
as soon live in peace--and it does not please me to be ruled by
overbearing soldiers and police spies. However, as long as they leave me
my dog and gun and the freedom of the woods, they may have their
politics to themselves for me.--Here I am, dear uncle."
He turned from the window with a shrug. Monsieur Joseph and the Prefect
had been strolling about the meadow, and the Prefect now expressed a
wish to walk round the woods, and to see the view of Lancilly from the
high ground beyond them.
Angelot went with the two men. They walked right through the wood. The
Prefect stopped and talked within twenty yards of the hovel where the
four conspirators lay hidden. It was a grand opportunity for old
Monsieur d'Ombré's pistol-shot; but not a movement, not a sound broke
the stillness of the wood. There was only the rustling of the leaves,
the squeak of the squirrels as they raced and scampered in the high
branches of the oaks.
The two La Marinières stood on each side of Monsieur de Mauves: they
were a guard to him, though he did not know it, as his eyes wandered
curiously, searchingly, down the glade in which he chose to linger.
A rough whitewashed corner of the hovel, the mass of its dark roof,
were actually visible beyond an undergrowth of briars.
"What have you there?" said the Prefect, so quietly that his companions
did not even suspect him of a suspicion.
"A shelter--an old hovel where wood is stored for the winter," Monsieur
Joseph answered truthfully; but his cheeks and eyes brightened a little,
as if prepared for something more.
"Ah!" the Prefect only said, looking rather fixedly that way. "And where
is this view of Lancilly?"
Both the uncle and nephew breathed more freely as they led him up the
hill, through higher slopes of wood, then under some great branching
oaks, here allowed to grow to their full size, and out into a rugged
lane, winding on through wild hedges festooned with blackberries. Here,
at the top, they looked straight across the valley to Lancilly, as it
lay in the sunshine. Its high roofs flashing, it looked indeed the
majestic centre of the country-side. Angelot gazed at it indifferently.
Again the Prefect turned to him with his kind smile.
"It will be charming for you to have your cousins there. They will
reconcile you to the powers that be."
Angelot answered: "I have no quarrel with the powers that be, monsieur,
as long as you represent them. As to life, I want no change. Give me a
gun and set me on a moor with my uncle. There we are!"
"If I thought your uncle was quite so easily satisfied!" the Prefect
said, and his look, as he turned to Monsieur Joseph, was a little
enigmatical.