CHAPTER XXIX.
THE CROWN OF ANGE'S LOVE.
A little over a year after the execution of the king and the departureof Gilbert, his son, and Billet, on a fine, cold morning of the hardwinter of 1794, three or four hundred persons--that is, a sixth ofthe population of Villers Cotterets--waited on the square before themanor-house and in the mayor's yard for the coming out of two marriedfolks whom Mayor Longpre was uniting in the holy bonds. These were AngePitou and Catherine Billet.
Alas! it had taken many grave events to bring the flame of ViscountCharny, the mother of little Isidore, to become Mistress Pitou.
Everybody was chattering over these events; but in whatever manner theyrelated and discussed them, there was always something to the greaterglory of the devotion of Ange Pitou and the good behavior of Billet'sdaughter.
Only, the more interesting the couple were, the more they were pitied.
Perhaps they were happier than any in the crowd; but human nature isinclined that way--it must pity or applaud!
On this occasion it was in the compassionate vein.
Indeed, what Cagliostro had foreseen, had come on rapidly, leaving along track of blood after it.
On the 1st of February, 1793, the issue of more paper money was agreed.In March, the fugitive nobles were perpetually banished and theirproperty confiscated. In November, a new kind of religion was proposedinstead of the established church.
The result of the confiscation decree was, that Billet and Gilbertbeing considered fugitives, their lands were seized for the publicgood. The same fate befell the estates of the Charnys, the count havingbeen killed and the countess murdered in prison.
The consequence to Catherine was that she was turned out of Billet'sfarm, which was national property. Pitou wanted to protest, but Pitouwas a moderate and a "suspect," and wise souls advised him not tooppose the orders of the nation in will or deed.
So Catherine and Pitou had gone over to Haramont.
She had thought of taking refuge in Daddy Clovis's lodge, but heappeared at the door to lay his finger on his lips and shake his headin token of impossibility; the place was already occupied.
The law on the banishment of refractory priests was still in force,and it is easy to understand that Father Fortier had banished himself,as he would not take the oath. But he had not felt like passing thefrontier, and his exile was limited to his leaving his house in chargeof his sister, to see the furniture was not stolen, and asking Clovisfor shelter, which was granted.
This retreat was only a cave, and it would with difficulty hold, inaddition to the corpulent priest, Catherine, little Isidore, and Pitou.
Besides, we recall the refusal of the priest to bury Mrs. Billet.Catherine was not good Christian enough to overlook the unkindness, andhad she been so, the Abbe Fortier was too good a Catholic to forgiveher.
So they had to give up the idea of staying with old Clovis.
This choice lay between Aunt Angelique's house and Pitou's lodgings atHaramont.
They dared not think of the former. As the revolution had followedits course, Angelique had become more and more diabolic, which seemsincredible, and thinner, which seems impossible.
This change in her temper and her physique arose from the fact that thechurches were closed at Villers as elsewhere, awaiting the inventionof a reasonable and civic cult, according to the Board of PublicInstruction. The churches being shut, Aunt Angelique's principalrevenue, from letting seats, fell into disuse.
It was the drying up of her income which made her Tartar--we begpardon, tarter and bonier than ever.
Let us add that she had so often heard the story of Pitou and Billetcapturing the Bastile, and had so often seen them start off for Pariswhenever any great event was to take place, that she did not in theleast doubt that the French Revolution was led by Ange Pitou and FarmerBillet, with Citizens Danton, Marat, Robespierre & Co., playing thesecondary parts.
The priest's sister fostered her in these somewhat erroneous opinions,to which the regicidal vote of Billet had given the seal on heatedfanaticism.
Pitou ought not to think of placing the regicide's daughter underAngelique's roof.
As for the petty accommodation at Haramont, how could he think ofinstalling two--there were three--souls in two rooms; while if theywere comfortable, it would set evil tongues wagging?
It was more out of the question than Clovis's hut.
So Pitou made up his mind to beg shelter for himself of DesireManiquet. That worthy son of Haramont gave the hospitality which Pitoupaid for in kind; but all this did not provide Catherine with a fixedhabitation.
Pitou showed her all the attentions of a loving friend and theaffection of a brother; but poor Catherine was well aware that he didnot love her like friend or brother.
Little Isidore had something of the same idea; for the poor child,having never known the Viscount of Charny, loved him more perhaps, forPitou was not merely the sweetheart of Catherine, but his slave.
A skillful strategist must have understood that the way to winCatherine's heart was through the help of the little one.
But we hasten to say that no such calculation tarnished the purity ofPitou's sentiments. He was just the simple fellow we met him at thefirst, unless, on becoming a man, he became simpler than ever.
All his good gifts touched Catherine. She saw that Pitou adored herardently, to the point of fanaticism, and she caught herself wishingthat she could repay so great a love and utter devotion with somethingbetter than friendship.
Gradually, by dint of dwelling on her isolation from all the world,Pitou excepted, and on her boy being left alone if she were to die,Pitou again excepted, she came to giving Pitou the only reward in herpower--her hand.
Alas, her first love, that perfumed flower of youth, was in heaven!
For six months Catherine had been nourishing this conclusion withoutPitou suspecting that the wind was blowing up in his favor, though herwelcoming was a shade warmer and her parting a trifle more lingeringeach time; so she was forced to speak the first--but women take thelead in such matters.
One evening, instead of offering her hand, she held up her cheek fora kiss. Pitou thought she had forgot, and was too honest to takeadvantage of a mistake.
But Catherine had not let go his hand, and she drew him closer to her.Seeing him still hesitate, little Isidore joined in, saying:
"Why won't you kiss Mamma Catherine, Papa Pitou?"
"Good gracious!" gasped Pitou, turning pale as if about to die, butletting his cold and trembling lip touch her cheek.
Taking the boy up, she put him in Pitou's arms, and said:
"I give you the boy, Ange; will you have the mother?"
This time, it was too much for the swain, whose head swam; he shut hiseyes, and while he hugged the child, he dropped on a chair, and pantedwith the delicacy which only a delicate heart could appreciate:
"Oh, Master Isidore, how very fond I am of you!"
Isidore called Pitou "Papa Pitou," but Pitou called him "MasterIsidore."
That is why, as he felt that love for her son had made Catherine loveAnge, he did not say:
"Oh, how dearly I love you, Catherine!"
This point settled that Pitou thought more of Isidore than ofCatherine, they spoke of marriage.
"I don't want to seem in a hurry," said the man, "but if you mean tomake me happy, do not be too long about it."
Catherine took a month.
At the end of three weeks Ange, in full regimentals, went respectfullyto pay a visit to Aunt Angelique, with the aim to inform her of hisnear at hand union with Catherine Billet.
Seeing her nephew from afar, she hastened to shut her door. But hedid not hold back from the inhospitable door whence he had once beenexpelled.
He rapped gently.
"Who is there?" snarled Angelique, in her sourest voice.
"I--your dutiful nephew, Ange Pitou."
"Go on your bloody way, you September man of massacre!" cried AuntAngelique.
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p; "Auntie, I come to tell you of a bit of news which can not fail to makeyou jolly, because it is my happiness."
"What is the news, you red-capped Jacobin?"
"I will tell you if you open the door."
"Say it through the door; I shall not open it to a breechless outlawlike you."
"If there is no other way, here you have it--I am going to get married."
The door flew open as by magic.
"Who are you going to marry, you wretched fellow?" asked the oldspinster.
"Catherine Billet, please."
"Oh, the villain, the scamp, the regicide!" said the good soul; "hemarries a ruined girl! Get you gone, scapegrace; I curse you!"
With a gesture quite noble, she held up her dry and yellow hands towardher nephew.
"Dear aunt," replied the young man, "you ought to know that I am toowell hardened to your maledictions to care a fig for them. I onlywanted to do the proper thing by inviting you to dance at my wedding;if you won't come, still I have asked you to shake a leg--"
"Shake a--fy, for shame!"
"Fare thee well, sweet Aunt Angelique!"
Touching his cocked hat in the military manner, Pitou made a salute tohis relative and hurried away.