CHAPTER VII. THE CHARTREUSE OF SEILLON
Beyond doubt, like the first affiliated member met on the road to Sue bythe man who styled himself prophet, the monk who opened the gate was ofsecondary rank in the fraternity; for, grasping the horse's bridle, heheld it while the rider dismounted, rendering the young man the serviceof a groom.
Morgan got off, unfastened the valise, pulled the pistols from theholsters, and placed them in his belt, next to those already there.Addressing the monk in a tone of command, he said: "I thought I shouldfind the brothers assembled in council."
"They are assembled," replied the monk.
"Where?"
"At La Correrie. Suspicious persons have been seen prowling around theChartreuse these last few days, and orders have been issued to take thegreatest precautions."
The young man shrugged his shoulders as if he considered suchprecautions useless, and, always in the same tone of command, said:"Have some one take my horse to the stable and conduct me to thecouncil."
The monk summoned another brother, to whom he flung the bridle. Helighted a torch at a lamp, in the little chapel which can still beseen to the right of the great portal, and walked before the new-comer.Crossing the cloister, he took a few steps in the garden, opened a doorleading into a sort of cistern, invited Morgan to enter, closed it ascarefully as he had the outer door, touched with his foot a stone whichseemed to be accidentally lying there, disclosed a ring and raised aslab, which concealed a flight of steps leading down to a subterraneouspassage. This passage had a rounded roof and was wide enough to admittwo men walking abreast.
The two men proceeded thus for five or six minutes, when they reacheda grated door. The monk, drawing a key from his frock, opened it. Then,when both had passed through and the door was locked again, he asked:"By what name shall I announce you?"
"As Brother Morgan."
"Wait here; I will return in five minutes."
The young man made a sign with his head which showed that he wasfamiliar with these precautions and this distrust. Then he sat down upona tomb--they were in the mortuary vaults of the convent--and waited.Five minutes had scarcely elapsed before the monk reappeared.
"Follow me," said he; "the brothers are glad you have come. They fearedyou had met with some mishap."
A few seconds later Morgan was admitted into the council chamber.
Twelve monks awaited him, their hoods drawn low over their eyes. But,once the door had closed and the serving brother had disappeared, whileMorgan was removing his mask, the hoods were thrown back and each monkexposed his face.
No brotherhood had ever been graced by a more brilliant assemblage ofhandsome and joyous young men. Two or three only of these strange monkshad reached the age of forty. All hands were held out to Morgan andseveral warm kisses were imprinted upon the new-comer's cheek.
"'Pon my word," said one who had welcomed him most tenderly, "you havedrawn a mighty thorn from my foot; we thought you dead, or, at any rate,a prisoner."
"Dead, I grant you, Amiet; but prisoner, never! citizen--as they stillsay sometimes, and I hope they'll not say it much longer. It must beadmitted that the whole affair was conducted on both sides with touchingamenity. As soon as the conductor saw us he shouted to the postilion tostop; I even believe he added: 'I know what it is.' 'Then,' said I, 'ifyou know what it is, my dear friend, our explanations needn't be long.''The government money?' he asked. 'Exactly,' I replied. Then as therewas a great commotion inside the carriage, I added: 'Wait! first comedown and assure these gentlemen, and especially the ladies, that weare well-behaved folk and will not harm them--the ladies; youunderstand--and nobody will even look at them unless they put theirheads out of the window.' One did risk it; my faith! but she wascharming. I threw her a kiss, and she gave a little cry and retiredinto the carriage, for all the world like Galatea, and as there wereno willows about, I didn't pursue her. In the meantime the guard wasrummaging in his strong-box in all expedition, and to such good purpose,indeed, that with the government money, in his hurry, he passed over twohundred louis belonging to a poor wine merchant of Bordeaux."
"Ah, the devil!" exclaimed the brother called Amiet--an assumedname, probably, like that of Morgan--"that is annoying! You know theDirectory, which is most imaginative, has organized some bands ofchauffeurs, who operate in our name, to make people believe that we robprivate individuals. In other words, that we are mere thieves."
"Wait an instant," resumed Morgan; "that is just what makes me late.I heard something similar at Lyons. I was half-way to Valence when Idiscovered this breach of etiquette. It was not difficult, for, as ifthe good man had foreseen what happened, he had marked his bag 'JeanPicot, Wine Merchant at Fronsac, Bordeaux.'"
"And you sent his money back to him?"
"I did better; I returned it to him."
"At Fronsac?"
"Ah! no, but at Avignon. I suspected that so careful a man would stopat the first large town to inquire what chance he had to recover his twohundred louis. I was not mistaken. I inquired at the inn if they knewcitizen Jean Picot. They replied that not only did they know him, but infact he was then dining at the table d'hote. I went in. You can imaginewhat they were talking about--the stoppage of the diligence. Conceivethe sensation my apparition caused. The god of antiquity descending fromthe machine produced a no more unexpected finale than I. I asked whichone of the guests was called Jean Picot. The owner of this distinguishedand melodious name stood forth. I placed the two hundred louisbefore him, with many apologies, in the name of the Company, for theinconvenience its followers had occasioned him. I exchanged a friendlyglance with Barjols and a polite nod with the Abbe de Rians who werepresent, and, with a profound bow to the assembled company, withdrew. Itwas only a little thing, but it took me fifteen hours; hence the delay.I thought it preferable to leaving a false conception of us in our wake.Have I done well, my masters?"
The gathering burst into bravos.
"Only," said one of the participants, "I think you were somewhatimprudent to return the money yourself to citizen Jean Picot."
"My dear colonel," replied the young man, "there's an Italian proverbwhich says: 'Who wills, goes; who does not will, sends.' I willed--Iwent."
"And there's a jolly buck who, if you ever have the misfortune to fallinto the hands of the Directory, will reward you by recognizing you; arecognition which means cutting off your head!"
"Oh! I defy him to recognize me."
"What can prevent it?"
"Oh! You seem to think that I play such pranks with my face uncovered?Truly, my dear colonel, you mistake me for some one else. It is wellenough to lay aside my mask among friends; but among strangers--no,no! Are not these carnival times? I don't see why I shouldn't disguisemyself as Abellino or Karl Moor, when Messieurs Gohier, Sieyes, RogerDucos, Moulin and Barras are masquerading as kings of France."
"And you entered the city masked?"
"The city, the hotel, the dining-room. It is true that if my face wascovered, my belt was not, and, as you see, it is well garnished."
The young man tossed aside his coat, displaying his belt, which wasfurnished with four pistols and a short hunting-knife. Then, with agayety which seemed characteristic of his careless nature, he added: "Iought to look ferocious, oughtn't I? They may have taken me for the lateMandrin, descending from the mountains of Savoy. By the bye, here arethe sixty thousand francs of Her Highness, the Directory." And the youngman disdainfully kicked the valise which he had placed on the ground,which emitted a metallic sound indicating the presence of gold. Then hemingled with the group of friends from whom he had been separated by thenatural distance between a narrator and his listeners.
One of the monks stooped and lifted the valise.
"Despise gold as much as you please, my dear Morgan, since that doesn'tprevent you from capturing it. But I know of some brave fellows who areawaiting these sixty thousand francs, you so disdainfully kick aside,with as much impatience and anxiety as a caravan, lost in the desert,awaits the drop of
water which is to save it from dying of thirst."
"Our friends of the Vendee, I suppose?" replied Morgan. "Much good mayit do them! Egotists, they are fighting. These gentlemen have chosenthe roses and left us the thorns. Come! don't they receive anything fromEngland?"
"Oh, yes," said one of the monks, gayly; "at Quiberon they got bulletsand grapeshot."
"I did not say from the English," retorted Morgan; "I said fromEngland."
"Not a penny."
"It seems to me, however," said one of those present, who apparentlypossessed a more reflective head than his comrades, "it seems to me thatour princes might send a little gold to those who are shedding theirblood for the monarchy. Are they not afraid the Vendee may wearysome day or other of a devotion which up to this time has not, to myknowledge, won her a word of thanks."
"The Vendee, dear friend," replied Morgan, "is a generous land whichwill not weary, you may be sure. Besides, where is the merit of fidelityunless it has to deal with ingratitude? From the instant devotion meetsrecognition, it is no longer devotion. It becomes an exchange whichreaps its reward. Let us be always faithful, and always devoted,gentlemen, praying Heaven that those whom we serve may remainungrateful, and then, believe me, we shall bear the better part in thehistory of our civil wars."
Morgan had scarcely formulated this chivalric axiom, expressive of adesire which had every chance of accomplishment, than three Masonicblows resounded upon the door through which he had entered.
"Gentlemen," said the monk who seemed to fill the role of president,"quick, your hoods and masks. We do not know who may be coming to us."