THE GENERAL EATS A SUPPER WHICH HAD NOT BEEN
PREPARED FOR HIM.
According to the instructions of the marquis transmitted by Mary to
Rosine, the gate was opened to the soldiers at the first rap. No
sooner was this done than they filed into the courtyard and hastened
to surround the house.
Just as the old general was about to dismount he saw the two
torchbearers on the portico, and beside them, partly in shadow, partly
in the light, the two young girls. They all came toward him with a
gracious, hospitable manner which greatly amazed him.
"Faith! general," said the marquis, coming down the last step, as if
to go as far as possible to meet the general. "I began to despair of
seeing you, this evening at least."
"You despaired of seeing me, Monsieur le marquis!" exclaimed the
general, astonished at this exordium.
"Yes, I despaired of seeing you. At what hour did you leave
Montaigu,--at seven?"
"At seven precisely?"
"Well, that's just it! I calculated that it would take you about two
hours to march here, and I expected you at nine or half-past, and here
it is half-past ten. I was just wondering if some accident could have
happened to deprive me of the honor of receiving so brave and gallant
a soldier."
"Then you expected me, monsieur?"
"Why, of course, I did. I'll bet it was that cursed ford at Pont-Farcy
which detained you. What an abominable country it is, general!--brooks
that become impassible torrents from the slightest rain; roads--call
them roads indeed! I call them bogs! How did you get over those
dreadful springs of Baugé?--a sea of mud in which you are sure to
flounder to the waist, and are lucky enough if it doesn't come over
your head. But even that is nothing to the Viette des Biques. When I
was a young fellow and a frantic hunter I used to think twice before
risking myself over it. Really, general, I feel very grateful for this
visit when I think what trouble and fatigue it has caused you."
The general saw that, for the moment, he had to do with as shrewd a
player as himself; and he resolved to eat with a good grace the dish
that the marquis served to him.
"I beg you to believe, Monsieur le marquis," he replied, "that I
regret having kept you waiting, and that the fault of the delay is
none of mine. In any case, I will try to profit by the lesson you give
me, and the next time I come I will set out in time to defy fords,
bogs, and precipices from hindering my arrival politely in season."
At this moment an officer came up to the general to take his orders
about the search to be made of the château.
"It is useless, my dear captain," replied the general; "the marquis
tells me we have come too late; in other words, we have nothing to do
here,--the château is all in order."
"But, my dear general!" said the marquis, "in order or not, my house
is at your disposal; pray do exactly as you like with it."
"You offer it with such good grace I cannot refuse."
"Well, young ladies, what are you about," exclaimed the marquis, "that
you let me keep these gentlemen talking here in the rain? Pray come
in, general, come in, gentlemen; there's an excellent fire in the
salon which will dry your clothes--which that cursed ford must have
soaked thoroughly."
"How shall I thank you for all your considerateness?" said the
general, biting his moustache and secretly his lips.
"Oh! you are a man I am glad to serve, general," replied the marquis,
preceding the officers whom he was lighting, the little notary
modestly bringing up the rear with the other torch. "But permit me,"
he added, "to present to you my daughters. Mesdemoiselles Bertha and
Mary de Souday."
"Faith, marquis," said the general, gallantly, "the sight of two such
charming faces is worth the risks of taking cold at the fords, or
getting muddy in the bog, or even breaking one's neck on the Viette
des Biques."
"Well, young ladies," said the marquis, "make use of your pretty eyes
to see if supper, which has long been waiting for these gentlemen,
intends to keep us waiting now."
"Really, marquis," said Dermoncourt, turning to his officers, "we are
quite confounded by such kindness; and our gratitude--"
"Is amply relieved by the pleasure your visit affords us. You can
easily believe, general, that having grown accustomed to the two
pretty faces you compliment so charmingly, and being moreover their
father, I should sometimes find life in my little castle a trifle
insipid and monotonous. You can understand, therefore, that when an
imp of my acquaintance came and whispered in my ear, 'General
Dermoncourt started from Montaigu at seven o'clock, with his staff, to
pay you a visit,' I was delighted."
"Ah! it was an imp who told you?"
"Yes; there is always such a being in every cottage and every castle
in this region of country. So the prospect of the pleasant evening I
should owe to your coming, general, gave me something of my old
elasticity, which, alas! I am losing. I hurried my people and put my
hen-house and larder under contribution, set my daughters in motion,
and kept my old crony Loriot, the Machecoul notary, to do you honor;
and I have even, God damn me! put my own hand in the pie, and we have
managed, among us, to prepare a supper which is ready for you, and
also for your soldiers--for I don't forget I was once a soldier
myself."
"Ah! you have served in the army, Monsieur le marquis?" said
Dermoncourt.
"Perhaps in the same wars as yourself; though, instead of saying that
I served, I ought only say that I fought."
"In this region?"
"Yes, under the orders of Charette."
"Ah ha!"
"I was his aide-de-camp."
"Then this is not the first time we have met, marquis."
"Is that really so?"
"Yes, I made the campaigns of 1795 and 1796 in La Vendée."
"Ah! bravo! that delights me," cried the marquis; "then we can talk at
dessert of our youthful prowess--Ah, general," said the old gentleman,
with a certain melancholy, "it is getting to be a rare thing on either
side to find those who can talk of the old campaigns. But here come
the young ladies to tell us that supper is ready. General, will you
give your arm to one of them? the captain will take the other." Then,
addressing the rest of the officers, he said, "Gentlemen, will you
follow the general into the dining-room?"
They sat down to table,--the general between Mary and Bertha, the
marquis between two officers. Maître Loriot took the seat next to
Bertha, intending, in the course of the meal, to get in a word about
Michel. He had made up his mind that, so far as he was concerned, the
marriage contract should be drawn in his office.
For some minutes nothing was heard but the clatter of plates and
glasses; all present were silent. The officers, following the example
of their general, accepted complacently this unexpected termination of
their intended attack. The marquis, who usually dined at five o'clock,
and was therefore nearly six hours late in getting anything to eat,
was making up to his stomach for its lost time. Mary and Bertha, both
of them pensive, were not sorry to have an excuse for their silent
reflections in the aversion they felt to the tricolor cockade.
The general was evidently reflecting on some means of getting even
with the marquis. He understood perfectly well that Monsieur de Souday
had received warning of his approach. Practised in Vendéan warfare, he
well knew the facility and rapidity with which news is communicated
from one village to another. Surprised at first by the heartiness of
the Marquis de Souday's welcome, he had gradually recovered his
coolness and returned to his habits of minute observation. All he saw,
whether it was his host's extreme attentions, or the profusion of the
repast, far too sumptuous to have been prepared for enemies, only
confirmed his suspicions; but, patient as all good hunters of men and
game should be, and certain that if his illustrious prey had taken
flight (as he believed she had) it would be useless to pursue her in
the darkness, he resolved to postpone his more serious investigations
and to let no indication of what was below the surface escape him.
It was the general who first broke silence.
"Monsieur le marquis," he said, raising his glass, "the choice of a
toast may be as difficult for you as for us; but there is one that
cannot be embarrassing, and has, indeed, the right to precede all
others. Permit me to drink to the health of the Demoiselles de Souday,
thanking them for their share in the courteous reception with which
you have honored us."
"My sister and I thank you, monsieur," said Bertha; "and we are very
glad to have pleased you in accordance with our father's wishes."
"Which means," said the general, smiling, "that you are only gracious
to us under orders, and that our gratitude for your attentions is
really due to Monsieur le marquis. Well, that's all right; I like such
military frankness, which would induce me to leave the camp of your
admirers and enter that of your friends, if I thought I could be
received there wearing, as I do, the tricolor cockade."
"The praises you give to my frankness, monsieur," replied Bertha,
"induce me to say honestly that the colors you wear are not those I
like to see upon my friends; but, if you really wish for that title I
will grant it, hoping that the day may come when you will wear mine."
"General," said the marquis, scratching his ear, "your remark is
perfectly true; what toast can I give in return for your graceful
compliment to my daughters without compromising either of us? Have you
a wife?"
The general was determined to nonplus the marquis.
"No," he said.
"A sister?"
"No."
"A mother, perhaps?"
"Yes," said the general, issuing from the ambush in which he seemed to
have been awaiting the marquis, "France, our common mother."
"Ah, bravo! then I drink to France! and may the glory and the grandeur
that her kings have given her for the last eight centuries long
continue."
"And, permit me to add, the half-century of liberty which she owes to
her sons."
"That is not only an addition, but a modification," said the marquis.
Then, after an instant's silence, he added, "Faith! I'll accept that
toast! White or tricolor, France is always France!"
All the guests touched glasses, and Loriot himself, carried off his
balance by the enthusiasm of the marquis, emptied his glass.
Once launched in this direction, and moistened abundantly, the
conversation became so lively and even vagabond that after the supper
was two thirds through, Mary and Bertha, thinking they had better not
wait till the end of it, rose from table and passed without remark
into the salon.
Maître Loriot, who seemed to have come there as much for the daughters
as for their father, rose a few moments later and followed them.