A NEW CHEVALIER OF FRANCE
"Our hopes, like towering falcons, aim
At objects in an airy height."
"Officer," said Bonaparte, in his iciest tones, "conduct Citizeness
Capet and Citizen Le Moyne back to the salon. I have something to say
to the others that it will not be necessary for them to hear. You need
not return yourself until I ring for you."
Madame la Duchesse glared at the little figure lazily and haughtily
reclining at ease in the deep-armed chair while we all stood meekly
before him. I think for a moment she was tempted to spring upon him
and tear his eyes out. That the parvenu ruler of the republic should
so address a member not only of the old nobility but the old royalty,
was more than she could bear. A cool stare from the fathomless eyes of
the Consul made her think better of it; she turned and accompanied the
chevalier (who was nigh to foaming at the mouth with ill-suppressed
rage) back to the salon.
As they left the cabinet, conducted in state by the officer, Bonaparte
turned to Pelagie.
"Mademoiselle la Comtesse," he said in tones whose suavity were in
marked contrast to the coldness of his last speech, "will you not be
seated? I am sorry to have kept you standing so long. I have asked you
to wait while I spoke to this young man, because I have something more
to say to you on the subject we were discussing. I beg, therefore, you
will make yourself perfectly comfortable while you wait."
I think Pelagie was of half a mind to decline the Consul's courtesy,
for she hesitated a moment, and I saw a dangerous spark leap into his
eyes. I do not know whether she saw it also, or whether she simply
decided it was better to be as complaisant as possible in small
matters, since she might have to be recalcitrant in great ones. She
sat down, apparently cool and collected, but in the chair most distant
from the First Consul. I had noted the change in the form of his
address, and wondered at it; but I believe he liked titles, and was
glad to use them when there were no jealous ears about to find fault
with his lapse from republican simplicity. He did not ask me to sit
down, but turned to me as soon as Pelagie had taken her seat, and
began abruptly:
"I made a proposition a few moments ago in jest; I now make it in
earnest: I offer you a position on my staff as military aide. The
young man who has the skill to extricate himself from such an escapade
as yours is of the stuff I would like to use in my service, and when
he adds to his other qualities the ability to tell his story so
discreetly that it is impossible to guess whether or not he has heard
anything of state councils and family quarrels, he is of still greater
value in such a capacity."
I was overwhelmed. Lifted from the depths of disgrace and fear of
death to the pinnacle of my day-dreams realized (for it had ever been
my fondest dream to be a soldier of fortune, and to serve under the
great Bonaparte--one that I had hardly dared to confess to myself) was
almost more than brain could stand. More than that, to hear such words
of commendation from the great soldier, when I had expected severest
censure, set heart throbbing and head whirling. I could only stammer
out:
"It would be the greatest joy and glory of my life to serve under the
First Consul! I shall have to get my uncle's permission; may I defer
my answer until I have an opportunity to consult him?"
The Consul frowned quickly; I have no doubt he was used to receiving
only instant acceptances of his offers. But in a moment his
countenance cleared, and he answered, pleasantly enough:
"Very well; I shall expect to hear from you the day after to-morrow";
and with a slight nod from him I understood myself dismissed.
Somehow I liked not leaving Pelagie there alone with him, but there
was no alternative. I thought, too, as I made my low bow to her in
leaving the room, that her eyes met mine with a look of appeal in
their dark depths it was hard to withstand. I determined to take my
station in the salon near the cabinet door, so that if she should need
me I would be near at hand.
And thus it happened that a few minutes later I heard the Consul's
bell ring violently, saw the officer on duty enter the cabinet
hastily, and immediately return, conducting Pelagie. Her eyes were
shining with a fierce light, a bright spot was burning in either
cheek, and her head was held so high and she was looking so straight
forward with an unseeing gaze that she did not see me as she passed. I
saw her take her place among the court ladies and Madame Bonaparte
look at her with cold displeasure. Being no longer on sentry duty, I
joined my aunt, and she whispered to me:
"The pretty Comtesse is in trouble. Madame will not easily forgive her
husband spending ten minutes alone with her in his cabinet."
My soul raged within me, for I could see that others also were
whispering about her, and for a moment I was ready to challenge all
the world, including the great Bonaparte himself, who (though, I
believed, innocently) had given occasion for the whisperings. Of
course I knew that his interview with Pelagie had been entirely in
behalf of the chevalier, but others did not seem to be so certain of
it, and especially did Madame Bonaparte's attitude toward her give
rise to unpleasant comment. I longed eagerly for a word with Pelagie
herself, but I saw no chance of obtaining it. Yet fortune favored me,
for later in the evening, when they were preparing the piquet-tables,
I found myself placed next to her; and once, when excitement over some
disputed point in the game was running high, and the din of contending
voices made a friendly cover for a low-toned speech, I managed to say
to her:
"You look troubled, Mademoiselle; is there any way in which I can be
of service to you?"
She smiled up at me with a look of trust that touched me greatly, and
said hurriedly, mentioning no names (which might have been dangerous):
"I wanted this chance to tell you. He insisted on that marriage, and
when I told him I would never marry a man who had denounced and
betrayed in such cowardly fashion the man to whom he owed his life, he
was very rude to me."
"Rude to you!" I whispered fiercely. "Then I cannot take service under
him."
But she looked greatly alarmed when I said that, and whispered
eagerly:
"No, no, Monsieur; do not say that! Take the place, if you can, for
your own sake,"--and then she hesitated a moment,--"and for mine."
There was no chance for another word; the game was breaking up, and
the old duchess came and carried her off with a glare of distrust and
suspicion at me, and I had no doubt she had been watching our
whispered consultation.
There was no chance, either, to tell my uncle of my interview with the
Consul; for I could say nothing before my aunt without entering into
explanations that I did not want to make to her, and I knew the fact
of my returning to the salon instead of being hurried off to prison
had quieted his alarms. The hour was late, and we said good night to
each other in the corridors when we returned home, going at once to
our rooms.
I hurried down-stairs the next morning, hoping to find my uncle taking
his morning coffee in the garden, as he often did in this lovely
spring weather; but I had overslept, and he was already gone. Late in
the afternoon I sought him in his library, for I knew my answer to the
First Consul must be decided upon at once, and I was anxious to tell
him all about my interview. He answered my knock by a quick "Enter,
enter!" and I found him brimming over with gay good humor and
excitement.
"You are just in time, my boy," he cried. "I am expecting the American
ambassadors every moment, and, if they offer no objection, you may
stay and see how history is made. We are to sign the treaty that is to
give the First Consul the munitions of war, and that will place
America in the very front rank of nations."
My own affairs seemed of small moment beside such stupendous ones, and
I saw that my uncle had entirely forgotten his alarm of the evening
before. I was myself very greatly excited, for this was the moment to
which I had been looking for nearly a year, though the realization
about to be consummated was far exceeding my wildest fancies.
The two gentlemen were announced a moment later, and they both greeted
me cordially, for they knew my family at home and I had called on them
several times in Paris. Nor did my uncle have to prefer a request that
I should be permitted to be a witness of the signing of the treaty.
Mr. Livingston himself suggested that I be invited to remain, and, the
others assenting most cordially, I thanked them heartily for their
courtesy, and retired to a seat in the background, where I might not
intrude upon their deliberations.
The document seemed long, and in fact, as I understood it, there were
three documents--one which they called the treaty, and two others they
called "conventions." They read them all over carefully several times
before signing, and I heard the article read that I had seen the First
Consul write, and discovered that one convention was to determine in
what manner the sixty million francs were to be paid to France, and
the other convention was concerned with the twenty million francs to
be paid by the United States to such of its citizens as held claims
against France.
There seemed to be some little discussions on a few minor points which
were easily settled, and then very solemnly they each signed the three
documents, Mr. Livingston writing his name first, then Mr. Monroe, and
then my uncle. When this was done, the three gentlemen, as by a common
impulse, rose to their feet and shook hands, their faces shining with
a solemn light which I believe had nothing to do with self-glory, but
with an unselfish joy at having accomplished an act that would bring
honor and benefit to two great nations and to future generations. I,
in my corner, was almost as proud as they, and quite as happy (when I
thought of the honor that was to come to my country, and especially
the blessings to that great West I was so interested in), and for the
first time in my life I felt it might be almost finer to accomplish
such great things by statesmanship and a stroke of the pen than to
win fame and glory by the sword. Then I saw that Mr. Livingston was
beginning to speak. He stood up straight and tall and fine-looking,
and his manner was very impressive and full of dignity and a kind of
solemn joy. I was very proud of him as a representative of my country,
and each word that he spoke made me prouder and happier.
"We have lived long," he began, "but this is the noblest work of our
whole lives. The treaty which we have just signed has not been
obtained by art or dictated by force; equally advantageous to the two
contracting parties, it will change vast solitudes into flourishing
districts. From this day the United States take their place among the
powers of the first rank. The English lose all exclusive influence in
the affairs of America. Thus one of the principal causes of European
rivalries and animosities is about to cease. The instruments we have
just signed will cause no tears to be shed; they prepare ages of
happiness for innumerable generations of human creatures. The
Mississippi and Missouri will see them succeed one another, and
multiply, truly worthy of the regard and care of Providence, in the
bosom of equality, under just laws, freed from the errors of
superstition and the scourge of bad government."
My uncle and Mr. Monroe seemed greatly impressed by his words (as,
indeed, no one who heard them could help being); and then there was
half an hour of pleasant talk, in which the three gentlemen kindly
included me. As the American ambassadors took their leave, my uncle
turned to me.
[Illustration: The Signing of the Louisiana Purchase Treaty by
Marbois, Livingston, and Monroe]
"Well, my boy," he said, his kind face beaming, "we have settled the
affairs of two great nations most satisfactorily; now we will settle
yours. What did the First Consul want of you last evening?"
I had made up my mind to tell my uncle all about my acquaintance with
the Comtesse de Baloit and the Chevalier Le Moyne, if he had time to
listen,--for otherwise it would be difficult to explain my interview
with the Consul, or how I happened to be summoned to his
presence,--and I asked him if he had time to hear a long story. He
replied that he considered he had accomplished enough for one day, and
he should do nothing more, until dinner at least; he might possibly be
summoned to an interview with the First Consul at the Tuileries later
in the evening.
He scarcely interrupted me through my long recital, unless an
occasional heavy scowl at some special perfidy of the chevalier's
could be called an interruption. He chuckled with delight when I told
how I tripped up the chevalier on the grand staircase of St. Cloud,
and uttered a vigorous "Diable!" when he heard how I came to be
summoned before the First Consul. He listened almost breathlessly to
my account of my interview with the Consul, and drew a great sigh of
relief as I finished.
"Why, my lad," he said, "you have been having great experiences! I
wonder you could forget them sufficiently to be so deeply interested,
as you seemed to be, in the doings of three old diplomats."
I assured him that what the three diplomats had just accomplished was
of greater interest to me than any of my own affairs could possibly
be. In all my story I had touched as lightly as I could on the
Comtesse de Baloit, hoping that my uncle would not discover that I had
any special interest in that direction; but he was too astute a reader
of human nature to be easily misled.
"That is all very well," he said, in reply to my assurance of a deeper
interest in affairs of state than in my own; "I do not doubt for a
moment that you believe what you say, and I could easily believe it,
too, if it were not for the Comtesse de Baloit. Such affairs are more
engrossing than all others in the world, if I remember my own youthful
days aright. But I had no idea the wind sat in that quarter, as your
Mr. Shakspere would say. Have you any idea how high you are aspiring?
I know you Americans stop at nothing; but, my dear boy, you might as
well aspire to the hand of the Princess Charlotte of England!"
"I am aspiring to the hand of no one, sir," I answered rather hotly,
for I knew so well how hopeless any dreams of mine might be that I
liked not to have any one think I was cherishing false hopes.
"Whatever my feeling toward the Comtesse may be, I have never had the
slightest hope. If Citizeness Capet, as the First Consul calls her,
does not succeed in marrying the comtesse to the Chevalier Le Moyne,
then her cousins the Comte d'Arbois and the Duc d'Enghien will
probably marry her into one of the reigning houses of Europe.
Mademoiselle la Comtesse has shown me some kindness, but only such as
any right-feeling young maiden would show to one who has been able to
do her some little service, and I am not one to presume upon her
grateful feeling."
My uncle looked at me for a moment with a little frown between his
brows, as if he were trying to solve some perplexing question, and
then the frown cleared away and he spoke smilingly:
"Well, well, we will dismiss the Comtesse; that is too difficult a
problem. And now for what is, after all, a question of more practical
importance. Do you want to accept this offer of the First Consul's?"
"Very much, sir," I answered eagerly.
"I doubt whether I have any right to give you permission to do so,"
responded my uncle; "but this much authority I will assume. If the
First Consul is willing to take you subject to the commands of your
father when we can hear from him, I will give my permission, and I
will write to your father by the first packet. It will be ten or
twelve weeks before we can possibly hear from him, and it may be much
longer. But I am rather relieved that you desire to accept the First
Consul's offer. He does not like his favors rejected, and he is quite
capable of holding me responsible for having influenced you, should
you decline."
The First Consul was willing to take me on those conditions (I think
he felt no doubt of my father's answer; such confidence had he in the
magnetism of his own name that he believed any man would feel proud to
have his son serve under him), and a very few days saw me arrayed in
my glittering uniform and spending every spare moment, when I was off
duty, riding up and down the Champs-Élysées in the hope not so much of
seeing the Comtesse de Baloit as of being seen by her. For I felt that
half the joy I had in my gorgeous trappings would be gone if she could
not see them and admire them too.
And as my sword clanked and my spurs jingled while Fatima pranced and
curveted under me in the bright spring weather, my heart sang an
accompaniment to them.
Could it be possible that the great Bonaparte might turn the rest of
his speech from jest to earnest? Would he, perhaps, now that he had
made me his aide, trust her to me as willingly as to the chevalier?
And higher still sang my heart as Fatima, in answer to my excited
touch, leaped and bounded along the avenue, and I remembered that
night upon _La Belle Rivière_ when mademoiselle had wished that I was
a chevalier of France. Was I not one now in fact, if not in name?