The Companions of Jehu, Alexandre Dumas [great books of all time .txt] 📗

speaking, and was silent.

“I only want,” said Morgan, with a dignity which surprised the man whom he addressed, “a yes or a no.”

“And why do you want that?”

“To know whether we must continue to war against you as an enemy, or fall at your feet as a savior.”

“War,” said Bonaparte, “war! Madmen, they who war with me! Do they not see that I am the elect of God?”

“Attila said the same thing.”

“Yes; but he was the elect of destruction; I, of the new era. The grass withered where he stepped; the harvest will ripen where I pass the plow. War? Tell me what has become of those who have made it against me? They lie upon the plains of Piedmont, of Lombardy and Cairo!”

“You forget the Vendée; the Vendée is still afoot.”

“Afoot, yes! but her leaders? Cathelineau, Lescure, La Rochejaquelin, d’Elbée, Bonchamps, Stoffiet, Charette?”

“You are speaking of men only; the men have been mown down, it is true; but the principle is still afoot, and for it are fighting Autichamp, Suzannet, Grignon, Frotté, Châtillon, Cadoudal. The younger may not be worth the elder, but if they die as their elders died, what more can you ask?”

“Let them beware! If I determine upon a campaign against the Vendée I shall send neither Santerre nor Rossignol!”

“The Convention sent Kléber, and the Directory, Hoche!”

“I shall not send; I shall go myself.”

“Nothing worse can happen to them than to be killed like Lescure, or shot like Charette.”

“It may happen that I pardon them.”

“Cato taught us how to escape the pardon of Cæsar.”

“Take care; you are quoting a Republican!”

“Cato was one of those men whose example can be followed, no matter to what party they belong.”

“And suppose I were to tell you that I hold the Vendée in the hollow of my hand?”

“You!”

“And that within three months, she will lay down her arms if I choose?”

The young man shook his head.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I hesitate to believe you.”

“If I affirm to you that what I say is true; if I prove it by telling you the means, or rather the men, by whom I shall bring this about?”

“If a man like General Bonaparte affirms a thing, I shall believe it; and if that thing is the pacification of the Vendée, I shall say in my turn: ‘Beware! Better the Vendée fighting than the Vendée conspiring. The Vendée fighting means the sword, the Vendée conspiring means the dagger.’”

“Oh! I know your dagger,” said Bonaparte. “Here it is.”

And he drew from a drawer the dagger he had taken from Roland and laid it on the table within reach of Morgan’s hand.

“But,” he added, “there is some distance between Bonaparte’s breast and an assassin’s dagger. Try.”

And he advanced to the young man with a flaming eye.

“I did not come here to assassinate you,” said the young man, coldly. “Later, if I consider your death indispensable to the cause, I shall do all in my power, and if I fail it will not be because you are Marius and I the Cimbrian. Have you anything else to say to me, citizen First Consul?” concluded the young man, bowing.

“Yes. Tell Cadoudal that when he is ready to fight the enemy, instead of Frenchmen, I have a colonel’s commission ready signed in my desk for him.”

“Cadoudal commands, not a regiment, but an army. You were unwilling to retrograde from Bonaparte to Monk; why should you expect him to descend from general to colonel? Have you nothing else to say to me, citizen First Consul?”

“Yes. Have you any way of transmitting my reply to the Comte de Provençe?”

“You mean King Louis XVIII.?”

“Don’t let us quibble over words. To him who wrote to me.”

“His envoy is now at the camp at Aubiers.”

“Well, I have changed my mind; I shall send him an answer. These Bourbons are so blind that this one would misinterpret my silence.”

And Bonaparte, sitting down at his desk, wrote the following letter with a care that showed he wished to make it legible:

I have received your letter, monsieur. I thank you for the good opinion you express in it of me. You must not wish for your return to France; it could only be over a hundred thousand dead bodies. Sacrifice your own interests to the repose and welfare of France. History will applaud you. I am not insensible to the misfortunes of your family, and I shall hear with pleasure that you are surrounded with all that could contribute to the tranquillity of your retreat. BONAPARTE.

Then, folding and sealing the letter, he directed it to “Monsieur le Comte de Provençe,” and handed it to Morgan. Then he called Roland, as if he knew the latter were not far off.

“General?” said the young officer, appearing instantly.

“Conduct this gentleman to the street,” said Bonaparte. “Until then you are responsible for him.”

Roland bowed in sign of obedience, let the young man, who said not a word, pass before him, and then followed. But before leaving, Morgan cast a last glance at Bonaparte.

The latter was still standing, motionless and silent, with folded arms, his eyes fixed upon the dagger, which occupied his thoughts far more than he was willing to admit even to himself.

As they crossed Roland’s room, the Chief of the Companions of Jehu gathered up his cloak and pistols. While he was putting them in his belt, Roland remarked: “The citizen First Consul seems to have shown you a dagger which I gave him.”

“Yes, monsieur,” replied Morgan.

“Did you recognize it?”

“Not that one in particular; all our daggers are alike.”

“Well,” said Roland, “I will tell you whence it came.”

“Ah! where was that?”

“From the breast of a friend of mine, where your Companions, possibly you yourself, thrust it.”

“Possibly,” replied the young man carelessly. “But your friend must have exposed himself to punishment.”

“My friend wished to see what was happening at night in the Chartreuse.”

“He did wrong.”

“But I did the same wrong the night before, and nothing happened to me.”

“Probably because some talisman protects you.”

“Monsieur, let me tell you something. I am a straight-forward man who walks by daylight. I have a horror of all that is mysterious.”

“Happy those who can walk the highroads by daylight, Monsieur de Montrevel!”

“That is why I am going to tell you the oath I made, Monsieur Morgan. As I drew the dagger you saw from my friend’s breast, as carefully as possible, that I might not draw his soul with it, I swore that henceforward it should be war to the death between his assassins and myself. It was largely to tell you that that I gave you a pledge of safety.”

“That is an oath I hope to see you forget, Monsieur de Montrevel.”

“It is an oath I shall keep under all circumstances, Monsieur Morgan; and you would be most kind if you would furnish me with an opportunity as soon as possible.”

“In what way, sir?”

“Well, for example, by accepting a meeting with me, either in the Bois de Boulogne or at Vincennes. We don’t need to say that we are fighting because you or one of your friends stabbed Lord Tanlay. No; we can say anything you please.” (Roland reflected a moment.) “We can say the duel is on account of the eclipse that takes place on the 12th of next month. Does the pretext suit you?”

“The pretext would suit me,” replied Morgan, in a tone of sadness of which he seemed incapable, “if the duel itself could take place. You have taken an oath, and you mean to keep it, you say. Well, every initiate who enters the Company of Jehu swears that he will not expose in any personal quarrel a life that belongs to the cause and not to himself.”

“Oh! So that you assassinate, but will not fight.”

“You are mistaken. We sometimes fight.”

“Have the goodness to point out an occasion when I may study that phenomenon.”

“Easily enough. If you and five or six men, as resolute as yourself, will take your places in some diligence carrying government money, and will defend it against our attack, the occasion you seek will come. But, believe me, do better than that; do not come in our way.”

“Is that a threat, sir?” asked the young man, raising his head.

“No,” replied Morgan, in a gentle, almost supplicating voice, “it is an entreaty.”

“Is it addressed to me in particular, or would you include others?”

“I make it to you in particular;” and the chief of the Companions of Jehu dwelt upon the last word.

“Ah!” exclaimed the young man, “then I am so fortunate as to interest you?”

“As a brother,” replied Morgan, in the same soft, caressing tone.

“Well, well,” said Roland, “this is decidedly a wager,”

Bourrienne entered at that moment.

“Roland,” he said, “the First Consul wants you.”

“Give me time to conduct this gentleman to the street, and I’ll be with him.”

“Hurry up; you know he doesn’t like to wait.”

“Will you follow me, sir?” Roland said to his mysterious companion.

“I am at your orders, sir.”

“Come, then,” And Roland, taking the same path by which he had brought Morgan, took him back, not to the door opening on the garden (the garden was closed), but to that on the street. Once there, he stopped and said: “Sir, I gave you my word, and I have kept it faithfully, But that there may be no misunderstanding between us, have the goodness to tell me that you understand it to have been for this one time and for to-day only.”

“That was how I understood it, sir,”

“You give me back my word then?”

“I should like to keep it, sir; but I recognize that you are free to take it back.”

“That is all I wish to know. Au revoir! Monsieur Morgan.”

“Permit me not to offer you the same wish, Monsieur de Montrevel.”

The two young men bowed with perfect courtesy, Roland reentered the Luxembourg, and Morgan, following the line of shadow projected by the walls, took one of the little streets to the Place Saint-Sulpice.

It is he whom we are now to follow.