WE AGAIN MEET THE GENERAL, AND FIND HE IS
NOT CHANGED.
Maître Courtin was not a little excited. As the last of the three
persons he had followed from Couéron disappeared into the courtyard a
vision danced before his eyes, such as he had seen that night on the
moor returning from Aigrefeuille,--a vision that seemed to him the
most beautiful of all possible visions: he saw before his dazzled eyes
the sparkling of a pyramid of coins, casting their adorable gold
reflections into the far, far future.
Only, the pyramid was double the size of the one he had then seen: for
his first thought on finding the fish in his net was that he should be
a monstrous fool if he let that mysterious man at Aigrefeuille share
in the benefits of his catch. He resolved on the spot not to let him
know of the discovery, but to go himself straight to the authorities
of Nantes and reveal the matter to them. To do him justice, however,
it must be said that Maître Courtin did think, in this first flush of
his hopes, of his young master, and of the fact that he was about to
deprive him of liberty, perhaps of life; but he instantly smothered
that sentiment of untimely remorse, and, in order not to let his
conscience send forth another such cry, he began to run with all his
might toward the Prefecture.
He had hardly gone fifty yards before, just as he turned the corner of
the rue du Marché, a man, running from the opposite direction, bolted
against him and knocked him to the wall. Courtin gave a cry, not of
pain, but amazement, for the man was no other than Monsieur Michel de
la Logerie, whom he thought he had left safely behind the green door
he had carefully marked with a white cross.
His stupefaction was so great that Michel would certainly have noticed
it had he not himself been so preoccupied; but at the moment he was
only delighted to see a man he thought to be his friend, and who, as
he believed, might now be of use to him.
"Oh, Courtin!" he cried, "tell me, did you come down the rue du
Marché?"
"Yes, Monsieur le baron."
"Then you must have met a man running away."
"No, Monsieur le baron."
"Why, yes, you must! It is impossible that you did not see him,--a man
who seemed to be on the watch for some one?"
Maître Courtin reddened; but he instantly recovered himself.
"Wait! stop! yes, I did," he said, suddenly resolving to profit by
this unexpected chance of averting all suspicion from himself. "There
was a man walking in front of me, but I saw him stop at that green
door you see down there."
"That's it!" cried Michel, forgetting everything except his desire to
discover the man who had followed them. "Courtin, will you give me a
proof of your fidelity and devotion? I positively must discover that
man. Which way do you think he went?"
"That way," replied Courtin, pointing to the first street his eyes
lighted on.
"Come on, then, and follow me."
Michel started to run in the direction Courtin had pointed out; but
the latter, as he followed, began to reflect. For an instant he
thought of leaving his master to run where he liked, and going himself
about the business he was engaged in; but the next instant he thought
otherwise and congratulated himself heartily for not following his
first idea.
It was evident to his mind that the house had two issues; and as
Michel had discovered they were watched, both must have been used to
throw the pursuer off the scent. Petit-Pierre had probably gone out as
Michel did, by another door. Michel must surely know, by this time,
the real retreat where Mary lived with Petit-Pierre; he would
therefore stay by Michel, from whom he could undoubtedly obtain the
information he wanted; whereas he might lose all by pushing matters
too hastily. He therefore resigned himself to the loss of his expected
catch and possessed his soul in patience.
He hastened his pace, and rejoined Michel.
"Monsieur le baron," he said, "I must remind you to be cautious. It is
getting to be daylight; the streets will soon be full of people, and
they will all look at you if you run in this way with your clothes all
wet and muddy. If we meet a police-agent he will certainly think it
suspicious and arrest you; and what will your mother say then? She has
given me so many cautions about you!"
"My mother? why, she thinks me at sea, on my way to England!
"Were you going away?" asked Courtin, with the most innocent air in
the world.
"Yes; didn't she tell you so?"
"No, Monsieur de la Logerie," replied the farmer, giving an expression
of deep and bitter sadness to his countenance, "no. I see that, in
spite of all I have done for you, the baroness distrusts me; and I
tell you that cuts me to the heart as a ploughshare cuts into the
ground."
"Oh, nonsense! don't trouble about that, my good Courtin; but your
change of front has been rather sudden and needs explanation. In fact,
when I think of that night you cut the girths of my horse's saddle, I
ask myself why you have become so kind and attentive and devoted."
"Oh, hang it, Monsieur Michel! that's easy told. At that time I was
fighting for my political opinions; now that all danger of
insurrection is over, and I am certain the government I love can't be
overthrown, I don't see anything in Chouans and _she-wolves_ but
friends of my master; and it makes me sorry to be so little
understood."
"Well," said Michel, "I am going to give you a proof that I appreciate
your return to better ideas by confiding to you a secret I believe you
have already guessed. Courtin, it is probable that the new Baronne de
La Logerie will not be the one who, till now, people think it is."
"You mean you won't marry Mademoiselle de Souday?"
"Quite the contrary; only, my wife's name may be Mary, and not
Bertha."
"Ah, I'm glad for you! for you know I helped that on as much as I
could; and if I didn't do more it was because you wouldn't let me. Ah,
_ça!_ have you seen Mademoiselle Mary since you came to Nantes?"
"Yes, I have seen her; and the few minutes I spent with her sufficed,
I hope, to secure my happiness," cried Michel, giving way to the
intoxication of his joy. Then he added: "Are you obliged to go back to
La Logerie to-night?"
"Monsieur le baron ought to feel that I am at his service," replied
Courtin.
"Very good; then you shall see her yourself, Courtin; for to-night I'm
to meet her again."
"Where?"
"Where I met you just now."
"Oh, that's good!" said Courtin, his face brightening with a
satisfaction equal to that on Michel's own face. "That's good! you
don't know how happy I am to have you marry according to your own
likings. Faith! if your mother consents, you are right enough to take
the one you love. You see, now, I gave you good advice."
And the worthy farmer rubbed his hands as though he were on a pinnacle
of satisfaction.
"My good Courtin," said Michel, touched by his farmer's sympathy,
"where shall I find you this evening?"
"Where you please."
"Didn't you put up, as I did, at the Point du Jour?"
"Yes, Monsieur le baron."
"Well, then, we can pass the day there. To-night you can go with me
when I meet Mary, and keep watch for us."
"But," said Courtin, much embarrassed by a proposal which interfered
with all his plans, "I've got a good deal to do in town."
"Well, I'll go with you; it will help me to kill time."
"No, that won't do; my business as mayor will take me to the
Prefecture, and you mustn't go there. No, do you go back to the inn
and keep quiet, and to-night at ten o'clock I'll be on hand to
start,--you as happy as a king, and I very glad of your happiness."
Courtin was most anxious to be rid of Michel for the present. The idea
of gaining the whole reward for the capture of Petit-Pierre so filled
his mind that he was determined not to leave Nantes without knowing
the exact amount offered, and laying some plan to obtain it all
himself and not divide it with any one.
Michel yielded to Courtin's reasoning, and giving a glance at his
muddy clothing he decided to take leave of him then and there and go
back to the tavern.
As soon as his young master had left him Courtin made his way to the
quarters of General Dermoncourt. He gave his name to the orderly, and
after a few minutes' delay he was shown into the presence of the man
he came to see.
The general was a good deal dissatisfied with the turn matters were
taking; he had sent to Paris plans of pacification, somewhat like
those which had succeeded so well under General Hoche. These plans had
not been approved; the general saw the civil authority encroaching
everywhere on the powers which martial law assigned to the military
alone; and his susceptibilities as an old soldier, wounded at every
turn, together with his patriotic feelings, made him deeply
dissatisfied.
"What do you want?" he said to Courtin, looking him over from head to
foot.
Courtin bowed as low as he was able.
"General," he said, "perhaps you remember the fair at Montaigu?"
"_Parbleu_, as if it were yesterday! and especially the night after
it. Ha! that expedition would have been a success, and I might have
strangled the insurrection at its birth if a scoundrelly keeper hadn't
inveigled one of my troopers. By the bye, what was that man's name?"
"Jean Oullier."
"What became of him?"
Courtin could not help turning pale.
"He died," he said.
"The best thing he could do, poor devil; and yet, I'm sorry too,--he
was a brave fellow."
"If you remember the man who defeated the affair, general, it seems
strange you have forgotten the one who helped you with information."
The general looked at Courtin.
"Jean Oullier was a soldier, a comrade, and soldiers remember each
other; the rest--I mean spies and informers--they forget as soon as
possible."
"Very well," said Courtin. "Then I shall have to refresh your
memory, general, and tell you that I am the man who informed you of
Petit-Pierre's hiding-place."
"Oh, are you?" said the general. "Well, what do you want to say now?
Speak out, and briefly!"
"I want to do you exactly the same service over again."
"As for that, times are changed, my good friend. We are no longer
among the sunken roads of the Retz region, where a tiny foot, a fair
skin, and a soft voice are remarkable because they are rare in the
country. Here, all the women look like great ladies; and a score of
men of your kind have been to me to sell their mare's-nests. My
soldiers have been kept on the _qui-vive_ all the time; we have
searched a dozen different places, and all to no purpose."
"General, I have a right to expect you to put faith in me, because the
information I gave you first was correct."
"Upon my word," muttered the general, in a low tone, "it would be
rather pleasant to discover, all by myself, what that man from Paris
with his squads of spies, and sneaks, and pimps, and criminal and
detective police can't find out. Are you sure of what you say?" he
continued, raising his voice.
"I am sure that within twenty-four hours I shall know the street and
the number of the house--"
"Then come and see me."
"But, general, I should wish to know--Courtin stopped.
"Know what?" asked the general.
"I have heard talk of reward, and I wish to know--"
"Ah, true!" said the general, looking at Courtin with sovereign
contempt. "I forgot, though you are a public functionary, that you are
one of those who don't neglect their private interests."
"You said yourself, general, that we were the ones that were soonest
forgotten."
"And you want money to take the place of public gratitude? Well,
that's logical. So, then, you don't give, my worthy mayor, you sell,
you traffic, you trade in human flesh; and to-day, having something to
sell, you come to what you think the best market,--is that it?"
"You have said it. Oh, don't feel embarrassed, general, business is
business; and I am not ashamed to attend to mine!"
"So much the better; but I'm not the man you ought to go to. They've
sent down a gentleman from Paris who is specially charged to attend to
this matter. When you can lay hands on your prey, you had better go to
him and sell it."
"So I will, general. But," continued Courtin, "as I did you such a
service that first time, don't you feel inclined to give me some
reward?"
"My good fellow, if you think I owe you anything I am ready to pay it.
Speak out! I'm listening."
"It will be all the easier because I don't ask much."
"Go on."
"Tell me the sum the government has promised to the man who delivers
Petit-Pierre into your hands."
"Fifty thousand francs, perhaps; I didn't pay much attention to it,
any way."
"Fifty thousand francs!" exclaimed Courtin, stepping back as if he had
been struck. "Why, fifty thousand francs is nothing!"
"I agree with you there; it isn't worth while to be infamous for such
a sum as that. But you can say that to those it concerns; as for you
and me, we have done with each other, I think. Take yourself away.
Good-day to you!"
And the general, resuming the work he had laid aside to receive
Courtin, paid not the slightest attention to the bows and civilities
with which the mayor of La Logerie endeavored to make a proper
retreat.
The latter departed far less satisfied in mind than he was when he
entered. He had no doubt whatever that the general knew correctly the
exact amount of the reward, and he could not reconcile what he had
just heard with what the mysterious man at Aigrefeuille had told
him,--unless it might be that the said mysterious man was the agent
sent by the government from Paris. He now gave up all idea of acting
without him, and he resolved, while practising the utmost caution, to
let him know as soon as possible what had happened.
Until now the man had come to Courtin; but the farmer had his address,
and was directed to write to him if anything important occurred.
Courtin did not write; he went in person. After a good deal of trouble
he managed to find, in the lowest quarter of the town, at the farther
end of a damp and muddy blind alley full of the sordid booths of
rag-pickers and old-clothes men, a tiny shop, where, following certain
directions, he asked for Monsieur Hyacinthe. He was told to go up a
ladder, and was then shown into a small room, much cleaner and more
decent than might have been expected from the general appearance of
this lair.
There he found the man from Aigrefeuille, who received him far better
than the general had done; and with whom he had a long conference.