CHAPTER V.
THE HOSPITAL OF ST. LAURENT.
De Lescure only remained three days at Durbelliere, and then startedagain for his own house at Clisson, and Henri accompanied him. They hadboth been occupied during these three days in making such accommodationas was in their power for the sick and wounded, who were brought backinto the Bocage in considerable numbers from Saumur. The safe and soundand whole of limb travelled faster than those who had lost arms and legsin the trenches at Varin, or who had received cuts and slashes andbroken ribs at the bridge of Fouchard, and therefore the good news wasfirst received in the Bocage; but those miserable accompaniments ofvictory, low tumbrils, laden with groaning sufferers lying on straw,slowly moving carts, every motion of which opened anew the wounds oftheir wretched occupants, and every species of vehicle as could becollected through the country, crammed with the wounded and the dying,and some even with the dead, were not long in following the triumphalreturn of the victorious peasants.
A kind of hospital was immediately opened at a little town called St.Laurent sur Sevre, about two leagues from Durbelliere, at which aconvent of sisters of mercy had long been established. De Lescure andLarochejaquelin between them supplied the means, and the sisters of theestablishment cheerfully gave their time, their skill, and tenderestattention to assuage the miseries of their suffering countrymen. Agathaknew the superior of the convent well, and assisted in all the necessarypreparations. She was there when the hospital was first opened, and fora long time afterwards visited it once or twice a week, on whichoccasions she stayed for the night in the convent; had it not been thatshe could not bring herself to leave her father, she would have remainedthere altogether, as long as the war continued to supply the littlewards with suffering patients. They were seldom, or rather never, emptyas long as the Vendeans kept their position in the country, the sick andthe wounded were nursed with the tenderest care at St. Laurent. Thesisters who had commenced the task never remitted their zeal, nor didAgatha Larochejaquelin. The wards were by degrees increased in number,the building was enlarged, surgical skill was procured, every necessaryfor a hospital was obtained, whatever might be the cost, and whateverthe risk; till at last, in spite of the difficulties which had to beencountered, the dangers which surrounded them, the slenderness of theirmeans, and the always increasing number of their patients, the hospitalof St. Laurent might have rivalled the cleanliness, care, and comfortof the Hotel Dieu in its present perfection.
As soon as the first arrangements for the commencement of this hospitalhad been made, de Lescure and Henri went to Clisson. It may easily besupposed that de Lescure was anxious to see his wife, and that she wasmore than anxious to see him. Henri also was not sorry to hear thepraises of his valour sung by the sweet lips of Marie. He stayed oneshort happy week at Clisson, basking in the smiles of beauty, and theywere the last hours of tranquillity that any of the party were destinedto enjoy for many a long sad day. De Lescure's recovery was neither slownor painful, and before the week was over, he was able to sit out on thelawn before the chateau, with one arm in a sling, and the other roundhis wife's waist, watching the setting of the sun, and listening to thethrushes and nightingales. Every now and again he would talk of thefuture battles to be fought, and of the enemies to be conquered, and ofthe dangers to be encountered; but he did not speak so sadly of theprospects of his party as he did when he had only just determined totake up arms with the Vendeans. The taking of Thouars, and Fontenay, ofMontreuil, and Saumur, had inspirited even him, and almost taught himto believe that La Vendee would be ultimately successful inre-establishing the throne.
De Lescure was delighted to see what he thought was a growing attachmentbetween his sister and his friend. Had he had the power of choosing ahusband for Marie out of all France, he would have chosen HenriLarochejaquelin: he loved him already as he could only love a brother,and he knew that he had all those qualities which would most tend tomake a woman happy.
"Oh, if these wars were but over," said he to his wife, "how I wouldrejoice to give her to him, he is such a brave and gallant fellow--butas tender-hearted and kind as he is brave!"
"These weary, weary wars!" said Madame de Lescure, with a sigh, "wouldthey were over: would, with all my heart, they had never been begun. Howwell does the devil do his work on earth, when he is able to drive thepurest, the most high-minded, the best of God's creatures to war andbloodshed as the only means of securing to themselves the liberty ofworshipping their Saviour and honouring their King!"
Henri himself, however, had not considered the propriety of waitinguntil the wars were over before he took a wife for himself, or at anyrate before he asked the consent of the lady's friends: for the daybefore he left Clisson, he determined to speak to Charles on thesubject; though he had long known Marie so well, and had now beenstaying a week in the house, he had never yet told her that he lovedher. It was the custom of the age and the country for a lover first toconsult the friends of the young lady, and though the peculiarcircumstances of his position might have emboldened Henri to dispensewith such a practice, he was the last man in the world to take advantageof his situation.
"Charles," said he, the evening before his departure, as he stood closeto the garden seat, on which his cousin was sitting, and amused himselfwith pitching stones into the river, which ran beneath the lawn atClisson. "Charles, I shall be off tomorrow; I almost envy you the brokenarm which keeps you here."
"It won't keep me long now, Henri," said he; "I shall be at Chatillonin a week's time, unless you and d'Elbee have moved to Parthenay beforethat. Cathelineau will by that time be master of Nantes, that is, if heis ever to be master of it."
"Don't doubt it, Charles. I do not the least: think of all Charette'sarmy. I would wager my sword to a case-dagger, that Nantes is in hishands this minute."
"We cannot always have the luck we had at Saumur, Henri?"
"No," said Henri, "nor can we always have a de Lescure to knock down forus the gates of the republicans."
"Nor yet a Larochejaquelin to force his way through the breach," saidthe other.
"Now we are even," said Henri, laughing; "but really, without joking,I feel confident that the white flag is floating at this moment on thecastle at Nantes; but it is not of that, Charles, that I wish to speaknow. You have always been an elder brother to me. We have always beenlike brothers, have we not?"
"Thank God, we have, Henri! and I do not think it likely that we shallever be more distant to each other."
"No, that I'm sure we never shall. You are too good either to quarrelyourself, or to let me quarrel with you; but though we never can be moredistant, we may yet be more near to each other. You know what I mean,Charles?"
"I believe I do," said de Lescure; "but why do you not speak out? Youare not likely, I think, to say or to propose anything that we shall notapprove of--that is, Victorine and I."
"God bless you both!" said Henri. "You are too kind to me; but can youconsent to give me your own dear favourite sister--your sweet Marie? Youknow what I mean in saying that I would be nearer to you."
De Lescure was in the act of answering his cousin, when the quick fallof a horse's foot was heard in the avenue close to the house, and thenthere was a sudden pause as the brute was pulled up violently in theyard of the chateau, and the eager voices of domestics answering therapid questions of the man who had alighted.
Interested as the two friends were in their conversation, the times weretoo full of important matters to allow of their remaining quiet, afterhaving heard such tokens of a hurried messenger. Larochejaqnelin ran offto the yard of the chateau, and de Lescure followed him as quickly ashis wounded arm would allow.
Henri had hardly got off the lawn, when he met a couple of servantscoming from the yard, and between them a man booted, spurred, and armed,covered with dust and spattered with foam, whom he at once recognizedas Foret, the friend and townsman of Cathelineau.
"What news, Foret, what news?" said Henri, rushing up to him, andseizing him by the hand. "Pray God
you bring with you good tidings."
"The worst news that ever weighed heavy on a poor man's tongue, M.Henri," said Foret, sorrowfully.
"Cathelineau is not dead?" said Henri, but the tone of his inquiryshewed plainly how much he feared what the reply would be.
"He was not dead," answered Foret, "when I left him five leagues on thisside Nantes, but he had not many days to live."
The two had turned back over the lawn, and now met de Lescure, as hehastened to join them.
"Cathelineau," said Henri, "is mortally wounded! Victory will have beenbought too dear at such a price; but I know not yet even whether theVendeans have been victorious."
"They have not--they have not," said Foret. "How could they bevictorious when their great General had fallen?"
"Mortally wounded! Oh, Foret, you are indeed a messenger of evil," saidde Lescure, giving him his hand.
"Yes, mortally wounded," said Foret. "I fear before this he may haveceased to breathe. I left him, gentlemen, a few leagues this sideNantes, and at his own request hurried on to tell you these sad tidings.Oh, M. de Lescure, our cause has had a heavy blow at Nantes, and yet atone time we had almost beaten them; but when the peasants sawCathelineau fall, they would fight no longer."
"Where is he?" said Henri, "that is if he still lives."
"I crossed the river with him," answered Foret, "and brought him on asfar as Remouille. He wished to be carried to the hospital you haveopened at St. Laurent, and unless he has died since I left him, he isthere now. I hurried on by Montacue and Tiffauges to St. Laurent; andthere, M. Henri, I saw Mademoiselle Agatha, and told her what hadhappened. If there be an angel upon earth she is one! When I told herthat the good Cathelineau was dying, every shade of colour left herbeautiful cheek; she became as pale as marble, and crossed her handsupon her bosom; she spoke to me not a word, nor did I look for reply,for I knew that in her heart she was praying that his soul might betaken up to heaven."
Henri at that moment remembered the enthusiastic declaration of hissister, that Cathelineau, despite his birth, was worthy of any woman'slove, and he did not begrudge her the only means which now remained toher of proving her devotion to the character she had admired.
"I told her," continued Foret, "that if he lived so long, Cathelineauwould reach the hospital on the following day, and then I hurried on toyou. She told me I should find you here. It was then dark, but I reachedChatillon that night, for they sent a guide with me from St. Laurent.I left Chatillon again at the break of day, and have not lost much timein arriving here."
"No, indeed, Foret; and surely you must need rest and refreshment," saidde Lescure. "Come into the chateau, and you shall have both."
"But tell us, Foret, of this reverse at Nantes," said Henri. "I willat once start for St. Laurent; I will, if possible, see Cathelineaubefore he dies; but let me know before I go to him how it has come topass that victory has at last escaped him."
"Victory did not escape him," said Foret: "he was victorious to thelast--victorious till he fell. You know, gentlemen, it had been arrangedthat Nantes should be attacked at the same moment by Charette from thesouthern banks of the Loire, and by Cathelineau from the northern, butthis we were not able to accomplish. Charette was at his post, andentered the town gallantly over the Pont Rousseau, but we were unableto be there at the appointed time. For ten hours we were detained by adetachment of the blues at the little town of Nort, and though wecarried it at last, without losing many of our men, the loss of theprecious hours was very grievous. We pushed on to Nantes, however,without losing another minute, and though we found the rebels ready toreceive us, they could not hold their ground against us at all. We drovethem from the town in every direction. We were already in the chiefsquare of Nantes, assured of our victory, and leading our men to onelast attack, when a musket ball struck Cathelineau on the arm, andpassing through the flesh entered his breast. He was on foot, in frontof the brave peasants whom he was leading, and they all saw him fall.Oh, M. de Lescure, if you had heard the groan, the long wail of grief,which his poor followers from St. Florent uttered, when they saw theirsainted leader fall before them, your ears would never forget the sound.We raised him up between us, and carried him back to a part of the townwhich was in our hands, and from thence over the Pont Rousseau toPirmil, where I left him for a while, and returned to the town, but Icould not get the peasants to follow me again--that is, his peasants;and he was too weak to speak to them himself. It was not till two hoursafter that he was able to speak a word."
"And you lost all the advantage you had gained?" asked de Lescure.
"We might still have been successful, for the blues would always ratherrun than fight when they have the choice, but the Prince de Talmont, inhis eagerness, headed the fugitive rebels who were making for Savenay,and drove them back into the town; when there, they had no choice butto fight; indeed, their numbers were so much greater than our own, thatthey surrounded us. Our hearts were nearly broken, and our arms wereweak; it ended in our retreating to Pirmil, and leaving the town in thehands of the republicans."
"How truly spoke that General who said, 'build a bridge of gold for aflying enemy!'" said de Lescure.
"And is Cathelineau's wound so surely mortal?" asked Henri.
"The surgeon who examined him in Pirmil said so; indeed, Cathelineaunever doubted it himself. He told me, as soon as he could speak, thathe should never live to see the Republic at an end. 'But,' added he,'you, Foret, and others will; and it delights me to think that I havegiven my life to so good a cause.'"
Henri's horse was now ready, and he made no longer delay than to sayadieu to his hostess, and to speak one or two last words to his cousinMarie, and then he made the best of his way to Chatillon and St.Laurent, hoping once more to see Cathelineau before he died. All hisspurring and his hurrying was in vain.
A few hours before Henri could reach the hospital, the Saint of Anjouhad breathed his last, and Agatha Larochejaquelin had soothed his dyingmoments.
As Foret had related, Agatha, on hearing of Cathelineau's wound, hadturned deadly pale. It was not love that made her feel that the worldwas darkened by his fall; that from henceforward nothing to her couldbe bright and cheerful; at least not such love as that which usuallywarms a woman's heart, for Agatha had never hoped, or even wished to bemore to Cathelineau than an admiring friend; nor yet was it grief forthe loss of services which she knew were invaluable to the cause she hadso warmly espoused. These two feelings were blended together in herbreast. She had taught herself to look to Cathelineau as the futuresaviour of her country; she loved his virtue, his patriotism, and hisvalour; and her heart was capable of no other love while that existedin it so strongly. The idea of looking on Cathelineau as a lover, ofseeing him kneeling at her feet, or listening to him while he whisperedsweet praises of her beauty, had never occurred to her; had she dreamedit possible that he could do so, half her admiration of him would havevanished. No, there was nothing earthly, nothing mundane in Agatha'slove, for though she did love the fallen hero of La Vendee, the patriotpostillion of St. Florent, she did not shed a tear when she heard thathe was dragging his wounded body to St. Laurent, that he might have thecomfort of her tender care in his last moments; her hand did not shakeas she wrote a line to her father to say that she could not leave thehospital that evening, or probably the next; nor did she for one halfhour neglect the duties which her less distinguished patients requiredher to perform; but still she felt her heart was cold within her, andthat if God had so willed it, she could, without regret, take her placein the grave beside the stricken idol of her admiration, who had fallenat Nantes while fighting for his God and his King.
Early on the morning after Foret's departure for Clisson, the litterwhich bore the wounded chief reached the hospital, and Agatha's armassisted him from the door-step to the death-bed, which she had preparedfor him. Agatha's feelings towards him have been imperfectly described;but what were his feelings towards her? What was the nature of themysterious love, which no kind words had ever e
ncouraged, which no lookhad ever declared, which he had hardly dared to acknowledge to his ownheart, and which had yet induced the wounded man to make so painful ajourney, to travel over twenty long, long leagues, that he might oncemore see the glorious face which had filled his breast with such anunutterable passion? Not for a moment had he ever dreamt that Agatharegarded him differently than she did the many others who had taken uparms in the service of their country. His name he knew must be familiarto her ears, for chance had made it prominent in the struggle; butbeyond that, it had never occurred to his humble mind that AgathaLarochejaquelin had given one thought to the postillion of St. Florent.For some time, Cathelineau had been unable to define to himself thepassion which he felt, but had gradually become aware that he lovedAgatha passionately, incurably, and hopelessly. Her image had beenpresent to him continually; it had been with him in the dead of night,and in the heat of day; in the hour of battle, and at the council-table;in the agony of defeat, and in the triumph of victory. When he foundhimself falling in the square at Nantes, and all visible objects seemedto swim before his eyes, still he saw Agatha's beautiful pale face, andthen she seemed to smile kindly on him, and to bid him hope. As soon ashis senses returned to him, he was made conscious that he was dying, andthen he felt that he should die more happily if he could see once morethe fair angel, who had illuminated and yet troubled the last few daysof his existence.
Cathelineau had heard that Agatha had taken under her own kind care thehospital at St. Laurent, but he had not expected that she would be onthe step to meet him as he was lifted out of his litter; but hers wasthe first face he saw on learning that his painful journey was at anend. His wound had been pronounced to be inevitably mortal, and he hadbeen told that he might possibly live for two or three days, but thatin all probability his sufferings would not be protracted so long. Thefatal bullet had passed through his arm into his breast, had perforatedhis lungs, and there, within the vitals of his body, the deadly missilewas still hidden. At some moments, his agony was extreme, but at others,he was nearly free from pain; and as his life grew nearer to its close,his intervals of ease became longer, and the periods of his sufferingwere shortened. He had confessed, and received absolution and thesacrament of his church at Remouille; and when he reached St. Laurent,nothing was left for him but to die.
He tried to thank her, as Agatha assisted him to the little chamberwhich she had prepared for him; but his own feelings, and his exertionsin moving were at first too much for him. The power of speech, however,soon returned to him, and he said:
"How can I thank you, Mademoiselle, what am I to say to thank you forsuch care as this?"
"You are not to thank us at all," said Agatha, (there was one of thesisters of mercy with her in the room). "We are only doing what littlewomen can do for the cause, for which you have done so much."
Again he essayed to speak, but the sister stopped him with a kind yetauthoritative motion of her hand, and bade him rest tranquil a while,and so he did. Sometimes Agatha sat by the window, and watched his bed,and at others, she stole quietly out of the room to see her otherpatients, and then she would return again, and take her place by thewindow; and as long as she remained in the room, so that he could lookupon her face, Cathelineau felt that he was happy.
He had been at St. Laurent some few hours, and was aware that hisprecious moments were fast ebbing. He hardly knew what it was that helonged to say, but yet he felt that he could not die in peace withoutexpressing to the fair creature who sat beside him the gratitude he feltfor her tender care. Poor Cathelineau! he did not dream how difficulthe would find it to limit gratitude to its proper terms, when the heartfrom which he spoke felt so much more than gratitude!
"Ah, Mademoiselle!" he began, but she interrupted him.
"Hush, hush, Cathelineau!" she said. "Did you not hear sister Anna saythat you should not speak."
"What avails it now for me to be silent?" said he. "I know,Mademoiselle, that I am dying, and, believe me, I do not fear to die.Your kind care can make my last few hours tranquil and easy, but itcannot much prolong them. Let me have the pleasure of telling you thatI appreciate your kindness, and that I give you in return all that adying man can give--my prayers."
"And I will pray for you, Cathelineau," said Agatha. "But will not everyVendean pray for the hero who first led them to victory, who firstraised his hand against the Republic?"
"How precious are the praises of such as you!" said he. "Pray for meand for your other poor countrymen who have fallen in this contest; suchprayers as yours will assuredly find entrance into heaven."
He then again laid tranquil for a while, but his spirit was not quietwithin him; he felt that there was that which he longed to say beforehe died, and that the only moments in which the power of speaking wouldbe left to him were fast passing from him.
"Do not bid me be silent," he said; "did I not know that no earthlypower could prolong my life, I would do nothing to defeat the object ofmy kind nurses; but as it is, a few moments' speech are of value to me,but an extra hour or so of torpid life can avail me nothing. Ah,Mademoiselle, though I cannot but rejoice to see our cause assisted bythe nobility and excellence of the country, though I know that theangelic aid of such as thou art--"
"Stop, stop," said Agatha, interrupting him, "if you will speak, at anyrate do not flatter; your last words are too precious to be wasted insuch idleness."
"It does not seem to be flattery in me to praise you, Mademoiselle;heaven knows that I do not wish to flatter; but my rude tongue knows nothow to express what my heart feels. I would say, that valuable as isyour aid to our poor peasants, I almost regret to see you embarked ina cause which will bathe the country in blood, and which, unlessspeedily victorious, will bring death and desolation on the noblespirits who have given to it all their energies and all their courage."
"Do you think so badly, Cathelineau, of the hopes of the royalists?"
"If we could make one great and glorious effort," said he, and his eyesshone as brightly as ever while he spoke; "if we could concentrate allour forces, and fill them with the zeal which, at different times, theyall have shewn, we might still place the King upon his throne, and thewhite flag might still wave for ages from our churches, as a monumentof the courage of La Vendee. But if, as I fear, the war become one ofdetached efforts, despite the wisdom of de Lescure, the skill ofBonchamps, the piety of d'Elbee, the gallant enthusiasm ofLarochejaquelin, and the devoted courage of them all, the Republic bydegrees will devour their armies, will consume their strength, willdesolate the country, and put to the sword even their wives andchildren: neither high nobility, nor illustrious worth, nor surpassingbeauty will shield the inhabitants of this devoted country from thebrutality of the conquerors, who have abjured religion, and proclaimedthat blood alone can satisfy their appetites."
"Surely God will not allow his enemies to prevail," said Agatha.
"God's ways are inscrutable," answered Cathelineau, "and his paths arenot plain to mortal eyes; but it is not the less our duty to struggleon to do those things which appear to us to be acceptable to Him. Butshould these sad days come, should atheism and the love of blood stridewithout control through our villages; if it be doomed that our housesare to be burnt and our women to be slaughtered, why should all remainto be a prey to our enemies? Ah, Mademoiselle leave this devoted countryfor a while, take your sweet cousin with you; bid M. de Lescure sendaway his young wife: it is enough that men should have to fight withdemons; men can fight and die, and suffer comparatively but little, butfemale beauty and female worth will be made to suffer ten thousanddeaths from the ruthless atrocities of republican foes."
Agatha shuddered at the picture which Cathelineau's words conjured up,but her undaunted courage was not shaken.
"God will temper the wind to the shorn lamb," said she. "Neither I, norMarie will leave our brothers, nor will Madame de Lescure leave herhusband; it is little we can do to hasten victory, but we can lessensuffering and administer comfort, when comfort is most required. Hady
ou, Cathelineau, loved some woman above all others, and been loved byher; had you had with you in your struggle some dear sister, or perhapsstill dearer wife, would you have asked her to go from you, that youmight have battled on, and struggled, and at last have died alone?"
"By God's dear love, I would," said he, raising himself, as he spoke,upon his bed. "My most earnest prayer to her should have been to leaveme."
"And when she refused to do so; when she also swore by God's dear love,that she would stay with you till the last; as she would have done,Cathelineau, if she loved you as--as you should have been loved; wouldyou then have refused the comfort her love so longed to give you?"
"I know not then what I would have done," said he, after lying with hiseyes closed for a few moments without answering. "I have never knownsuch love. Our women love their husbands and their brothers, but it isonly angels love with such a love as that."
"Such is the love a man deserves who gives his all for his King and hiscountry. If our husbands, and our brothers, and our dear friends,Cathelineau, are brave and noble, we will endeavour to imitate them; aslong as there is an abiding-place for them in the country, there areduties for us. If God vouchsafed to spare you your life a while, thatyou might live to be the instrument of restoring His worship, do youthink that I would run from your bedside, because I heard that therebels were near you? Oh, Cathelineau! you do not know the passivecourage of a woman's heart."
Cathelineau listened to her with all his ears, and gazed on her with allhis eyes, as she spoke to him. It seemed to him as though another worldhad opened to his view even before his death; as though paradise couldgive him no holier bliss than to gaze on that face, and to listen tothat voice.
"I never knew what a woman was till now," said he; "and how much betteris it that I should die this moment, with your image before me, thanreturn to a world, such as mine has been, where all henceforward wouldbe distasteful to me."
"Should you live, Cathelineau, you would live to be honoured and valued.If it be God's pleasure that you should die, your memory will behonoured--and loved," said Agatha.
He did not answer her for a while, but lay still, with his eyes fixedupon her, as she sat with her elbow leaning on the window. Oh! what anunspeakable joy it was to him to hear such heavenly words spoken by her,whom he had almost worshipped; and yet her presence and her words turnedhis thoughts back from heaven to the earth which he had all but left.Could she really have loved him had it been his lot to survive thesewars? Could she really have descended from her high pinnacle of stateand fortune to bless so lowly a creature as him with her beauty and herexcellence? As these thoughts passed through his brain, he began for thefirst time to long for life, to think that the promised blessings ofheaven hardly compensated for those which he was forced to leave onearth; but his mind was under too strong control to be allowed to wanderlong upon such reflections. He soon recovered his wayward thoughts, andremembered that his one remaining earthly duty was to die.
"It is God's will that I should die," said he at last, "and I feel thatHe will soon release me from all worldly cares and sufferings; but you,Mademoiselle, have made the last moments of my life happy," and againhe was silent for a minute or two, while he strove to find both courageand words to express that which he wished to say. "How different havebeen the last few weeks of my existence since first I was allowed tolook upon your face!" A faint blush suffused Agatha's brow asCathelineau spoke. "Yes, Mademoiselle," he continued, "I know you willforgive, when coming from a dying man, words which would have beeninsane had they been spoken at any other time--my life has been whollydifferent since that day when your brother led me, unwilling as I was,into your presence at Durbelliere. Since that time I have had no otherthought than of you; it was you who gave me courage in battle, and, morewonderful than that, enabled me to speak aloud, and with authority amongthose who were all so infinitely my superiors. It was your beauty thatsoftened my rough heart, your spirit that made me dauntless, yourinfluence that raised me up so high. I have not dared to love you aslove is usually described, for they say that love without hope makes theheart miserable, and my thoughts of you have made me more blessed thanI ever was before, and yet I hoped for nothing; but I have adored youas I hardly dared to adore anything that was only human. I hardly knowwhy I should have had myself carried hither to tell you this, but I feltthat I should die more easily, when I had confessed to you the libertywhich my thoughts had taken with your image."
As he continued speaking, Agatha had risen from her seat, and she wasnow kneeling at the foot of his bed, hiding her face between her hands,and the tears were streaming fast down her cheeks.
"Tell me, Mademoiselle, that you forgive me," said he, "tell me that youpardon my love, and above all, pardon me for speaking of it. I have nowbut a few hours' breath, and in them I feel that I shall be but feeble;but tell me that you forgive me, and, though dying, I shall be happy."
Agatha was too agitated to speak for a time, but she stretched her handout to him, and he grasped it in his own as forcibly as his strengthwould allow.
"I know that you have pardoned my boldness," said he. "May God blessyou, and protect you in the dangers which are coming."
"May He bless you also, Cathelineau--dear Cathelineau," said Agatha,still sobbing. "May He bless you, and receive you into His glory, andseat you among His angels, and make you blessed and happy in Hispresence for ever and ever through eternity." And she drew herselfnearer to him, and kissed the hand which she still held within her own,and bathed it with her tears, and pressed it again and again to herbosom. "The memory of the words you have spoken to me shall be dearerto me than the love of man, shall be more precious to me than any homagea living prince could lay at my feet--to remember that Cathelineau hasloved me--that the sainted Cathelineau has held my image in his heart,shall be love enough for Agatha Larochejaquelin."
Cathelineau lingered on for the whole of that day, and the greaterportion of the night. Agatha did not leave his bed-side for a moment,but sat during most of the time still holding his hand in hers. He spokeno farther respecting the singular passion he had nursed in his heart,nor did she allude to it; but when he spoke at all, he felt that he wasspeaking to a dear, and tried, and valued friend, and he spoke,therefore, without hesitation and without reserve. He desired her togive various messages from him to the Vendean chiefs, but especially tode Lescure, to whom he said he looked with most hope for a successfulissue to the struggle. He begged that they might be told that his lastbreath was spent in advising that they should make one great, combined,and final effort for the total overthrow of republicanism in France, andnot fritter away their strength in prolonged contests with an enemy soinfinitely their superior in numbers. Agatha promised faithfully to bea true messenger of these last injunctions, and then she saw the Vendeanchief expire in perfect tranquillity, happy in an assured hope ofeverlasting joy.
He died about three in the morning, and before five, HenriLarochejaquelin arrived at St. Laurent from Clisson. He had ridden hardthrough the previous day and the entire night, with the hope of oncemore seeing the leader, whom he had followed with so much devotion, andvalued so truly; but he was too late.
He caught his sister in his arms as he ran up the hospital stairs."Where is he?" said he; "is he still alive? Is there any hope?"
"There is no hope for us," answered Agatha; "but there is perfectcertainty for him. The good Cathelineau has restored his spirit to Himwho gave it to avenge His glory."