"Dans sa pompe elegante, admirez Chantilly,
De heros en heros, d'age en age, embelli."--DE LILLE.
The health of the good Sister Frances, which had suffered much from the
shock her mind received at the commencement of the revolution, declined
so rapidly in the course of the two succeeding years, that she was
obliged to leave Paris, and she retired to a little village in the
neighbourhood of Chantilly. She chose this situation because here she
was within a morning's walk of Madame de Fleury's country-seat. The
Chateau de Fleury had not yet been seized as national property, nor had
it suffered from the attacks of the mob, though it was in a perilous
situation, within view of the high road to Paris. The Parisian populace
had not yet extended their outrages to this distance from the city, and
the poor people who lived on the estate of Fleury, attached from habit,
principle, and gratitude, to their lord, were not disposed to take
advantage of the disorder of the times, to injure the property of those
from whom they had all their lives received favours and protection. A
faithful old steward had the care of the castle and the grounds. Sister
Frances was impatient to talk to him and to visit the chateau, which she
had never seen; but for some days after her arrival in the village she
was so much fatigued and so weak that she could not attempt so long a
walk. Victoire had obtained permission from her mistress to accompany
the nun for a few days to the country, as Annette undertook to do all the
business of the shop during the absence of her companion. Victoire was
fully as eager as Sister Frances to see the faithful steward and the
Chateau de Fleury, and the morning was now fixed for their walk; but in
the middle of the night they were awakened by the shouts of a mob, who
had just entered the village fresh from the destruction of a neighbouring
castle. The nun and Victoire listened; but in the midst of the horrid
yells of joy no human voice, no intelligible word could be distinguished;
they looked through a chink in the window-shutter and they saw the street
below filled with a crowd of men, whose countenances were by turns
illuminated by the glare of the torches which they brandished.
"Good Heavens!" whispered the nun to Victoire: "I should know the face of
that man who is loading his musket--the very man whom I nursed ten years
ago when he was ill with a gaol fever!"
This man, who stood in the midst of the crowd, taller by the head than
the others, seemed to be the leader of the party; they were disputing
whether they should proceed further, spend the remainder of the night in
the village ale-house, or return to Paris. Their leader ordered spirits
to be distributed to his associates, and exhorted them in a loud voice to
proceed in their glorious work. Tossing his firebrand over his head he
declared that he would never return to Paris till he had razed to the
ground the Chateau de Fleury. At these words, Victoire, forgetful of all
personal danger, ran out into the midst of the mob, pressed her way up to
the leader of these ruffians, caught him by the arm, exclaiming, "You
will not touch a stone in the Chateau de Fleury--I have my reasons--I say
you will not suffer a stone in the Chateau de Fleury to be touched."
"And why not?" cried the man, turning astonished; "and who are you that I
should listen to you?"
"No matter who I am," said Victoire; "follow me and I will show you one
to whom you will not refuse to listen. Here!--here she is," continued
Victoire, pointing to the nun, who had followed her in amazement; "here
is one to whom you will listen--yes, look at her well: hold the light to
her face."
The nun, in a supplicating attitude, stood in speechless expectation.
"Ay, I see you have gratitude, I know you will have mercy," cried
Victoire, watching the workings in the countenance of the man; "you will
save the Chateau de Fleury for her sake--who saved your life."
"I will," cried this astonished chief of a mob, fired with sudden
generosity. "By my faith you are a brave girl, and a fine girl, and know
how to speak to the heart, and in the right moment. Friends, citizens,
this nun, though she is a nun, is good for something. When I lay ill
with a fever, and not a soul else to help me, she came and gave me
medicines and food--in short, I owe my life to her. 'Tis ten years ago,
but I remember it well, and now it is our turn to rule, and she shall be
paid as she deserves. Not a stone of the Chateau de Fleury shall be
touched!"
With loud acclamations the mob joined in the generous enthusiasm of the
moment and followed their leader peaceably out of the village. All this
passed with such rapidity as scarcely to leave the impression of reality
upon the mind. As soon as the sun rose in the morning Victoire looked
out for the turrets of the Chateau de Fleury, and she saw that they were
safe--safe in the midst of the surrounding devastation. Nothing remained
of the superb palace of Chantilly but the white arches of its foundation.