THE ARRIVAL OF THE DRAGOONS.
During the ten months that I stayed with M. Gerbaut, my life was
monotonous in the extreme.
As I was an excellent workman, he gave me, as well as board and
lodging, a salary of thirty francs a month, and often gave me to
understand that he wished that I were a few years older, that he
might give me his daughter in marriage, and surrender to me his
business. But the fact was, I was a year younger than Sophie.
But it was not that only which rendered a union impossible between
us; it was that invincible sorrow, denoting a passion hidden in the
depths of her heart.
My opinion was, that the young man for whom she entertained this
hidden feeling was the Viscount de Malmy.
Sophie gave me all that she had promised—sisterly love.
It was impossible to be kinder or more affectionate to me than she
was. On Sunday, I invariably took her out for a walk, and she never
would accept any other arm than mine; but this friendship did not
induce her to confide to me the cause of the sorrow which I could
plainly see was preying upon her constitution.
Sometimes the young nobles came, and, as I have told you, put up at
the Brothers Leblanc.
On those days, Sophie always found a pretext for not going out with
me, taking care that the pretext was plausible.
She shut herself up in her chamber, the window of which was exactly
opposite the window of the “Bras d’Or,” and stayed there the whole
time that the young nobles were at Varennes.
More than once, under these circumstances, I had half a mind to get
up in the night, and see if the darkness hid any mystery with regard
to Sophie and the Viscount, but I always had strength enough to
resist the temptation. I thought to myself I had no right to surprise
any of her secrets, which, notwithstanding our friendship, she had
not thought fit to confide in me.
One night, whilst passing along the corridor, I fancied I heard two
voices in Sophie’s room; but instead of stopping to listen, I felt
ashamed of the action which jealousy prompted me to commit, and I
determined, notwithstanding the pangs I suffered, that Sophie should
have no reason to suppose that I suspected anything.
My grief, undoubtedly, was great; but my pity for her was greater,
and I felt that strong as my anguish was, she was preparing for
herself an after day of sorrow and remorse.
From the 1st to the 15th of June, the visits of M. Malmy and M.
Dampierre were more frequent than usual.
An instinctive hatred made me keep aloof from M. de Malmy; but the
Count, in memory of Father Descharmes, never met me without speaking.
But, for the most part, they did not come as far as the Rue de
la Basse Cour. M. de Malmy alone, and his friend the Viscount de
Courtemont, went to the “Bras d’Or;” the Count de Haus stayed on
the top of the Hill des Réligieuses with one of his friends, an old
Chevalier of St. Louis, named the Baron de Préfontaine.
On the 20th of June, about three o’clock in the afternoon, M. Jean
Baptiste arrived.
In the course of the ten months since I had last been at Varennes, he
had paid two or three visits to his friends Billaud and Guillaume,
and had never failed to come and see me, and to invite me to take
breakfast with him, as the case might be.
This time he had a more mysterious air than usual; he engaged a
private room at the Brothers Leblanc, ordered dinner for four, and
asked his two friends to come and join us immediately at the “Bras
d’Or.”
For some time the horizon had been lowering.
It was evident that there was some counterplot hatching.
On the 1st of March we had heard of the affair of the Gentlemen of
the Dagger.
On the 20th of April, we had heard that the King, intending to go to
St. Cloud, had been stopped by the people, and was afraid to leave
the Tuileries.
We knew, vaguely, what was going on in Italy. The Count D’Artois was
at Mantua with the Emperor Leopold, asking for an invasion of France.
The King did not ask that invasion; but D’Artois knew well that he
would be glad of it. A year before, everybody saw, from the letter
from the Count de Provence to M. de Favras, how little place the King
held in the calculations of his brothers.
The young King of Sweden, Gustavus, after having been the enemy of
Catharine, conquered by her, became her friend, and at the same time
her agent, and was at Aix, in Savoy, publicly offering his sword to
the King; while the Count de Fersen, an intimate of the Queen’s, was
carrying on a correspondence with M. de Bouillé.
People said that for the last three months the Queen had caused to be
made a trousseau for herself and children.
They said, likewise, that she had caused to be made a magnificent
travelling outfit, sufficient for at least an absence of six months.
Her friend, M. de Fersen, they said, was superintending the
construction of an English chaise, capable of holding from ten to
twelve persons.
All these rumors tended to one end, and caused the two last
appearances of M. Drouet at Varennes.
His post-house was situated on one of the short cuts to the frontier;
and by the road many nobles had emigrated, as if to point out the
proper route for the King.
A new event had taken place, which had appeared to M. Drouet of
sufficient importance to warrant a consultation with his friends.
This was the event I speak of.
On the 20th of June, in the morning, a detachment of hussars, with
brown dolmans (some said that they were a part of De Lauzun’s
regiment, others that they were a part of Esterhazy’s), had entered
St. Menehould by the Clermont road.
At that time, when the troops were billeted on the tradespeople, the
authorities were generally informed of their arrival two or three
days in advance.
In this case, the authorities had received no advice.
M. Drouet had spoken to the officer commanding the detachment. This
officer, whom he remembered to have seen two months before passing
between St. Menehould, Châlons, and Varennes, was called M. Goguelot.
Recognised by M. Drouet, this officer had no hesitation in chatting
with him. He said he had been sent with his forty men to form an
escort for a treasure.
While M. Jean Baptiste was talking with him, a messenger arrived from
the municipality, asking the reason of his coming unannounced and
unexpected.
“Don’t trouble yourself about nothing,” replied the officer;
“myself and my men will sleep here; but as we set off in a hurry
on a particular service, we are utterly without rations. We will
pay all our expenses, so as not to be a burden on the tradespeople.
To-morrow, at daybreak, we start for Pont-de-Somme-Vesles.”
The messenger took this response to the authorities; but they,
not being satisfied with it, sent him back with a request that M.
Goguelot would step up to the Mayor’s house.
He accordingly went there, M. Drouet following.
When asked the reason of his march, the officer exhibited an order
from M. de Bouillé, commanding him to be at Pont-de-Somme-Vesles on
the 21st of June, to take charge of, and escort some treasure which
was there, to St. Menehould, where he was to surrender his trust to
Colonel Dandoin, of the First Regiment of Dragoons.
They then asked where were M. Dandoin’s dragoons.
“He follows me,” he replied; “and will arrive here to-morrow morning.”
The interrogatory was not pushed any farther; but M. Drouet was not
satisfied, so he had run over to Varennes, to inform his companions
of the event, and to hold a consultation with them.
Just as he had finished his tale, the younger brother Leblanc entered.
He had come from Stenay.
“Do you wish to see some beautiful horses, M. Jean Baptiste?” asked
he.
“I should like nothing better,” replied Drouet, “especially if they
are for sale, as I want a remount.”
“I don’t think that they are for sale; but what is astonishing is
that they are harnessed in relays.”
“Where are they?”
“At the ‘Grand Monarque,’ with Father Gautier.”
M. Jean Baptiste looked at us.
“It is well, Victor,” he said; “I will go there after dinner. Have
you any other news?”
“No; there is a movement going on among the troops at Stenay, but
there is nothing astonishing in that. I should not be surprised if we
received an announcement of their arrival here to-morrow.”
“Nor I,” said Drouet.
We finished dinner, and entered into the Rue de la Basse Cour,
crossed the bridge, and arrived at the “Grand Monarque,” where we
found six horses being carefully attended to by the two grooms.
“Those are fine horses. Whose are they, my friend?”
“My master’s!” insolently replied one of the grooms.
“The name of your master is a secret, I suppose?” queried M. Drouet.
“That depends upon who asks me.”
M. Guillaume frowned.
“This is an insolent scoundrel,” said he, “who merits being taught
how lackeys should speak to men!”
“Will you teach me?” asked the groom.
“Why not?” asked Guillaume, going a step nearer to him.
M. Jean Baptiste stopped him by taking hold of his arm.
“My dear Guillaume,” said he, “don’t put yourself out; perhaps this
good man is forbidden to speak, and has come like M. Goguelot, for
the treasure.”
“Do you know M. Goguelot, and why we are here?”
“You are here for the treasure which the hussars are bringing from
Pont-de-Somme-Vesles, to hand over to the dragoons who were awaiting
them at St. Menehould.”
“If you are one of us, monsieur,” said the groom, touching his hat,
“I have no reason to refuse telling you to whom the horses belong.
They are the property of the Duke of Choiseul.”
“You have said well,” said Drouet, laughing; “and we were going to
quarrel with one of our friends.”
“If you are a friend, monsieur, you might tell me whom you are, as I
have told you about the horses?”
“You are right. I have no motive for concealing my name. I am Jean
Baptiste Drouet, postmaster at St. Menehould.”
“As you have said, you are _probably_ one of us.”
At this moment, Father Gautier stepped out from the kitchen door.
M. Drouet thought he had better say no more to the groom, for fear of
exciting suspicion.
“Ah, ha! Father Gautier,” said he; “your kitchen appears to be in
full blow.”
The fires in fact, were at their highest.
“It is so, M. Drouet; but the astonishing part of it is, that I do
not know for whom the cooking is going on.”
“You don’t know for whom?”
“No. I received on the 14th, an order from the military commandant
to prepare a dinner for five o’clock, and it is now the 24th, and no
one has arrived to eat it; but as it is a written command, I am not
afraid, for eaten or not, the dinners are always paid for.”
M. Drouet again looked at us.
“Perhaps they are some great lords about to emigrate,” said M. Jean
Baptiste.
“And who take away our money,” replied Father Gautier.
“In any case, they will leave you a little of theirs. Six or eight
dinners, at how much a head?”
“Three crowns, not including the wine.”
“And for how many people?”
“Eight or ten; the number was not definitely arranged.”
“Father Gautier,” said M. Drouet, “you will yet die rich.”
He then shook hands with him, smiling.
We left the house, and soon found ourselves in the street.
“My friend,” said M. Drouet, “without doubt, something extraordinary
is about to take place. I shall return to Saint Menehould without
losing a moment. Guillaume will go with me. When you get home, watch
day and night. Sleep with one eye open, and hold yourselves in
readiness for whatever may happen.”
We returned quickly to the “Bras d’Or;” M. Drouet saddled his horse
with his own hands. M. Guillaume borrowed one of the elder of the
Leblancs, and they both set off for St. Menehould at a sharp trot,
recommending us both to keep our eyes and ears well open.