At the Palais d'armes of old Pierre Dupré there was excitement. Both
Karl Havet, Marie's fiancé, and young Maux, the second assistant,
had received their conscription notices; both had been drawn; unless
physically unfit or unsound, both men must serve in Napoleon's new and
greatest army.
Maux was in excellent spirits. Being a splendidly built young fellow,
lithe and strong as a leopard, there was no doubt whatever as to his
fitness.
"I shall come back a sergeant, Monsieur," he said; "you shall see; it
may even be that I shall gain a commission in the field--such things
have happened before now!"
Old Pierre nodded approvingly. "You are going forth in the proper
spirit, my son," he said; then he glanced sadly at Karl Havet, who sat
with Marie conversing dejectedly over his conscription notice, and
sighed. "Would it were the same there!" he added.
Louise fired up and spoke.
"You are not fair to them, father," she said. "You have no sympathy for
the natural feelings. They were to be married in a month; they love one
another; it is hard for them. If you were generous you would furnish a
substitute for Karl."
"_Mon Dieu_, Louise, is it you that talk thus, _you_?" exclaimed the old
man; "then indeed I do not recognise my own child. A substitute, when
the Emperor has called him to arms? Shame!"
"It will break Marie's heart, be sure of that; she has been a good
daughter to you, father; it is due to her that you should assist her
in this emergency. Karl has no money to pay for a substitute--you have
plenty. Let him stay a while at least with his wife. Be sure this will
not be the last war; so long as the Emperor lives and Europe is not yet
a province of France, there will be wars and wars. It is not right that
they should be separated."
"Bah--you speak foolishly, like a woman; you disappoint me, Louise, you
that have ever shown a spirit above that of a woman. As for separation,
if Marie is so foolish as to depend upon the presence of a lover for
her happiness, why should they be separated? Let her go also!"
"Father, what do you mean?" said Louise, gazing blankly at the old man;
"do you rave?"
"On the contrary, never was I more serious. Marie is as good a man as
the best; she lacks but the pantaloons--_eh bien_! There are many fools
under conscription orders who will be glad of a substitute. Let her go
to the war with her Karl, since they dread separation; she will be the
happier and the richer too, for she will touch the money of some coward
or fool who is ready to pay for his own dishonour--_voilà tout_!"
"And you, father, could your mind rest in peace if your child were
exposed thus to the risks of war?"
Old Pierre started from his seat with an exclamation of impatience.
"_Sapristi_, Louise my child, you grow more foolish each minute! Do
you not know that it is the one grievance of my life that I have no
sons to fight for France? If I had a son and he went forth to battle,
think you I should sit at home to weep in anguish of anxiety until he
returned safely to the fireside? God forbid; I should thank Him daily,
each minute, that I, too, had been found worthy to provide one soldier
for France. Why then should I feel differently if I possessed a daughter
who, thanks to her own fine spirit and to the training I have given her,
had risen superior to the weakness of her sex and gone forth as a man to
do a man's work in the world? I should thank God all the more--yes, and
I should love my child the more, more by a hundred times."
Louise was silent. Now that her father explained his view of the matter
she recognised that it was, after all, perfectly consistent with his
character that he should think thus. That any one else should think the
same way, however, was quite a different matter. Marie, for instance,
would probably consider the idea a ridiculous one; her fiancé, Karl,
was certain to laugh the suggestion to scorn, and yet Louise, to her
surprise, found that she herself had listened to her father's words
without the impatient amazement which so wild a proposal might have
aroused in her. To her mind, trained as she had been, the idea of a
woman assuming the dress of a man and enlisting as a man in the army of
her country was neither absolutely new nor absolutely impossible. Louise
knew, almost by heart, the story of Mademoiselle de Maupin, who had
done this very thing a century ago; her career was a favourite theme of
old Pierre's, who had drummed it into the ears of his daughters since
they were children. Certainly if any woman could imitate Mademoiselle de
Maupin with success, it was Marie. But Marie was in love and about to
be married; she possessed no longer the manly spirit which would render
such a thing possible, and Karl would certainly reject the idea.
"Suggest to them your scheme, father," she said; "but I warn you that
they will not receive it seriously."
Marie flushed a little when the strange idea was mentioned to her; then
she laughed and asked Karl what he thought of it.
"It is madness," said Karl, glancing indignantly at old Pierre. "That
a man who loves a woman, whether as father or lover, should be willing
to submit her to the shame and the thousand risks involved in such a
scheme, is madness and worse. Thank God, I am not so selfish, Marie.
Rather a million times, I will go alone."
Old Pierre shrugged his shoulders. "As you like," he said. "It is my
misfortune. What other reply should I expect from a man who goes out
unwillingly to serve his country?"
"As for that," said Karl boldly, "if I possessed money I should
certainly procure a substitute; having none, I must go; it is hard,
Marie, but--_que faire_? it is necessity that drives us apart."
Marie burst into tears and the unfortunate lovers left the room together.
"Bah!" said old Pierre, not untouched by his daughter's sorrow. "It is
a misfortune--it is a disaster; see, Louise, how this foolish weakness
called 'love' spoils not only a splendid woman, but a good man also.
Karl is not a coward, and yet----"
"No--Karl is no coward, and Marie still less," said Louise, perfectly
miserable. "Father, let a substitute be found--it is hard for them! You
do not grudge the money, that I know!"
"My daughter, I would spend the money ten times to have Karl go
willingly; to keep him at home, I will not spend it once; what, pay for
the dishonour of one who would marry my child? God forbid!" Old Pierre
left the room.
"It is an _impasse_" he exclaimed at the door. "I am sorry this has
happened; but in honour there is only one course."
An hour later Louise still sat where the rest had left her. Soon after
her father's departure an idea had occurred to her--an idea which
evidently interested and absorbed her so fully that for a whole hour
she sat motionless, thinking deeply, with set mouth and flushed face.
The opening of the door startled her, and she looked up to see Henri
d'Estreville entering the room, a sight which added a still deeper wave
of colour to the flush of excitement which already darkened her cheek.
"Mademoiselle Louise," said Henri, "I have come to bid you farewell."
"Yes, farewell," murmured Louise, "I knew you would be going."
"I am happy to know that Mademoiselle has devoted a thought to me;
it is right that it should be so, for indeed I have many for you,
Mademoiselle."
"You go to the war," Louise murmured, speaking as though in a dream; "so
should all brave men go; oh, Monsieur, it is grand to be a man, to take
a great part in the affairs of life; to move and live and fight, while
others remain at home to weep and think with folded hands. To which army
corps is Monsieur attached?"
"To that of Ney," said Henri, puzzled by the mood of Louise. Evidently
he had surprised her in a moment of unusual softness. Henri had thought,
more than once, that the attitude of Louise towards himself indicated a
certain partiality. To-day he was almost certain of it.
"Ah, Ney! glorious, splendid Ney, Bravest of the brave! Then I may
picture you, Monsieur, as for ever in the thick of the fighting; I shall
think of you, Monsieur, be sure; will you also think of me?"
"Assuredly, Louise."
"And how?"
"As of one who, perhaps, sits and waits until a--a certain young soldier
returns to repeat to her, as now from his very heart he tells her, that
in absence it was her image----"
"Oh, Monsieur," Louise laughed, "not so! sits and waits! Yes, perhaps;
but not in spirit! In spirit, Monsieur, I, too, shall be with Ney,
fighting with him and with you the battles of my country; suffering
hardships, wounds, death maybe, God knows; think of me thus!"
"Yes, I will think thus of you, Mademoiselle; and when I return----"
"Oh, Monsieur, 'sufficient for the day is the evil'. How know you that
you will return, or if you return that you will find me?"
"I shall return, Louise; I have no presentiment that evil lies before
me; certainly I shall return, and as for finding you, that is a matter
of course."
"What if you do not seek me, Monsieur? or if, when you seek me, you do
not find me?"
"To the first I reply that I shall desire you, Louise, as the miner
longs for light and air; why should I not find you? I will ask you to
wait for my return, Mademoiselle!"
"Yes, I will wait for you, Monsieur, if I am alive."
"Then farewell, Mademoiselle; in that hope I shall live." Henri drew her
to him. "Upon your lips," he said, "I seal my promise to return." Louise
did not resist.
"It is true that I love you, Monsieur," she said; "I that never thought
to love a man!"
"By the Saints," Henri murmured, as he hastened away, "that is an easier
conquest than I expected. Moreover, she is splendid. It is certain," he
reflected five minutes later, "that I have never been nearer to falling
in love than at this moment--be careful, Henri."
"When I return," his thoughts ran presently, "there will be some
pleasant hours to spend in tilling this virgin soil--_tiens_! I wish I
was not going so soon!"
Then Henri d'Estreville proceeded with his farewell visits, which
included affecting leave-takings with several ladies of his acquaintance.
Louise sat dreaming for half an hour. Then she rose with flushed face.
"Of course," she muttered, "it is the only way, and what better could
there be? I will do it at once."
When the household of Pierre Dupré sat down to dinner, Louise was
absent. The rest, with the exception of young Maux, were silent and
depressed. When Louise came in her eyes shone brightly, her cheeks
were flushed, and she smiled with some embarrassment as she laid by
her sister's plate a folded paper. Marie took it up and glanced at it.
Suddenly she uttered an exclamation.
"What is it--what have you done, Louise?" she cried. "It is a demission,
Karl, in your name, in respect of a substitute 'Michel Prevost'. Louise,
did my father--oh, where did you raise the money, sister?--Oh, Karl,
see, she has saved us--she has saved us!"
"What mean you?" exclaimed old Pierre. "What have you done, Louise? You
have paid for a substitute for Karl? By all the gods, child, I will not
have it; it is an outrage; I will----"
"Father, let me speak," said Louise; "it is very simple. I have no
money; I have paid no one. The conscript room is crowded with busy
people--one has but to go up in turn to the sergeant, answer a question
or two and pass on. 'Who are you?' 'Michel Prevost.' 'Conscript or
substitute?' 'Substitute for Karl Havet.' 'Height?' 'Five feet seven.'
'Health?' 'Perfect'--scribble, scribble; a paper is handed you--'Drill
yard at seven to-morrow--pass on!' and it is done."
"What do you mean, Louise?" exclaimed Havet, starting from his seat.
"You have not----"
"Do you not understand," cried Marie, laughing hysterically, "it is
Louise herself who has----"
"Yes," said Louise, "that is it, Marie; I am Michel Prevost."
"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed old Pierre; "is it so indeed, Louise?"
"It is so, father; I am Private Michel Prevost; you shall have your
desire at last; by my own will I am going forth. I shall be in good
company, my father, for my regiment is attached to the _corps d'armée_
of Marshal Ney himself; hear you that? I shall fight under his colours,
the Bravest of the brave. Are you satisfied, father, have I done well?
And you, Marie, are you satisfied?"
"Sister, you cannot, you shall not; it is ridiculous--you jest!" cried
Marie.
"God forbid. I do not jest! Let no one dare thwart me by revealing my
secret"--Louise looked round with smiling face but blazing eye--"You,
Karl, or you, Georges, for I swear I will split with my rapier him who
so does! I am a soldier of Ney's army, remember that, _mes amis_!"
Louise ended with a loud laugh; she saluted the company military fashion
and left the room.
For a moment a silence fell upon all present, then old Pierre's voice
was heard repeating the "Nunc Dimittis" in Latin.