CHAPTER XIX. THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE RUE DE LA VICTOIRE
While they are bearing Sir John Tanlay's body to the Chateau desNoires-Fontaines; while Roland is hurrying in the same direction; whilethe peasant, despatched by him, is hastening to Bourg to notify Dr.Milliet of the catastrophe which necessitated his immediate presenceat Madame de Montrevel's home, let us jump over the distance whichseparates Bourg from Paris, and the time which elapsed between the 16thof October and the 7th of November; that is to say, between the 24th ofVendemiaire and the 16th Brumaire, and repair to that little house inthe Rue de la Victoire rendered historically famous by the conspiracy ofthe 18th Brumaire, which issued from it fully armed.
It is the same house which stands there to-day on the right of thestreet at No. 60, apparently astonished to present to the eye, afterso many successive changes of government, the consular fasces which maystill be seen on the panels of its double oaken doors.
Let us follow the long, narrow alley of lindens that leads from the gateon the street to the door of the house; let us enter the antechamber,take the hall to the right, ascend the twenty steps that lead to a studyhung with green paper, and furnished with curtains, easy chairs andcouches of the same color. The walls are covered with geographicalcharts and plans of cities. Bookcases of maple are ranged on eitherside of the fireplace, which they inclose. The chairs, sofas, tables anddesks are piled with books; there is scarcely any room on the chairs tosit down, or on the desks and tables to write.
In the midst of this encumbering mass of reports, letters, pamphlets andbooks, a man had cleared a space for himself where he was now seated,clutching his hair impatiently from time to time, as he endeavored todecipher a page of notes, compared to which the hieroglyphics on theobelisk of Luxor, would have been transparently intelligible. Just asthe secretary's impatience was approaching desperation, the door openedand a young officer wearing an aide's uniform entered.
The secretary raised his head, and a lively expression of satisfactioncrossed his face.
"Oh! my dear Roland," said he; "you here at last! I am delighted to seeyou, for three reasons. First, because I am wearying for you; second,because the general is impatient for your return, and keeps up ahullaballoo about it; and third, because you can help me to read this,with which I have been struggling for the last ten minutes. But first ofall, kiss me."
And the secretary and the aide-de-camp embraced each other.
"Well," said the latter, "let us see this word that is troubling you so,my dear Bourrienne!"
"Ah! my dear fellow, what writing! I get a white hair for every page Idecipher, and this is my third to-day! Here, read it if you can."
Roland took the sheet from the secretary, and fixing his eyes on thespot indicated, read quite fluently: "Paragraph XI. The Nile, fromAssouan to a distance of twelve miles north of Cairo, flows in a singlestream"--"Well," said he, interrupting himself, "that's all plainsailing. What did you mean? The general, on the contrary, took painswhen he wrote that."
"Go on, go on," said Bourrienne.
The young man resumed: "'From that point, which is called'--ah! Ah!"
"There you are! Now what do you say to that?"
Roland repeated: "'Which is called'--The devil! 'Which is called--'"
"Yes, 'Which is called'--after that?"
"What will you give me, Bourrienne," cried Roland, "if I guess it?"
"The first colonel's commission I find signed in blank."
"By my faith, no! I don't want to leave the general; I'd rather have agood father than five hundred naughty children. I'll give you the threewords for nothing."
"What! are there three words there?"
"They don't look as if they were quite three, I admit. Now listen, andmake obeisance to me: 'From the point called Ventre della Vacca.'"
"Ha! Ventre de la Vache! Confound it! He's illegible enough in French,but if he takes it into his head to go off in Italian, and that Corsicanpatois to boot! I thought I only ran the risk of going crazy, but thenI should become stupid, too. Well, you've got it," and he read the wholesentence consecutively: "'The Nile, from Assouan to a distance of twelvemiles north of Cairo, flows in a single stream; from that point, whichis called Ventre de la Vache, it forms the branches of the Rosetta andthe Damietta.' Thank you, Roland," and he began to write the end of theparagraph, of which the first lines were already committed to paper.
"Tell me," said Roland; "is he still got his hobby, the dear general, ofcolonizing Egypt?"
"Yes; and then, as a sort of offset, a little governing in France; wewill colonize from a distance."
"Well, my dear Bourrienne, suppose you post me a little on matters inthis country, so that I won't seem to have just arrived from Timbuctoo."
"In the first place, did you come back of your own accord, or were yourecalled?"
"Recalled? I should think so!"
"By whom?"
"The general himself."
"Special despatch?"
"Written by himself; see!"
The young man drew a paper from his pocket containing two lines, notsigned, in the same handwriting as that which Bourrienne had before him.These two lines said: "'Start. Be in Paris 16th Brumaire. I need you."
"Yes," said Bourrienne, "I think it will be on the eighteenth."
"What will be on the eighteenth?"
"On my word, Roland, you ask more than I know. That man, as you areaware, is not communicative. What will take place on the 18th Brumaire?I don't know as yet; but I'll answer for it that something will happen."
"Oh! you must have a suspicion!"
"I think he means to make himself Director in place of Sieyes, orperhaps president in Gohier's stead."
"Good! How about the Constitution of the year III.?"
"The Constitution of the year III. What about that?"
"Why, yes, a man must be forty years old to be a Director; and thegeneral lacks just ten of them."
"The deuce! so much the worse for the Constitution. They must violateit."
"It is rather young yet, Bourrienne; they don't, as a rule, violatechildren of seven."
"My dear fellow, in Barras' hands everything grows old rapidly. Thelittle girl of seven is already an old prostitute."
Roland shook his head.
"Well, what is it?" asked Bourrienne.
"Why, I don't believe the general will make himself a simple Directorwith four colleagues. Just imagine it--five kings of France! It wouldn'tbe a Directory any longer, but a four-in-hand."
"Anyway, up to the present, that is all he has allowed any one toperceive; but you know, my dear friend, if we want to know the general'ssecrets we must guess them."
"Faith! I'm too lazy to take the trouble, Bourrienne. Besides, I'm aregular Janissary--what is to be, will be. Why the devil should I botherto form an opinion and battle for it. It's quite wearisome enough tohave to live." And the young man enforced his favorite aphorism with along yawn; then he added: "Do you think there will be any sword play?"
"Probably."
"Then there will be a chance of getting killed; that's all I want. Whereis the general?"
"With Madame Bonaparte. He went to her about fifteen minutes ago. Haveyou let him know you are here?"
"No, I wanted to see you first. But I hear his step now."
Just then the door was opened abruptly, and the same historicalpersonage whom we saw playing a silent part incognito at Avignonappeared on the threshold, in the picturesque uniform of thegeneral-in-chief of the army of Egypt, except that, being in his ownhouse, he was bare-headed. Roland thought his eyes were more hollow andhis skin more leaden than usual. But the moment he saw the young man,Bonaparte's gloomy, or rather meditative, eye emitted a flash of joy.
"Ah, here you are, Roland!" he said. "True as steel! Called, you come.Welcome, my dear fellow." And he offered Roland his hand. Then he asked,with an imperceptible smile, "What were you doing with Bourrienne?"
"Waiting for you, general."
"And in the meantime gossi
ping like two old women."
"I admit it, general. I was showing him my order to be here on the 16thBrumaire."
"Did I write the 16th or the 17th?"
"Oh! the 16th, general. The 17th would have been too late."
"Why too late?"
"Why, hang it, Bourrienne says there are to be great doings here on the18th."
"Capital," muttered Bourrienne; "the scatter-brain will earn me awigging."
"Ah! So he told you I had planned great doings for the 18th?"Then, approaching Bourrienne, Bonaparte pinched his ear, and said,"Tell-tale!" Then to Roland he added: "Well, it is so, my dear fellow,we have made great plans for the 18th. My wife and I dine with PresidentGohier; an excellent man, who was very polite to Josephine during myabsence. You are to dine with us, Roland."
Roland looked at Bonaparte. "Was it for that you brought me here,general?" he asked, laughing.
"For that, and something else, too, perhaps. Bourrienne, write--"
Bourrienne hastily seized his pen.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, general."
"'My dear President, I write to let you know that my wife and I, withone of my aides-de-camp, will dine with you the day after to-morrow.This is merely to say that we shall be quite satisfied with a familydinner.'"
"What next?"
"How do you mean?"
"Shall I put, 'Liberty, equality, fraternity'?"
"Or death," added Roland.
"No," said Bonaparte; "give me the pen."
He took the pen from Bourrienne's hands and wrote, "Ever yours,Bonaparte." Then, pushing away the paper, he added: "Address it,Bourrienne, and send an orderly with it."
Bourrienne wrote the address, sealed it, and rang the bell. An officeron duty entered.
"Send an orderly with that," said Bourrienne.
"There is an answer," added Bonaparte.
The officer closed the door.
"Bourrienne," said Bonaparte, pointing to Roland, "look at your friend."
"Well, general, I am looking at him."
"Do you know what he did at Avignon?"
"I hope he didn't make a pope."
"No, he threw a plate at a man's head."
"Oh, that was hasty!"
"That's not all."
"That I can well imagine."
"He fought a duel with that man."
"And, most naturally, he killed him."
"Exactly. Do you know why he did it?"
"No."
The general shrugged his shoulders, and said: "Because the man said thatI was a thief." Then looking at Roland with an indefinable expression ofraillery and affection, he added: "Ninny!" Then suddenly he burst out:"Oh! by the way, and the Englishman?"
"Exactly, the Englishman, general. I was just going to speak to youabout him."
"Is he still in France?"
"Yes, and for awhile even I thought he would remain here till the lasttrumpet blew its blast through the valley of Jehosaphat."
"Did you miss killing him?"
"Oh! no, not I. We are the best friends in the world. General, he is acapital fellow, and so original to boot that I'm going to ask a bit of afavor for him."
"The devil! For an Englishman?" said Bonaparte, shaking his head. "Idon't like the English."
"Good! As a people, but individually--"
"Well, what happened to your friend?"
"He was tried, condemned, and executed."
"What the devil are you telling us?"
"God's truth, general."
"What do you mean when you say, 'He was tried, condemned, andguillotined'?"
"Oh! not exactly that. Tried and condemned, but not guillotined. If hehad been guillotined he would be more dangerously ill than he is now."
"Now, what are you gabbling about? What court tried and condemned him?"
"That of the Companions of Jehu!"
"And who are the Companions of Jehu?"
"Goodness! Have you forgotten our friend Morgan already, the masked manwho brought back the wine-merchant's two hundred louis?"
"No," replied Bonaparte, "I have not forgotten him. I told you about thescamp's audacity, didn't I, Bourrienne?"
"Yes, general," said Bourrienne, "and I answered that, had I been inyour place, I should have tried to find out who he was."
"And the general would know, had he left me alone. I was just going tospring at his throat and tear off his mask, when the general said, inthat tone you know so well: 'Friend Roland!'"
"Come back to your Englishman, chatterbox!" cried the general. "DidMorgan murder him?"
"No, not he himself, but his Companions."
"But you were speaking of a court and a trial just now."
"General, you are always the same," said Roland, with their old schoolfamiliarity; "you want to know, and you don't give me time to tell you."
"Get elected to the Five Hundred, and you can talk as much as you like."
"Good! In the Five Hundred I should have four hundred and ninety-ninecolleagues who would want to talk as much as I, and who would takethe words out of my mouth. I'd rather be interrupted by you than by alawyer."
"Will you go on?"
"I ask nothing better. Now imagine, general, there is a Chartreuse nearBourg--"
"The Chartreuse of Seillon; I know it."
"What! You know the Chartreuse of Seillon?" demanded Roland.
"Doesn't the general know everything?" cried Bourrienne.
"Well, about the Chartreuse; are there any monks there now?"
"No; only ghosts--"
"Are you, perchance, going to tell me a ghost-story?"
"And a famous one at that!"
"The devil! Bourrienne knows I love them. Go on."
"Well, we were told at home that the Chartreuse was haunted by ghosts.Of course, you understand that Sir John and I, or rather I and Sir John,wanted to clear our minds about it. So we each spent a night there."
"Where?"
"Why, at the Chartreuse."
Bonaparte made an imperceptible sign of the cross with his thumb, aCorsican habit which he never lost.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "did you see any ghosts?"
"One."
"And what did you do to it?"
"Shot at it."
"And then?"
"It walked away."
"And you allowed yourself to be baffled?"
"Good! How well you know me! I followed it, and fired again. But as heknew his way among the ruins better than I, he escaped me."
"The devil!"
"The next day it was Sir John's turn; I mean our Englishman."
"Did he see your ghost?"
"He saw something better. He saw twelve monks enter the church, whotried him for trying to find out their secrets, condemned him to death,and who, on my word of honor, stabbed him."
"Didn't he defend himself?"
"Like a lion. He killed two."
"Is he dead?"
"Almost, but I hope he will recover. Just imagine, general; he was foundby the road, and brought home with a dagger in his breast, like a propin a vineyard."
"Why, it's like a scene of the Sainte-Vehme, neither more nor less."
"And on the blade of the dagger, that there might be no doubt as to whodid the deed, were graven the words: 'Companions of Jehu.'"
"Why, it isn't possible that such things can happen in France, in thelast year of the eighteenth century. It might do for Germany in theMiddle Ages, in the days of the Henrys and the Ottos."
"Not possible, general? But here is the dagger. What do you say to that?Attractive, isn't it?"
And the young man drew from under his coat a dagger made entirely ofsteel, blade and handle. The handle was shaped like a cross, and on theblade, sure enough, were engraved the words, "Companions of Jehu."
Bonaparte examined the weapon carefully.
"And you say they planted that plaything in your Englishman's breast?"
"Up to the hilt."
"And he's not dead?"
"No
t yet, at any rate."
"Have you been listening, Bourrienne?"
"With the greatest interest."
"You must remind me of this, Roland."
"When, general?"
"When?--when I am master. Come and say good-day to Josephine. Come,Bourrienne, you will dine with us, and be careful what you say, youtwo, for Moreau is coming to dinner. Ah! I will keep the dagger as acuriosity."
He went out first, followed by Roland, who was, soon after, followed byBourrienne. On the stairs they met the orderly who had taken the note toGohier.
"Well?" asked the general.
"Here is the President's answer."
"Give it to me."
Bonaparte broke the seal, and read:
The President Gohier is enchanted the good fortune promised him by General Bonaparte. He will expect him to dinner the day after to-morrow, the 18th Brumaire, with his charming wife, and the aide-de-camp, whoever he may be. Dinner will be served at five o'clock.
If the hour does not suit General Bonaparte, will he kindly make known the one he would prefer.
The President, GOHIER. 16th Brumaire, year VII.
With an indescribable smile, Bonaparte put the letter in his pocket.Then turning to Roland, he asked: "Do you know President Gohier?"
"No, general."
"Ah! you'll see; he's an excellent man."
These words were pronounced in a tone no less indescribable than thesmile.