Our hero, followed by Bill Saunders—who was extremely puzzled to
understand what had recently taken place, and turning over in his
own mind what might be the consequence of living in the château with
such lots of handsome girls, who seemed to him to be increasing
daily—proceeded to the place where he had thrown down his rod. Bill in
vain tried to edge in a word; his master was not to be roused from his
train of reflections.
“Is this love at first sight?” asked our hero of himself; “for never
did I feel the same strange and unaccountable sensation for a beautiful
girl before. I have been in love a dozen times, or, at least, fancied I
was; but this is a very different feeling. I used to laugh at the idea
of the most beautiful face in the world causing any other sensation at
first sight than that of anything else very lovely. No, it will not do
to fall in love with a French girl, in my position; and its very clear,
if I do not make my escape, I shall do so.”
“My eyes, sir! where’s the rod?” exclaimed Bill, having arrived at the
precise spot.
Lieutenant Thornton looked about him; there was no rod to be seen, nor
fishing-basket; but, as they looked along the river, some three hundred
yards farther down, they perceived a man fishing, and towards him our
hero walked, telling Bill to keep at a little distance. As he advanced,
the person fishing looked up, and at once came towards him. Lieutenant
Thornton could see he was a tall young man, in a dress very similar to
his own, and he could also perceive that he carried his missing rod in
his hand, and the basket at his back.
“Humph!” muttered our hero; “free and easy, at all events.” But as the
young man—evidently a gentleman, and a handsome one to boot—came up, he
said, with a polite bow, and a smile—
“I hope, monsieur, you will not think I am taking a liberty with your
rod and basket, for I suppose they are yours?”
“I certainly left them on the bank of the stream, monsieur,” said our
hero. “I had just hooked a trout.”
“Ah!” interrupted the stranger, “here he is, and a very fine fish,
nearly three pounds weight. I had some trouble with him, I assure you;
he had run out all your line, and then lay still under the bank, but I
secured him with five others, which you will find in your basket.”
Now, though the stranger spoke politely, and was a handsome,
gentlemanly man of some two or three and thirty years, yet Lieutenant
Thornton did not like either the expression of his features, or the
keen and inquiring glance he cast over his face and person.
“I am obliged to you for your care of my rod,” said the Lieutenant,
“which I abandoned heedlessly; but I cannot think of depriving you of
the proceeds of your skill; therefore, I pray you keep the fish.”
“Oh! not at all,” said the stranger, with a smile; “I can have as many
as I like, or require: this part of the stream on both sides for some
distance is on my property, and I preserve it.”
The colour came into Lieutenant Thornton’s cheek as the stranger spoke
these words, and he at once said—
“I fear I have unconsciously committed a trespass.”
“Not at all, monsieur! not at all! You are, I perceive, quite a
stranger to this part of the world; by your accent I should have taken
you for an Italian. My name is Gramont; may I have the pleasure of
knowing yours? My residence is within half a league, and I shall be
most happy, if you are staying in this neighbourhood, to show you
better fishing than this stream affords.”
“You are very kind,” returned our hero, wishing the trout had swallowed
the rod, or that he had not come back to look for it. “My name is De
Tourville; I am staying for a few days at Coulancourt, with Monsieur de
Plessis.”
“Ah! indeed; De Tourville,” he repeated. “So, after all, you are
French; pardon me for my doubts; I will not detain you, but repeat my
wish to form an agreeable acquaintance during your stay; will do myself
the pleasure of calling at Coulancourt;” and, with a polite bow saying
adieu, and depositing the fishing-basket, the stranger sauntered slowly
down the stream.
“Now this is anything but pleasant,” thought our hero, raising the
basket, containing six fine trout, each over nine pounds weight. “I
wish, Monsieur Gramont, you had happened to be a dozen leagues from
this. Very odd he did not hear of or speak of the attempt to rob
Monsieur Plessis; he must have heard the firing, or seen the peasantry
hurrying to the scene of action; it’s very odd.”
Giving the surprised Bill the basket of trout, which he examined with
a curious eye, wondering very much what such a fine looking fish could
possibly want with a little fly, and a fly that in his mind resembled
no fly that ever flew, Lieutenant Thornton retraced his steps to the
château. It was near sunset as he entered the lawn, and walked up
towards the house. Monsieur de Plessis came out from the front door to
meet him.
“I hope the young ladies have quite recovered their fright?” said
Lieutenant Thornton, for the first time taking a steady survey of Jean
Plessis’ features and person, whom he would not have remembered. He
appeared stouter, and wore moustaches, which he did not when first they
had met in Toulon. In answer to Lieutenant Thornton’s inquiry, he said
they had quite recovered their spirits; that Madame Plessis had reached
the château; and that they were all expecting him.
“I was delayed,” said our hero, “looking for my rod, which I afterwards
found in the hands of a gentleman who, it seems, is the proprietor of
the land on both banks of the river in which I was fishing; he called
himself Gramont.”
“Mon Dieu! that is unfortunate,” said Jean Plessis, with a start, and a
look of uneasiness. “Did he seem annoyed at your being on his land? I
had no idea he was in this part of the country. I thought he was with
his regiment on the frontiers!”
“Then, you know him, Monsieur Plessis?” asked the Lieutenant.
“No, I cannot say I know him; I have seen him; but I knew his father,
who was a terrible and cruel follower of Robespierre. The strange part
of the affair is, that his father held possession of Coulancourt and
the estates, till forced to give them up after the trial of madame,
when Robespierre lost his head by the axe of the guillotine. Monsieur
Gramont fled, and saved his life for a short time. His son, Eugene
Gramont, then held a commission in the chasseurs, and after his
father’s death managed, through great interest with those in power,
to retain the family estate which adjoins Coulancourt; his château is
not a mile from the place where you were fishing. I shall conclude
for the present by telling you that Captain Eugene Gramont bears a
very indifferent character in Paris; he is known as a gambler, and a
duellist, and a notorious deceiver amongst the weaker sex. However,
with the Parisian ladies he is, I have heard, a favourite, and
considered a remarkably handsome man; and, as he is supposed to be in
the receipt of forty thousand francs yearly, he is pronounced rather an
advantageous party; but I strongly suspect that not only is he himself
involved, but his estate also. Now, if he should come here to visit
you, it will not do to avoid him altogether.”
“But,” remarked Lieutenant Thornton, “do you not think the sooner I
make an attempt to get out of the country the better? I was going
to ask you why I take the name of De Tourville, though it turned out
fortunate your telling me I was to do so, for when Monsieur Gramont
requested my name I was prepared.”
“Some name,” said Jean Plessis, “it was requisite you should take;
and as Mademoiselle de Tourville was coming here on a visit, and will
afterwards be proceeding to England through Flanders, I thought it a
most excellent opportunity for you to pass as her brother, and that you
could travel together into Flanders and afford her your protection.”
The young man started; an emotion of pleasure he secretly felt sent a
glow to his cheek, as he replied—
“Do you not think, Monsieur Plessis, that I am rather young for the
guardian of a young and very lovely girl, such as Mademoiselle de
Tourville?”
Jean Plessis looked into the handsome, animated face of the Lieutenant
with a smile.
“You are afraid, then, monsieur, of your heart. She is, I confess, a
most lovely and fascinating young lady; however, I will relieve your
uneasiness on that head; a widow lady will also accompany her. But here
we are at the house. I pray you have patience for a day or two, and I
will explain everything, no doubt to your satisfaction. I have ordered
other apartments for you, and in them you will find a trunk full of
all the requisites for a change of garments. I had them made in Paris,
judging your size by my own; you promised when a youth to be a tall
man.”
“You are very considerate and kind,” said Lieutenant Thornton,
surprised, but determined in his own mind to let things take their own
course, and no longer to persist in thwarting the kind and generous
efforts of his friends to serve him.
The next three or four days passed with our hero like magic. Monsieur
Plessis was backwards and forwards at Havre, investigating the affair
of the brigands. Madame Plessis he found an extremely agreeable,
amiable woman, not more than six-and-thirty. With the two young ladies
all restraint had vanished; Mademoiselle Julia was a lively and
charming girl, with an abundance of agreeable chatter of Parisian life.
She played the piano well, and sang all the newest Parisian opera airs,
declaring at the same time that she was making the most of herself, and
that as soon as he heard Mademoiselle de Tourville play and sing it
would be all up with her. As yet Marie de Tourville had resisted all
attempts to induce her to either touch the piano or harp; there was a
singular timidity in her manner, a degree of agitation very evident to
our hero, but unaccountable, when speaking or conversing with him.
However, when she addressed him, her voice was soft and even
affectionate, though there was less of freedom in her manner than in
Julia’s.
The fourth or fifth day this restraint began to wear off. She received
letters from Paris, her manner altered visibly, and her spirits seemed
changed. She ventured to meet the dark eyes of our hero, and one
evening he induced her to seat herself at the harp, and favour him with
an Italian cansonetta.
Though her voice trembled a little at the commencement, it gradually
gained power and depth, and its rich, full tones thrilled through
the hearer’s heart. When concluded, Lieutenant Thornton sat actually
enthralled, so powerfully had the tones of her voice awakened some
dream of the past.
“Ah!” exclaimed Julia Plessis, “I told you, monsieur, how it would be;
adieu to my performance. But I can bear it, for in truth, Marie, you
have a marvellous flexibility, and a wonderful modulation of tone.”
“You so completely fascinated me, mademoiselle,” said Lieutenant
Thornton, “that I was unable at once to express my delight and thank
you; if there is any one accomplishment above all others that a female
can possess to perfection, I love that of singing. It has always had a
strange charm over me. I do think that even in the fiercest strife it
would disarm me.”
“Well, that is strange,” said Madame Plessis, looking up from a piece
of fancy work she was amusing herself with. “I knew a lady that became
so powerfully affected by music when well and skilfully played, and the
human voice added, that she invariably fainted.”
“Then I should think, mamma,” said Julia, laughing, “that she carefully
shunned such sirens as Mademoiselle de Tourville.”
“No, indeed,” returned the mother, “music had such a fascination,
that she eagerly sought the society of those who excelled in that
accomplishment.”
“Which proved,” said our hero, with a smile, “that the pleasure
exceeded the pain.”
Monsieur Plessis, as he sat with his new friend late that evening
enjoying a glass of his favourite Burgundy, said—
“Do you know that that affair of the brigands is rather a strange one.”
“How so? have you not discovered where they came from, or where the
rest of the rascals fled to?”
“No; in truth, the two dead men no one could recognise. Their attire
was the same as the great band of fugitive Chouans that, driven out of
Brittany two years ago, were massacred wherever they could be found by
the Blues—as the Republican soldiers were then styled; pursued across
the Seine above Honfleur, they dispersed themselves through Normandy,
committing various depredations, but were supposed to have been
finally exterminated. There has been a general hunt after the rest of
those brigands, but no trace of them is to be found.”
“Curious enough, in such a well-populated district as this,” said the
Lieutenant. “However, as you escaped being plundered, it matters but
little.”
“Yes, as it turned out,” said Jean Plessis. “The loss of the money
would have been of no great moment; but I had very valuable papers
relative to this estate of Coulancourt, and what is even of more
consequence, Madame de Coulancourt, after some difficulty, a great deal
of expense, and nearly two years’ delay, has procured certificates
of her marriage with Monsieur Granby Arden, and also those of the
birth, &c. &c., of her two children, Julian and Mabel; similar papers
were lost, as you know, in the casket. By-the-by, that robbery of
the contents of the casket was a most strange affair. When Madame de
Coulancourt communicated it to me, I set out for Toulon, for I felt
satisfied that the robbery was committed on board the ship you stayed
so many hours in the night you had the care of Mademoiselle Arden. By
patient and diligent inquiries and bribery, I found out that the two
galley-slaves on board the vessel at that time were both remarkable
men, who afterwards figured in the bloody scenes of the Reign of
Terror. One perished under the axe of the guillotine, the other—the
one I strongly suspect of committing the robbery—I cannot trace. With
the fall of Robespierre he disappeared, and has not been heard of
since. This man’s name was Vadier—Augustine Vadier; he was, before
the Revolution broke out, a jeweller of great repute, in the Rue St.
Pancras. He was famous for his skill in imitating precious stones of
all kinds, and was a bad and dissipated man. It was discovered that
some ladies of the court, who had sent their jewels to be re-set,
were defrauded of the real gems and false ones substituted. Other
frauds came out; he had false keys, could open cabinets and extract
the contents in a most dexterous manner; and at last was brought to
trial for stabbing one of his workmen, who threatened to betray him,
and condemned to the galleys for life. He was sent to Toulon. When the
galley-slaves got loose at the taking of that port by the English, this
man made himself notorious after the evacuation, by his bloodthirsty
revenge upon all aristocrats; got himself into favour with the infamous
Feron and the younger Robespierre, rose into power under the elder, and
then on his fall, as I before said, disappeared. This man, I suspect,
was the robber of your treasure, for he was known to possess a large
sum of money immediately after regaining his emancipation; he and the
rest of the liberated slaves committed horrid massacres and robberies.”
“Very likely indeed,” remarked Lieutenant Thornton; “in fact, there is
no other way of accounting for the loss of the contents of the casket.
Fortunately, Madame de Coulancourt has been able to replace the papers;
had she failed, the loss would have been serious. I was going to ask
you, Monsieur Plessis, why Mademoiselle de Tourville leaves France and
seeks a home in England? that is, if my question is not indiscreet.”
“Not at all, monsieur; far from it. It is a very natural inquiry, as
you will most likely be her companion on the journey. This young lady,”
continued Jean Plessis, “is of good family, as I before said. She is an
orphan, and I do not believe she has a relative in all France besides
Madame de Coulancourt.”
“Then she is a connection of the late Duke de Coulancourt—as madame is
an Englishwoman.”
“Such is the case. Unfortunately, she is not only left without
relatives or friends, but actually without fortune of any kind. She
has a horror of France, from what she witnessed and suffered, and she
ardently longs to reach England, where she intends to exert her great
musical talents for her support.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Lieutenant Thornton, looking with an expression
of extreme astonishment into the face of the intendant. “Mademoiselle
de Tourville, so young, so beautiful, so pure, and so amiable, thrown
upon the heartless world of London!”
“Nay, nay,” interrupted Monsieur Plessis, laying his hand, with a
smile, upon the lieutenant’s arm, “I say also, God forbid! Do not
suppose for an instant, that the generous and noble-minded Madame
de Coulancourt would permit such a course of life to her young and
interesting relative. No, no, she will not; but it is now late;
to-morrow I expect an important letter from madame, which will finally
determine our future movements. When I receive the letter, you shall be
made fully acquainted with everything.”