We must now follow the footsteps of Monsieur Gramont, who, having
finished singing his air of “Malbrook,” put up his fishing rod, gave
a look after the retreating form of Bill Saunders, and burst into a
self-satisfied laugh.
“So,” said he to himself, “that big brute thinks he has deceived me,
and that I am such a fool as to think him deaf and dumb. I knew he
was an Englishman as well as his master Parbleu! I will have them all
in a trap in a little while, and though the guillotine has gone out
of fashion, I can still get them comfortable lodgings, and accomplish
my projects at the same time. By-the-by, that girl is marvellously
lovely—Mademoiselle de Tourville! Why he, an English naval officer,
should pass for her brother is something curious. Take care, Monsieur
Plessis, take care, you may be getting your head into an awkward place
some of these days, with all your astuteness.”
Having fastened his rod together, he commenced crossing the rocks,
through which the river found a passage, by a sort of path used by
the country people. Having arrived at the other side where the river
disappeared, and where a good bridle road led along the side of the
stream to a stone bridge, about half a mile distant, he applied a
whistle to his lips, and immediately a man, leading two saddle horses,
came out from the thick plantation bordering one side of the road.
“Oh,” mentally exclaimed Monsieur Gramont, “he had patience to wait,
though I told him I might not return this way at all,” and then he
descended to the road.
The man holding the two horses was a somewhat remarkable looking
personage. In years he was rather over than under fifty, with a thick
grizzled beard, immense bushy eyebrows, with small deep sunk grey eyes,
having a most sinister if not ferocious expression. He was of middle
height, rather short than otherwise, and as he walked forward on the
road he jerked his shoulders up and down in a most peculiar manner. He
was attired similarly to Monsieur Gramont, only instead of a cap he
wore a hat, pushed well down on his forehead.
“You had the patience to wait the chance of my return, Augustine,” said
Monsieur Gramont, and he joined the man holding the horse.
“Ma foi, oui,” said the person named Augustine, in a gruff, harsh
voice, “I might as well ruminate here two or three hours as do so at
the château; so as I thought it possible you might return, I waited.
Did you see them?”
“I did,” said Monsieur Gramont, “but I saw that my presence was
anything but welcome, so I let them return to Coulancourt, without
forcing my company on them; but let us mount—we can talk as we ride.”
Having mounted, they rode on at a slow pace towards the bridge.
“Had you any opportunity of testing my opinion respecting that Monsieur
de Tourville? He is no more a Frenchman than I am a Dutchman,”
questioned Monsieur Gramont’s companion.
“I am quite satisfied he is an Englishman,” returned Monsieur Gramont,
“and so is that big fellow that wants to pass for a dummy. I tried the
fellow with a sentence of English, holding my landing-net to him, and
he started back as if something had exploded under his nose; he looked
as if he could have swallowed me.”
“Curse him and his master to boot. If they had not been in the way, we
should have performed our job in first-rate style, and got possession
of all those papers. Besides, that ruffian when he put the landing-net
over my head, pulled it back with such tremendous force against my
throat, that I doubt if ever I shall recover the power of swallowing;
every time I eat it jolts my whole body, and gives me great pain. I’ll
cut his windpipe for that yet.”
“He certainly made a very ingenious weapon of his landing-net. I was
watching the whole proceeding from the thicket on the river’s bank,
and must say they managed to kill two of your comrades and make the
rest take to flight in a masterly manner. The master is a very powerful
young man.”
“Nevertheless,” returned the man named Augustine, savagely, “I
should have had my knife in his heart, but for that villain with the
landing-net. Curse him, he kicked me over afterwards, saying something
in a strange language, which I afterwards recollected must be English.
Why the fellow let me go I cannot imagine.”
“Neither can I,” replied De Gramont, “when I saw you run off, I turned
back to the river, and picked up the stranger’s fishing-rod, and caught
a fine trout, which was taking the world easy under the bank with a red
hackle in his gills. I bagged several others, waiting till the owner
came back for his rod, hoping to pick some kind of intelligence out of
him in order to discover what he thought of the attack upon Monsieur
Plessis and family; but that beautiful girl getting away and uttering
the shriek she did ruined all—it reached the stranger’s ears.”
“That was a bungling affair of one of the men,” said Augustine; “she
sprang out of the carriage at the opposite door, and would have got off
into the wood, only I sent Jacques after her; the Englishman then came
up and ran him through the body, though Jacques fired his pistol full
in his face.”
“Well, it’s no use our talking this matter over again; the project
failed and there’s an end of it. The only thing to be feared was
Jean Plessis being able to discover any of the robbers, as they were
considered; but to my surprise, he appeared very glad to hush up the
affair, and let it be thought that the fellows were a remnant of the
Chouans band, that committed so many outrages here two years ago;
and the terribly disturbed state of all the roads and districts of
France at this moment, with brigands and robbers of all kinds, caused
the affair to be thought lightly of, and no search, except by the
peasantry, was made after the fugitives.”
“No fear of their tracing them,” said Augustine, “my comrades
understood, if the thing failed, they were to make their way into
Brittany as fast as they could, so I had no apprehension on that
account. I confess I thought it was all up when that villain of an
Englishman had me in his grasp—as well try and get out of a vice. But
why not at once denounce them as spies, and get them arrested and sent
to Paris?”
“No,” returned Monsieur Gramont, “you are very shortsighted; you do
not see the game I am playing. What good would it do me to lodge those
two Englishmen in prison, and get Jean Plessis suspected? Would that
pay off the mortgages on my property, regain me Coulancourt, or enable
you to set up for yourself in another country? I have agreed to give
you a certain sum, and get you safe out of France, for I tell you your
party and Robespierre’s are crushed for ever. People are sick of blood,
and jacobinism is at a fearful discount. Your throat would be cut with
frantic joy if you were caught in Paris. The reaction was immediate and
overpowering; the name of a jacobin is held in abhorrence. Your famous
associates, Fouguier, Rimaud, and Carrier, died amidst the howlings
and shrieks of a multitude; all they wanted was yourself to make up a
handsome quartette.”
“You are cursed pleasant in your recollections,” growled Augustine.
“You seem to forget that it was I who forged the papers and accusations
that got your father the estate of Coulancourt.”
“Oh dear, no,” returned Monsieur Gramont, laughing. “My memory is very
good. I had nothing to do in that affair at all; I was never a jacobin.
I really cannot say I delight in those extremes. If I can accomplish
my ends without blood it is far preferable. You see the escape of the
ci-devant Duchesse de Coulancourt through the agency of Jean Plessis,
and her reappearance in Paris, and fortunate trial just after the fall
of Robespierre, when a violent reaction was taking place, lost me the
property. Now I want to regain the estate, at all events, which, having
once possessed, I consider justly to be mine; but I do not want to get
Madame Coulancourt’s head off. If I prove that she is corresponding
with England, where her daughter is, and that she and Jean Plessis, are
seeking to secretly dispose of her property and transport the produce
to Hamburg, I shall gain my ends. I have my spies on her continually,
and lately I have reason to suspect that a young girl said to be very
beautiful, and who is constantly visiting her, whom she has been seen
to embrace with much affection, is her daughter, smuggled into France
some way or other. My next letters from Paris will be important.”
There was a short silence, after which Monsieur Gramont’s companion
said—
“Are you certain that this very beautiful girl with Jean Plessis,
calling herself Tourville, is really a Mademoiselle Tourville, and this
Englishman passing for her brother is not her lover?”
“Of that I am quite certain; I saw and heard enough when I came
suddenly upon them in the Hermit’s Grotto. Lovers they are, but as
to her being Mademoiselle Tourville or not I cannot say. I have
ordered François Perrin to proceed to the château and make a visit of
inspection without hinting any suspicion. He will be with me to-night
to report.”
“Well, it strikes me,” said Augustine, “that this Mademoiselle de
Tourville is Madame Coulancourt’s daughter, sent from Paris, fearing
she might be suspected.”
Monsieur Gramont looked at his companion, saying—
“You have been receiving private communications from Paris, during your
absence?”
“I have; and desperate as you think the cause of the jacobins, I have
another idea.”
“And who is your correspondent?” demanded Monsieur Gramont, somewhat
authoritatively.
“A man who will soon revive the power of the terrorists (another name
for jacobins)—Babouf, who is now styled the tribune of the people; he
will restore the ‘true, pure, and absolute democracy.’”
“Bah!” muttered Monsieur Gramont. “I tell you what, Augustine Vadier,
you will bring your head under the axe; to believe or think that a
rascally scribbler of a paltry paper, who reproduces the discarded
theories of that little villain Muret, will again overturn the present
consolidated form of government, under which our armies are achieving
the most triumphant success! Bah! It is the army that will govern by
and by.”
“By heaven, I do believe you are no better than an aristocrat at
heart—a loyalist!” said Augustine Vadier, savagely.
“No doubt in the world of it,” returned Monsieur Gramont, quite coolly,
“and always was; your republican principles and your ideas of liberty
are all fudge. However, here we are, drop your political career, or
you will lose your head. I never, out of all those I have seen, ever
knew a man’s carcase worth a sous without a head. So keep yours, follow
my counsel, and I’ll stick to my bargain, though you botched the
beginning.”
So saying Monsieur Gramont rode into the court-yard at the back of his
château, an edifice of considerable importance at one time, but at
this period greatly out of repair, and sadly neglected. A domestic came
to take the horses, and then followed Monsieur Gramont into the house,
looking both gloomy and discontented.
Our readers will recollect that in one of the chapters we mentioned
that Jean Plessis stated to our hero that he firmly believed that the
casket Madame Coulancourt confided to his care was plundered of its
contents by a galley slave named Augustine Vadier, who afterwards
played a very conspicuous part among the monsters of the revolution.
That Augustine Vadier and the Augustine Vadier above-mentioned are one
and the same person, and it will be now necessary to lay before our
readers an account of his connection with Monsieur Gramont.
Being committed to the galleys for his crimes, he was one of the two
convicts left on board the hulk where our hero and Mabel passed so many
hours, after escaping from the mob in the streets of Toulon. Augustine
Vadier was in communication with the other slaves, and with some of
the most vicious of the Toulon Republicans, and their emancipation was
hourly expected. This man perceived the extreme care William Thornton
bestowed upon the parcel he carried under his arm, and saw him deposit
it at the foot of the berth in which Mabel reposed. His first intention
was to possess himself of it altogether; but as he could not get out
of the dock till the insurrection emancipated himself and companions,
he resolved to have a look at it, and, watching his opportunity, he
extracted the casket from the berth, and getting into a remote part
of the hulk took off the cover. What was his astonishment when he
recognised the casket itself as one sold by him several years back to
the Duchess de Coulancourt! and quite aware of its construction, in
ten minutes, with a thin saw made from a watch spring, and one or two
other tools he had hidden, he took out the bottom and all the contents,
devouring with greedy eyes the valuable jewels and money it contained.
Cutting up some pieces of lead he wrapped them in brown paper, and
filling the spaces of the casket with shavings he restored the bottom,
and putting the cover on, replaced it in the berth. Augustine Verdier’s
first impulse was to destroy the papers, but on looking at them he saw
reason to think they might be of value hereafter.
On the galley slaves regaining their freedom, Vadier removed his
plunder, and as he gained a position amongst the monsters brought into
existence by the times, he placed the papers in greater security.
Excelling in ingenuity, devilish in temper and disposition, he soon
made himself notorious, and having the command of money from the sale
of his jewels and gold, he soon became closely associated with the
leaders of the jacobin mob. Amongst the most violent and arrogant
leaders of the party he joined was the elder Gramont, a man of high
family but poor and eager for aggrandizement, who thought to gain his
ends by siding with the ferocious and bloodthirsty followers of Marat,
and afterwards with Robespierre.
Gramont and Vadier became amazingly friendly. In the course of time
Gramont stated that he was connected by ties of blood with the
ci-devant Duke de Coulancourt, that he aimed at getting into his
hands the estates confiscated; and that if Vadier, who was a most
accomplished forger, would aid him, he would make it well worth his
while, and enrich him; for Vadier’s extravagance equalled his love of
blood. Struck with this proposal Vadier recollected the papers he had
secreted in Toulon, and for them he went. Between them they forged
several letters and a deed, purporting to annul the will the duke
made, leaving his property to his duchess. In such a time of anarchy,
confusion, and horror, they contrived to gain their ends, and the
confiscated property of the Coulancourts was bestowed upon Monsieur
Gramont; but the overthrow of Robespierre and his execution, and the
destruction of all his partisans that could be caught, some time
after, put Monsieur Gramont and Augustine Vadier to flight. Vadier was
so execrated that he dared not shew himself any where near Paris; he
contrived to get into Brittany, and joined the brigands, as they were
then styled. A party he belonged to were forced to fly into Normandy;
there he heard of Monsieur Gramont’s son being still in possession
of his father’s property near Coulancourt; and as the son was well
known to him, and knew of the manner in which he served his father, he
discovered himself to him, and he gave him an asylum in his château.
The pursuit after the partisans of Robespierre having relaxed, many
had returned to Paris to foment fresh disturbances if they could; but
Augustine Vadier, though he kept up a correspondence with several
persons in the capital, was yet afraid to show himself.
Bertrand Gramont had just retired from the army, and through the
interest of a near connection, then in power with the party governing
France, was made maire of the arrondissement in which Coulancourt
was situated. He was immensely in debt, his only remaining estate
being mortgaged to the last acre, and, in fact, he was living on
the emoluments of his office. Totally unprincipled, caring not a
straw about the political state of the country, or minding much
whether France became a republic or flourished under a monarchical
government, though indeed he inclined to the latter, his only object
was self-aggrandizement, and his grand project to recover Coulancourt.
Augustine Vadier had irrevocably lost the papers he once possessed, for
in his flight from Paris he lost everything. Bertrand Gramont kept up
a strict espionage upon Madame Coulancourt, his aim being to excite
suspicion of her conduct, so that her estate of Coulancourt might be
confiscated, he being assured that if that event ever occurred he
should be able to get reinstated in the property.
With Augustine Vadier he planned the robbery of Jean Plessis, thinking
to gain possession of important papers relative to the estate, and also
some evidence of the intendant’s proceedings respecting other property
belonging to Madame Coulancourt.
Vadier brought into Normandy some eight or ten of his old associates,
and kept them concealed till an opportunity should occur. Their
vile projects were, however, defeated by the timely appearance of
Lieutenant Thornton and Bill Saunders. Bertram Gramont was watching
the whole proceeding, bitterly cursing the interference of our hero.
In conversing with him afterwards respecting the fishing-rod he had
picked up, his suspicions were excited by something in the manner and
appearance of Lieutenant Thornton. He found no fault exactly with his
French, for he spoke the language exceedingly well; but to a very keen
observer like Bertram Gramont a trifle will lead to suspicion.
Suspicion once aroused, caused reflection, and not knowing any one in
the vicinity of the name of De Tourville, he began making inquiries
before he paid his promised visit to Coulancourt.
Vadier, who, at the time of the attack upon Jean Plessis, was without
beard or whiskers, lay hid in Monsieur Gramont’s château, till they
grew, and he otherwise disguised himself. He declared to Bertram
Gramont that the man who nearly choked him with the landing-net was
positively an Englishman, for he had spoken English to him. He was sure
it was English.
Monsieur Gramont thought this was very curious, so he rode over to
Havre, and there he heard the full particulars of the attempt upon the
Vengeance, and of her seizure afterwards by an English officer of the
Diamond frigate and one man, and their taking her to sea; of her being
burned, and then run ashore near or under Lyon Point; but what became
of the English officer and his man, no one could say. Strongly desirous
of finding some clue to the mystery, Bertram Gramont rode to the place
where Captain Gaudet was repairing and refitting the Vengeance. He saw
Pierre Gaudet, and questioned him concerning the naval officer and his
man that took the privateer.
Captain Gaudet readily enough told him all he knew: that it was the
same officer who had shot his brother-in-law, and took the Bon-Citoyen
schooner; but he could not say what became of him and his companion.
He said, very likely that they were drowned; but Monsieur Gramont
thought that it was not probable. He made the captain describe the two
men minutely, and from his description he felt almost satisfied that
Monsieur de Tourville and his servant, Pierre Bompart, were the English
officer and his man. He at once set François Perrin, Sergeant of the
Inspecting Gendarmes, to make all kind of inquiries, cautiously, so as
not to excite suspicion. So well did the sergeant manage it, that he
found out that two tall men, dressed as sailors, supposed to be French
sailors, had crossed the sands to the village of Caux, on the morning
after the burning wreck came ashore, and had been observed to enter the
village, but were not seen after. More the sergeant could not learn;
however, that was enough for Bertram Gramont. Giving the sergeant a
handsome present, he desired him to remain quiet for awhile.
Bertram Gramont now felt satisfied he knew who Monsieur de Tourville
was; but that by no means cleared up all the mystery of the affair to
him. He was convinced there was a great deal more to be found out.
He did not care about the arrest of the Englishmen; the finding them
domiciled in Coulancourt, under the names of De Tourville and Bompart,
was mysterious; but ten times more so when a Mademoiselle de Tourville
arrived. He set a careful spy upon the movements of the inhabitants of
Coulancourt; and as a guide, he ordered Sergeant Perrin to pay a visit
to Dame Moret’s, and also to the château; to excite no suspicion, but
merely to perform his actual duty, inquiring the names, looking at
their papers, &c., and then to come to him.
The spy brought him word that a party was going to the Hermit’s Grotto
on the following day; so, with Vadier, now much transmogrified by beard
and whiskers and false eyebrows, he rode to the place, left Vadier with
the horses, and crossed the rocks.
Our readers know the result; he learned enough to prove to him that
Monsieur de Tourville was the lover, not the brother, of the beautiful
girl who bore the same name. On returning home that day, he sent off
a messenger to Paris with a letter, and directions to bring back an
answer; this done, he waited the arrival of Sergeant Perrin.