Roland remained motionless, not only as long as he could see the
carriage, but long after it had disappeared. Then, shaking his head as
if to dispel the cloud which darkened his brow, he re-entered the inn
and asked for a room.
“Show the gentleman to number three,” said the landlord to a
chambermaid.
The chambermaid took a key hanging from a large black wooden tablet on
which were arranged the numbers in white in two rows, and signed to the
young traveller to follow her.
“Send up some paper, and a pen and ink,” Roland said to the landlord,
“and if M. de Barjols should ask where I am tell him the number of my
room.”
The landlord promised to obey Roland’s injunctions and the latter
followed the girl upstairs whistling the Marseillaise. Five minutes
later he was seated at a table with the desired paper, pen and ink
before him preparing to write. But just as he was beginning the first
line some one knocked, three times at the door.
“Come in,” said he, twirling his chair on one of its hind legs so as to
face his visitor, whom he supposed to be either, M. de Barjols or one of
his friends.
The door opened with a steady mechanical motion and the Englishman
appeared upon the threshold.
“Ah!” exclaimed Roland, enchanted with this visit, in view of his
general’s recommendation; “is it you?”
“Yes,” said the Englishman, “it is I.”
“You are welcome.”
“Oh! if I am welcome, so much the better! I was not sure that I ought to
come.”
“Why not?”
“On account of Aboukir.”
Roland began to laugh.
“There are two battles of Aboukir,” said he; “one which we lost; the
other we won.”
“I referred to the one you lost.”
“Good!” said Roland, “we fight, kill, and exterminate each other on the
battlefield, but that does not prevent us from clasping hands on neutral
ground. So I repeat, you are most welcome, especially if you will tell
me why you have come.”
“Thank you; but, in the first place, read that.” And the Englishman drew
a paper from his pocket.
“What is that?” asked Roland.
“My passport.”
“What have I to do with your passport?” asked Roland, “I am not a
gendarme.”
“No, but I have come to offer you my services. Perhaps you will not
accept them if you do not know who I am.”
“Your services, sir?”
“Yes; but read that first.”
Roland read:
In the name of the French Republic--The Executive Directory hereby
orders that Sir John Tanlay, Esq., be permitted to travel freely
throughout the territory of the Republic, and that both assistance
and protection be accorded him in case of need.
(Signed) FOUCHÉ.
And below:
To whom it may concern--I recommend Sir John Tanlay particularly
as a philanthropist and a friend of liberty.
(Signed) BARRAS.
“Have you read it?”
“Yes; what of it?”
“What of it? Well, my father, Lord Tanlay, rendered M. Barras some
services; that is why M. Barras permits me to roam about France. And I
am very glad to roam about; it amuses me very much.”
“Oh, I remember, Sir John; you did us the honor to say so at dinner.”
“I did say so, it is true; I also said that I liked the French people
heartily.”
Roland bowed.
“And above all General Bonaparte,” continued Sir John.
“You like General Bonaparte very much?”
“I admire him; he is a great, a very great, man.”
“By Heavens! Sir John, I am sorry he is not here to hear an Englishman
say that of him.”
“Oh! if he were here I should not say it.”
“Why not?”
“I should not want him to think I was trying to please him. I say so
because it is my opinion.”
“I don’t doubt it, my lord,” said Roland, who did not see what the
Englishman was aiming at, and who, having learned all that he wished to
know through the passport, held himself upon his guard.
“And when I heard,” continued the Englishman with the same phlegm, “you
defend General Bonaparte, I was much pleased.”
“Really?”
“Much pleased,” repeated the Englishman, nodding his head affirmatively.
“So much the better!”
“But when I saw you throw a plate at M. Alfred de Barjols’ head, I was
much grieved.”
“You were grieved, my lord, and why?”
“Because in England no gentleman would throw a plate at the head of
another gentleman.”
“My lord,” said Roland, rising with a frown, “have you perchance come
here to read me a lecture?”
“Oh, no; I came to suggest that you are perhaps perplexed about finding
a second?”
“My faith, Sir John! I admit that the moment when you knocked at the
door I was wondering of whom I could ask this service.”
“Of me, if you wish,” said the Englishman. “I will be your second.”
“On my honor!” exclaimed Roland, “I accept with all my heart.”
“That is the service I wished to render you!”
Roland held out his hand, saying: “Thank you!”
The Englishman bowed.
“Now,” continued Roland, “as you have had the good taste, my lord, to
tell me who you were before offering your services, it is but fair that,
since I accept them, I should tell you who I am.”
“Oh! as you please.”
“My name is Louis de Montrevel; I am aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte.”
“Aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte. I am very glad.”
“That will explain why I undertook, rather too warmly perhaps, my
general’s defence.”
“No, not too warmly; only, the plate--”
“Oh, I know well that the provocation did not entail that plate. But
what would you have me do! I held it in my hand, and, not knowing what
to do with it, I threw it at M. de Barjols’ head; it went of itself
without any will of mine.”
“You will not say that to him?”
“Reassure yourself; I tell you to salve your conscience.”
“Very well; then you will fight?”
“That is why I have remained here, at any rate.”
“What weapons?”
“That is not our affair, my lord.”
“What! not our affair?”
“No; M. de Barjols is the one insulted; the choice is his.”
“Then you will accept whatever he proposes?”
“Not I, Sir John, but you in my name, since you do me the honor to act
as my second.”
“And if he selects pistols, what is the distance to be and how will you
fight?”
“That is your affair, my lord, and not mine. I don’t know how you do in
England, but in France the principals take no part in the arrangements.
That duty devolves upon the seconds; what they decide is well decided!”
“Then my arrangements will be satisfactory?”
“Perfectly so, my lord.”
The Englishman bowed.
“What hour and what day?”
“Oh! as soon as possible; I have not seen my family for two years, and I
confess that I am in a hurry to greet them.”
The Englishman looked at Roland with a certain wonder; he spoke with
such assurance, as if he were certain that he would not be killed. Just
then some one knocked at the door, and the voice of the innkeeper asked:
“May I come in?”
The young man replied affirmatively. The door opened and the landlord
entered, holding a card in his hand which he handed his guest. The young
man took the card and read: “Charles du Valensolle.”
“From M. Alfred de Barjols,” said the host.
“Very well!” exclaimed Roland. Then handing the card to the Englishman,
he said: “Here, this concerns you; it is unnecessary for me to see this
monsieur--since we are no longer citizens--M. de Valensolle is M. de
Barjols’ second; you are mine. Arrange this affair between you. Only,”
added the young man, pressing the Englishman’s hand and looking fixedly
at him, “see that it holds a chance of certain death for one of us.
Otherwise I shall complain that it has been bungled.”
“Don’t worry,” said the Englishman, “I will act for you as for myself.”
“Excellent! Go now, and when everything is arranged come back. I shall
not stir from here.”
Sir John followed the innkeeper. Roland reseated himself, twirled his
chair back to its former position facing the table, took up his pen and
began to write.
When Sir John returned, Roland had written and sealed two letters and
was addressing a third. He signed to the Englishman to wait until he had
finished, that he might give him his full attention. Then, the address
finished, he sealed the letter, and turned around.
“Well,” he asked, “is everything arranged?”
“Yes,” said the Englishman, “it was an easy matter. You are dealing with
a true gentleman.”
“So much the better!” exclaimed Roland, waiting.
“You will fight two hours hence by the fountain of Vaucluse--a charming
spot--with pistols, advancing to each other, each to fire as he pleases
and continuing to advance after his adversary’s fire.”
“By my faith! you are right, Sir John. That is, indeed, excellent. Did
you arrange that?”
“I and M. de Barjols’ second, your adversary having renounced his rights
of the insulted party.”
“Have you decided upon the weapons?”
“I offered my pistols. They were accepted on my word of honor that you
were as unfamiliar with them as was M. de Barjols. They are excellent
weapons. I can cut a bullet on a knife blade at twenty paces.”
“Peste! You are a good shot, it would seem, my lord.”
“Yes, I am said to be the best shot in England.”
“That is a good thing to know. When I wish to be killed, Sir John, I’ll
pick a quarrel with you.”
“Oh! don’t pick a quarrel with me,” said the Englishman, “it would
grieve me too much to have to fight you.”
“We will try, my lord, not to cause you such grief. So it is settled
then, in two hours.”
“Yes, you told me you were in a hurry.”
“Precisely. How far is it to this charming spot?”
“From here to Vaucluse?”
“Yes.”
“Twelve miles.”
“A matter of an hour and a half. We have no time to lose, so let us rid
ourselves of troublesome things in order to have nothing but pleasure
before us.”
The Englishman looked at the young man in astonishment. Roland did not
seem to pay any attention to this look.
“Here are three letters,” said he; “one for Madame de Montrevel, my
mother; one for Mlle. de Montrevel, my sister; one for the citizen,
Bonaparte, my general. If I am killed you will simply put them in the
post. Will that be too much trouble?”
“Should that misfortune occur, I will deliver your letters myself,” said
the Englishman. “Where do your mother and sister live?”
“At Bourg, the capital of the Department of Ain.”
“That is near here,” observed the Englishman. “As for General Bonaparte,
I will go to Egypt if necessary. I should be extremely pleased to meet
General Bonaparte.”
“If you take the trouble, as you say, my lord, of delivering my letters
yourself, you will not have to travel such a distance. Within three days
General Bonaparte will be in Paris.”
“Oh!” said the Englishman, without betraying the least surprise, “do you
think so?”
“I am sure of it,” replied Roland.
“Truly, he is a very extraordinary man, your General Bonaparte. Now,
have you any other recommendations to make to me, M. de Montrevel?”
“One only, my lord.”
“Oh! as many as you please.”
“No, thank you, one only, but that is very important.”
“What is it?”
“If I am killed--but I doubt if I be so fortunate.”
Sir John looked at Roland with that expression of wonder which he had
already awakened three or four times.
“If I am killed,” resumed Roland; “for after all one must be prepared
for everything--”
“Yes, if you are killed, I understand.”
“Listen well, my lord, for I place much stress on my directions being
carried out exactly in this matter.”
“Every detail shall be observed,” replied Sir John, “I am very
punctilious.”
“Well, then, if I am killed,” insisted Roland, laying his hand upon his
second’s shoulder, to impress his directions more firmly on his memory,
“you must not permit any one to touch my body, which is to be placed in
a leaden coffin without removing the garments I am wearing; the coffin
you will have soldered in your presence, then inclosed in an oaken bier,
which must also be nailed up in your presence. Then you will send it to
my mother, unless you should prefer to throw it into the Rhone, which I
leave absolutely to your discretion, provided only that it be disposed
of in some way.”
“It will be no more difficult,” replied the Englishman, “to take the
coffin, since I am to deliver your letter.”
“Decidedly, my lord,” said Roland, laughing in his strange way. “You
are a capital fellow. Providence in person brought us together. Let us
start, my lord, let us start!”
They left Roland’s room; Sir John’s chamber was on the same floor.
Roland waited while the Englishman went in for his weapons. He returned
a few seconds later, carrying the box in his hand.
“Now, my lord,” asked Roland, “how shall we reach Vaucluse? On horseback
or by carriage?”
“By carriage, if you are willing. It is much more convenient in case one
is wounded. Mine is waiting below.”
“I thought you had given the order to have it unharnessed?”
“I did, but I sent for the postilion afterward and countermanded it.”
They went downstairs.
“Tom! Tom!” called Sir John at the door, where a servant, in the severe
livery of an English groom, was waiting, “take care of this box.”
“Am I going with you, my lord?” asked the servant.
“Yes!” replied Sir John.
Then showing Roland the steps of his carriage, which the servant
lowered, he said:
“Come, M. de Montrevel.”
Roland entered the carriage and stretched himself out luxuriously.
“Upon my word!” said he. “It takes you English to understand travelling.
This carriage is as comfortable as a bed. I warrant you pad your coffins
before you are put in them!”
“Yes, that is a fact,” said Sir John, “the English people
understand comfort, but the French people are much more curious and
amusing--postilion, to Vaucluse!”