"But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree,
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye
To save her blossoms, or defend her fruit."--MILTON.
The trial was nearer than either Manon or Victoire expected. Manon had
scarcely pronounced the last words when the ci-devant hairdresser burst
into the room, accompanied by several of his political associates, who
met to consult measures for the good of the nation. Among these patriots
was the Abbe Tracassier.
"Who is that pretty girl who is with you, Manon?" whispered he; "a friend
of yours, I hope?"
Victoire left the room immediately, but not before the profligate abbe
had seen enough to make him wish to see more. The next day he went to
Madame Feuillot's under pretence of buying some embroidered
handkerchiefs; he paid Victoire a profusion of extravagant compliments,
which made no impression upon her innocent heart, and which appeared
ridiculous to her plain good sense. She did not know who he was, nor did
Madame Feuillot; for though she had often heard of the abbe, yet she had
never seen him. Several succeeding days he returned, and addressed
himself to Victoire, each time with increasing freedom. Madame Feuillot,
who had the greatest confidence in her, left her entirely to her own
discretion. Victoire begged her friend Annette to do the business of the
shop, and stayed at work in the back parlour. Tracassier was much
disappointed by her absence; but as he thought no great ceremony
necessary in his proceedings, he made his name known in a haughty manner
to Madame de Feuillot, and desired that he might be admitted into the
back parlour, as he had something of consequence to say to Mademoiselle
Victoire in private. Our readers will not require to have a detailed
account of this _tete-a-tete_; it is sufficient to say that the
disappointed and exasperated abbe left the house muttering imprecations.
The next morning a note came to Victoire apparently from Manon: it was
directed by her, but the inside was written by an unknown hand, and
continued these words:--
"You are a charming, but incomprehensible girl--since you do not like
compliments, you shall not be addressed with empty flattery. It is in
the power of the person who dictates this, not only to make you as rich
and great as your cousin Manon, but also to restore to fortune and to
their country the friends for whom, you are most interested. Their fate
as well as your own is in your power: if you send a favourable answer to
this note, the persons alluded to will, to-morrow, be struck from the
list of emigrants, and reinstated in their former possessions. If your
answer is decidedly unfavourable, the return of your friends to France
will be thenceforward impracticable, and their chateau, as well as their
house in Paris, will be declared national property, and sold without
delay to the highest bidder. To you, who have as much understanding as
beauty, it is unnecessary to say more. Consult your heart, charming
Victoire! be happy, and make others happy. This moment is decisive of
your fate and of theirs, for you have to answer a man of a most decided
character."
Victoire's answer was as follows:--
"My friends would not, I am sure, accept of their fortune, or consent to
return to their country, upon the conditions proposed; therefore I have
no merit in rejecting them."
Victoire had early acquired good principles, and that plain steady good
sense, which goes straight to its object, without being dazzled or
imposed upon by sophistry. She was unacquainted with the refinements of
sentiment, but she distinctly knew right from wrong, and had sufficient
resolution to abide by the right. Perhaps many romantic heroines might
have thought it a generous self-devotion to have become in similar
circumstances the mistress of Tracassier; and those who are skilled "to
make the worst appear the better cause" might have made such an act of
heroism the foundation of an interesting, or at least a fashionable
novel. Poor Victoire had not received an education sufficiently refined
to enable her to understand these mysteries of sentiment. She was even
simple enough to flatter herself that this libertine patriot would not
fulfil his threats, and that these had been made only with a view to
terrify her into compliance. In this opinion, however, she found herself
mistaken. M. Tracassier was indeed a man of the most decided character,
if this form may properly be applied to those who act uniformly in
consequence of their ruling passion. The Chateau de Fleury was seized as
national property. Victoire heard this bad news from the old steward,
who was turned out of the castle, along with his son, the very day after
her rejection of the proposed conditions.
"I could not have believed that any human creature could be so wicked!"
exclaimed Victoire, glowing with indignation: but indignation gave way to
sorrow.
"And the Chateau de Fleury is really seized?--and you, good old man, are
turned out of the place where you were born?--and you too, Basile?--and
Madame de Fleury will never come back again!--and perhaps she may be put
into prison in a foreign country, and may die for want--and I might have
prevented all this!"
Unable to shed a tear, Victoire stood in silent consternation, whilst
Annette explained to the good steward and his son the whole transaction.
Basile, who was naturally of an impetuous temper, was so transported with
indignation, that he would have gone instantly with the note from
Tracassier to denounce him before the whole National Convention, if he
had not been restrained by his more prudent father. The old steward
represented to him, that as the note was neither signed nor written by
the hand of Tracassier, no proof could be brought home to him, and the
attempt to convict one of so powerful a party would only bring certain
destruction upon the accusers. Besides, such was at this time the
general depravity of manners, that numbers would keep the guilty in
countenance. There was no crime which the mask of patriotism could not
cover. "There is one comfort we have in our misfortunes, which these men
can never have," said the old man; "when their downfall comes, and come
it will most certainly, they will not feel as we do, INNOCENT. Victoire,
look up! and do not give way to despair--all will yet be well."
"At all events, you have done what is right--so do not reproach
yourself," said Basile. "Everybody--I mean everybody who is good for
anything--must respect, admire, and love you, Victoire."