I GO BACK AGAIN.
We arranged to leave Paris on the following morning.
It was three hours after noontide when the ceremony was over. I
made a rendezvous with M. Drouet for five o’clock at the “Hotel des
Postes,” and left him to give my thanks and bid adieu to Maître
Duplay and his family.
All the household had been to the fête of the federation.
I met the group, consisting of M. and Madame Duplay, the two
daughters, and the two apprentices, at the top of the Rue St. Honoré.
I went up to and saluted them.
They, too, had remarked the hesitation with which the King took the
oath, and were, in consequence, sorrowful.
We entered the house; the dinner awaited us; Duplay invited me to
join them; I assented.
During the meal, Félicién, sure of his superiority over me as a
fencer, spoke of the promise I had made to try a bout with him; and
asked me, if, after dinner, I was prepared to stand by our agreement,
and give M. Duplay and his daughters, the pleasure of witnessing our
prowess. I replied that if it would please my worthy hosts, I should
only be too happy to make such a slight return for their kindness and
hospitality towards me.
Dinner finished, we passed into the workshop, Félicién evidently
expecting an easy victory over me, and speaking much as a master
would to a pupil.
M. Duplay and the young ladies being seated, we each took our mask
and foil.
“Be easy,” said Félicién, in a whisper intended to be heard; “I will
not hurt you.”
“Thanks!” replied I; “for I shall probably be at your mercy.”
“Would you like to begin?” asked Félicién.
“As you please,” said I.
We placed ourselves on guard.
At the first pass, I saw that Félicién tried to touch me; which,
between strangers, lacks courtesy.
However, I appeared not to notice it, and contented myself by
parrying his thrust.
Now came my turn.
I made four or five passes only; but they were sufficient to show me
that, though Félicién was a tolerable fencer, he had no chance with
me.
I had paid great attention to the instructions given me, as I wished
to make rapid progress; while Bertrand being an able master, and I
his sole scholar, he was enabled to devote all his attention to me.
Félicién, also, after the first few passes, perceived my superiority
over him.
I allowed him to make five or six thrusts at me, simply contenting
myself with parrying them.
Once he grazed the wristband of my shirt, but he did not dare say
“Touched!”
I saw the blood mount to his face.
“My dear Félicién,” said I, “I have been three hours under arms, and
am fatigued. If you will allow me, I should like to put an end to our
combat. The ladies, I am sure, will accept my excuse.”
“They may, but I will not,” said he. “I know full well, by the
strength of your parries, that your arm is not fatigued. Say that you
believe yourself to be a better fencer than I am, and that you are
generous enough not to pursue your advantage.”
“Then you wish to continue?”
“Certainly. If you are the better man, I will take the lesson, as an
obedient scholar should.”
“You hear the promise that M. Félicién makes,” said I, turning to
M. Duplay; “and you are witness that I continue solely on that
agreement?”
“Yes, yes!” cried all the spectators, especially the two girls, who
seemed to me to wish the pride of the apprentice lowered.
I saluted Félicién with my foil.
“I await you,” said I; “take care of my ripostas, which are very
rapidly delivered.”
“We will see,” said Félicién, dealing me a thrust which I had only
just time to parry.
But, at last, I touched, almost imperceptibly, his breast with the
button of my foil.
He bounded backwards; and while neither of us cried “_Touched?_” yet
all the spectators saw that it was so.
He again rushed on me, his teeth set, his lips pale.
He crossed my foil, and passed _one, two_. But in retreat, his foil
caught my guard, and snapped off, about two inches from the button.
But he continued to fight, as if he knew not that his weapon was
broken. So I took the first opportunity that offered; and, twisting
his blade out of his hand, sent it flying across the room.
“Pardon me,” said I, “for disarming you; I know that it is not
etiquette; but neither is it etiquette to fence with a buttonless
foil. You might have dangerously wounded me, and been unhappy
yourself ever afterwards.”
Then, taking off my mask, I hung it on the wall, and placed my foil
by the side of it.
Félicién saw plainly that I did not wish to continue the combat; and,
without taking off his mask, he stalked out of the room.
“Ah!” cried M. Duplay; “you have read him a good lesson, and I must
say that he deserved it. Now then, say good-bye to the ladies, and
let us be off to the Rue Grange Batélière, where you will introduce
me to M. Drouet. I need not tell you that if I hear of your coming
to Paris without paying me a visit, I shall be your bitter enemy for
life.”
I bade the two girls good-bye, and we set out.
As I expected, Félicién was awaiting us in the court.
The moment he saw me come out with M. Duplay, who evidently only came
with me to prevent a quarrel, Félicién began to divest himself of
his upper garments; but M. Duplay cried out, “Come here, you young
vagabond!—I tell you, come here!”
Félicién approached unwillingly.
“Give your hand to my young friend here—he has a right to it.”
“Has what?” asked Félicién.
“Nothing,” I hastened to reply. “M. Duplay believes that you knew
your foil to be unbuttoned, but I have told him ‘no!’ Come; shake
hands, and be friends.”
I held out my hand.
Félicién took it with rather a bad grace.
“There,” said M. Duplay; “you have said adieu! We go our way—you can
go yours.”
And he dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
We went our way.
“You see, I was right in coming out with you,” said M. Duplay. “The
little scoundrel was waiting there to pick a quarrel with you. He
would not be a bad carpenter if he would work, but he thinks the
trade beneath him. He loves, and is jealous of Cornelie. One can
easily see that, but he is eighteen months younger than she. I don’t
think that Cornelie is very fond of him; but you have given a lesson
to M. Veto, and you have done well.”
I did not reply, as I agreed in every respect with M. Duplay.
As the clock struck five, we arrived at the Rue Grange Batélière. We
found M. Drouet punctual. I introduced M. Duplay, whom he already
knew through my speaking of him.
We spent the evening fraternising with the Parisians.
We each of us received a medal in commemoration of the occasion.
At five o’clock in the morning, the drum beat the recall. We formed
ranks, and set out for the Barrier Pantin. Meaux was fixed upon as
our first halting-place.
Four days after our departure from Paris, we arrived at Menehould
about three hours after mid-day. We had, on an average, marched about
twelve leagues a day.
M. Drouet wished me to dine with him, but I knew that my uncle would
be uneasy if I returned not with the others; and, somehow or other, I
had a presentiment that I must hasten, if I wished to see him alive.
I was a quick walker. I ran down the slope of the mountain, and
traversed the village at a quick trot.
On passing the priest’s house, I saw Mademoiselle Marguerite in the
doorway. When she saw me, she came forward.
I feared what she was going to ask; so I at once said, “M. le Curé
is in capital health, and will be here in an hour. What news of my
uncle?”
“Good, my dear Réné—good; but you have mentioned to him your arrival?”
“No, I have not. Why should I?”
“Well, he told me that you would arrive at half-past seven this
evening; and he said, ‘Thank heaven, I shall be able to see and bless
him before I die!’”
“He said that? Well, I must hurry on, for I have no time to lose.”
On leaving the village, and turning the first angle of the forest,
one could see the cottage of Father Descharmes.
I turned the corner in a moment.
Father Descharmes was at the door, seated in his arm-chair, in the
same place I had left him, enjoying the rays of the setting sun.
I waved my hat on the end of my musket. I thought that he feebly
waved his hand in return.
I ran quicker than ever; and the nearer I came the more his face
brightened up.
When I was not more than ten paces distant, he lifted himself from
the chair, and, raising his eyes to heaven, he said “I knew well that
I should see my child again. ‘Now let Thy servant depart in peace,
according to Thy word.’”
I heard these words, and threw myself on my knees.
“Bless me, oh, my uncle!” I cried.
My voice was choked with sobs, for I saw that I had arrived just in
time to receive his last breath.
I felt the old man’s hands placed upon my forehead, and I fancied
that I heard his voice murmuring feebly a prayer.
When the prayer was finished, he cried, “Oh, heaven, receive my
spirit!”
I felt his hand slowly slipping from my brow.
I stayed a moment immovable, and then, taking his hands in mine, I
raised myself gently, and looked at him.
He had fallen backwards, his head resting on his breast, and his eyes
and mouth open.
But the mouth no longer had breath, and the light had departed from
the eyes.
He was dead!